⭐ ｍｉｌｌｉｅ ⭐

“she has her moments,” he said, a barely there smirk sliding onto his lips, “but regardless of what we’ve been through, i’m still so incredibly fond of her. don’t ask me why, because i’m having a hard enough time figuring it out myself.” his tone was light, teasing. it was easy to forget the past month of bullshit games when they were like this, the way they always had been. this was the millie he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. “let’s just ⁠— forget about what happened, yeah? there’s enough negativity in the world; we don’t need to add to it. and yes, i realize that sounds like it’s straight out of a greeting card or something.” he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone; it was good to see her smiling again. “do you want me to walk you back to campus? or ⁠— somewhere else if you’re not ready to head back yet?”

Forgetting about what happened seemed like the rational course of action and, yea, maybe they could erase the bullshit games she’d pulled... but there were things she didn’t want to forget. And as his thumb drew across her cheek, warming her skin, her lips parted. What did she do to deserve this? Him? Shutting her eyes, Millie smiled more, even offering a short chuckle. “More like a motivational cat poster. Ivan probably has one in his office.” She imagined a cat on a counter, poised with paw outstretched, ready to knock a glass to the ground below, framed by the cheesy words. “You go on ahead,” she sighed, her answer almost reluctant. A good chunk of her wanted desperately for him to walk her to Calloway or class or some coffee shop. And another day, she would have. But today was today. Now, with more of herself together, she needed to take the time for herself and for Tate. “I’m gonna just stay here for a bit. Need a minute, you know?”

“ugh, it’s like you read my mind.  i don’t know about you, but i could absolutely crush a plate of pasta right now.”  orpheus didn’t know if talking about food was making things better or worse for millie, but he figured that talking in general was a nice distraction from the tattoo process.  and judging by the way she gorilla gripped his hand, she probably needed it.  he braced himself for future squeezing, knowing that whatever he felt, she was experiencing approximately 900 times worse.  “okay, well.  in my defense, you gave me 0.5 seconds to come up with a name.  personally, i don’t mind cat people.  as long as, like, they don’t smell like cat.  i had an art teacher in high school who smelled like cat pee.  we were convinced she had one hidden in her classroom.”

“Oh, I’m fully ready to double fist some garlic bread and ruin some innocent family’s dinner next to me. It’s going to be beautiful.” Millie hummed, already tasting the buttery goodness on her tongue. Soon enough. For now, she focused on Orpheus; he really had been a good partner to drag along, very efficient at distracting her from the pain. “Cat ladies have a totally different energy. It’s like the equivalent of old bird men. Ooh, no. No, it’s totally more like antique car guys. Feel like they have to have a weird relationship with their mufflers.” Mils grimaced, this time not because of the needle. “I saw that episode of My Strange Addiction.”

“I dunno. Seems like there’s probably some overlap there. Did you bang King? I’d give him a solid 8/10, minus points for hooking up with Anita while I was in rehab. Rude,” she told the girl, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of the sharp liquid, nearly spluttering it out as Elias came out of Millie’s mouth. “Oh… cool! Didn’t realize he was sleeping with you too. He’s probably hoping for a three way or something. No thanks. No offense, Mills,” she said hurriedly, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. The girl was silent for a few moments, taking another sip, trying to look anywhere but over at Millie. “He’s pretty good at giving head, right?”

"No, no I definitely scared him off for a bit. Might circle back around but—” Millie shrugged and left her answer there, filling in the silence with a sip of liquor that burned down her throat. The flirtation with King had been like a game at first. Cat and mouse, watch him squirm. And then the other day. Just the thought had her going in for another sip. “Aren’t they all? I mean, you can’t blame them.” Mils gestured between the two of them, at their obvious beauty. Cocky? Perhaps, but accurate. “Oh, I was totally distracted by what he could do with his hands. Like—” Her hand went up to her own throat, gently squeezing as she demonstrated part of her empty classroom antics.

