I Just Had to Lick the Cookie, Didn't I?

Each night I cry I still believe the lie
I love you till I die
Save me save me save me
Don't let me face my life alone

"Would you like the ridiculously pathetic life-story version, or the equally stupid no-explanations version?" he asked, completely serious.

"The first choice sounds promising," I whispered. Milo chuckled.

"Well, this is going to take a while. So, I'll just get it over with...

"Wayland was set to be the heir of the biggest portion of my family's fortune and legacy since birth. My father was happy with just one son, but my mother wanted a family, and having a single son posed many problems. Such as, 'what happens if he dies?' After that came Cadan, and then me. Jane and Charlie weren't born for a while after that.

"In school, Wayland was popular. He had hundreds of friends, and not because he was rich. Believe it or not, the boys at F.J.D tend to not be shallow, and they all have their own fair amount of money. So, Wayland was popular. His grades were nothing but average. Mother and Father supported him in whatever he did---"

"Logan!" a loud voice bellowed. It sounded a bit like William... "Get. Down. Here!" Milo groaned and looked at me with his wet eyes.

"I can try and finish this later if you want," he said. I shook my head.

"No, you don't need to worry about it right now. Maybe after everyone leaves." He nodded and climbed out of bed.

"Get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning." This time I nodded. He let go of my hand and looked back at me sadly as he opened the door.

Once the door was closed and he was gone, I glanced around his room. This was really the first time I'd been in here and I hadn't really gotten a chance to scope it out...

Okay, so, you walk in the door and everything in pretty much to your left. The bed is about ten feet from the door and the headboard is on the same wall. Across from that wall is another, completely covered in stocked bookshelves. To the right of the door, there's a wall that's only about five or so feet long, after that it turns right and the room is open over there as well. That's where the closets and bathroom are. To the left, on the other side of the bed, is a desk. The desk looks average enough.

So, the room is fairly big, but it isn't huge. There isn't much in there, and the ceiling isn't abnormally high. It's dark though. Milo's choice in color was...gloomy. Seeing as there's only one window behind the desk, his forest-looking color scheme made everything darker.

With a sigh, I slid under the covers and brought the duvet up to my chin. The entire room smelled like Milo, a very distinct sent.

"Come here Leo," I called in the dark. My dog jumped up onto the bed and came to snuggle at my feet. Fox whined, which made me feel bad, so I called to him too. "Come on Fox." The giant black dog leapt up and settled himself beside Leo. At least they got along... I yawned and curled up, closing my eyes as I did so. My mind started to drift, but I found that my most prominent thought was of Milo. What was happening to him?

For the next few days---nearly a week---Milo and I did practically nothing. He seemed quieter, and mellower. We tended to avoid areas where other people were. Once more of the family began showing up, we only visited the kitchen to eat and occasionally took the dogs out. After we ate, or did whatever, we retreated back to his room. I didn't object; I had no problem with it. Mostly, we played board games...

The score was tied.

There was a knock on the door. I looked up at it from my place on the floor. Milo was in the bathroom.

"May I come in?" came a deep, male voice. I'd never heard it before. My curiosity got the best of me, and I stood up and went to the door. As quietly as possible, I opened the door to reveal a tall, dirty blond man. He reminded me of William, a lot.

"Yes?" I asked softly. The man smiled.

"I'm Whitmore, Maelogan's uncle. Is he in here?" he asked me kindly. He was honest, very honest. Now that I think about it, this is different than the way I felt about William. No, Whitmore was truly an honest man. And, on the plus side, he wasn't arrogant like his brother. Thank god. I've had enough of rich, arrogant, pricks.

"Um, yea, let me go get him for you." He smiled at me and I turned to go get Milo.

The bathroom door was unlocked, thankfully. I knocked lightly while I opened it. He was quiet, Milo, sitting on the closed toilet, and staring off into space. An empty pill bottle was on the counter.

"Milo, your uncle Whitmore wants to talk to you," I said. His eyes trailed over to me, and they nearly killed me.

Milo's eyes were watery and red. Their usual green color was distorted with pain, fear, and regret.

"Are...are you alright?" I asked, moving closer to him. He shook his head.

"I just...want this to be over. I want them all to leave," he mumbled, letting his tears fall down. The sight made me want to cry, but I held the tears back. I did, however, lunge forward and wrap my arms around him.

"Maelogan," a voice uttered from behind me. It was Whitmore. "I'd like you to get some rest. It would be good for you. After all, tomorrow is Thanksgiving." Milo nodded into my shoulder and I backed away. We stared at each other for a while. "Adriaan, I'd like for you to come with me." I nodded and heard him leave.

When I turned to leave, Milo grabbed my hand. This forced me to look back at his pained expression.

"Thank you," he croaked. "I needed that." I smiled at him faintly and he released my hand.

"Get some sleep," I told him. He smiled and I left.

Whitmore was waiting for me outside of our room. He motioned for me to follow him as he began walking down the hallway. We finally stopped at two large French doors. They led out to a grand balcony overlooking the property with a grand view of the mountains. Whitmore opened them and ushered me outside. I stepped out into the cool fall air. It shocked me that it hadn't snowed yet while I was here...

"Adriaan, I need to ask you something." The doors were closed, and a light breeze blew through my hair. I nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Has anyone told you anythingabout my nephew? Anything at all?" he asked urgently. Surprised, I looked at him, my eyebrows furrowed.

"No, why?" I asked. Whitmore closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I need for you to know what you've gotten yourself into. This family isn't anything like what they pretend to be. My nephew is the only one brave enough to rebel."

What is it with these people and mysteries? They just like to keep throwing drama and shit into my life, don't they?