ARLECCHINO

❝ Yeah, I mean, sure. Why not? Might be fun. ❞ Milo was one of the easiest people to be around, not even out of the group but in general ; he doubted Isla would want to bunk with him, so his next choice would be Reeve or Milo. But he felt like he didn't have to put as much of a front on for Milo. If his facade slipped, they probably wouldn't even notice. Letting out a soft left, Kingston's eyes roamed the room, briefly wondering how easy it would be for a bear to tear one of the walls down before he let his attention move back to his friend. ❝ Do you . . . know how to make a birdhouse? ❞

closed starter ,  milo mendoza  . found amongst the abandoned skeletons of old homes .

it was a familiar scene, wandering through neighborhoods and making up stories, though this was a lot more run down than they were used to. milo preferred it this way; when they were a kid, watching the families around them go through their normal day, there was little room for imagination. they could make up names, careers, whatever, but the truth was plainly in front of their face. this was a blank canvas. milo finds, as they haunt this mining town, their imagination has gotten a lot darker. or maybe reality seeped into fantasy still, even without a living person around.

❝ You're all good, ❞ Kingston assured him, taking a small puff before saying anything else. ❝ Is it? ❞ He knew that, obviously he knew that, but he worried saying so would make them feel bad. He bit back a laugh, not wanting to seem like he was mocking him. It was . . . wholesome, in some way, and better than any conversation he'd be having inside. ❝ Milo's a cool ass name. ❞

"you're suuch a fuckin' liar, dude." they laugh, the lightest punch to his shoulder "milo's, like, a dog name. you ever seen the mask? my parents named me after that dog." at least, that's what they'd been told. and they didn't really trust anything their parents said. drunk people always said stupid shit. it was a funny story, though "akeem's sweet though. so's kingston. is it like a jock thing to go by your last name?"

IT'S SOMEWHERE BETWEEN "y'know, paul mccartney once claimed that one in four men are gay" and "paul and john were probably in some toxic on and off thing" that reeve starts to tune milo out. he knows he should just interrupt, throw the wad of cash in his pocket at milo's face and snatch the little bag of goods they toss between their palms before he can really unpack what he must have done to deserve this. instead, reeve opts to wait it out, allows himself to get distracted by the interesting angles of milo's face. at some point in the night, he took a tab that now makes the slope of milo's jaw particularly thrilling to look at, so he follows it from their chin to their gonial angle, marveling at the sharpness of the bend there, before stopping at their ear where his eyes linger. it's distracting, the way the lights from the party make milo's jewelry sparkle like stars.

they never claimed to be smart, but when milo feels they've had some epiphany— usually on nights like these, with god knows what running through their system, they're confident in them. right now, they think there's something different about the way reeve's looking at them. something not entirely unwelcome, but unexpected nonetheless. they can't help it, a smile slowly forms as reeve stumbles over his words, the insecurity that they knew had always been present in him bubbling to the surface, past those layers of stoic facade. milo feels a strange sort of power, nothing about them had ever been particularly intimidating to anyone before. this would be a fun one to tell kody and camille later "what, these?" their finger trails over their ear, always shining and well healed. the one visible sign he took care of himself.

"Of course! I would never lie to you." Except when she lied, in which case she was lying, but other than that?? Never! Her grip tightened around his hand as she grinned up at him. "And you shouldn't be cheap! You have the good stuff and if Lucas, Luke - whatever it is - wants to get the right stuff, he has to come to you and that means he has to pay for it." Kody knew she was rambling at this point but she meant every word. Every single one. "It's so good that I feel like I need to be outside on the roof watching the stars or something."

they match her enthusiasm in a way they're not used to— being able to keep up with kody was never in their skill set, they were always slower, all lazy smiles. they always sort of envied how much of a light she was, it was funny how easily they could feel exactly the same way. just took a bit of cocaine and a lot of money in their pocket "and like, honestly ko, the guy's willing to pay like... anything." they're too open about it, too happy to exploit him, but it's not something they'd think to reflect on. not tonight, at least "oh, we could totally do that. i was just up there with isla."