                    That was a bold statement, if not visceral, and he wanted to figure out why exactly that was. He didn’t know her, but he already liked how playful she was coming across as. How naughty. Someone like her definitely functioned on what could be called a reinforcement-punishment basis, but she was in luck. So did he. He hummed through his lips, the sound turning into a smothered laugh, “Oh but I do,” The male teased, leaning in with his next question, voice suppressed to a murmur, “Don’t think I can handle it?” He asked, now challenging, and something felt as though it were building up between them. A tension. He liked a little friction sometimes, and truly conversations between people were like a dance. The biggest mistake you could make about Elias Morrissey was to believe that he was unaware to his own nature. His arm brushed against her shoulder, “‘Please’?” He repeated, “Are we begging now?” Another small laugh left him, his smirk prominent, his words quick and light and if he’d gone too far he knew she’d let him. But he knew then that he hadn’t. He knew then that she wanted to fuck him. It was evident now, blame it on the pheromones sudden knocking him in the face or be it the way she’d devoured him with her eyes just then, “Six-two,” He corrected, pausing after, looking at her with a curved mouth, “I’m a big guy.” Once more he hummed tersely, but now it was harmoniously, if not distracted, and when he spoke again his offer fell relevant but only between the lines of their conversation, “There’s a lot of empty classrooms around here… You wanna go fuck around instead? Maybe write some devil worshipper shit up on one of the blackboards for the next class to find?” He already began walking to peak into a nearby room, “–Or not.” 

As his body leaned in closer towards her, Millie felt heat creep up her neck. Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, that wicked smile of hers only pushing further. This would be fun. And if she could surmise anything from their brief conversation from classroom to here it wasn’t that Elias couldn’t handle it. In fact, Millie had an inkling that he could. But she arched her eyebrow all the same, urging him to prove it. “No,” she shook her head and pouted her lips, “not begging. Not yet.” There was opportunity for it, if he took it, of course. Given that she’d needed to spell it out before, she hoped this little planted seed was enough for him. Corrected, Millie raked her eyes over him again. A big guy. Well, she certainly hoped so. She took in him frame as he stepped ahead, specifically watching the muscles move beneath his shirt as he peeked into a nearby classroom. A hunger bubbled up inside her, causing her to saunter up to the room, brushing past him to reach the first empty seat. “If we’re going to be devil worshiping, I just have one question.” She deposited her bag on the chair and slowly turned towards the blond. Leaning back, the arm chair rest against her ass, the hem of her over-sized sweatshirt inching up. Head cocked to the side, Millie fixed Elias with a scrutinizing, starved stare. “Are you the devil?”

“Whiskey with a vodka chaser sounds…. kind of unappetizing, but for Mills? I’ll try it,” she told the girl, slinging and arm around her shoulder and opening the top of it to take a swig. “Did I ever tell you about the time I chased vodka with Spagetti-O’s? Not a fun night. I’ll never look at Chef Boyardi the same,” she told her with a slight shudder running through her body. She winced at the taste of the liquor on her tongue. “So, tell me how life has been for Millicent. Who are you fucking this semester? Maybe there’s been overlap. Would love for us to be dick sisters.”

“No, no, probably not but I can actually stomach vodka so— I’m not a scientist or anything but, like, maybe that’ll trick my brain and cancel out the whiskey? I don’t know, there’s clearly a reason I’m leaning towards art as a major and not chem or whatever.” Millie’s nose crinkled. It would have crinkled at the vision of Chef Boyardi alone but washing back a shot? Hmm, no thank you there. Mils reached for the bottle and poured them each a drink, the liquor dangerously close to the lip, threatening to spill over the sides. “Are we not already dick sisters?” she chuckled, eyebrow lifting for a moment before she shrugged and answered. “I will say I started off the semester with a bang. Definitely worth ditching class. Uh, think his name was— fuck what was it— Elias? Yea, yea, Eli or whatever.”

“whoa, okay.  didn’t ask for soup slander on this day.  but sure.  i think if i got any, it’d be, like.  a chicken nugget.  but sticking with the bread motif?  maybe some garlic bread.  how’s that sound?”  shit, now orpheus was hungry.  oh well.  he did it to himself.  “you’d look so cute with a matching nose ring.  i hope that conversation goes well.”  he smiled at her after she squeezed his hand, but he was still planning on not letting her near righty once they got inside.  “fine.  it’s not that i don’t trust you, but you are getting lefty so you don’t put me out of commission.  i’ve gotta make a decision that makes sense for handy, inc.  it’s a working title, what do you think?”

