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[Eren by personality]

 

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[Eren by personality]

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[Eren by personality]

 

[Eren by personality]

 

[Eren by personality]

 

[Eren by personality]

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[Badasswithabigheart]

 

[Badasswithabigheart]

Milo/Mal (Happy and the past)
·
10h
25
A/N: So, after a comment that stated we never have really seen Milo or Mal happy with each other, and me realizing that you all have never really seen them together, I went back in some of my old drafts and found this. It's back at the beginning of them, just after Malcolm had transitioned.
The knock came in the middle of the night. Malcolm knew it could only be one person and he had half a mind to ignore it. He wasn’t mad at Milo but he was irritated in the way the man never seemed to keep track of sleeping hours. Most likely he was coming home from the bars looking for a quickie and Malcolm was not in the mood to entertain it tonight. Something nagged at him, however, when the knock came again. There was a hesitation in it. Like the person on the other side was unsure if he should really be doing this.
Not drunk then. Drunk Milo would be shouting by now.
Rising from bed, Malcolm padded across the small expanse from his bed to the front door, unlocking the deadbolt and pressing his thumb to the magic seal. Like he had expected, Milo was on the other side.
The man looked haggard, hair tugged in several places and eyes wild as they landed on Malcolm’s own. He stood there in only sweats and a loose night shirt. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his shoes.
“Hey,” he said, voice shot through with fear. “Did I wake you?”
Of course he had. They both knew it. But there was something about the look in his eyes that made Malcolm not want to rub that in. “It’s alright. Come in.” He stepped aside and Milo burst through the door as if something was breathing down his neck. His freckled arms were raised with goosebumps and he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the door was shut behind him.
Malcolm had seen this expression on Milo once or twice before. Milo had woke in his bed with a gasp, clutching at his sheets, his shirt, anything to ground him. The panic never lasted long and usually he shook it off with a joke or a wry comment. Malcolm had noticed it, however.
“Let me get you some water,” he told Milo. “Go sit down.”
Milo did what he was told, shuffling over to the sofa. He was walking normally so at least he had not messed his feet up on the way here. Malcolm watched him out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved the water. Watched as Milo sat down, rocked himself forward a bit before sitting up. Like he couldn’t settle or figure out how he should arrange himself.
Malcolm came over, setting the glass on the coffee table before sitting next to him. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out, running his fingers through the mess of curls on Milo’s head. When Milo leaned into it, he tried not to show his surprise.
“Button,” he started gently. “Talk to me.”
He shook his head only slightly, not wanting to dislodge Malcolm’s hold. “It’s nothing.”
“You left wherever you were sleeping without your shoes. It’s obviously something.”
“I don’t like shoes,” he mumbled.
“Uh huh.”
Sighing, Milo slumped back into the sofa, his shoulder brushing against Malcolm’s. “It’s ****ing stupid. I shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t even mean to. I just needed to get out and take a walk.”
“And you wound up here?”
He shifted, cheeks tinging pink with irritation rather than embarrassment. As if needing someone was the most irritating notion. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad.”
Milo looked at him warily. They had been together off and on for a little over a year. The two of them had never agreed to anything exclusive and some months Milo would be gone from his life while others, Malcolm could barely get the man out of his bed. He hadn’t seen Milo in a few weeks but they weren’t on bad terms. This time their separation had been more about their work schedules than anything else. That, and Malcolm had been sick. He hadn’t told Milo or Hazel about it. The teas he had been taking for his transition had made him sleepy at best and a raging ******* most of the day.
“You look different,” Milo said after a moment.
Malcolm blinked. Milo of course knew about his transition. Hell, the two of them hadn’t even kissed until after Malcolm had cut off his hair and started trying to grow a beard.
“Bad different?”
Milo shook his head. “No. I like it. You got more facial hair, I think. Your uh- your jaw is also more defined.”
“Oh, yeah.” Malcolm tried to shrug it off. “I’ve been doing some stuff.”
“Is your voice deeper?”
Malcolm shrugged. He felt far more like himself these days. More authentic to who he wanted to be. But he hadn’t really tested the new look or this new feeling, on anyone he knew
“Whatever you're doing,,” Milo said, “it’s working for you.”
“Thanks,” he said, trying not to let any relief show.
“You feel better?” Milo asked. When Malcolm had first told his sister and Milo about wanting to transition, he had broke down. He told him how he felt like he was something else. A monster had been clawing at the insides of his mind and he just wanted it to stop. Most days were a struggle to even endure and every time someone looked at him, he felt like screaming because they were not actually seeing him. Who he was meant to be. “I mean, like, mentally and things?” Milo fumbled. “Do you feel more, I don’t know, you?”
Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. Milo never did have a way with words. “I do.”
