you may be right— [we] may be crazy
but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for

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Phoenix ran down the hall as fast as he could and into his apartment, and then he tried his hardest to slam the door shut in time to lock it and save himself from the embarrassment that was becoming more inevitable by the second.

He failed. Maya reached the door and thrust her shoulder into the frame, preventing him from locking her out.

"I don't wanna talk about it, Maya!"

Phoenix tried holding the door closed enough that she would give up and go away. Instead, he heard rapid footsteps approaching from within his own apartment.

"Ha— nice try, Nick, but I've already got agents on the inside!"

Phoenix looked at the approaching double agent, his own roommate, with horror.

"Larry, you traitor!"

Larry shoved Phoenix away from the door, and then Maya burst in. She grabbed Phoenix, who was trying to crawl beneath them and back into the hallway, by his legs and dragged him to the couch. Larry closed and locked the door.

"We're doing this for your own good, Nick! We're trying to help you!" Maya shouted over his protests. Phoenix caught sight of Ema out of the corner of his eye as Maya threw him onto the couch and Larry positioned himself behind it to hold him in place.

"Sorry, but I already know your little secret," Ema admitted. She, at least, sounded somewhat guilty.

Phoenix had been walking home from his latest trip to the bookstore, this time empty-handed, when Maya tackled him from the shadows of an alleyway and demanded that he tell her when, exactly, he had fallen for "that cute clerk". Completely mortified, Phoenix had taken off running. His efforts, it seemed, had been for nothing.

"How'd you know I would run?" Phoenix asked, hoping to change the subject long enough to regain some kind of sanity. Maya laughed haughtily.

"Have you even met you?"

"By definition, no, I haven't! It's impossible to meet yourself—"

"Enough stalling! You've been caught red-handed and there's nowhere you can hide!"

"At least you didn't waste any money this time," Larry teased. "You were gonna go totally broke at that rate."

"W-Well, they hadn't restocked this time, so..." Phoenix grumbled.

Ema sighed, sounding very dissapointed, as she pulled out her notebook and the pencil she kept behind her ear at all times. She talked to herself as she scribbled something down. Another story idea, probably. Phoenix wondered what inspiration she could possibly draw from his plight.

"Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen sometimes," Maya reassured, suddenly turning very serious. She sat beside him on the couch and patted the top of his head.

"Of course there's something to be ashamed of! I don't even— I don't even know the guy, and I keep spending all of my money just so I have an excuse to talk to him!"

"Well, surely you know something," Ema suggested. Phoenix groaned.

"He's a college student and he may or may not like dogs and classical music."

Ema stared at him and waited for him to elaborate.

"That... That's all?"

"Oh— well, he also calls it a stepladder. And, I mean, that's something."

"Oh my god, Nick, it doesn't matter!" Maya shrieked, and Phoenix sat up straight to cross his arms and scowl at her.

"It matters to me!"

"Alright, alright, so what we've established is that Nick is a terrible flirt and an even worse detective. Are we all in agreement there?" Larry asked. Ema and Maya nodded and agreed, to which Phoenix could take little offense. Larry wasn't wrong.

Once he'd calmed down, Maya had everyone sit down to reassure Phoenix, and Ema brought him a plate of Oreos and a glass of milk. The cookies were his favorite snack, and Larry always kept a box hidden somewhere for situations like this one.

"So, really, how long has it been?" Ema asked. Phoenix took a bite out of a cookie and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Uh... I saw him the first day I went there, and it was... I, um..." He felt his face turning red already. Just thinking about Miles had that effect on him.

"Right away, huh?" Larry mocked, and Phoenix scoffed at him.

"Don't you insist you're forever in love with a different girl, like, once a week?!" He shouted accusingly, pointing his half-eaten cookie at Larry.

"Hey, at least I'm actually dating them!"

...He wasn't wrong about that, either. Phoenix sighed.