“Sounds like we should get Italian after this is what it sounds like,” she answered with a soft laugh, her own stomach speaking up with a little rumble. Millie could already picture the perfect plate of pasta. Oh, this was an added layer to the tattoo torture. Squinting, she considered the business name with a hum. “Hmm, not the most creative direction but it’s straight to the point so solid advertising there. Not like I’m much help because... like, the only one coming to mind is Frisky Business— ow!” As the artist drew the needle over her skin, Millie grimaced, gripping Orpheus’s hand tighter. “That could bring out the cat people though. Not sure how into that you are.”

“Normally I’m no spokesperson for treat your elders with respect but I would like to direct you to two women that have lived life and clearly know what’s up.”

“Yes. And, in case any of them are out there and wondering, specifically the silver foxes, I am also open to doing so sans grade. You know my email.”

“I love all my friends— hate them some days too — but in love? Yea, I guess that depends on who you ask. Mom says yes. Other people say yes. I say... inconclusive.”

he’d managed to keep his temper under control until that point, millie being the only person he could never be mad at. and it wasn’t even that he was angry ⁠— a different pent up emotion was threatening to surface, and anger was the only way to mask it. she wanted a fight? drew would give her one. he took a step towards her, so close he swore he could feel the energy radiating off of her. shoulders squared, jaw set; he looked her straight in the eyes and refused to look away. “then let me show you. give me a chance to prove that i’m worthy of your trust again, because there’s nothing i can fucking do right now.” he worked double time to keep his voice even, eyes intense as they stared into hers. he needed her to see how much he meant his words, even if she would still only see them as empty. “unless you’re expecting me to turn back the clock and undo the shitty things i said and did, all i have at this moment are words. say the word and i’ll do whatever, no questions asked. but i can’t do anything unless you give me another chance.”

Millie tipped back on her heels, managing to hold her ground but she hadn’t expected him to draw up close. The expression on his face echoed to those few years back. Maybe it wasn’t fair that her mind kept traveling back to that last day but gripping tight to the past had become a habit. Memories and ghosts were one and the same. “I want to,” she finally said, her words strained. Her lips had even fallen open, ready to latch on something else: she wanted to— but. Habit. A habit she had to learn to break and it started by closing her mouth and listening. Because Drew had a point and she, at the very least, could give him a chance to show her that this wasn’t all one big empty promise. Pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, Millie nodded her head slowly. “Alright.” Drew Upston wanted a shot at earning her trust? Okay. She knew just where to start. “Right now, I’m asking you to leave.” Millie peeled her eyes away from him to look past his shoulder and towards the door. She needed a barrier between them even if it was just two inches of hardwood.  “Tonight— I can’t do anymore of it.”

                   “You can call me whatever you want to call me,” He smirked, and that seemed like a good answer, if not a righteous one. He liked giving everything up to the right woman when the moment could be prosperous— if the timing seemed smart. This was one of those times. The blonde followed beside her, quite literally looking down at her, and Jesus— she had a good rack for her frame. He dragged his tongue out over his bottom lip, head tilting slight to the side as he listened to her, certainly amused. He studied her lips; he found her eyes, and then he leaned his shoulders back to scan her, and when he did he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if to scold, “Oh, and what exactly is that supposed to mean?” The boy tested, his words leaning upon something, dragged and playful in their tone. He liked the way she frolicked. Metaphorically, of course, but there was certainly something about this one. When she walked flames sparked at her heels, little embers of hubris and insolence. A hellion knew another hellion when they saw one. Perhaps he’d met a match, and this excited him. His lips curved, deepened and smug, and his gaze had not left her once, “Please, you’re gonna have to spell it out for me, Millie.” He added, not entirely sure of what she meant herself, but he felt it smarter to act as though he covertly did and just wanted her to admit it, “Those sprinkles, caramel and marshmallows are on the line.”

