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
He doesn’t expect that this is how the conversation will go, not as he’s taking a bite of the melon and she’s shuffling a bit closer, a hand running through his red hair to tame it down from the spikes it holds within it right now, his gaze following the leg that extends near him, following the line of it up until he meets her face again.
There’s another moment of pause as he considers her, the words that leave her lips, how he could respond to them with any number of deflection or frustration. But she’s right, in the end, even if it’s something Milo still doesn’t plan on doing. Her hand falls into his lap and he discards the rind of the melon he’d eaten, reaching down for her hand to run his fingers along the skin of her palm. “Yeah, I think so.” He rumbles quietly. “M’Parents make it clear ev’ry day how they feel ‘bout the smugglers, ev’n if it’s how we get most’a our livin’.” A muscle feathers in his jaw, red brows furrowing and pinching together in his admission.
As for being alone? Well, yes and no. He focuses on her hand instead of her face. “Zeph’s more like’a dad t’me than m’own. ‘N I got the smugglers ‘n the dock kids I help take care’ve. So no… Not really alone, more alone at home, I guess.” His fingers still in their soft exploration of her palm and her own fingers for his golden gaze in the sunrise to lift to her face.
There’s another moment of pause as he considers her, the words that leave her lips, how he could respond to them with any number of deflection or frustration. But she’s right, in the end, even if it’s something Milo still doesn’t plan on doing. Her hand falls into his lap and he discards the rind of the melon he’d eaten, reaching down for her hand to run his fingers along the skin of her palm. “Yeah, I think so.” He rumbles quietly. “M’Parents make it clear ev’ry day how they feel ‘bout the smugglers, ev’n if it’s how we get most’a our livin’.” A muscle feathers in his jaw, red brows furrowing and pinching together in his admission.
As for being alone? Well, yes and no. He focuses on her hand instead of her face. “Zeph’s more like’a dad t’me than m’own. ‘N I got the smugglers ‘n the dock kids I help take care’ve. So no… Not really alone, more alone at home, I guess.” His fingers still in their soft exploration of her palm and her own fingers for his golden gaze in the sunrise to lift to her face.
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