"I... Even I didn't really believe in that whole 'love at first sight' thing, but... I don't know. I just saw him, and... Everything felt different, somehow. I-I doubt that it's love love, because that takes time to build, but I do really like him, and I wanna get to know him, I just... I just don't know how."

Maya made a sympathetic sound and pulled Phoenix in so that he could rest his head on her shoulder. Ema sighed and rubbed her forehead, and Larry had no insulting remark to make this time. He looked up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Phoenix felt a sudden wave of despair strong enough to deter him from reaching for another cookie.

"I'm putting you on a one-book limit per day, okay? You're not going to be able to eat if you keep this up," Maya said sternly. Phoenix nodded against her shoulder.

"I went and talked to him, by the way. I even got myself some magazines just so I didn't seem too weird. ...He's kinda stiff," Larry added. Phoenix chuckled.

"He's shy."

"Aww," Ema replied.

There was a moment of silence in which Phoenix's friends exchanged glances with one another, some kind of shared sentiment in their expressions. Maya clapped her hands together as she stood up and backed away from the couch to face Phoenix.

"Well, it's settled, then!" She declared, not specifying what she meant even as she put her hands proudly on her hips.

"Wh-What's settled?!"

"We've got your back, Nick! We'll be your wingmen!" Maya shouted gleefully, her fists pumped into the air. Phoenix squinted at her in confusion.

"My wingmen?"

"You know, a wingman! Like a helper! We'll help you win his heart!"

Larry and Ema voiced their agreement while Phoenix continued to furrow his brow at the three of them.

Wouldn't you be a wingwoman? And then would a group of them be called wingpeople?

"Pay attention, Nick!" Ema gently slapped Phoenix across the face with her notebook.

"I feel like that can't possibly go well," Phoenix muttered mostly to himself as the trio started exchanging ideas.

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"He should wear it slicked back."

"I think that Mr. Nick would look nice in this purple one."

"We're talking about his hair right now, Pearly! Get out of his closet!"

"It doesn't matter what he does with it, he just has to stop using all that gel!"

"I told you, it's not gel!"

Phoenix flailed about helplessly as the girls gathered in his bedroom continued to argue about his appearance.

"If you want to win someone over, you have to present yourself well!" Ema had insisted before dragging him into the room to look through his clothes.

At some point Ema and Maya had started arguing about Phoenix's hair, and Larry had slithered away somewhere. Pearl had also arrived from the train station. It still amazed Phoenix that a ten-year-old could use the train and find the apartment all by herself, and he worried about her walking alone in the city.

Ema gave up the argument after a few minutes, and she and Maya collectively decided that they would start by inspecting his hair and seeing what could be done with it. Phoenix didn't bother arguing when they shoved him into a chair in front of the long bedroom mirror. Maya began to take a comb to it, and then she stopped, looking frozen in place.

"It's... It's..." She couldn't finish her sentence. Ema moved closer to her and quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes? What is it?"

"It's not gel!"

"I've been telling you that all along! Nobody ever believes me!"

"Mr. Nick, your hair is like that naturally?!"

Phoenix threw up his hands and scoffed.

"Of course it is! Look at my childhood pictures! It's always been like this, and there's not much I can do about it."

"I guess we'll leave it alone, then," Maya relented. "Something that unique is part of your charm, I guess. Though I do think we could clean it up a bit."

"You'll have to start with your wardrobe," Ema suggested.

"So I can look at all the clothes now?!" Pearl piped up, her voice high in her excitement. She got the okay signal and immediately rushed to the closet once more, where she started laying out clothes on the bed.

"No more too-big hoodies," Maya said as she threw several of his oversized ones into a pile. "You need fitted clothes."

"No, don't throw them all away! He can keep one to give to Miles. I mean, girls love stealing their boyfriends' baggy clothes. Maybe some guys are the same way," Ema suggested. Maya tapped her own forehead and grinned.

"Aaaah, thinking ahead! Clever girl."

"I think the band tee shirts are nice," Pearl thought aloud. Ema nodded.