"You really don’t want to give me that sort of power, Elias,” Millie warned, shaking her head from side to side. Already different words were crafting on her tongue. Consonants and vowels lining up for a chance to play— but they’d have to wait just like she would. “Please.” A short laugh, a roll of her eyes and then her neck, until she was looking playfully up at him, her teeth dug into her lower lip. Arching her eyebrow, Mils gave him one last opportunity to connect the oh-so-obvious dots for himself. No go? Alright. With a soft exhale, her head tipped to the other side and her lips pressed together tightly in a sinful smile. “Ice cream is tempting. The thing is, I have enough self control to hold off for thirty minutes of a lecture for rocky road. But—” Millie paused to hum, and to rake her gaze over him, specifically those grey sweats of his. Somehow she imagined he’d picked that very pair out that morning fully aware of what he was doing. She’d applaud it for him. Thank him. “Maybe I saw something else that sweetened the deal. Something about, hmm— what are you? Six-one?”

a memory. it was a simple request, and it brought a smile to his face, the way memories of james usually did. “i think we were about ten years old. i was still newer to the city and didn’t know anybody else, but james wouldn’t hear of it. he dragged me to every place he went, even other people’s houses. and one fateful day, i ended up at one of his friends’ houses, and the guy’s little sister kept trying to play with us. i’m still not sure why we didn’t just let her ⁠— it was probably just the age when we stopped wanting anything to do with our younger siblings ⁠— but i went with her anyway, and we played with her legos until james and her brother joined us.” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, a chuckle slipping from his lips. “my parents were always away shooting, and i didn’t have any siblings, so it was the first time i really felt at home.” the smile on his face lit up his eyes as he looked down at millie; it was by far one of his most treasured memories. but the smile faded as quickly as it came, his eyes briefly darting down to their hands before meeting her eyes again. “yeah…” he started, pressing his lips together as his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, “but so did i.” for all of drew’s faults, king couldn’t hold that one against him without being a hypocrite ⁠— everyone had their reasons for leaving. “we don’t have to talk about him, though; i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Millie kept her body propped against him with her cheek resting near his heart as she listened, a soft smile growing as King strung his story. How long ago had that been? It felt like a lifetime and yet she could still remember his maroon sweatshirt and the little robot they built— the same robot that sat on her bookshelf at home, tucked behind a picture frame in fear her mother would find it and trash it for being too childish. “She sounds annoying,” she teased, peeking up at him. The tears had stopped but the evidence was still painted on her blushed cheeks. “Don’t know why you put up with her.” A joke but strain to catch it and you’d hear a sadness. Almost like she was still asking him: why do you put up with me? Mils warmed at the idea of home— not her actual one but that which King spoke of. She knew that feeling. Lately, though, hers and that which she gave had shaky foundations. “Thanks.” Drew was a topic for another day. Right now she didn’t have any more tears to spill. Sitting up, her hands squeeze his once more, her smile pressed further, only a small fraction of it forced. “For all of it, I mean. With everything... I know I’m probably not your favorite person right now— you’ve always been such a good guy.” Sweatshirt. Robot. Tiny bricks. “The best.”

“okay, yeah.  total judgment here.  not sorry about it.  unless you’re on some andy warhol shit, you can’t think soup’s that vital to get a tattoo.”  like orpheus was one to talk with the dick tattoo on his ass, but whatever.  pot, kettle.  at least he didn’t have a tramp stamp?  always a silver lining.  “i’m sure she will love it.  your mom totally strikes me as the freewheeling, tattoo-loving type.”  he stuck out his hand to punctuate her comment.  “absolutely, baby.  my hand is your stress ball.  but if you break anything, i will sue.”

“Right? And, like, we all know the best part of soup is the bread you dip in it. If I had to get any food inked on me— quote me now — it’s bread.” Mils was quick to roll her eyes at the mention of her mother. It was like he could read her mind. “That’s Lizzy alright. Mommy-daughter nose rings are on the agenda for Christmas.” She grabbed his offered hand and gave it a good mid-level squeeze to test him. A trial run of sorts. “Oh, please, you have a second one. Your hand job business won’t go under.”