I Just Had to Lick the Cookie, Didn't I?
Citizen Soldier
On the day when you need your brothers and sisters to care,I'll be right here;
On that day when you don't have strength for the burden you bear,
I'll be right here
When I focused on his face more, I noticed the wet streaks. Those weren't from me, which meant they were from him. Furthermore, meaning that Milo was crying.
His eyes met mine and for the first time I think I saw the real Milo.
Behind whatever front he had built up, there was this broken man. Pain invaded his welcoming eyes. Fury and hate came soon after, followed by guilt.
"My brother died," was all he said. At first I didn't understand. After all, I am still in a sort of shock. Once I didrealize, it didn't make sense. I shook my head in confusion and looked to his bare wet shoulder. "I had another brother, Wayland." I looked back into his eyes as more tears brimmed in his impeccable green eyes.
"Why would that make you as depressed as I am?" I asked weakly.
"Wayland died overseas," Milo managed. He choked a little before continuing. "We had gotten into an argument before he was shipped out and I never got to apologize. I had told him he was stupid and foolish. That there was no point going over because he was just going to die for no reason at all. We had never seen eye to eye on anything. He played football, I played soccer. He took to anything physical and I only played soccer to make my parents happy. I hated it. I wanted to be an artist, you know. That's what I always wanted..." Milo blinked back his tears. I had tears falling from my own eyes. For some reason, I had the urge to be close to him.
Faster than I could oppose to, my arms wrapped themselves around Milo's body tightly, squeezing as hard as they could. Milo returned the hug and I realized just how much I had, in fact, wanted this.
"My parents wanted Wayland to be a lawyer and he said no. They were furious when they found out he had enlisted in the Marines. So, since I had graduated after Wayland, my parents wanted me to be a lawyer instead. I told them no. If I wasn't going to be an artist, I was going to be a doctor. They still hate me for that... Now Cadan is a lawyer. He's graduated from law school and everything. Our parents made him take as many classes as possible and he had to stay year-round. They could care less that I'm top of my class at Harvard..." Milo pulled me closer and I sighed. Mr. Perfect goes to Harvard. Probably should have figured...
"At least you didn't kill him," I whispered into his chest.
"He was blown up... I told him that I hoped he got shot a million times and had to suffer in pain for hours on end with no rescue," Milo croaked. "He was fucking blown up! I'll never see him again, and he didsuffer in pain for an hour! His unit was bombed in the middle of the desert. One man was alive when more troops came. He said all of the others were waiting for nearly an hour because the bomb hadn't hit them directly. They all endured the heat of flames and the sun, sand in their wounds, and the agony of a million gun shots for an hour before they finally died. That was four months ago..."
Shock could barely cover the feeling I'm feeling... That was a lot to digest. It beats the whole fame factor on the 'shocking scale'... And yet, all I could come up with as a response was:
"I like art."
Milo laughed through his tears. He made a choking sound as he pulled me even closer.
"Interesting," he managed.
"What kind of art do you like?" I asked stupidly. After it had come out was when I realized just how gay it sounded. Figures...
"All of it. I've been more into pastels lately. They're all I have time for with all of my classes and work." Well, that makes sense.
We both jumped when Milo's phone started to ring. He groaned and reached for it before answering.
"Hello?" he asked groggily. His face dropped a little more. It was a few more minutes before he said anything else. "Yea, okay, tell him I'll be there...the eighteenth.? ...Alright. Bye." He hung up and hugged me again.
"Who was that?" I asked quietly.
"My mother," he whispered back.
"Why did she call?"
"I have---I mean we have a niece named Abigail, she was born the other day. And my old principal wants me to come and talk to the boys at the school about career choices." He sighed out of discomfort.
"Is that bad?" I asked curiously. If he was uncomfortable with going to the school, we shouldn't go.
"No, it's just that we'll be cutting it close to get there. The school's in Oregon and we have to be there Sunday for the assembly. We're going to have to leave right after the funeral," he said distantly. Personally, I could care less. You should already know how I feel about my family. They're the worst. I hate them all, which is saying something, because I used to love them...
"Do you want to go eat dinner?" Milo asked suddenly. Oddly enough, we sat in our bubble of depression for about an hour. I would have said no, but he really seemed like he wanted to go. And my stomach growled, even though I wasn't hungry.
"I guess so..." I replied somberly. Milo let me go and pulled me to my feet with him. "Do I have to get dressed?" I whined. Quite seriously, I am not in the mood to pretend to be some starlet star that's dating the infamous Maelogan Madden Boone. My name is Adriaan and I'm not pretending anything, we're getting married. Woo. (A friend of mine is named sarcasm.)
"Nah, I really just want a donut..." Milo said, rubbing his defined stomach. I smiled in amusement. This guy really is amazing in so many ways. I can't picture him having the issues he does.
Ten minutes later, I was wearing a pair of Milo's flannel pajama bottoms, a wife beater, and one of his hoodies because my suitcase was still in the other room. He was still wearing the pants he slept in and he took the shirt I had worn. The only things that really were mine were my shoes. Oh, and those sunglasses... My hair is a disaster, but famous people are photographed at their worst all of the time. I figure if I let them see me at my worst on purpose, I won't feel crappy when they get a bad shot when I'm least expecting it.
Milo just wants to piss his mother off. I jumped in the boat with him on that one. I'm going to rub this in my parents' face whether it ends bad or good.
"This is going to be fun. I've never been out looking like a slob before..." Milo smiled. Even though he had sunglasses on, I could tell his eyes were shining. Honestly, we both look like shit. No lies.