"He can keep the nicer ones, and the ones that fit well. All these faded ratty ones, those have to go." Ema started bunching up shirts, prompting Phoenix to lurch forward.

"C-Can I at least look through them first? Some of them are hand-me-downs from my dad, and I wear them when I paint. Keeps me from having to buy smocks."

Maya sighed, but allowed Phoenix to participate in narrowing down his wardrobe. As they sorted through the clothes, Maya confiscated all of his beanies and demanded that he learn to shave properly and keep his hair neat. "Stubble is fine, but your messy half-beard isn't," she said. Ema asked him what kind of workout routine he did, and he sheepishly admitted that his only form of exercise was his bike riding and walking. Maya decided that she'd become a gym instructor and stop by every morning to train him and Larry.

"What do you even know about exercise?" Phoenix asked accusingly. Maya, at a glance, was very small and thin. She puffed up her chest in response and pulled up the sleeves of her long robes, revealing that she had surprisingly defined muscles.

"The Fey clan espouses a healthy and active lifestyle!"

"But you sit on my couch eating potato chips for hours every other night!"

"It's about moderation, Nick. Most days I eat fish and greens and drink tea."

With that settled, Maya confiscated nearly half of Phoenix's wardrobe, promising that she and Ema had already agreed to pitch in to take him shopping. He was dragged to the nearest mall without any say in the matter, each of the older girls holding him by one of his arms while Pearl skipped happily behind them.

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Phoenix was shocked to find that Maya's tricks had worked. When next he stopped by the bookstore, Miles paused for a moment to look him up and down, appearing somewhat startled, before greeting him.

"Something wrong?" Phoenix asked as nonchalantly as he could. Miles shook his head.

"No, you just... Look different."

"Ah. I'm glad someone noticed! My friends forced me into a makeover... Said I looked like a bum."

Miles made a strange swallowing sound, and Phoenix wondered if he had suppressed a burst of laughter. After he'd recovered, he stepped out from behind the counter to show Phoenix some new items they had in stock. Phoenix started to look through them, expecting to be left alone, before noticing that Miles hadn't left. He seemed to be studying his hands, as if he was curious to know which book Phoenix would look at first.

"I'm sorry, Miles, did you want something?"

"Ah," Miles replied immediately, like the sound was unintentional and had been startled from his lips. "No, it's quite alright. I should be going."

He hurried back to his desk, and Phoenix chuckled as he watched him go. Miles apologized profusely to the man waiting at the checkout line and hurriedly grabbed his notebook and pen.

Phoenix eventually settled on one of the books Miles had shown him. It was a very nice glossary containing hundreds of portraits of people with all kinds of expressions and skin tones and nose shapes. There were even some portraits of unique people, like a few with albinism or a great deal of freckles. It was a nice reference for him, as he mostly focused on painting portraits. He needed to work on painting teeth.

"Only one?" Miles observed when Phoenix got to the counter. Phoenix laughed nervously.

"Only one. Painting isn't always very lucrative."

"You sell your artwork?"

Phoenix paused again. It was taking him far too long to respond to what should have been some simple and benign questions. Miles hadn't ever shown this degree of interest before. Was it just because he was dressed more nicely? Or was it because he'd been coming here so often, and for so long, that Miles finally felt comfortable with his presence?

"Y-yeah! Portraits, mostly. Not too exciting, I know. Sometimes I feel silly calling myself an artist compared to some of the people I see—"

"That's just absurd. The most famous painting in the world is a portrait."

Phoenix froze, and felt his face redden. Miles was probably referring to the Mona Lisa, and he was right, but... Well, it was awfully sweet of him to say so. Did Miles not want him to feel bad, or sell himself short? Phoenix felt his pulse start to race.

"S-So how much do I owe you?"

"Since it's just the one, only six dollars."

"Alright." Phoenix fished his wallet out of his pocket. Maya had gotten him a nicer one, saying men of quality noticed little things like that. She was right, apparently. Miles' eyes followed the leather.

