the weight of your own heart

{ tyler young/lyubov aksyonova, 26, genderfluid, he/she/they } || MILO/MILLA BURKE is a mutant with the ability of SHAPESHIFTING. he’s been in new york for TEN YEARS where he spends most of his time as A STUDENT AT XAVIER’S. when i think of her, i think of AN ICE-COLD CAN OF POP, CHECKERED VANS SHOES WITH HOLES WORN IN, and SUN-DAPPLED GRASS. they are affiliated with XAVIER INSTITUTE and THE ESSEX ESCAPEES. [ alex, 30+, they/them, cst, n/a ]

@c23intros || @chromosome23hq || ability breakdown || about milla

Abbreviated timeline:

At 11, Milo learns about mutants and learns that his parents are afraid of them.

At 14, he learns he is one: a shapeshifter capable of copying anyone he sees.

At 15, he runs away from home without telling his parents why.

At 19, Milo seeks refuge at the Essex House.

At 24, he is one of the nine who manage to escape. He accepts Xavier’s invitation to join the Institute a month later.

At 25, Milo has now been there over a year.

It’s a date. With matching costumes. He’s grateful that his costume isn’t too out there so the trip over to the warehouse is painless enough. There’s weirder people out and about, but August’s used to fading into the background.

Stepping in, there’s little chance to be overwhelmed because he hears his name and feels a sudden rush of warmth at the sheer size of her smile as Milla bounds over to him.

Bright blue eyes, orange hair, and Milla’s face. Burke not Jovovich. August’s already impossibly large smile just grows. He was a little worried she’d shift entirely. “Thanks. And thrift shop! Got a sewing kit. Winged it.”

August is hyper aware of the outfit, a croptop and the bright orange suspenders practically pointing down to her stomach. He adamantly looks at her face (which is easy enough, it’s a pretty nice face). G-d, he forgot how all-consuming a crush felt. “But you! You look amazing!”

.

The way August smiles when he sees her stops Milla in her tracks, halting just short a couple steps of him as a persistent warmth spreads through her chest and threatens to gum up her vocal chords. Just be cool, she chastises herself, and reaches up to give his shoulders a squeeze under the pretense of checking out the jacket. “You winged it!” Milla echoes, obviously in awe, still grinning from ear to ear when she takes a step back again. “I had no idea you were so handy with a costume.”

And then August is complimenting hers, and now she has the chance to be self-conscious — warmth creeps up her cheeks, and Milla only briefly rests her hands against her bare stomach before forcing herself to hold them out again, like a casual ta-daa.

“August!” Milla calls out excitedly, all but bounding up to him — she’s too excited to see him to be self-conscious about her costume just yet. ‘You came!’ she almost says, then realizes that’d probably be silly. She invited him, it’s actually a date, of course he came.

“I figured out the hair,” she adds, giving one of the unnaturally orange strands a twirl as if it wasn’t obvious already; her eyes are a stark blue as well, that and the hair color being shifts she’d spent… maybe an embarrassing amount of time practicing for the past month. “And you! You look great! Where did you find that jacket!”

For a few, long moments Laurel’s smile is a picture of sweet, muted pride– a silent answer to both Milla’s confession and appreciation. She gives her hand a loving squeeze before breaking the tender moment with a wide grin and a bump to Milla’s shoulder. “See! And you said shopping was dumb and boring.” There’s more than a faint trace of smugness in her tone at being proved right. “Told ya all you needed was a buddy to go with. And we haven’t even gone out for a well deserved lunch yet!”

Laurel wiggles her eyebrows at her friend, a hand coming up to smooth down a stray lock of Milla’s hair. “They have some cute skirts on sale too, you know.” She says, with a hint of a scheme in her eye. “I can go grab a couple of different styles for you, if you want to try those too. Now that I think I know your size, we can put a couple of outfits together before deciding what we want to buy– if you trust me that much.” She sends another wide, toothy grin to Milla in the mirror; entirely too excited to have been allowed the blessing of being on this journey with them. 