Milo had a satisfied look on his face, having braced himself for a different answer but was pleasantly surprised with what he received. “That’s good. That’s great actually. I’m proud of you for it.”
Malcolm sighed. “Button, why are you here.”
Milo shifted again, their shoulders brushing and his hand falling between them. Malcolm didn’t hesitate to let his fingers link with Milo’s own, squeezing them tight.
“I had a nightmare,” Milo confessed with a shaky breath. “I had a nightmare and it freaked me out so bad that I became some little ***** who needed to get out of my house so the monster wouldn’t get me.”
Milo hated these moments. It was only in the dark that he ever confessed such things. When the light was a little dimmer, providing a soft comfort for secrets to be shared without malice.
“What was the nightmare?”
Milo shifted, not quite able to look at Malcolm. But he clutched his fingers in a bone breaking grip. “Do you think I’m a good person?” he asked.
“What?”
“Do you think I’m a good person? Because, I don’t know if I am, Mal. I– I had a dream about my dad. He was here in the market. He was just walking through the streets like it was nothing and I saw him. I don’t even think he recognized me but I recognized him.”
Milo was shaking a bit now. Shaking with the tension of remembering his fathers face. Seeing it when he closed his eyes. Malcolm knew very little of Milo’s dad other than the fact that he abandoned Milo here when he was five. That was probably enough to tell him all he needed to know, however.
“I killed him,” Milo whispered with a gutted voice. “I just walked up to him and killed him. And I know it was a dream, yeah. I know that it didn’t actually happen. But then I started thinking about what I would do if I did see him again and I… I don’t…”
“Hey,” Malcolm whispered, turning slightly so he could look at Milo head on, peering at the face shocked through with the warm light of the lanterns through the window. “Hey. Look at me.” When Milo did, Malcolm reached out, placing one hand over Milo’s heart and feeling the furious heartbeat. “He didn’t deserve you,” he told him. “The ****er that spawned you is not someone deserving of even an ounce of your time. Dreaming about killing him, while kind of morbid, doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“But what if he comes here? What if I kill him if I ever see him again? What does that say about me, Mal?”
Milo was frantic, looking at him for answers that he didn’t have. Malcolm wanted to tell him to just do it. The bastard didn’t deserve to walk the land when he had left his own child to die. He doubted it would ease much of Milo’s pain.
“I don’t know what any of it says about you. It hasn’t happened so no one is allowed to pass judgement. But what I do know, is you go down to all those forgotten kids each week and play with them. You spend half your paycheck on clothes and food for that shelter.” He squeezed his hand. “When I told you that I felt like I was living a lie, you offered to cut my hair.”
“You said no.”
“Yeah. Because I’m not dumb enough to let you near me with scissors. But you offered it. When that piece of **** at that bar started misgendering me, you dragged him out back and beat the crap out of him. I don’t know how much I agreed with that but damn did I also want to kiss you for it.”
Milo snorted, the tension starting to ease from him as he leaned a bit forward. He rested his head on Malcolm’s shoulder, forehead pressing hard against the bone there.
“Your dad is a terrible person,” Malcolm said. “You, however? I don’t know, Button. I don’t think you can be terrible when you do all the things you do. And there are a lot of people in this world that would be worse off if you had never been around. You know that, right?”
He could feel Milo’s frown. He didn’t like good deeds advertised. He certainly had never let on that he spent free nights reading stories to children. Or how he had once tracked a bunch of wayward youths into the Outlands because they were drunk and stupid and he knew they would get in over their head. Milo was quiet about his good qualities and loud about his bad ones.
“Could I stay here?” Milo asked after a moment.
Malcolm tensed. He hadn’t thrown up tonight or shucked off all his clothes because he suddenly felt so hot that he thought he was going to crawl out of his own melting skin, but it could come.
“I don’t have to,” Milo said immediately.
“It’s not that.” Malcolm sighed. ****, he really didn’t want pity. “I’m taking some tonics and stuff. They help with transitioning. It makes me kind of sick.”
Milo pulled away, eyes suddenly piercing and intense. “Sick how.”
“Sick like I want to throw you through a window one minute and maybe vomit and cry the next. And then I want ice cream.”
“I like ice cream.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying that I’m not exactly fun to be around right now.”
Milo didn’t even hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Malcolm, pulling the two of them back on the couch. They shifted around awkwardly until Milo was flat on his back and Malcolm laid half on top of him.
Milo grunted. “****. You’ve put on a **** ton of muscle, Mal. You’re ****ing heavy.”
“I’ll suffocate you if you don’t shut up.”
“Seriously. You spend all your free time lifting weights or something? What is wrong with you? You’re bigger than me now.”
“You’re a malnourished alcoholic. It’s not hard.”
They settled together, arms wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. Milo turned his head, his lips brushing against Malcolm’s hair. “Don’t throw up on me,” he told him.
Malcolm felt himself becoming drowsy. “No promises.”
As they began to drift off, the soft light from the lanterns their companion in the otherwise dark night, Milo sighed beneath him. “I’ll take care of you if you do,” he whispered. “If you get sick, that is.”
Malcolm swallowed. “I’ll make sure to wake you if you start having a nightmare.”
And together, they fell asleep.

