honey whiskey.
@idmilo​, late, a vip room at a club.
san’s not dressed for the room. everything looks trendy. blazers cut right, or chains fit to match the latest fashion. san’s wearing an oversized shirt. it’s just adidas. the logo is stamped in the corner, cracked from too many cycles in the washing machine. he only got in here based on his name, probably. but it’s fine he has no intention to stay. slips into the private room and runs into a mutual friend, someone who’d dialed san up to come and find milo.or rather, take milo. he’s lucky san picked up. if he knew what it was about, he might not have. he even tried to shove the task onto their main vocalist. but it’s late, they hadn’t picked up. and san’s not a big enough of an asshole to call their manager and get milo in trouble. milo would just do the same to him later.
so here he is, and there milo is when his friend points him out to him. it’s not an unfamiliar sight. san’s seen him like this before. they don’t hang out much, now. not like in the past. but they’re members in a three man group. of course he’s seen him like this. bent and broken. when he stops in front of him, he reaches out immediately to coax the half-finished glass from between his fingers. “shut up, milo.” san mutters it out before milo has a chance to get combative about it, or wonder why he’s there. san doesn’t know either.
or he does, to protect their group. their image.Â
and more. but that’s not something san would admit. especially not now. in the past, maybe. it had crossed his mind once or twice. but not now. even if milo might not remember it. “come on, time to go.” san drops onto the couch next to him, finds milo’s arm to tuck it overtop his shoulder. intent on hauling him out and to his car if he needs to. and it sort of seems like he needs to. he smells like too much whiskey and smoke. it clings to his clothes. milo’s eyes are lidded when san levels him with a look. he means for it to be harsher. but he can feel the weight of it, can feel the collapse of it before it even crosses his face. “you alright?” he can’t help but ask, and he means in the immediate. the now. whether he can walk, see straight. san already knows the answer to that larger question. the all encompassing one. he figures milo’s answer is the same as his own -- no.