Milla brightens when Laurel mentions skirts, because that’s something else new, something exciting, that she hasn’t really gotten a chance to try yet. “Yeah! Skirts,” she agrees easily, turning to Laurel instead of her reflection and taking both of her hands to squeeze firmly. “I’d love to see some skirts.” ‘On sale’ were the other magic words, since Milla doesn’t exactly have a lot; she’d summoned up just enough courage to ask Mo’s mama for a little money for this, and Mama had of course agreed and supported her fully, but Milla still felt awkward about it — even if this clothing wasn’t just well-deserved, it was necessary.

“And of course I trust you that much,” Milla chides playfully, squeezing Laurel’s hands one more time before letting her go. “So much so that I’m just gonna… stand here a little longer.” Milla’s smile is sheepish as she gestures to the mirror. “And let you handle the picking, because I think you’re gonna be a lot better at it than I am.” That, and Milla’s just excited to see what Laurel will pick — she’s still so excited about all of this, frankly, and that’s not a feeling she imagines will go away anytime soon.

“Hey” Matteo says, opening the door into Milo’s room exactly 2 seconds after he had knocked. He had considered just barging in but decided that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to do to someone who was not a fan of loud, sudden things. He shuts the door with his foot. “I need details on how to help someone whose been through Essex, like, now”

@mi-burke​

Milo startles, obviously, because despite the two seconds’ advance warning he got from the knock, he hadn’t exactly prepared himself for someone — Matteo, apparently — letting himself in anyway. “M-Matteo?” he blurts out, confused, turning to sit sideways in his desk chair, early semester reading easily abandoned. “How to- huh?” Milo screws up his nose and shakes his head, confused. “Slow down, what’s going on?”

         “exactly,” she chirps, offering a warm smile. “you don’t have to want anything to do with her. she hurt you, and there’s no taking away from that just because she’s decided not to hurt you, anymore.” there’s some hesitation there, but sora can’t place exactly where it’s coming from. is he unsatisfied with her false outlook? she can only hope. it’s precisely where she wants them to be. “i’m sure we’ve all made choices that we regret. i’ve definitely made more than my fair share,” she starts, a breath of laughter escaping her. “but no, i don’t think i’ve ever done something unforgiveable. of course, that’s not really for me to decide, is it? if someone’s actions impact another, only that person can make the decision to forgive them.”

Milo returns Sora’s warm smile with a far meeker facsimile, but he does appreciate what she says; he doesn’t want anything to do with Emmeline, and while it isn’t as if that should surprise anyone or that he’s asking for permission, there’s still some reassurance in receiving it. “Yeah… I guess that’s true.” Forgiveness can’t be forced, only willingly given. Milo doesn’t think he’ll be doling out any forgiveness to anyone related to Essex anytime soon, which isn’t necessarily radical, but for Milo, it means something.

Shaking his head quickly as if to clear it, the smile he offers Sora now is borderline apologetic. “Didn’t mean to get all philosophical in the middle of training. Think we could go one last round?”

         there’s a glimmer of hope there that would almost pain jack to extinguish. if they had even considered it before, why would their word make a difference? why should the institute care if the essex escapees feel safe? it doesn’t seem like it’s ever crossed their minds before… but it’s not his pessimism that milo is looking for, and rarely ( if ever ) has been. “i don’t know if they’d listen to you, either,” he admits, lips drawn into a thin line. “but you might as well try. maybe a few of us can come with you, bolster the message.” it’s a long shot that jack would attempt for few others, but they deserve a safe place to lay their head at night. and xavier’s is the place that they want to do that.

He wants to reassure Milo that there’s not any news he could deliver that would upset Sawyer, after the shit that he’s lived through. Mostly now he’s just glad to be out, even if the real world is too bright against the raw wound of his mind sometimes.