 

[Badasswithabigheart]

Milo/Mal (Happy and the past)
·
10h
25
A/N: So, after a comment that stated we never have really seen Milo or Mal happy with each other, and me realizing that you all have never really seen them together, I went back in some of my old drafts and found this. It's back at the beginning of them, just after Malcolm had transitioned.
The knock came in the middle of the night. Malcolm knew it could only be one person and he had half a mind to ignore it. He wasn’t mad at Milo but he was irritated in the way the man never seemed to keep track of sleeping hours. Most likely he was coming home from the bars looking for a quickie and Malcolm was not in the mood to entertain it tonight. Something nagged at him, however, when the knock came again. There was a hesitation in it. Like the person on the other side was unsure if he should really be doing this.
Not drunk then. Drunk Milo would be shouting by now.
Rising from bed, Malcolm padded across the small expanse from his bed to the front door, unlocking the deadbolt and pressing his thumb to the magic seal. Like he had expected, Milo was on the other side.
The man looked haggard, hair tugged in several places and eyes wild as they landed on Malcolm’s own. He stood there in only sweats and a loose night shirt. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his shoes.
“Hey,” he said, voice shot through with fear. “Did I wake you?”
Of course he had. They both knew it. But there was something about the look in his eyes that made Malcolm not want to rub that in. “It’s alright. Come in.” He stepped aside and Milo burst through the door as if something was breathing down his neck. His freckled arms were raised with goosebumps and he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the door was shut behind him.
Malcolm had seen this expression on Milo once or twice before. Milo had woke in his bed with a gasp, clutching at his sheets, his shirt, anything to ground him. The panic never lasted long and usually he shook it off with a joke or a wry comment. Malcolm had noticed it, however.
“Let me get you some water,” he told Milo. “Go sit down.”
Milo did what he was told, shuffling over to the sofa. He was walking normally so at least he had not messed his feet up on the way here. Malcolm watched him out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved the water. Watched as Milo sat down, rocked himself forward a bit before sitting up. Like he couldn’t settle or figure out how he should arrange himself.
Malcolm came over, setting the glass on the coffee table before sitting next to him. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out, running his fingers through the mess of curls on Milo’s head. When Milo leaned into it, he tried not to show his surprise.
“Button,” he started gently. “Talk to me.”
He shook his head only slightly, not wanting to dislodge Malcolm’s hold. “It’s nothing.”
“You left wherever you were sleeping without your shoes. It’s obviously something.”
“I don’t like shoes,” he mumbled.
“Uh huh.”
Sighing, Milo slumped back into the sofa, his shoulder brushing against Malcolm’s. “It’s ****ing stupid. I shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t even mean to. I just needed to get out and take a walk.”
“And you wound up here?”
He shifted, cheeks tinging pink with irritation rather than embarrassment. As if needing someone was the most irritating notion. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad.”
Milo looked at him warily. They had been together off and on for a little over a year. The two of them had never agreed to anything exclusive and some months Milo would be gone from his life while others, Malcolm could barely get the man out of his bed. He hadn’t seen Milo in a few weeks but they weren’t on bad terms. This time their separation had been more about their work schedules than anything else. That, and Malcolm had been sick. He hadn’t told Milo or Hazel about it. The teas he had been taking for his transition had made him sleepy at best and a raging ******* most of the day.
“You look different,” Milo said after a moment.
Malcolm blinked. Milo of course knew about his transition. Hell, the two of them hadn’t even kissed until after Malcolm had cut off his hair and started trying to grow a beard.
“Bad different?”
Milo shook his head. “No. I like it. You got more facial hair, I think. Your uh- your jaw is also more defined.”
“Oh, yeah.” Malcolm tried to shrug it off. “I’ve been doing some stuff.”
“Is your voice deeper?”
Malcolm shrugged. He felt far more like himself these days. More authentic to who he wanted to be. But he hadn’t really tested the new look or this new feeling, on anyone he knew
“Whatever you're doing,,” Milo said, “it’s working for you.”
“Thanks,” he said, trying not to let any relief show.
“You feel better?” Milo asked. When Malcolm had first told his sister and Milo about wanting to transition, he had broke down. He told him how he felt like he was something else. A monster had been clawing at the insides of his mind and he just wanted it to stop. Most days were a struggle to even endure and every time someone looked at him, he felt like screaming because they were not actually seeing him. Who he was meant to be. “I mean, like, mentally and things?” Milo fumbled. “Do you feel more, I don’t know, you?”
Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. Milo never did have a way with words. “I do.”
Milo had a satisfied look on his face, having braced himself for a different answer but was pleasantly surprised with what he received. “That’s good. That’s great actually. I’m proud of you for it.”
Malcolm sighed. “Button, why are you here.”
