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’d be content to hold her for as long as she needed, even if he felt like a rabbit in a case, as if she could lash out at any time. But the longer he thinks on it, the more he realizes that she could have done it this entire time and he’d have been nonethewiser. So what changed? Why was he terrified now after learning the truth when she didn’t have to tell him in the first place? When he had been in her grasp time and time again and she’d done nothing but love him and appreciate him, even if he’d been careless in his magic showing.
It’s the thought that calms him enough to not worry that she’ll bolt when she pulls away from him. He lets her go, letting her get as much space and breathing room as she requires, his own hand lifting to wipe away the tears on his face now that he’s managed to quell it. Her voice pulls him out of it, a sniffle that sounds rather pitiful in comparison to everything else as his dark gaze regards her again.
“You don’t hafta lose me.” He assures her quietly, even though his voice sounds small and not at all confident in his ears. But he gives her the second, the moments she takes to steady herself. Eventually she settles on the couch and he only approaches when her lips part to speak again, to offer more, and he moves closer to her to lean against the counter nearby it, his muscles tense in his jaw as he listens.
Red brows furrow as she explains further and further what brought her here. And the fact that she was alive does give him some relief, but when it came to those that used magic for evil, could he blame her for hunting them down? No. No he couldn’t. So his feet move before his mind can, stepping closer until he’s perched on the edge of the couch beside her but still giving her enough breathing room as he considers everything. “I see.” He murmurs his explanation at the beginning, running a hand through his hair, sucking down another easy breath now that his heart has calmed.
He’s not sure what to say to it, but he tries regardless, his head tilting toward her to catch her gaze. “Is that why y’got all those scars?” He asks quietly, lips forming a soft frown. “’Cause y’were fightin’ all those people?” The answer to that doesn’t bother him much, if he’s being honest. “’m jus’ glad yer okay.” This is said with as much honesty as he can. “I guess… It’s gotta be like when I go somewhere that ain’t Torchline.” He hasn’t done it much, but everything felt too different and he was far too homesick to figure it out. “’m sorry.” It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but he tries to offer it to her regardless. Sorry she’d lost everything. Sorry he’d freaked out. Sorry for her life being so backwards before arriving here. Sorry for all of it.
It’s the thought that calms him enough to not worry that she’ll bolt when she pulls away from him. He lets her go, letting her get as much space and breathing room as she requires, his own hand lifting to wipe away the tears on his face now that he’s managed to quell it. Her voice pulls him out of it, a sniffle that sounds rather pitiful in comparison to everything else as his dark gaze regards her again.
“You don’t hafta lose me.” He assures her quietly, even though his voice sounds small and not at all confident in his ears. But he gives her the second, the moments she takes to steady herself. Eventually she settles on the couch and he only approaches when her lips part to speak again, to offer more, and he moves closer to her to lean against the counter nearby it, his muscles tense in his jaw as he listens.
Red brows furrow as she explains further and further what brought her here. And the fact that she was alive does give him some relief, but when it came to those that used magic for evil, could he blame her for hunting them down? No. No he couldn’t. So his feet move before his mind can, stepping closer until he’s perched on the edge of the couch beside her but still giving her enough breathing room as he considers everything. “I see.” He murmurs his explanation at the beginning, running a hand through his hair, sucking down another easy breath now that his heart has calmed.
He’s not sure what to say to it, but he tries regardless, his head tilting toward her to catch her gaze. “Is that why y’got all those scars?” He asks quietly, lips forming a soft frown. “’Cause y’were fightin’ all those people?” The answer to that doesn’t bother him much, if he’s being honest. “’m jus’ glad yer okay.” This is said with as much honesty as he can. “I guess… It’s gotta be like when I go somewhere that ain’t Torchline.” He hasn’t done it much, but everything felt too different and he was far too homesick to figure it out. “’m sorry.” It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but he tries to offer it to her regardless. Sorry she’d lost everything. Sorry he’d freaked out. Sorry for her life being so backwards before arriving here. Sorry for all of it.
i never took the time to see
but i knew of its worth
but i knew of its worth