But he’s glad he doesn’t actually form the words, because he’d really not anticipated just how bad the news is. Emmeline Essex is here at Xavier’s. “Oh, she tried to apologise?” Sawyer repeats, words heated not at Milo but at the situation. He doesn’t know how Mi can say that shit so calmly. “Well, that just makes it all peachy fuckin’ keen, what she did, don’t it? That fuckin’… they let her in here? Shows how much respect they really got for mutants. That’s bullshit.”

Milo knows Sawyer’s upset at the situation and not at him, but it doesn’t keep him from curling in on himself just a tick at the reaction. Sawyer has every right to be upset, just like the other escapees had been when they found out she was here. With Sawyer, at least, Milo hadn’t kept the news quiet for months.

Matteo shrugs “Yeah, but like, what happened to me is whatever” In his mind, it’s different. What happened to him was just to him, while Essex effected so many people that anything else seems small in comparison. Sure, he still has to deal with the feelings of being abandoned, and he doesn’t love being touched without warning but in his case, he was the one who made the decision to cause everything wrong that had happened. He’s pretty sure Milo’s situation is very different, 

“No problem, just speaking the truth really” Matteo states before nodding “I think everyone feels like a liability sometimes. Especially those in our situation, where we are close to being a hero but haven’t quite actually reached that point yet. But I feel like; once we do? Well then we just have to focus on being good enough.” He grins “But we got time, we’ll get there when we get there and all” Matteo laughs quietly at the other’s comment “Yes, I’d love to train with you too.” He stands back up, giving the other a thumbs up “And I sure hope so; I’m not exactly looking to end up in detention for property damage if I can help it. But I can make fun light shows; just you wait for the holiday season when I get to fuck with Christmas trees” He jokes as he pulls one of the dummies to the center. 

Dante wasn’t going to take this from a random twink in his friend’s apartment, and he sets the take-out down on the counter, calmly and raises an eyebrow at them. I can tell August you were here. Yeah, sure. “Yeah, I’m his friend too,” he says, spikes in his voice as he throws it back at them. “You don’t have a monopoly on Auggie because you’re in his apartment.” Normal, not impromptu plans? He wasn’t going to get into it right now, but he wonders if strangling someone in his mind was therapy enough.

Leaning against the wall and watching them like a hawk, he regrets taking off his mask way too early right now. “He said I could come by any time, but I mean—what? Are you two busy right now?”

The guy doesn’t take the hint to leave, unfortunately, and only throws out a line about how Milo doesn’t have a monopoly on ‘Auggie’ because he’s in his apartment. Milo screws up his face in annoyed disbelief, but lets the comment go. He doesn’t know if there’s much value in explaining visiting etiquette to someone who just crawled through the window.

“Yeah, we’re busy, that’s usually what having plans means.” Milo tries to keep the waspishness from creeping into his tone but doesn’t fully succeed. He’s not usually — almost never, actually — this confrontational, but something about the way this guy acts so entitled to August’s time while disregarding Milo’s own entitlement to it rubs him the wrong way. Milo’s struggling with what else to say, how else to try and get this guy to leave, when mercifully he hears August’s keys jingling and unlocking the door.

Milo takes a few steps backwards to be in August’s line of sight as it swings open, and the look he greets him with is some strange mixture of distressed and irritated. “August-...” He’s not sure how else to announce the stranger’s presence, so he gestures wordlessly to the man leaning against the wall opposite.

Matteo nods as the other talks. It makes sense he guess; it’s not like enemies would be as kind as Matteo had been when Milo had frozen up. Not that he’s going to voice that agreement. He’s pretty sure that would just make Milo feel worse. “You can use me as a therapy tool; as long as you’re cool with me not being the ‘touchy-feely-let’s talk about your feelings’ Matteo shrugs, a small smile gracing his lips. “I had to do the whole therapy thing when I first joined because of the some shit I’ve been through” He moves, stretching his legs out and resting his arms behind him. “Not that it even compares to what you went through, obviously” Matteo adds quickly. 