"We will be closed for the next week or so for renovations," Miles suddenly added. Phoenix paused his fumbling with his shiny new wallet and blinked at him.

"Renovations? Are you expanding?" Phoenix tried hard to sound unaffected, but his heart was sinking. That would mean he'd have to go at least an entire week without a single glimpse of Miles. On the bright side, it would give him a chance to actually read many of the books he'd purchased. This was only a small comfort.

Miles finally finished bagging the book (why had it taken him so long to do so?) and adjusted his glasses. He folded his hands on the counter in front of him and locked Phoenix in eye contact. After a moment, he managed to force a small, professional smile. It was a bit awkward and lopsided, like he didn't do it often. Phoenix's heartbeat didn't seem to know the difference.

"We have joined our business with the café next door and will be combining our buildings. The new store will have a much larger sitting area, and you'll be able to enjoy coffee or a snack while you shop or read. There'll also be a small stage for live performances. It should be a much nicer arrangement, and... And maybe then you could get some of your studying done here instead of rushing in and out all the time," Miles explained. For his last remark, he looked down, like he was embarrassed to say it. It took Phoenix a bit too long to react again— he was surprised that Miles noticed him enough to form the opinion that he was constantly rushing, much less to feel any sort of concern about it.

"I-I didn't mean to come across that way... But that does sound nice."

There was a long pause, and Miles appeared to be mulling something over. He grabbed his left elbow with his right hand and squeezed it, deliberately looking away. After a moment, he seemed to strengthen his resolve and turned to Phoenix again.

"M-My Uncle Ray is very excited about it... He, um, owns the store. I work here mostly for free, just to help out."

Phoenix's immediate reaction was one of confusion. What had been so hard about that? Maybe Miles really was uncomfortable with socializing. After a moment, he absorbed the new information. He physically snapped back to his senses, something that probably looked like a sudden twitch to Miles.

"Oh! Really? I was wondering why you were here so often."

Miles looked amused by that remark. Something in his expression said "I know", and Phoenix shifted his weight about on his feet uncomfortably.

"You've probably seen him behind the counter. He's the older gentleman who's always wearing a hat," Miles clarified. Phoenix gasped.

He did know that older gentleman— Mr. Shields. He was tall and thin and wore his hair long and curly and his facial hair untrimmed, and he was a bit too friendly. He gave off the aura of a person who was completely disheveled.

"That's the owner?!" Phoenix immediately regretted his tone, and raised his hands to apologize. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Phoenix stopped.

Miles was laughing. It was so quiet that Phoenix might not have heard it if he hadn't seen his face change. As soft as it was, it was refined and clear, and quickly dissolved into a few exhaled breaths. His face settled into a small smile, and for a moment Phoenix could only blush at him and stammer. This smile, his real one, quite literally took his breath away.

"...I didn't mean to offend," Phoenix finally managed. Miles waved a hand.

"He doesn't behave like a store owner should... He's far too flirtatious."

Phoenix remembered 'Uncle Ray' casually offering Maya a hug, and his quickly pushing her out of the store and far, far away. Flirtatious is one way to put it, I guess...

"S-still, I'm surprised the two of you are related. You don't look anything alike," Phoenix wondered aloud. Miles shrugged.

"It's because we're not related. Not biologically, anyway."

"Oh. Well, that's not that unusual. I think I had an 'Uncle' Keith when I was younger. I guess you earn the title by being around all the time."

Phoenix managed to keep their conversation going for another minute or so before he noticed the people behind him in line. It was sad, the fact that he'd have to cut it so short when he was finally getting the other man to open up, but he wasn't one to disregard other people. He started to back towards the door while still facing the counter, his bag with its single book clutched to his chest.

"I should get going... You'll be open again by this time next week, right?"

"We shall. In the meantime, you'll have to satisfy your addictions elsewhere." Miles smiled again as he waved.

Phoenix backed out the door and nearly collided with another customer on his way in. He blurted out an apology, and then he took off running down the sidewalk. He couldn't wait to tell Maya that Miles had noticed his makeover.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

"You again."

