Milton Greasley

💨 ― his head shook. a tough guy sniffle and drying his weary eyes. “i don’t know. i don’t know what’s real.” he was looking at his empty arms, when a moment ago, there draped another victim. he didn’t know how much more he could take. 

💨 ― At her hand, he jumped. His body hardly moved, but there was a jolt of reality at the touch. MG’s hung head lifted a little and he tried to blink away the pain. “My friends. I keep... hurting them.” This was nothing like the spell from before. He didn’t witness the attacks, but there was no mistaking what he was seeing. It was an aftermath; his aftermath. 

💨 ― The sound of her voice came through slowly, like an echo. He turned his head and he saw her there, alive and unharmed. “Lizzie.” When he looked back down, his arms were empty. “I think I’m going crazy.” 

💨 ― He was slumped over, on his knees, and doing what appeared to be cradling his own chest in a tight embrace. In his mind’s eye, it was someone he cared about in his arms ― the vision a different one every time. Throat torn out, eyes devoid of life. MG held the body close and quietly sobbed. He remembered them all yet still, every time felt more real than the last.

💨 ― He sat down beside her with a plop; a weighted descent. He emptied his lungs in a slow, practiced exhale. “Well. I spoke to Lizzie.” If his friend had already heard from the twin in question, he imaged she already knew how well that went.

💨 ― “Hey buddy. How’s it going?” It being pretty self explanatory― but he’d accept anything. Whatever Ethan wanted to report on, at his pace.

💨 ― “Oh no. Nuh uh. I don’t have time for this right now.” Which was really him saying he didn’t have time for him, specifically, but MG was nicer than that. Usually. 

💨 ― He flashed a small smile. Appreciative for the compliment, but feeling for her struggle. “Can’t say I know, but self awareness is a hard lesson to learn, for anybody. That being said... you don’t have to wait around, holding out for real respect. You can demand it, and require it. That’s your choice.” 

💨 ― The smile he wore was sheepish. Not reassuring, or even confident, but there because there was nothing else he could wear. “Way ahead of you.” It didn’t come out annoyed. In all actuality, he was validating her concern. “This isn’t about me. It never should have been.” And if he had any say in it, there wasn’t going to be a repeat; with him, or Ethan. “I promise I will.”

💨 ― “Pie and cookies?!” His brow rose, staging a rather large reaction to her suggestion. “Woah, woah ― clearly we need a compromise. I can swing a cheesecake. Cookie rust.” 

💨 ― “Yes, chef!” This felt nice. Normal. “And desert?  What say you?” 

💨 ― “And I hated every minute of it. I just, couldn’t feel it at the time.” All he remembered feeling was fear, but in the way a stretched rubber band feared snapping. Tension and.. thinness. “Sort of.” He didn’t know why her question made him feel put on the spot. “I knew I had a choice to make and that it would be.. permanent.” His expression soured. “It still was. Ethan still died.” 

💨 ― He sobered a little, but he doesn’t let his smile falter in any recognizable way. He didn’t want to discourage her. “Exactly. That’s not on you, nor the consequences of her choice. It might suck but you aren’t at fault.” 

💨 ― He frowned. “I know.” It was a soft admission, not turning away from her pained gaze. “I know and that’s.. why I was the hardest on you.” He had built walls up to protect himself, and when it came to her, they had to be the strongest. “If I had to be worried about anyone getting through, it would be you, Lizzie.” MG’s eyes had widened by that point, drifted off in thought. Remembering the moment that changed everything. “Then I saw Ethan, bleeding out...” 

💨 ― MG wasn’t surprised overall, but in the moment, a little surprised. Lizzie was blunt but, he’d convinced himself he’d have more time than actually zero. “You were just.. so mad.” It was a pitiful answer, and he knew it. Glazing over it all with the vocabulary of a child. But seeing that look in her eye?  It was like a stake to the heart. He’d betrayed her trust, again. “I wasn’t ready to face all I’d done, all over again. Not with you.” He frowned, and his gaze fell. He wasn’t ready to accept forgiveness, and he wasn’t strong enough to handle not getting it. He was ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

💨 ― “Well, actually, my plan was to show you.” He fixed his collar and gave her a friendly smile. “If you’re down.”