Rockstar

“Yeah, it has,” and he wanted it more than anything. A place that was all theirs, not touched by others they had to share with, or only partially one of theirs. This would be both of theirs, equally shared in all ways that mattered. How easily he could say yes, even with the small voice of doubt in the back of his mind. With the words, fingers tugged gently on the hair at the back of Milo’s head, “I can only imagine the ways you’ll test it out.” He cooed ever so softly, smirk curving at the edges of his lips. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Milo’s lips, “So when do we put in the offer?”

“I’ll have you know that the fifties is one of my favorite decades when it comes to style,” the Latina shrugged at him, flipping the scarf over her shoulder. “I would be a hella cute lady at the nursing home with this.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he teased, shrugging his shoulders. He preferred his own style to be “loud.” At least, that’s what everyone else called it. Fashion is what Milo preferred. “If you’re not the rowdiest old woman in a nursing home, I’d be disappointed.”

       A soft, relieved smile took over her lips and she nodded. “That would be great. Thank you, Milo.” She really had no clue what she’d do without her brother, and she was grateful he was there to strengthen her back when she needed it. “Really? You already picked one? Why haven’t I seen any photos yet?” The smile on her lips widened, now truly exciting for her brother. “Come on, give me some details.”

Seattle flea markets were one of Brie’s favorite things to wander around on a Sunday. She never knew what she could find and it was always fun to talk to the people who created some of the items. As a creator herself with photography, it was always nice to meet and talk to others who loved to create things as well. Holding up a scarf that an older woman made, the woman wrapped it around her neck as she looked at the person beside her with a smile. “What do you think?”

“Looks like the fifties called and they want their scarf back. Talk about dated.” Milo rose an eyebrow at the scarf, though he could admit it had some character. Smirking a little more, he huffed out a laugh, “You planning on wearing that when you check in to the nursing home?”

There was a hum of agreement in the hollow of Cooper’s throat, gaze intently focused on the features of the other. He always wanted to know what was on Milo’s mind, but this time, it was namely about the apartment they were standing in. As the words started to spill out, he smiled softly as the fingers of one hand slipped into the hair at the back of Milo’s head. He had always known the other wasn’t good at saying what he wanted, or finding the precise words to express what he was feeling, but that never stopped Cooper from appreciating every word that came out, no matter if he had to put the pieces together. It was why he waited patiently, listening to each one that slipped from the tip of Milo’s tongue, until he couldn’t help the snort that resounded from him. “You know she does,” he returned, wrinkling his nose as Milo’s lips pressed against it. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” the words came out softly, suddenly, as if Cooper hadn’t intended to say them. “Everything you said. It’s all I’ve wanted since the first time we talked about love.” He had cared about the music, about the band they had formed as teens, but Milo had always meant more to him than all of that. “But I don’t know now,” he piped up, breaking the seriousness in his tone. “If you’re going to complain about how loud I am, I don’t know how this is going to work.”  

“I don’t know – it’s been a long time comin’, Coop.” He didn’t know how to be without Cooper. It wasn’t really in his system, and not only that, Milo had grown up with the other boy. It had taken him long enough to finally kick cocaine out of his way, considering that had been the one thing that had ruined him – and his relationship. Milo smiled a little more, watching Cooper’s expression for a few more moments. “You are loud. But you know – I was planning on having like, a studio built into it. There’s enough room. It’ll be sound proof.”

       Emily sighed and looked down at her feet dangling in the air. She knew plenty of mother-daughter-relationships were complicated, but sometimes she wished hers didn’t have to be. Milo was the only one in her life she fully trusted at the end of the day. “I don’t know yet. She said she wants to talk to dad about it first,” she mumbled, shaking her head a little. “But how’s the house hunting going?”, she added, as if that wasn’t the most obvious change of topic.

        “Is it too much to expect a normal conversation with her for once?” Emily knew she had basically asked for it by calling her mother, but at times she simply was a little girl who wanted a pat on the shoulder. But things between women were complicated. A huff escaped her lips and she looked up at the ceiling. “I know,” she mumbled. “Can you come when they do? You know I can’t do it without you.”

        “I called her.” After the good day she had, Emily was in the mood to talk to her mother, figuring maybe she’d have some uplifting words now that she was a business owner. But it didn’t sound like that. “What? No, I don’t want you to call her, Milo. Then she’ll think I’m still a little girl who can’t handle her own shit.” A frustrated sigh left her lips before she pulled herself up onto the kitchen counter, brushing a hand through her hair. “I just… if I mess this up now, she’s going to say ‘I told you so’.”

“You’re certainly a rarity in this world. Childhood loves aren’t exactly common, which must make it all the more special.” Part of her envied that sort of bond, though Jules also presumed that she might not have ventured as far as she had with someone holding her back. Then again, perhaps she would also be some semblance of happy. “That’s when you know. When you can’t stand to imagine a life without them. When nothing ever quite measures up.” At his volleying back of a deeply rooted question, she brought her own glass up and took a sip as if to guard herself. “What’s that old phrase? Either you always will or you never did?”