Milo shifted again, their shoulders brushing and his hand falling between them. Malcolm didn’t hesitate to let his fingers link with Milo’s own, squeezing them tight.
“I had a nightmare,” Milo confessed with a shaky breath. “I had a nightmare and it freaked me out so bad that I became some little ***** who needed to get out of my house so the monster wouldn’t get me.”
Milo hated these moments. It was only in the dark that he ever confessed such things. When the light was a little dimmer, providing a soft comfort for secrets to be shared without malice.
“What was the nightmare?”
Milo shifted, not quite able to look at Malcolm. But he clutched his fingers in a bone breaking grip. “Do you think I’m a good person?” he asked.
“What?”
“Do you think I’m a good person? Because, I don’t know if I am, Mal. I– I had a dream about my dad. He was here in the market. He was just walking through the streets like it was nothing and I saw him. I don’t even think he recognized me but I recognized him.”
Milo was shaking a bit now. Shaking with the tension of remembering his fathers face. Seeing it when he closed his eyes. Malcolm knew very little of Milo’s dad other than the fact that he abandoned Milo here when he was five. That was probably enough to tell him all he needed to know, however.
“I killed him,” Milo whispered with a gutted voice. “I just walked up to him and killed him. And I know it was a dream, yeah. I know that it didn’t actually happen. But then I started thinking about what I would do if I did see him again and I… I don’t…”
“Hey,” Malcolm whispered, turning slightly so he could look at Milo head on, peering at the face shocked through with the warm light of the lanterns through the window. “Hey. Look at me.” When Milo did, Malcolm reached out, placing one hand over Milo’s heart and feeling the furious heartbeat. “He didn’t deserve you,” he told him. “The ****er that spawned you is not someone deserving of even an ounce of your time. Dreaming about killing him, while kind of morbid, doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“But what if he comes here? What if I kill him if I ever see him again? What does that say about me, Mal?”
Milo was frantic, looking at him for answers that he didn’t have. Malcolm wanted to tell him to just do it. The bastard didn’t deserve to walk the land when he had left his own child to die. He doubted it would ease much of Milo’s pain.
“I don’t know what any of it says about you. It hasn’t happened so no one is allowed to pass judgement. But what I do know, is you go down to all those forgotten kids each week and play with them. You spend half your paycheck on clothes and food for that shelter.” He squeezed his hand. “When I told you that I felt like I was living a lie, you offered to cut my hair.”
“You said no.”
“Yeah. Because I’m not dumb enough to let you near me with scissors. But you offered it. When that piece of **** at that bar started misgendering me, you dragged him out back and beat the crap out of him. I don’t know how much I agreed with that but damn did I also want to kiss you for it.”
Milo snorted, the tension starting to ease from him as he leaned a bit forward. He rested his head on Malcolm’s shoulder, forehead pressing hard against the bone there.
“Your dad is a terrible person,” Malcolm said. “You, however? I don’t know, Button. I don’t think you can be terrible when you do all the things you do. And there are a lot of people in this world that would be worse off if you had never been around. You know that, right?”
He could feel Milo’s frown. He didn’t like good deeds advertised. He certainly had never let on that he spent free nights reading stories to children. Or how he had once tracked a bunch of wayward youths into the Outlands because they were drunk and stupid and he knew they would get in over their head. Milo was quiet about his good qualities and loud about his bad ones.
“Could I stay here?” Milo asked after a moment.
Malcolm tensed. He hadn’t thrown up tonight or shucked off all his clothes because he suddenly felt so hot that he thought he was going to crawl out of his own melting skin, but it could come.
“I don’t have to,” Milo said immediately.
“It’s not that.” Malcolm sighed. ****, he really didn’t want pity. “I’m taking some tonics and stuff. They help with transitioning. It makes me kind of sick.”
Milo pulled away, eyes suddenly piercing and intense. “Sick how.”
“Sick like I want to throw you through a window one minute and maybe vomit and cry the next. And then I want ice cream.”
“I like ice cream.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying that I’m not exactly fun to be around right now.”
Milo didn’t even hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Malcolm, pulling the two of them back on the couch. They shifted around awkwardly until Milo was flat on his back and Malcolm laid half on top of him.
Milo grunted. “****. You’ve put on a **** ton of muscle, Mal. You’re ****ing heavy.”
“I’ll suffocate you if you don’t shut up.”
“Seriously. You spend all your free time lifting weights or something? What is wrong with you? You’re bigger than me now.”
“You’re a malnourished alcoholic. It’s not hard.”
They settled together, arms wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. Milo turned his head, his lips brushing against Malcolm’s hair. “Don’t throw up on me,” he told him.
Malcolm felt himself becoming drowsy. “No promises.”
As they began to drift off, the soft light from the lanterns their companion in the otherwise dark night, Milo sighed beneath him. “I’ll take care of you if you do,” he whispered. “If you get sick, that is.”
Malcolm swallowed. “I’ll make sure to wake you if you start having a nightmare.”
And together, they fell asleep.

