MILO
“How can’t y’be?” He asks in some amount of disbelief. If it were him? He’d never leave the shores of Torchline again. He’d tell the Ark to go without him, he’d tell his family to go fishing without him. He’s not even sure he’d want to leave the house – the empty one that once Rigby had left and Aurelia hadn’t come home, had been to quiet and simultaneously too loud for him.
And he’d felt so small, so alone, despite having things he could do and places he could go. He just… Didn’t. Didn’t want to. He kept to himself, kept his head down, kept his anger behind his tongue, thrown into his work, trying to make it all make sense.
Her hands on his arms distract him, though, and he finally looks at her face, watching as she takes his idle comment directly to her face. He hated the term Queen. It made it feel… Not like Torchline. Torchline had Governors and Governesses. Not the hierarchy of Queens like in those fantasy books he’d read.
But her agreement huffs out some of his anger, and his clenching fists slow down as her hands lower toward his own, and he’s finally still as he watches her, meets that bright green gaze he’d simultaneously missed yet haunted him.
It cracks his façade, it creates this big gaping hole within him, something that wishes to suck everything of the mask he’s worn ever since she’d left out into nothing. Crumbled into the dust. He struggles with his understanding now that had once come to him so easily. And now? Now it’s just a mix between surprise and sorrow that cuts his brow sharply. One that pinches the red brows together ever so slightly as his nostrils flare and he tears his gaze away from her to look down, away, at anything else but her eyes. “I dunno if I should b’angry ‘r relieved.” He admits quietly, working his jaw slightly before he shakes his head. “I’ve been so, so angry, ‘Relia.” He whispers out.
It wasn’t ever him, and now it was, and now he’s not sure he can change to how he was before. He's not sure if that's what she wants anymore.
And he’d felt so small, so alone, despite having things he could do and places he could go. He just… Didn’t. Didn’t want to. He kept to himself, kept his head down, kept his anger behind his tongue, thrown into his work, trying to make it all make sense.
Her hands on his arms distract him, though, and he finally looks at her face, watching as she takes his idle comment directly to her face. He hated the term Queen. It made it feel… Not like Torchline. Torchline had Governors and Governesses. Not the hierarchy of Queens like in those fantasy books he’d read.
But her agreement huffs out some of his anger, and his clenching fists slow down as her hands lower toward his own, and he’s finally still as he watches her, meets that bright green gaze he’d simultaneously missed yet haunted him.
It cracks his façade, it creates this big gaping hole within him, something that wishes to suck everything of the mask he’s worn ever since she’d left out into nothing. Crumbled into the dust. He struggles with his understanding now that had once come to him so easily. And now? Now it’s just a mix between surprise and sorrow that cuts his brow sharply. One that pinches the red brows together ever so slightly as his nostrils flare and he tears his gaze away from her to look down, away, at anything else but her eyes. “I dunno if I should b’angry ‘r relieved.” He admits quietly, working his jaw slightly before he shakes his head. “I’ve been so, so angry, ‘Relia.” He whispers out.
It wasn’t ever him, and now it was, and now he’s not sure he can change to how he was before. He's not sure if that's what she wants anymore.
there's something tragic, but almost pure
think i could love you, but i'm not sure
think i could love you, but i'm not sure