Miles scowled and narrowed his eyes. Larry simply laughed it off, leaning further onto the counter. Miles backed away from him and held up the notebook he used to do price calculations as if it would shield him. Larry took a quick moment to scan the store for spiky hair, and when he'd confirmed that Phoenix was nowhere in sight, he turned back to Miles and grinned.

"Didja miss me? Anyway, I'm back! Tell me, ya got any more magazines?"

Miles sighed and tried his hardest not to groan. Larry saw his eyebrow twitch.

Larry had been coming to the store late in the evening for the past few days, ever since Phoenix had confessed his crush. He didn't come here just to bother Miles— it was a reconnaissance mission. He was working with his friend's interests at heart, and working together with a particular writer.

"I already told you, we do not carry Hustler," Miles sternly reminded him. Apparently the store didn't carry anything that "qualified strictly as pornography". Artistic nudity and pin-ups— those were allowed.

"And I told you that's alright! I'll take Playboy or Sports Illustrated," Larry replied.

"You cleaned us out the last time you were here."

"Which is why I asked if you've got any more— silly Miles."

Miles threw down the notebook, looking completely exasperated, and sidestepped out from behind the counter, gesturing at Larry to follow him. He didn't bother reminding Larry of where they'd been the last several times he'd been there— Larry always pretended not to remember. After a moment, the two arrived at the magazine rack. As Larry set upon the magazines, he could see Miles eying the doorway, hoping for another customer to arrive so that he had an excuse to escape. No such rescue arrived. Larry grabbed the first magazine to catch his eye, one that featured a busty brunette in a skimpy white bikini.

"Man, look at this beauty!" Larry declared loudly, holding the magazine up and tapping it with his hand. "Isn't she something? Look at her, Miles."

The last statement was more of a command than a suggestion. Miles glanced briefly at the magazine cover out of the corner of his eye and then looked back to the door. His professionalism didn't allow him to ignore the questions, but he always answered as vaguely and briefly as possible.

"She's pretty."

Larry snickered. Miles bit his lip nervously, looking strangely guilty about something.

"Pretty? That's it? What about her big ol'—"

"Please don't."

"Fine, fine. Guess she ain't your type. What about her?"

Larry tried holding up another magazine, this one with a blonde model. She was thinner and taller, looked perhaps a few years younger, and wore a more full-coverage swimsuit in a deep red, one similar to the color of what was apparently Miles' favorite sweater. Miles glared at the cover.

"They're both pretty."

"Y'know, you keep saying that. Is that all you have to say?"

"...I like her swimsuit."

"...Her swimsuit. That's all?"

Miles furrowed his brow and looked away again, acting as if he hadn't heard the question. Larry looked back to the rack, and he grinned as his eyes caught something that hadn't been there last time, a magazine he hadn't yet seen on this particular rack. He snatched it up victoriously.

"Ah, would you look at THAT— GQ." He said the letters as distinctly as he could. Miles flinched like he had been caught in a lie. Jackpot. "Now, I don't normally swing that way, but I can appreciate a good-looking guy. Man, this guy's reeeeeally handsome. Don't you think so?"

This time, Miles pointedly refused to look at the cover, and his cheeks tinted ever-so-slightly. Larry was certain, now, that his suspicions were correct.

Larry ceased his teasing and selected a few different Sports Illustrated editions for himself, and then he followed Miles back to the counter. Miles glared at him as often as he could as he checked out the magazines and thrust them into a bag. He seemed almost disgusted by them.

"Have a nice night, Mr. Butz," Miles grumbled through gritted teeth. Larry winked at him and hurried out the door, pulling out his phone as soon as the door closed behind him. He pulled up the number of a certain science-centric girl and sent her a single text message:

Back from mission #4. 95% sure subject is TOTALLY into dudes. Will continue to pursue lead.

And, a moment later, he received a response:

Good work, Eagle 2!! Will follow up!!