“But I never loved the whole talking therapy thing. Much preferred to just work out my feelings in other ways. Now, was that healthy? Eh” He moves his hand back and forth in a so-so way. “But anyway.” Matteo shakes his head. “If anything, the way you’re thinking shows that you won’t be a liability. You’re thinking like a member of a team, like a hero, ya know?”

.

Milo actually manages a quiet little laugh when Matteo admits he’s not the touchy-feely time. He might not know him well, but this doesn’t surprise Milo at all. Matteo has this… cool, unaffected demeanor about him that Milo can’t help but envy. He feels exaggeratedly tremulous in comparison.

He frowns again, though, when Matteo glosses over his own issues with a ‘not that it even compares…’ because he wishes people wouldn’t do that. Not because it bothers him, but because it belittles their own, fully important experiences in the face of something that’s… not at all comparable. “I mean… it’s not a contest,” Milo points out, a hint of a smile emerging again. “It doesn’t matter if what happened to you doesn’t compare, it was still tough. It still affected you, somehow.” Obviously, because he still attended the therapy, even if he didn’t ‘love it.’

It takes him a second to understand what Milo means by ‘change’ but when it does click he tilts his head to the side, “Could you shift so they’re already stretched?” August is simply grabbing on any passing thought that distracts him from the pain. Looking at Mi, his ear, and noticing the way the blush even seems to creep over to them—it’s a very distracting thought.

August looks away. It takes a little more thought than it should. Now that August knows more about Essex, about Milo’s past pain, even that small joke seems like a big deal. It’s not the sort of joke you laugh at you, but he forces a smile. “Wouldn’t recommend alcohol for pain,” he says, swaying his head in consideration. He stops that when he shifts a little more and a pain shoots through his hip. It might help to let Mi go for a bit, let him scowl in pain by himself, and if he’s going to sit in pain, it might as well be with a beer in hand.  “Could you grab me a beer, please?”

“I- don’t know,” Milo admits, cocking his head with a mixture of consideration and amusement. “I haven’t really messed with modifications like that. I guess I found my next project,” he decides with a bit of a laugh. He can’t think of anything it’d be that useful for right off the bat, but practice is practice, and Milo won’t turn it down.

His expression softens again as he watches August consider his options, quietly wishing he could do more for him. Milo wonders if Atticus could help at all. He’s not sure, since he knows there wasn’t much he could do for Milo’s scars once they’d healed over, and August’s injury is older. But it might be worth asking, anyway. He perks up when August asks for a beer. “Yeah! No problem.” Without even seeming to notice what he’s doing, Milo reaches out to give August’s leg another careful but hopefully reassuring touch, then hops up like he’s got a mission. “One beer, coming right up!”

         even before milo offers an answer, jack is aware of what he’s going to say. she’s still there. she’s still there. even after everything that’s been revealed ( publicly, no less ) about the essex corporation… xavier’s continues to harbor one of the worst of them. the daughter of the founder, no less. there’s something to be said about the sins of the father and how they fall upon his children, but it’s easily snuffed out by one singular fact—she participated, too. gleefully, even. they all can remember that. “i’m glad she’s kept her distance.” it’s the only kind word that jack can offer on the subject. he would much prefer they leave. dani and sawyer, too. “but i’d been hoping they’d… turn her away. you haven’t talked to them about it, have you?” unlikely, milo isn’t the confrontational sort.

Laurel’s responding smile is soft, but not unappreciative. Her nod is even softer. She untangles their arms, but only so that she can wrap hers around Mi’s torso, her chin bumping into his shoulder. “Thanks Mi. You’re a really great friend, you know that?” 

It was something about the way he’d said ‘we’ll find that person’. It never crossed her mind, ever, that Milo would leave her to flounder through this kind of uncharted territory alone– but still. It was nice to hear it so solidly. She gives him one last squeeze before pulling back with a sigh. “Maybe I’m more worried about it than I thought I was. I just–” Laurel bites her bottom lip. “I just want things to go well, you know? Skip the middle of the movie and go straight to the happy ending.” 