 

[Badasswithabigheart]

Milo/Mal (Happy and the past)
·
10h
25
A/N: So, after a comment that stated we never have really seen Milo or Mal happy with each other, and me realizing that you all have never really seen them together, I went back in some of my old drafts and found this. It's back at the beginning of them, just after Malcolm had transitioned.
The knock came in the middle of the night. Malcolm knew it could only be one person and he had half a mind to ignore it. He wasn’t mad at Milo but he was irritated in the way the man never seemed to keep track of sleeping hours. Most likely he was coming home from the bars looking for a quickie and Malcolm was not in the mood to entertain it tonight. Something nagged at him, however, when the knock came again. There was a hesitation in it. Like the person on the other side was unsure if he should really be doing this.
Not drunk then. Drunk Milo would be shouting by now.
Rising from bed, Malcolm padded across the small expanse from his bed to the front door, unlocking the deadbolt and pressing his thumb to the magic seal. Like he had expected, Milo was on the other side.
The man looked haggard, hair tugged in several places and eyes wild as they landed on Malcolm’s own. He stood there in only sweats and a loose night shirt. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his shoes.
“Hey,” he said, voice shot through with fear. “Did I wake you?”
Of course he had. They both knew it. But there was something about the look in his eyes that made Malcolm not want to rub that in. “It’s alright. Come in.” He stepped aside and Milo burst through the door as if something was breathing down his neck. His freckled arms were raised with goosebumps and he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the door was shut behind him.
Malcolm had seen this expression on Milo once or twice before. Milo had woke in his bed with a gasp, clutching at his sheets, his shirt, anything to ground him. The panic never lasted long and usually he shook it off with a joke or a wry comment. Malcolm had noticed it, however.
“Let me get you some water,” he told Milo. “Go sit down.”
Milo did what he was told, shuffling over to the sofa. He was walking normally so at least he had not messed his feet up on the way here. Malcolm watched him out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved the water. Watched as Milo sat down, rocked himself forward a bit before sitting up. Like he couldn’t settle or figure out how he should arrange himself.
Malcolm came over, setting the glass on the coffee table before sitting next to him. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out, running his fingers through the mess of curls on Milo’s head. When Milo leaned into it, he tried not to show his surprise.
“Button,” he started gently. “Talk to me.”
He shook his head only slightly, not wanting to dislodge Malcolm’s hold. “It’s nothing.”
“You left wherever you were sleeping without your shoes. It’s obviously something.”
“I don’t like shoes,” he mumbled.
“Uh huh.”
Sighing, Milo slumped back into the sofa, his shoulder brushing against Malcolm’s. “It’s ****ing stupid. I shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t even mean to. I just needed to get out and take a walk.”
“And you wound up here?”
He shifted, cheeks tinging pink with irritation rather than embarrassment. As if needing someone was the most irritating notion. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad.”
Milo looked at him warily. They had been together off and on for a little over a year. The two of them had never agreed to anything exclusive and some months Milo would be gone from his life while others, Malcolm could barely get the man out of his bed. He hadn’t seen Milo in a few weeks but they weren’t on bad terms. This time their separation had been more about their work schedules than anything else. That, and Malcolm had been sick. He hadn’t told Milo or Hazel about it. The teas he had been taking for his transition had made him sleepy at best and a raging ******* most of the day.