Larry chuckled and pumped a celebratory fist into the air as soon as he'd put his phone away. Man, was Nick lucky to have such awesome friends.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

When Phoenix next saw Miles, it truly was a coincidence. Maya had invited him to the street that the store was on, saying she really liked the café and sandwich shop on the corner because they sold a wide variety of good, quality teas. On his way to meet her there, he had spotted two familiar figures lugging a heavy-looking armchair out the front door of Vintage Volumes.

"Miles! Mr. Shields! What's that you've got there?"

Miles nearly jumped out of his skin, and narrowly avoided dropping the chair. "Uncle" Ray eyed him and tried not to laugh. He just barely managed to lift one of his hands quickly enough to tilt his hat in greeting. Phoenix nodded back, smiling warmly.

"Well, what brings you to our little corner of the world on this fine morning? You can't buy any books today," Ray reminded him. Phoenix shook his head and gestured at the café.

"A friend asked me to meet her at the place on the corner— Tea Tree, I think? ...The name doesn't really make any sense."

"It doesn't," Miles replied, but he said it so quietly that it seemed he was saying it to himself. As if he agreed, but hadn't noticed it or thought about it until just then. It suddenly occurred to Phoenix that he was stalling two men who were holding something that appeared to be very heavy.

"Oh, god, I don't mean to hold you guys up! By all means, go ahead— actually, hold on. I'll help you."

"Are you sure you're a painter?" Miles managed to huff. "Because I'm beginning to suspect that you are in fact some kind of covert U-Haul agent."

"What would be the point of that?!" Phoenix had reached Ray's side of the chair and tried to get him to set it down and allow Phoenix to take hold of it. Ray stubbornly shook his head.

"You don't have to do that. I can carry it just fine!"

"That's not true," Phoenix retorted. "I know you have a bad back. I'll carry it, and you can spot us. Where are you taking this, anyway?"

Ray looked helplessly at Miles, who shot him a withering look, before he resigned himself to the extra help and carefully exchanged places with Phoenix. He took a step back to look at the two young men before bothering to respond.

"We're storing some of the furniture and things in our apartment while they're renovating. We have to get this stuff up the stairs," Ray said in a tone that sounded preemptively apologetic. Miles guided Phoenix to the open wooden door with his eyes, beyond which he could see a small landing area and then a steep, rather narrow set of stairs. He suppressed a groan.

"So the two of you live together above the store," Phoenix observed as he moved backwards into the stairwell. Ray ran ahead of them, up to the first of the two corner-twists. Miles looked terribly apprehensive, but then, he knew these stairs better than Phoenix did.

"When this is finished, I'll treat you to a snack as payment," Ray muttered. Not in response to his question— more a reaction to his own realization that this wasn't going to be easy.

"We do," Miles answered in his stead. His voice was hoarse— this apparently wasn't the first thing they'd moved today. "It's an old building, but we manage."

"You're not renovating the apartment complex?"

"No, of course not. We don't have the spare change lying around for such luxuries. Now, I need you to stay focused, Mr. Wright."

"Ah— I'm sorry."

"You're at the first turn," Ray interjected. He guided Phoenix's movements with his hands. "You'll need to pivot up and around the bend. There's no room to turn it normally."

"Pivot?" Phoenix echoed. He contemplated making a stupid reference and decided against it.

"Just lift and turn," Miles clarified. His face softened. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

"Don't worry about me, Miles— I'm real strong." Phoenix grinned alluringly as he said it, and Miles' face went completely blank. Either he wasn't accustomed to being flirted with, or he didn't know how to tell when someone was doing so. He did, however, see Ray raise an eyebrow.

"Okay, now lift it up above your head—"

"Above my head?!"

"That's the only way you're gonna get around this railing! Now lift, lift!"