Milo grins and automatically brushes off the compliment with a shake of his head, but he’s quick to wrap his arms more completely around her for a reassuring squeeze. “Hey. It’s okay to be worried. It’s… I dunno, it’s kinda nice to be worried about things like a date, isn’t it?” By which he means, there are still mundane things to worry and get excited about, even if sometimes it feels like the world is falling down around them. Even if they’re training to be X-Men, and Laurel basically is one now.

“Skipping the middle does sound easier. But it doesn’t sound like any fun,” Milo challenges her with a smile. “Besides, the middle of the movie is when all the good character development happens. Or whatever. This metaphor is probably going too far,” he decides with a laugh, but squeezes her again. “You’ll be fine, Laur, is what I’m trying to say. Things will go well! I promise. And if they don’t, well. I owe you a pizza and a movie.”

There’s a box of tissues on the end table, and Dare offers it to Milo without a word as soon as she remembers it’s there. Anything she has to say can wait, and wait she does, the hand on Milo’s back moving in small circles as he begins to catch his breath. What he says when he does start talking makes her want to cry herself; half for sympathy and half for pride at the anger she can hear in his voice. He deserves every bit of the hatred he’s feeling, and her hand moves to his shoulder to pull him closer in response.

“It’s okay, I promise. I’m so proud of you, and it’s over now. You did it and it’s over and you never have to do that again.” She shouldn’t promise him that last part; fuck knows what kind of interviews or legal proceedings they might all get caught up in now that the Essex House has been exposed, but Dare’s not trying to think that far ahead. The only thing she knows how to do is offer comfort in the here and now, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do that to the best of her ability. “We don’t have to talk about it at all if you don’t want to, but whatever you want to say… it’s okay to say it to me.”

Milo accepts the tissue box with a soft, unintelligible murmur that roughly equates to a thank-you, and takes a couple of quiet moments to wipe his eyes and blow his nose, leaning unconsciously into the hand on his back. It helps — the touch and the tissues; even if he never quiet stops crying, it’s more of a leak now than a steady stream. Each time he blinks, a new tear falls.

‘I’m proud of you.’ A simple statement that balloons complex emotions in his chest. How often have people really been proud of him in his life in the past ten years? Milo nods appreciatively, finally glancing up at Dare with red-rimmed eyes, and hiccups a little before he manages to continue. “I… if you want to watch the interview, when it comes out. That’s okay with me. If you don’t, that’s okay, too,” he adds quickly, hand touching at her knee to reinforce the sentiment. Milo won’t make anyone watch it if they’re uncomfortable. It is, quite obviously, very fucking uncomfortable.

         “nor should you. some things are unforgivable.” it’s easy enough to keep milo at odds with emmeline essex, the former’s choices not even requiring any embellishment. the only maintenance she needs to do is keeping milo disillusioned, not with her, but with charles xavier. and his precious institute. while they are in training for the x-man program ( laughable, at best ) that doesn’t mean they need to have any love for the headmaster. “but i really do think anyone can change. people aren’t just good or bad, milo. we’re all made up of the choices we make. and everyone, no matter who they are, can make a different choice.”

“I’m with Doc—August.” He flexes his hands, wondering if this is a break-in of some kind; he doesn’t know. Any action he takes has to be measured: f this is his friend, he thinks that he won’t want to alienate the field medic that knows what his face looks like and is the only guy patching up vigilantes. “He told me to grab some Chinese last time I went out and you know. I got some. Call it dinner plans. Impromptu ones.”

His voice is hard, guarded. “Now you,” Dante says. Less an ask, more of a demand. There’s no migraines tonight, and he knows how to restrain someone in concrete. “Who are you?”

With Doc. With August. Milo trips over that phrasing, trying not to overthink the implications — like he’s always so good at doing — as his hands curl into fists at his sides, indignant despite the explanation. “I’m his friend,” Milo shoots back defensively, not backing down even if this guy is decidedly intimidating. “And we have normal, not impromptu plans.” He doesn’t want to say that he’s alone, that August stepped out to run to the corner store. Not to a stranger.