#milbro

(   Send 웃유 for our muses to be siblings for a thread.   )

“…” 

     No. Not again.             Jay only hopes it’s some sort of coincidence that he can’t find his cigarettes again. He’d just bought a pack of the newest vogue slim. Promised himself to eventually switch to the slim ones, instead of consuming a pack of the strongest tobacco possible. Yes, it could have worked. If his new cigarettes were still where he left them. Confusion sprawls over his features at first, yet an instant conclusion is drawn, hand rubbing on his temple as he groans loudly. It’s a quick realization. Why didn’t he think about it before–

    “Milo– YOU FUCKING ASS–”

His brother was a smoker, too. Unluckily. Jay didn’t care about the latter’s habits, quirks and likes until his own stuff remained untouched. Ah, but Milo aside from his love from books, tended to be a very curious and sneaky guy sometimes and Jay on the other hand, enjoyed solitude, not accepting any kind of invasion on his privacy. Unfortunately, they had to stick to each other’s side most of time. Being a family, was never a choice. 

“I’m not hip enough for them to be, uh, fake.” Inevitably the glasses end up folded and discreetly tucked away in his left blazer pocket. The word ‘glasses’ alone is enough for him to become uncomfortably self-aware and feel slightly vulnerable ––who doesn’t have an emotional and situational scar from their childhood?––; it isn’t an action he consciously registers. His demeanour remains sheepish rather than forcefully restrained though: soft eyes caught off-guard, cheeks splattered with a semi permanent red tinge, spine straight in a manner that exudes attentive rather than uncomfortable. Ultimately it is an innocent question and Milo recognises this. However, he cannot stop the nervous stutter in his vocal inflection, the crack in his voice when he chokes out the word ‘fake’, but he reigns in on practically everything else.

“Just need them, to, uh, y’know, see.”

“Good thing too.  There’s nothing sillier than wearing lenseless frames, don’t you think?” Lips twisted in a brief grimace to punctuate her words, she nods firmly to herself before returning her gaze to meet his.  She knows her personality can be a little...startling to some (she’s rather upfront about her opinions, and not everyone’s comfortable with that), and so she simply flashes her signature smile, all pearly-whites and well intentions.  “They make you look charming.  Nothin’ to be ashamed of, I promise you.” And it’s more to comfort him than anything- a harmless compliment she hopes will assuage the crimson painting his cheeks.  A pause, and then a hand is extended towards him.  An invitation of sorts.

Coffee Shop: Person A is a barista at the local hole in the wall coffee shop. Person B is new to the town and is starting to become a regular at the quiet little cafe with the best latte art they have ever seen but little do they know, the art is all for them after they’ve caught Person A’s attention. Will Person A ever gather up the courage to ask Person B out, or will they just continue with their art in hopes of Person B approaching them?

Gaeul would lie to herself if she said that she hadn’t noticed him. 

Him as in the handsome stranger who appeared out of nowhere one rainy day and started to come regularly at the empty and quiet cafe of the small city she was living in. And he seemed just as quiet as the city, gazing longingly out the window, probably lost in his thoughts and that was what drew Gaeul’s attention at first. And the second time, and the third time and all the many times after that. 

But there was a reason as to why Gaeul worked in a small, most-of-the-time empty cafe and it lied in the fact that she wasn’t good at being social. She used her art in the cream on top of the drinks they were selling to express her feelings or so it would be adequate with the customer’s mood; and she liked it that way, really. After all, the ones who came here were looking for silence and calmness, not to have a conversation with an awkward bartender - aka Gaeul. 

Her drawings for him were rather simple at first although it never failed to put her boss in an awe. A cat, a smiling face, a flower, she was used to them and could almost make them with her eyes closed. (But because she wanted to avoid messing the drawing or worse, spilling the drink on the floor, she did not.) But the more the stranger was coming - stranger whom she named affectionately Mr. Mysterious - the more she found herself trying to create complicated drawings. A simple cat turned into a 3-D cat, the flower turned into cherry blossoms and the smiling face was transformed into the stranger’s portrait. 

She didn’t dare to wait for his reaction whenever she was bringing him his drink and quickly went to hide in the kitchen, cheeks red and heart pounding into her chest, unwanted butterflies all over her stomach. Really, this was getting annoying and frustrating. She needed to do something. 

The next day, after spending the night making a whole plan about what she would do to speak to Mr. Mysterious and, maybe, ask him out, she nervously tried on a new drawing, using the cream and a small wooden stick to give it life. By far, it was going well and she felt a burst of self-confidence growing into her.

10:00am. The door opened and he arrived. He took his usual spot by the window and Gaeul knew what was his order already, having memorized it a few weeks ago already. She gazed down at her art then up at the male, biting down on her lower lip. She couldn’t do it, it would be embarrassing and Mr Mysterious would stop coming because she would have scared him out. With a deep sigh, she erased the drawing and started a new one, a simple heart that seemed surrounded by wings. Not like it meant something. 

And while she brought him his latter, Gaeul told herself that she’d try again tomorrow. 

something i’ve lied about.

My drink intake. 

something i’m currently worrying about.

My members might be a little too hopeful. I don’t want them to expect something and for it to not happen. 

a drunken story.

I’ve been that far gone before that there have been multiple times in which I’ve tried to fit myself in the fridge or freeze-- I’m quite small so that’s always a benefit. 

something i regret.

CUTE SENTENCE STARTERS.status: accepting !

☢ Personality Flaw(s)

gullible

cowardly

depressed

He is pessimistic, almost misanthropic when the rose-colored sun bursts through the tall window of his bedroom, hot fingers bleeding on pale sheets and moon-kissed face; the intrusive heat [ although very light, it is still palpable, the way the solar rays permeate his edgy bones ] startling him awake but it is not something unwelcome, no, he honestly doesn't mind– The warmth, that is. His eyes slip shut at the clock which spells 9 AM, however, a failed attempt to will himself to sleep again prompts him to roll out of bed, freshen up a little and whatnot. Just because he woke up earlier than usual does not make him any less petulant, though, you will still catch him kissing his teeth sometimes at whatever that moves even if it isn’t remarkably irritating. Suffice it to say, he is akin to a child in the morning.

He does try to subdue his grumpy feelings by leaving his home, taking himself out to the rather busy streets and sipping on the cool air like it’s his favorite coffee to loosen up, while the soft cacophony of the city plays as his music. Hardly aware of where he is heading to, he is soon thrust back into reality once his feet reach a route he knows pretty well. Hesitance grips him for a bit before he decides that it is okay, so he simply walks on until his thirst demands to be quenched immediately. Until a seemly cafe – and is that Milo Thatch? – drops into sight. He sways over to the lecturer, the name of the drink he will be ordering already on the tip of his tongue but first, he glimpses over the man’s shoulder from behind only to see sheets of paper filled with symbols of a dead language, or whatever.