Me and my big mouth, Phoenix thought as he just barely managed to squeeze the chair around the bend. The top of it grazed the wall, which made Miles grind his teeth, but both came out unscathed. Phoenix was pressed uncomfortably tightly against the wall at the other side for a moment, until Miles was able to squeeze himself onto the wide landing stair and turn the chair to face straight and upwards once more.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before using this method to try and impress a guy," Ray whispered into Phoenix's ear from above him and around the next turn. Phoenix instantly reddened.

"Are you alright?" Miles asked innocently. Phoenix managed a casual smile.

"Yeah, just fine. It's just kind of warm up here."

"One of the many benefits of an old building," Miles grumbled. "Always a bit too warm or a bit too cold."

"You're at the next turn. You'd better start lifting."

"Already?!"

Another minute or two of awkward shuffling and squeezing and a couple of strained grunts, and then both men managed to get the chair around the second turn. From there, it was just a few more stairs and then one final squeeze into the door that marked the apartment.

"Where do you want it?"

"Right by the piano is fine."

How the hell did you guys get a piano in here?!

Phoenix decided not to ask and set the chair down where he was instructed to. Ray's malicious grin reminded him that he had agreed to help with the rest of their work, meaning he had at least one more chair to lift. Phoenix resigned himself to his fate and pulled out his phone to text Maya. When he mentioned that it involved Miles, she was more than understanding. "I'll wait as long as you need me to," she replied.

After moving one more armchair, the table that had sat between the chairs, the desk that served as the store's counter, and several boxes containing various things, Phoenix collapsed with exhaustion on the apartment's couch. Ray's laughter didn't help matters. Miles sat beside him and asked, once more, if he was okay, but Phoenix could tell he was just as exhausted.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," Phoenix teased, and Miles turned away. Phoenix took the opportunity to study the apartment. "I know you said it's old, but it's a nice little place. It's quaint."

Phoenix was able to ignore the furniture that now took up a good portion of the apartment's floor plan as he made a mental map. The apartment had a little fireplace in its living room area, and it was framed on either side by tall bookshelves stuffed full of novels. The mantel held a small flat-screen TV. Just beyond the living room was the upright piano across from a wall full of framed photographs and a storage trunk (the door there led to the "storage room", now thoroughly stuffed), and this gave way to the kitchen. It only had room for a small table surrounded by four chairs, and said kitchen didn't have an island— just the wraparound counter. Beyond the kitchen he could see two doors, and suspected that each one led to a bedroom. The bathroom, he guessed, was in between them. The final door, the one with a coat hanger next to it and just across from the living room, was partially ajar and revealed a cramped office space of some kind. True to what Miles had said about Uncle Ray and technology, he saw a typewriter instead of a computer.

"I've grown somewhat attached to it," Miles agreed after taking a look around himself. "It's mostly just trouble with the windows and things, or the occasional floorboard needing to be replaced."

"I'll get you a snack and something to drink, as promised," Ray called from the kitchen. Miles stood to wander in that direction, and Phoenix followed. He lingered near the instrument.

"You've got a piano in here. Are you the one that plays?" He asked. Miles looked fondly at the piano and smiled.

"I am," he confirmed. Phoenix smirked. That would explain his book of composers.

"I won't put you on the spot and ask you to play something for me, though. Don't worry," Phoenix laughed. Miles looked instantly relieved.

"You won't? Everyone else... Well."

"Hey, I'm an artist, remember? Do you have any idea how many people hear that and immediately ask you to draw them?"

"That's... terribly rude. You don't meet a plumber and instantly ask them to come to your house and fix your sink."

"Exactly!"

Looking more closely at the instrument, Phoenix noticed one more photograph sitting on its mantel. It was of one man, who smiled warmly at the camera. It looked like it had been taken in a studio, some kind of professional headshot. The man looked familiar, somehow, but before he could place where he remembered the face from, Miles awkwardly scurried to stand in front of it, hiding it from his sight.

Just as Phoenix opened his mouth to question Miles' actions, Ray waved a hand at him, and Phoenix followed the two of them into the kitchen. He took a seat at the counter using one of the wooden stools he found there, and after a moment Ray set down a plate and a few glasses of milk. Phoenix started laughing as soon as he saw the plate.