On that day when you don't have strength for the burden you bear,
I'll be right here
When I focused on his face more, I noticed the wet streaks. Those weren't from me, which meant they were from him. Furthermore, meaning that Milo was crying.
His eyes met mine and for the first time I think I saw the real Milo.
Behind whatever front he had built up, there was this broken man. Pain invaded his welcoming eyes. Fury and hate came soon after, followed by guilt.
"My brother died," was all he said. At first I didn't understand. After all, I am still in a sort of shock. Once I didrealize, it didn't make sense. I shook my head in confusion and looked to his bare wet shoulder. "I had another brother, Wayland." I looked back into his eyes as more tears brimmed in his impeccable green eyes.
"Why would that make you as depressed as I am?" I asked weakly.
"Wayland died overseas," Milo managed. He choked a little before continuing. "We had gotten into an argument before he was shipped out and I never got to apologize. I had told him he was stupid and foolish. That there was no point going over because he was just going to die for no reason at all. We had never seen eye to eye on anything. He played football, I played soccer. He took to anything physical and I only played soccer to make my parents happy. I hated it. I wanted to be an artist, you know. That's what I always wanted..." Milo blinked back his tears. I had tears falling from my own eyes. For some reason, I had the urge to be close to him.
Faster than I could oppose to, my arms wrapped themselves around Milo's body tightly, squeezing as hard as they could. Milo returned the hug and I realized just how much I had, in fact, wanted this.
"My parents wanted Wayland to be a lawyer and he said no. They were furious when they found out he had enlisted in the Marines. So, since I had graduated after Wayland, my parents wanted me to be a lawyer instead. I told them no. If I wasn't going to be an artist, I was going to be a doctor. They still hate me for that... Now Cadan is a lawyer. He's graduated from law school and everything. Our parents made him take as many classes as possible and he had to stay year-round. They could care less that I'm top of my class at Harvard..." Milo pulled me closer and I sighed. Mr. Perfect goes to Harvard. Probably should have figured...
"At least you didn't kill him," I whispered into his chest.
"He was blown up... I told him that I hoped he got shot a million times and had to suffer in pain for hours on end with no rescue," Milo croaked. "He was fucking blown up! I'll never see him again, and he didsuffer in pain for an hour! His unit was bombed in the middle of the desert. One man was alive when more troops came. He said all of the others were waiting for nearly an hour because the bomb hadn't hit them directly. They all endured the heat of flames and the sun, sand in their wounds, and the agony of a million gun shots for an hour before they finally died. That was four months ago..."
Shock could barely cover the feeling I'm feeling... That was a lot to digest. It beats the whole fame factor on the 'shocking scale'... And yet, all I could come up with as a response was:
"I like art."
Milo laughed through his tears. He made a choking sound as he pulled me even closer.
"Interesting," he managed.
"What kind of art do you like?" I asked stupidly. After it had come out was when I realized just how gay it sounded. Figures...
"All of it. I've been more into pastels lately. They're all I have time for with all of my classes and work." Well, that makes sense.
We both jumped when Milo's phone started to ring. He groaned and reached for it before answering.
"Hello?" he asked groggily. His face dropped a little more. It was a few more minutes before he said anything else. "Yea, okay, tell him I'll be there...the eighteenth.? ...Alright. Bye." He hung up and hugged me again.
"Who was that?" I asked quietly.
"My mother," he whispered back.
"Why did she call?"
"I have---I mean we have a niece named Abigail, she was born the other day. And my old principal wants me to come and talk to the boys at the school about career choices." He sighed out of discomfort.
"Is that bad?" I asked curiously. If he was uncomfortable with going to the school, we shouldn't go.
"No, it's just that we'll be cutting it close to get there. The school's in Oregon and we have to be there Sunday for the assembly. We're going to have to leave right after the funeral," he said distantly. Personally, I could care less. You should already know how I feel about my family. They're the worst. I hate them all, which is saying something, because I used to love them...
"Do you want to go eat dinner?" Milo asked suddenly. Oddly enough, we sat in our bubble of depression for about an hour. I would have said no, but he really seemed like he wanted to go. And my stomach growled, even though I wasn't hungry.
"I guess so..." I replied somberly. Milo let me go and pulled me to my feet with him. "Do I have to get dressed?" I whined. Quite seriously, I am not in the mood to pretend to be some starlet star that's dating the infamous Maelogan Madden Boone. My name is Adriaan and I'm not pretending anything, we're getting married. Woo. (A friend of mine is named sarcasm.)
"Nah, I really just want a donut..." Milo said, rubbing his defined stomach. I smiled in amusement. This guy really is amazing in so many ways. I can't picture him having the issues he does.
Ten minutes later, I was wearing a pair of Milo's flannel pajama bottoms, a wife beater, and one of his hoodies because my suitcase was still in the other room. He was still wearing the pants he slept in and he took the shirt I had worn. The only things that really were mine were my shoes. Oh, and those sunglasses... My hair is a disaster, but famous people are photographed at their worst all of the time. I figure if I let them see me at my worst on purpose, I won't feel crappy when they get a bad shot when I'm least expecting it.
Milo just wants to piss his mother off. I jumped in the boat with him on that one. I'm going to rub this in my parents' face whether it ends bad or good.
"This is going to be fun. I've never been out looking like a slob before..." Milo smiled. Even though he had sunglasses on, I could tell his eyes were shining. Honestly, we both look like shit. No lies.
♠ ♠ ♠
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