“You look different,” Milo said after a moment.
Malcolm blinked. Milo of course knew about his transition. Hell, the two of them hadn’t even kissed until after Malcolm had cut off his hair and started trying to grow a beard.
“Bad different?”
Milo shook his head. “No. I like it. You got more facial hair, I think. Your uh- your jaw is also more defined.”
“Oh, yeah.” Malcolm tried to shrug it off. “I’ve been doing some stuff.”
“Is your voice deeper?”
Malcolm shrugged. He felt far more like himself these days. More authentic to who he wanted to be. But he hadn’t really tested the new look or this new feeling, on anyone he knew
“Whatever you're doing,,” Milo said, “it’s working for you.”
“Thanks,” he said, trying not to let any relief show.
“You feel better?” Milo asked. When Malcolm had first told his sister and Milo about wanting to transition, he had broke down. He told him how he felt like he was something else. A monster had been clawing at the insides of his mind and he just wanted it to stop. Most days were a struggle to even endure and every time someone looked at him, he felt like screaming because they were not actually seeing him. Who he was meant to be. “I mean, like, mentally and things?” Milo fumbled. “Do you feel more, I don’t know, you?”
Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. Milo never did have a way with words. “I do.”
Milo had a satisfied look on his face, having braced himself for a different answer but was pleasantly surprised with what he received. “That’s good. That’s great actually. I’m proud of you for it.”
Malcolm sighed. “Button, why are you here.”
Milo shifted again, their shoulders brushing and his hand falling between them. Malcolm didn’t hesitate to let his fingers link with Milo’s own, squeezing them tight.
“I had a nightmare,” Milo confessed with a shaky breath. “I had a nightmare and it freaked me out so bad that I became some little ***** who needed to get out of my house so the monster wouldn’t get me.”
Milo hated these moments. It was only in the dark that he ever confessed such things. When the light was a little dimmer, providing a soft comfort for secrets to be shared without malice.
“What was the nightmare?”
Milo shifted, not quite able to look at Malcolm. But he clutched his fingers in a bone breaking grip. “Do you think I’m a good person?” he asked.
“What?”
“Do you think I’m a good person? Because, I don’t know if I am, Mal. I– I had a dream about my dad. He was here in the market. He was just walking through the streets like it was nothing and I saw him. I don’t even think he recognized me but I recognized him.”
Milo was shaking a bit now. Shaking with the tension of remembering his fathers face. Seeing it when he closed his eyes. Malcolm knew very little of Milo’s dad other than the fact that he abandoned Milo here when he was five. That was probably enough to tell him all he needed to know, however.
“I killed him,” Milo whispered with a gutted voice. “I just walked up to him and killed him. And I know it was a dream, yeah. I know that it didn’t actually happen. But then I started thinking about what I would do if I did see him again and I… I don’t…”
“Hey,” Malcolm whispered, turning slightly so he could look at Milo head on, peering at the face shocked through with the warm light of the lanterns through the window. “Hey. Look at me.” When Milo did, Malcolm reached out, placing one hand over Milo’s heart and feeling the furious heartbeat. “He didn’t deserve you,” he told him. “The ****er that spawned you is not someone deserving of even an ounce of your time. Dreaming about killing him, while kind of morbid, doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“But what if he comes here? What if I kill him if I ever see him again? What does that say about me, Mal?”
Milo was frantic, looking at him for answers that he didn’t have. Malcolm wanted to tell him to just do it. The bastard didn’t deserve to walk the land when he had left his own child to die. He doubted it would ease much of Milo’s pain.
