MILO
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me
but there's gold in the dirt
but there's gold in the dirt
He doesn’t look at her when she says his name, too focused on searching and rummaging for something strong to give her a glance – perhaps he’s too selfishly afraid of what he might see splashed across her face. So he finds something, pours it into a new glass if only so he doesn’t have to look back at her and see it suddenly so clearly, throwing it back and swallowing against the burn until she’s moved toward him.
And he can’t really avoid it now, not as she speaks. He can see in his peripheral as her shoulders sag, as she slumps slightly and Milo doesn’t know whether he wants to know the answer to it or not. But he turns to her, anyway, swallowing down against the burn he can feel growing in his stomach, the burn that begins to hollow him out as he lets his gaze linger on her face.
He’s silent for a while, unsure how to begin. “’m no stranger t’losin’ people.” He offers at first, pausing to work his jaw, to figure out just what he wants to say. “’n I know this place’ll make killers outta all’ve us at some point. I dunno fully what it was like where yer from. I don’t… Wanna make ya relive it if ya don’ want to.” He can’t help the way his brows edge closer together.
Get ahold of yourself, Milo.
A hand lifts to tear through his hair, to rest at the back of his neck, torn between wanting to forget that it was even brought up – regretting it when they were having such a nice night, how he had ruined it all because she’d asked too probing questions when Milo was simply content to ignore most of everything if only to keep the peace.
He was a peace keeper, not a conflict starter. He doesn’t know how to deal with it.
“What ‘m sayin’ is… ‘m sorry I ruined th’night. I didn’ mean to.” This comes out quietly, a forced half smile crossing his face.
And he can’t really avoid it now, not as she speaks. He can see in his peripheral as her shoulders sag, as she slumps slightly and Milo doesn’t know whether he wants to know the answer to it or not. But he turns to her, anyway, swallowing down against the burn he can feel growing in his stomach, the burn that begins to hollow him out as he lets his gaze linger on her face.
He’s silent for a while, unsure how to begin. “’m no stranger t’losin’ people.” He offers at first, pausing to work his jaw, to figure out just what he wants to say. “’n I know this place’ll make killers outta all’ve us at some point. I dunno fully what it was like where yer from. I don’t… Wanna make ya relive it if ya don’ want to.” He can’t help the way his brows edge closer together.
Get ahold of yourself, Milo.
A hand lifts to tear through his hair, to rest at the back of his neck, torn between wanting to forget that it was even brought up – regretting it when they were having such a nice night, how he had ruined it all because she’d asked too probing questions when Milo was simply content to ignore most of everything if only to keep the peace.
He was a peace keeper, not a conflict starter. He doesn’t know how to deal with it.
“What ‘m sayin’ is… ‘m sorry I ruined th’night. I didn’ mean to.” This comes out quietly, a forced half smile crossing his face.
i never took the time to see
but i knew of its worth
but i knew of its worth