"Oreos?"

"They're his favorite," Ray snickered.

"They're my favorite," Phoenix announced, taking one before Miles could. "Ooh— Miles, I have a very important question for you. ...Which is better, the cookie or the filling?"

"They're equally important."

"And how do you feel about double-stuffed Oreos?"

"Too sweet, of course."

"Hear hear!" Phoenix laughed as he offered up his glass of milk, allowing Miles to gently clink the two together in a makeshift toast. Ray didn't seem to understand why it was such a big deal.

Phoenix spent most of his time in the apartment talking to Ray, as Miles suddenly seemed shy and withdrawn. He wondered if it had something to do with that photograph. He eventually bid them both farewell as he texted Maya and sped out the door, promising Miles that he'd be back in the store the moment it reopened.

"I'm sure you will," Miles replied, nodding in lieu of a wave.

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Maya skipped along the sidewalk as quickly as she could. It was the height of summer, but there was an odd chill in the air, one magnified by the now-absent sun. The weather had been unusual all month. She pulled her scarf up higher. It was strangely modern-looking on her, and clashed with her distinctive robes.

The door of the Tea Tree rang as she opened it, a little bell announcing the arrival of a new customer. The shop was a welcome warmth compared to the air outside. She rubbed her hands together as soon as she got inside, and then started fishing in her pocket for her spare change. Ever since she'd volunteered money to help buy Phoenix a new wardrobe, she'd been a bit short on cash.

Just then, she noticed a familiar back. She tried to suppress the delighted sound that nearly escaped her mouth.

"Miles! I didn't think I'd see you here!"

The man in question jumped and spun around, looking exasperated.

"Miss, um. Miss..." He trailed off, unable to place her name. He was certain he'd seen her in the shop before— he'd never seen anyone else in that kind of getup, after all.

"Maya! Just Maya is fine."

"I-I don't normally—"

"So what are you doing here, huh?! I love this place! They understand real tea, that's for sure. You seem like a tea person yourself. I'll bet that's why you're here."

Miles always looked almost frightened when confronted with Maya. Being a quiet and reserved person, he didn't understand people like Maya or how to deal with them. She did not allow him his usual methods of hiding.

"I-I do like the tea. The sandwiches and pastries, too. I-I always eat lunch here..." Miles winced, looking like he wanted to take the admission back. It was too late, of course. Maya pounced on it.

"You eat your lunches here?! Oh, we should totally eat lunch here together! I never get to see you outside of the shop, after all."

Miles didn't really answer her invitation. Instead, he snatched up his food, ordered to-go and, as soon as it was ready, made his way for the door, nodding at Maya as he passed. She made a note of what he'd chosen to eat.

"I have someplace to be. I'll see you at the shop when it reopens, I presume."

"You bet!"

The ringing bell announced his departure, and he took a deep breath as soon as he was free of the girl's overwhelming presence. He didn't dislike her— he simply hadn't met anyone else quite like her, not in a long while, and he never knew how he was supposed to respond to that.

Miles shivered against the cold as he quickened his pace. He didn't know why so many people were suddenly insistent on talking to him, but it seemed it was something he would have to get used to.

I suppose, for now, I can live with it, he thought, smiling as he was hit with a sudden craving for an particular kind of cookie.

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A/N: why oreos? i dunno. saw them in my pantry, said "fuck it, we're using those". they're weird flavored ones, though, so i haven't eaten any of them.
fun fact: whenever my family and i have to move a piece of furniture upstairs, i make my family laugh by reenacting the couch-moving scene from friends. this is, incidentally, what phoenix considers referencing when ray says the word "pivot". hey, at least they didn't have to cut the chair in half!
also, i lived in a house laid out like the apartment... only one bathroom, with a door in each bedroom. if you wanted to lock someone out of your room you had to remember to lock the bathroom door as well, and you got walked in on in the bathroom a lot because you'd sometimes forget to lock both doors.