“I don’t know what any of it says about you. It hasn’t happened so no one is allowed to pass judgement. But what I do know, is you go down to all those forgotten kids each week and play with them. You spend half your paycheck on clothes and food for that shelter.” He squeezed his hand. “When I told you that I felt like I was living a lie, you offered to cut my hair.”
“You said no.”
“Yeah. Because I’m not dumb enough to let you near me with scissors. But you offered it. When that piece of **** at that bar started misgendering me, you dragged him out back and beat the crap out of him. I don’t know how much I agreed with that but damn did I also want to kiss you for it.”
Milo snorted, the tension starting to ease from him as he leaned a bit forward. He rested his head on Malcolm’s shoulder, forehead pressing hard against the bone there.
“Your dad is a terrible person,” Malcolm said. “You, however? I don’t know, Button. I don’t think you can be terrible when you do all the things you do. And there are a lot of people in this world that would be worse off if you had never been around. You know that, right?”
He could feel Milo’s frown. He didn’t like good deeds advertised. He certainly had never let on that he spent free nights reading stories to children. Or how he had once tracked a bunch of wayward youths into the Outlands because they were drunk and stupid and he knew they would get in over their head. Milo was quiet about his good qualities and loud about his bad ones.
“Could I stay here?” Milo asked after a moment.
Malcolm tensed. He hadn’t thrown up tonight or shucked off all his clothes because he suddenly felt so hot that he thought he was going to crawl out of his own melting skin, but it could come.
“I don’t have to,” Milo said immediately.
“It’s not that.” Malcolm sighed. ****, he really didn’t want pity. “I’m taking some tonics and stuff. They help with transitioning. It makes me kind of sick.”
Milo pulled away, eyes suddenly piercing and intense. “Sick how.”
“Sick like I want to throw you through a window one minute and maybe vomit and cry the next. And then I want ice cream.”
“I like ice cream.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying that I’m not exactly fun to be around right now.”
Milo didn’t even hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Malcolm, pulling the two of them back on the couch. They shifted around awkwardly until Milo was flat on his back and Malcolm laid half on top of him.
Milo grunted. “****. You’ve put on a **** ton of muscle, Mal. You’re ****ing heavy.”
“I’ll suffocate you if you don’t shut up.”
“Seriously. You spend all your free time lifting weights or something? What is wrong with you? You’re bigger than me now.”
“You’re a malnourished alcoholic. It’s not hard.”
They settled together, arms wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. Milo turned his head, his lips brushing against Malcolm’s hair. “Don’t throw up on me,” he told him.
Malcolm felt himself becoming drowsy. “No promises.”
As they began to drift off, the soft light from the lanterns their companion in the otherwise dark night, Milo sighed beneath him. “I’ll take care of you if you do,” he whispered. “If you get sick, that is.”
Malcolm swallowed. “I’ll make sure to wake you if you start having a nightmare.”
And together, they fell asleep.

 

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Drawing and Painting!

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YOU&! - Google Drive

YOU&! by InfiniteStars

A dark psychological yuri story about the unbreakable cycles that shape us.

infinitestars.itch.io

 

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YOU&! by InfiniteStars

A dark psychological yuri story about the unbreakable cycles that shape us.

infinitestars.itch.io

Windows Mac Linux versions of demo on gdrive link

 

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