MILO
“Y’did.” Milo murmurs softly, still watching her – unable to understand the problem at the root. Was it regret? Was it something else? He tries not to let his mind drift to himself not quite being enough, because he knows it isn’t true – but there’s still that nagging what if that burns through him. So he waits for her to speak, hands warmed from both her and the water, running along her until he isn’t anymore, because she’s slipping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel and his red brows furrow together in confusion.
He follows her, shutting off the shower and grabs a towel of his own, wrapping it quickly around his waist as the water drips from his hair down his face in mock tears as he steps toward her again. “Can y’tell me ‘bout it? We can figure it out.” He suggests, wanting nothing more than to try and alleviate it for her – obvious by now that his distraction hadn’t worked and he’s suddenly at such a loss that it worries him.
It’s that worry that glimmers in his gaze despite how she doesn’t look at him, and he doesn’t reach for her – hands twisting into the fabric of the towel instead.
He follows her, shutting off the shower and grabs a towel of his own, wrapping it quickly around his waist as the water drips from his hair down his face in mock tears as he steps toward her again. “Can y’tell me ‘bout it? We can figure it out.” He suggests, wanting nothing more than to try and alleviate it for her – obvious by now that his distraction hadn’t worked and he’s suddenly at such a loss that it worries him.
It’s that worry that glimmers in his gaze despite how she doesn’t look at him, and he doesn’t reach for her – hands twisting into the fabric of the towel instead.
as long as we don't die,
this is gonna be one hell of a story
this is gonna be one hell of a story