" is it a third nipple? please tell me it’s a third nipple, " isla leans in, voice low and sticky sweet, her laugh brighter than the porch lights strung across the party below. her grin’s crooked, eyes a little too big, a little too hungry. she’s teetering, one step away from testing fate, the edge of the roof her only tether. voice dips conspiratorially, as if they could be heard by the crowd below—a mess of hollers and stinging cold, shirtless frat boys strutting like roosters in the yard. " or, like .. webbed toes? oh my god, is it webbed toes? " the words are syrupy, slipping between teeth. " three stars, huh? well, if we’re grading on a curve .. " the insinuation trails long enough for a burst of laughter to follow. a hand clasped over her mouth in disbelief of herself. " wait, don’t tell me! let me guess. he’s got .. oh my god. he does, doesn’t he? no .. milo, stop—let me have this. "

"nope." popping the 'P' on the word, they're rocking from heel to toe, a certain giddiness that always came with playing games— being childish, really. every guess is met with a quick shake to their head, lips pressed together in a smile tightly as if to conceal something. that is, until her next suggestion, and they fall open "maybe i'm just a generous grader....." a beat, and soft laughter is tumbling out as the insinuation dawns on them. for a while, they can only point to confirm, nodding, but when they do speak, it's between a series of snickers "like a fuckin' lady finger banana." in their laughter, they lightly grasp the back of the fur coat she wears, coaxing her backwards, away from the edge "i think you can see sinclair better from back here... i say five. is that too much?"

HEARING THE GRATING VOICE OF ONE MILO MENDOZA , thomas couldn't withhold the irritated sigh that happened to burst his held breath as he tilted his head back - as if he could reach up and pluck some spare patience from the damp , sticky air sweltering above him . " neither , actually , " thomas replied , refusing to admit that he had , in fact , been grabbing kody another drink , , , opting for sarcasm as he set down the white claw and complimentary shot on the counter milo had now sat themselves atop of . " i'm obviously in the kitchen trying to brainstorm some miraculous fuckin' plan to solve world hunger in one night . the fuck you think i'm doin' ?? "

their smile is positively impish as an exhale leaves tom, an exasperation they're confident only they can manage to pull out of him. they raise a brow at the answer, not calling bullshit but regarding the shot set down next to them. the temptation to take the cup into surprisingly manicured fingers and down it is strong, he claimed it wasn't for kody after all, but they resist. instead, they listen to the lengthy retort, eyes sparkling with either intoxication or humor. at least, it was lengthy for milo, who could hardly string together sentences that long. they stay quiet a beat after he's finished, too, eyes locked as they drink lime juice until titanium is pressed against bitter pith "that's noble, man. pebble in the water." they drop the peel into a forgotten solo cup.

teeth lightly drag against skin as milo’s hand withdrew, settling into familiar territory around their throat. the grin on camille’s lips spreading as milo spoke. ❝            romeo montague’s ? ❞  the smart ass answer coming with a giggle as the warmth of milo’s lips found their pulse, travelling straight to their heart. though logic could explain it away as the tequila shots done prior to their retreat – and though camille used to ground themselves in logic – emotions always won out when it came to milo. for better or for worse. tonight, however, it was only the better that existed. ❝ i know, babe. i’m just saying if it was already here… does huge mean you’re gonna be gone a lot tonight ? ❞

when they worked, they worked. it's all that comes to mind, breaks through the haze of substances and her (always her), a sudden and warm reminder that they'd found their person before they'd been completely ruined. a soft chuckle, reverberating off of delicate skin "if that's what you wanna call me, yeah." they'd been intentional in picking the shirt, not just the film nerd but the loverboy in them. maybe he didn't want to cover everything— they looked good, but that green eyed monster that lived within him didn't like the image of anyone else looking at them and having the same thought.

there was something about the frat boy in its natural habitat, a special sort of quality. magnetism, perhaps? that which normally came off as dull shined with just a bit of glitter. it was the beer goggles putting in the work, had to be. otherwise, what it was that always attracted the prettiest girls to them was completely out of milo's imagination. eliza's demanding hands, the temptation to slip fingers under their board shorts, however, he understood all too well. but, milo wasn't the prettiest girls. he was below them. that was why, taken as he was, it was hard for him to tear his eyes away from the skunk-scented mannequin that wouldn't alone unwrap itself from poor eliza.