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Chapter 23: The Old Apartment

Author: Yurivale
last update publish date: 2026-10-10 12:08:55

The call came on Tuesday morning while Milo was editing his gallery photos and Lucien was trying to learn how to make coffee that didn't taste like burned socks.

It was Mrs. Alvarez from Milo's old building on 182nd. The building with the roaches and the heater that never worked and the mailbox that someone always broke into.

"Milo? It's Mrs. A. We cleaning basement storage. We found box with your name. You left when you moved quick. You want it or we throw?"

Milo froze, camera in hand.

His old apartment. Where he lived for two years with Daniel, then alone for six months after Daniel cheated, where he was cold every winter, where he learned to sleep in his coat, where he kept his first camera that Daniel said was "waste of money."

He didn't want to go back. He thought he had left nothing.

"I... I have box?" he asked.

"Small box. Photos, maybe. Come today before 5, or we throw."

He hung up and Lucien was standing there, two mugs of terrible coffee in hands, watching Milo's face go white.

"What box?" Lucien asked.

"My old place. Basement. They found my stuff. I have to go get it."

"I will drive you," Lucien said immediately, putting coffee down, grabbing car keys. No question. Not "do you want me to come?" Just "I will drive you."

Milo wanted to say "no, I can go alone, it's not big deal" but old habits were breaking. He wanted Lucien there.

"Okay," he said, small. "But it's dirty building. And it smells. And my old apartment was... it was small. Really small. You will hate it."

"I won't hate anything that was yours," Lucien said, taking Milo's hand, black nails chipping. "Even if it smells."

They drove uptown. Lucien's expensive car looked stupid in that neighborhood, parked between two cars with missing bumpers and one shopping cart. Milo got out quickly, embarrassed, pulling Lucien's hand.

Mrs. Alvarez met them at door, small lady with big keys, looked at Lucien's suit and said "You must be rich boyfriend, Milo told me you make salty soup."

Lucien, to his credit, said "Yes, I make terrible soup, nice to meet you, Mrs. Alvarez."

She led them to basement. Dark, wet, smelled like mold and old pipes. One bare bulb swinging. And in corner, a cardboard box, taped with old duct tape, Milo's handwriting on side: MILO - DO NOT THROW - CAMERA STUFF

Milo knelt in dirty basement floor, in his good jeans, and opened it.

Inside: not much. But everything.

A photo album, cheap plastic one from drugstore, photos peeling. Milo at 18, first year in New York, smiling with all teeth, no lip piercing yet, freckles brighter, holding his first film camera that his mom bought him for graduation.

A stack of printed photos — Milo's first photos ever. Blurry, bad exposure, but of fire escapes and pigeons and Daniel sleeping.

And at bottom, a small velvet pouch.

Milo opened it. A silver ring. Thin, cheap, tarnished. Promise ring Daniel gave him at 19, said "when we make it in New York, we will get real ones." Milo had thrown it away when Daniel cheated, or thought he threw it away. Must have fallen in box.

He held it and his hands shook.

Lucien knelt behind him in basement dirt, in his expensive suit pants that now had mold on them, and didn't say anything. Just waited.

"This was my everything box," Milo whispered, touching album. "When I was cold, I would look at these and think, maybe one day I will be warm again. And this ring... Daniel gave me... I thought I threw it..."

"You kept it because you hoped," Lucien said softly, understanding.

Milo nodded, tears falling onto album plastic. "I was so stupid. I thought if I kept ring, he would come back. I was so lonely."

Lucien took the ring from Milo's palm, gently, and stood up.

"What are you doing?" Milo asked, scared.

Lucien walked to the small basement window that was open to alley and threw the ring out. Hard. Into alley garbage where it belonged.

Milo gasped.

"Hey! That was—"

"Trash," Lucien said, dusting his hands, calm. "It was trash. You kept trash because you thought you didn't deserve better than trash. But now you have better."

He knelt again and took Milo's face in his dirty hands.

"You have real ring now," Lucien said, touching Milo's hand — no ring yet, but promise in voice. "Not cheap tarnished one from boy who cheated. Real one, when you are ready. From man who throws away trash for you."

Milo cried then, loud basement cry, echoing.

"I was so cold there," he sobbed. "My apartment was so cold and I was so lonely and I thought that was all I deserved, cold apartment and cheap ring and boy who said I was childish!"

Lucien pulled him into his chest, in dirty basement, suit ruined, and held him tight.

"You deserved warm," Lucien whispered into his freckled hair. "You deserved warm apartment and warm soup and warm hands that stay. You deserve everything, Milo Chen. Everything I have and everything I haven't bought yet."

Mrs. Alvarez stood at top of stairs, pretending not to listen, but she shouted down: "Milo, honey, you okay? You want me to call someone?"

"No, Mrs. A, we're okay!" Milo shouted back, wiping nose on Lucien's suit sleeve, which made Lucien laugh.

They took the box. Left the ring in alley where rats could have it.

In car, Milo opened album again and showed Lucien photo of 18-year-old Milo, no piercing, big smile.

"I was cute?" Milo asked, shy.

"You were always cute," Lucien said, driving with one hand, other holding Milo's black-nailed hand. "You were cute and cold and waiting for me to find you on rainy street."

Milo held album to chest like treasure.

At home, Milo didn't tape anything on fridge. He put the album on bookshelf, next to Lucien's boring business books, so his 18-year-old self could be warm too.

And he took the box — his everything box — and put it in closet, not basement, because his things deserved closet now, not basement.

Lucien added a note on fridge that night, while Milo slept holding album:

He had a box in a moldy basement that said DO NOT THROW. So I will never throw him away. Ever. - L

Milo added in morning, when he saw it, with sleepy handwriting:

He threw Daniel's ring in trash and got mold on his suit for me. My hero. - M

Mrs. Alvarez texted Milo later that day: Your rich boyfriend is nice. He gave me $100 for my grandson's school even though I said no. Tell him soup still salty though.

Milo showed Lucien and Lucien said "I will learn soup for Mrs. Alvarez too now."

And that was how Milo's old cold apartment finally became warm — because someone went back with him to throw away the cheap ring and bring home the album.

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