#meme;milo

In the purest show of emotion, Milo recoiled as though Briony had actually struck him. Though, truthfully, the pain of her words surpassed any injury the hand could deliver, dejection spreading tendrils through his chest and around his heart with ease. It was his biggest fear, being unable to provide for her; and while it half-stemmed out of comparisons himself to the other, richer men who sought her hand, it was also born of an absent father, giving way to an ever-present desire to be the man he never had in his childhood. So to hear his heart, his soul attack his insecurity with venom lurking in her once-dulcet tone, the blacksmith could only shrink into himself, feeling any but his six feet as he sank down against the hovel's wall with his head hung low. Words were lost beneath the weight of his sadness, thoughts impossible to sort; then again, what could he say to make his defeat less poignant? No matter how he tried or what he did, she was right -- he would never be the man she needed.

     Deep down, Milo knew he shouldn't have been surprised; the way Dominic had been avoiding his gaze, his touch was sign enough that something was wrong. But even that obvious deduction wasn't enough to prepare the smitten male for the tightness in his chest, the clammy sensation afflicting his palms. Whatever they had was casual as far as relationships go; but that hadn't kept him from falling head over heels for the blonde who felt, in that moment, to be a million miles away. And try as he might to be understanding, to force a smile and dismissive nod, it was impossible to ignore the lump forming in his throat. And with a sharp breath, he began taking steps backwards, nodding as he fumbled for his coat. "Yeah...yeah, it's cool, I understand. I'll...see you later, okay?"

Who is he, though, to ruin whatever this is out of confusion of its motivation? Knowing Kennedy, the moment would be over as abruptly as it had began and he couldn't know the next time she would be so...nice. So, in an effort to milk the moment, he's pressing closer, nuzzling shamelessly as a warm smile graces his full lips. "Better be careful," he murmurs, emeralds lidding in content, "might think you like me."

xx M

[ sms to; viola ] i can’t be in there right now, baby girl.[ sms to; viola ] be back in a bit.

[ SMS from; milo ] what? be so devilishly handsome?[ SMS from; milo ] i ask myself the same question.

He’s with his girlfriend when he gets the text; emerald darting nervously as he pockets his phone and hides his betrayal for just a bit longer. It isn’t until he’s locked himself in the bathroom that the device resurfaces, Patch’s words swimming through his mind with vehemence even before he reads them anew. His heart jumps when she confesses love for him—a reaction that remains second nature, even after all this time; but the response to her affections is dulled by the pain she reveals soon after. Because he knows what he’s been doing is wrong, is selfish. But, awareness alone means little to a man like Milo, who totes a habit of falling into unhealthy routine and idiotic behaviors until consequence comes to pass. And what real consequence is a confession sent over text? After all, words on a screen pale considerably next to tears over blotched cheeks; so he doesn’t think twice as he deletes the message and tucks his phone away once more, walking out of the bathroom with a call to his girlfriend like nothing ever happened.

For a fleeting moment, surprise laid claim over stubbled features before amusement--and yes, the tiniest hint of arousal--rose to take its place. "Well," he started, looping an arm around her waist to tug her into his body, "if you're offering."