MILO
this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
Truth be told, Milo has a great family, one well revered for fishing and supplying Torchline with some of its better fish. But it had never been that path for him, the youngest, left to fend for himself when his siblings got older, when his sister helped his mother in the stands in Kaiholo, when his brothers departed for the sea with his father. It had just been him. And really, that’s not a sad story like many around here. Not like Zeph or anyone else that had succumbed to it.
But Milo was just tired of pretending his work at the docks was legit, tired of defending it, tired of coming home late and being questioned when he inevitably and accidentally woke up a parent. And he supposes he has the bookshop that Sam had left him, a room for himself and an empty one down the hall. But that was all it was, an empty husk. And Milo? Well, he doesn’t like being alone.
His gaze drifts to her as she sits up and pulls the cigarette up to her lips to light it, shuffling closer to him until she’s peering down at him, a crooked smile crossing his face. “Sure looks like ya are.” He accuses with a playful tone, even if it’s a bit weary. But he sits up halfway, letting his brown gaze drift over her face as the smoke drifts from her, as he props himself up on an elbow and angles a bit toward her. “’Sides, ya were the one t’bring ‘em anyway.” And with his free hand he plucks the cigarette from her offered hand, putting it to his lips and taking a deep and practiced drag.
He meets her gaze after a moment of letting the nicotine spread through him. “Things at home ‘r fine. I jus’...” He sighs, shaking his head and taking another drag before flipping the cigarette so the butt is angled toward her and the cherry angled toward him. “Too many questions when ‘m gettin’ home when m’brother’s ‘r gettin’ up fer work, y’know?” Provided she grabs the cigarette, he’ll take that hand and run through his red locks. “Can only use the Halenani ‘n the Hanged Man as ‘n excuse so many times ‘fore it gets old.”
But Milo was just tired of pretending his work at the docks was legit, tired of defending it, tired of coming home late and being questioned when he inevitably and accidentally woke up a parent. And he supposes he has the bookshop that Sam had left him, a room for himself and an empty one down the hall. But that was all it was, an empty husk. And Milo? Well, he doesn’t like being alone.
His gaze drifts to her as she sits up and pulls the cigarette up to her lips to light it, shuffling closer to him until she’s peering down at him, a crooked smile crossing his face. “Sure looks like ya are.” He accuses with a playful tone, even if it’s a bit weary. But he sits up halfway, letting his brown gaze drift over her face as the smoke drifts from her, as he props himself up on an elbow and angles a bit toward her. “’Sides, ya were the one t’bring ‘em anyway.” And with his free hand he plucks the cigarette from her offered hand, putting it to his lips and taking a deep and practiced drag.
He meets her gaze after a moment of letting the nicotine spread through him. “Things at home ‘r fine. I jus’...” He sighs, shaking his head and taking another drag before flipping the cigarette so the butt is angled toward her and the cherry angled toward him. “Too many questions when ‘m gettin’ home when m’brother’s ‘r gettin’ up fer work, y’know?” Provided she grabs the cigarette, he’ll take that hand and run through his red locks. “Can only use the Halenani ‘n the Hanged Man as ‘n excuse so many times ‘fore it gets old.”
for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