“You could read all this on my wikipedia page, y’know. There’s even links to instagram about our band’s messy break up.” Milo poured himself the rest of the bottle of champagne into his glass, frowning since it was empty now. He looked back at Juliana, raising an eyebrow, “So you’re a secret romantic? Wow. How big was his dick?”

Elias has met a lot of people in his time, from London and New York and Seattle, he’s got the connections and the charm to get his foot into a lot of doors. In the case with Milo it’s kind of the opposite, he comes into LUX and they hit it off, and, Elias, both a fan of his music, and now, his personality, lets him know he’s welcome to stop by anytime and there will always be a booth available for him if he wishes. That of course, is also selfish, because well, it’s good business, and word of good business always gets around.

He doesn’t show up to greet him right away, not because he’s avoiding him, but because he has a job to do before he can settle into fully indulging himself in other aspects of the place. He greets a few people, plays a song on the piano and grabs himself a drink off a passing waitress who gives him the eye, a redhead, and from their past encounter in his penthouse, he thinks her name is Lacey. Finally though, he makes his way over to Milo’s corner booth, where three bottles of champagne already sit, one already open. He likes the way the man works. “I’m in very high demand in this place” he says by way of greeting the other male, cocky grin pulling over his lips. “And you know I like it when people beg” he counters, sliding into the booth once Milo sits, watches as a waitress pours him a glass of champagne without him asking “oh you know, sex drugs and rock and roll as always. What about you, you’re a rock star after all, much more exciting than a simple club owner” he tries, taking the attention off of himself.

Milo scoffed, though his smirk was still present as he looked over Elias. “Clearly. You fucking your waitresses in the back or what?” he tilted his head, clearly waiting for an answer before he smiled. “Oh, you know. Sex, no drugs, and rock and roll.” It was difficult for Milo to admit it even casually, since every time even a hint of drugs were mentioned, he felt anxious. It was easy to wash down with champagne, though, and he looked back at Elias. “You can google me, champ. So tell me what horrible things you’ve been up to.”

“Oh, don’t even try that. We both know who has more clothes,” he scoffed with a shake of his head, leaning back against the other. He let his gaze focus on the view outside the window, imagining what it would be like to see this every day of his life. Though he hadn’t yet given Milo a firm yes or no, it would be pointless for Cooper to argue that his mind hadn’t already been made up. The question caught him by surprise, lost to his own thoughts once again, and the sudden bump to his derriere had him taking a step forward. “You’re awful,” he chided, but it didn’t stop the laugh from slipping out. Regaining his composure, Cooper easily turned in Milo’s hold, lifting his arms to wrap around the other’s neck, “No. I like this one.” His gaze slipped beyond his boyfriend, taking in the sight of the apartment before him, “What do you think?”

Ethan looked away from the male, his words hitting a little too close to him despite knowing that they came from frustration more than anything. That had always been his biggest problem: letting people in, allowing things to become more than skin deep. His relationship with Milo was tricky, lying somewhere between what was considered friendly versus professional, but that didn’t change anything. If anything, it made the decision to separate himself all the more easy. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he countered, as if that would make much of a difference. Furrowing his brows, he crossed his arms once again as he faced the rockstar. “You think I’m walking on eggshells around you, Milo? Really? Well, how about this for eggshells,” the doctor took a few steps closer, kneeling down so that he was right in front of his face. “You have all of these resources at your disposal and yet you choose not to utilize them. Maybe it’s out of pride, maybe it’s because you’re scared — I don’t fucking know because, like I said, I’m not a psychologist — but all I know is that you got a whole team of people behind you that you have so little faith in, it’s incredible.” His voice was calm, even-toned, despite how much he wanted to burst at the seams. “I’m not fucking Superman, and neither are you. You can take my suggestions or you can leave them, I don’t give a shit. But you can’t get pissed at me just ‘cause I’m trying  to help you.”

Milo leaned back a little into the cushions when Ethan got closer, his jaw snapping shut when he realized the doctor hadn’t understood what he’d meant. He’d thought he’d been clear, that Ethan was the one person who didn’t walk on eggshells – the one constant he could think of that would say something to his face. What he didn’t expect was Ethan to start throwing things back at him so quickly and easily. “Just leave, Ethan.” Those were the first words out of his mouth, and he pushed himself up, shaking his head. Milo crossed his arms over his chest, beginning to pace another hole in the carpet. “I have faith,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I have faith, Ethan. That’s all I fucking have. A team? Okay, you, my sister, and Cooper. That’s all I can think of. You know my manager – my old one – would fucking make sure I had stacks of whatever I wanted in every hotel room? It’s hard, okay? To try and make sure nothing throws me off track. So just....forget I called you over here. I won’t do it again; I learned my lesson.” Milo had too many enablers in his life once, and making a complete one-eighty was a miracle in itself for the rockstar. “Please just...leave.”

“Since when is my relationship with my brother any of your fucking business?” she shot back, voice growing in volume the more Milo continued to berate her. Part of her knew he was justified in some sense, the words falling from his lips ringing true despite the venom that dripped from behind them. However, if Avi was absolutely anything, it was stubborn as fuck — and incredibly in denial. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Milo. I’m not the one who was giving him drugs in the first place. Maybe you should worry about yourself and you’re own fucking sobriety and stop projecting your insecurities onto me. Ever think about that?”