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
She doesn’t take his hand. But she does approach closer and Milo’s able to round his emotions into something that can at least face her, swallowing down the tightness of his throat as he focuses on her – not her face, but her shoulders, sometimes a glance beyond her. “’Cause I don’ want ya t’go.” He admits quietly. It’s a lot for him, the fearful one, the runner to face a fear that’s suddenly settled deep in his heart. But she had assured him, she had told him that she didn’t want to hurt him.
He wants to believe her so badly.
Her hand ghosts against the gift she’d given him, still wrapped around his wrist – he doesn’t think he could take it off if he even wanted to. It was bound to him just as she had so swiftly become, a person whom he’d latched onto when he’d hardly had much else to go with. She’d restored some of his sanity, she’d offered him a sanctuary to where he could simply be himself…
And she hadn’t done the same.
Part of him wonders how much was real to her, whether or not she’d lied to protect him from the truth or whether it hurt more barbing herself over the spikes of her past that she didn’t want to show to him. But he looks, swimming honeyed eyes rising to her face as she crumbles and he wants to reach for her, but she hadn’t closed the distance either and he doesn’t know what to do. “I can’t.” He tells her simply. He can’t understand. “Doesn’ mean I can’t try to.” Comes the follow-up, the truth of why he wants to know.
But she shakes and pulls away from him and tears fall so swiftly that his heart breaks further and Milo decides to go against his instincts for once. Not to run, not to hide away and pretend he’s fine through laughter and jokes and drinking. He takes a shuddering breath, a step toward her, hoping to wrap her into his chest. “I don’ hate you.” How could he? He was… Terrified of her. But he could never hate her. “Listen t’me.” He manages despite his voice cracking, hoping to press his cheek against the crown of her head. “I don’ hate you, ‘relia.” I’m just scared.
He wants to believe her so badly.
Her hand ghosts against the gift she’d given him, still wrapped around his wrist – he doesn’t think he could take it off if he even wanted to. It was bound to him just as she had so swiftly become, a person whom he’d latched onto when he’d hardly had much else to go with. She’d restored some of his sanity, she’d offered him a sanctuary to where he could simply be himself…
And she hadn’t done the same.
Part of him wonders how much was real to her, whether or not she’d lied to protect him from the truth or whether it hurt more barbing herself over the spikes of her past that she didn’t want to show to him. But he looks, swimming honeyed eyes rising to her face as she crumbles and he wants to reach for her, but she hadn’t closed the distance either and he doesn’t know what to do. “I can’t.” He tells her simply. He can’t understand. “Doesn’ mean I can’t try to.” Comes the follow-up, the truth of why he wants to know.
But she shakes and pulls away from him and tears fall so swiftly that his heart breaks further and Milo decides to go against his instincts for once. Not to run, not to hide away and pretend he’s fine through laughter and jokes and drinking. He takes a shuddering breath, a step toward her, hoping to wrap her into his chest. “I don’ hate you.” How could he? He was… Terrified of her. But he could never hate her. “Listen t’me.” He manages despite his voice cracking, hoping to press his cheek against the crown of her head. “I don’ hate you, ‘relia.” I’m just scared.
i never took the time to see
but i knew of its worth
but i knew of its worth
