Chapter Text
Milk’s car drove through the night, its engine humming softly as the city lights twinkled like distant stars. The silence between them was heavy, as if the air were thick with unspoken words. Milk glanced at Love, who was lost in her own thoughts, her expression one of someone carrying the world on her shoulders.
"Love, I can't understand what I did wrong if you don't tell me," Milk said, trying to remain calm, but the uneasiness in his voice was unmistakable.
"Why don't you try to guess? Huh?" Love replied, with a tone of contempt, as she applied lipstick, the tip of the pencil gliding smoothly over her lips.
"Ugh, okay. I can try, but the tone of your voice and that vein pulsing in your forehead are screaming that it's not a good idea," Milk grumbled, frustration starting to boil over.
When Milk stopped the car, Love got out of the vehicle without waiting, walking towards the door as if she wanted to escape something that was holding her back.
"Love, please, can you talk to me?" Milk asked, his voice now barely above a whisper, a plea that echoed in the night.
"Milk, you're drunk! It's our last night together and you're like this! What a pain!" Love replied, slamming the door shut, her eyes glaring at Milk.
"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you leaving is what made me drink like this?" Milk snapped, stopping and staring at Love, who was already at the top of the stairs, ready to ring the doorbell.
"So you dancing out of the restaurant was my fault? Please, Milk!" Love screamed, her voice cutting through the air like a knife.
"It was!" Milk replied, but quickly corrected himself, laughing nervously. "No, sorry. I'm kidding... at least partly. I'm really going to miss you a lot."
"Yeah, I'll miss you too, Milk," Love replied, pouting, her heart tight.
"Can you hug me, please?" Milk asked, opening his arms wide, a gesture that exuded vulnerability.
Love hesitated for a moment, but soon snuggled into Milk's arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. The warmth of each other's bodies was comforting, and Milk pressed a soft kiss to Love's head, a gesture that spoke a thousand words.
"Don't be mad at me, Love. I'm just... I'm just sad," Milk murmured, her voice breaking. "I want us to be really happy," she added, rocking Love from side to side as if to soothe her insecurities.
"Oh my God, you're so drunk," Love teased, pushing her lightly and slapping her softly on the shoulder.
"No, I'm not!" Milk replied, trying to look sober, but her expression was a mixture of laughter and tears as she leaned against the doorframe.
"It's not funny," Love replied, opening the door to her house with a heavy sigh.
The darkness of the interior was quickly illuminated as Love turned on the lights, revealing a room full of friends and family, all shouting "Surprise!" with beaming smiles. Love looked at Milk, who was clearly pretending not to know anything, and gave her a little shove with his shoulder, mumbling a thank you.
The party continued with laughter, music and dancing, but the tension between the two remained, like a shadow that would not dissipate. Love's father approached Milk, giving him a meaningful look, a clear signal that it was time to declare himself. Time was running out, and Love would be leaving for England in a few days. They had been friends since childhood, and the undeniable truth was that they were in love with each other.
Milk stood there, staring at her father-in-law, anxiety consuming her. “Now?” she whispered, but there was no response, for he was already in front of everyone, tapping a glass to get their attention.
Milk took a huge gulp of her beer, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions that were overwhelming her.
"Don't worry, daughter, I'm not going to give you some long, boring, embarrassing speech... about how much I'm going to miss you," Love's father said, his eyes welling up.
Love smiled at her father, feeling his love and concern, but the uneasiness in her chest only grew.
"Well, you know I'm very proud of you, daughter. Your mother would be too, if she were alive. But let's not get into that now, because I don't want to ruin this moment. I'll leave that to Milk," Love's father said, beckoning Milk over.
Love looked at Milk, confused, as Milk awkwardly stood in front of her.
"Hi," Milk said, embarrassed, a shy smile on her lips.
Love didn't answer, just smiled, but the uneasiness grew between them like a storm about to break out.
Milk began to kneel, and Love's eyes widened, her heart racing. "What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I'm giving you a reason to stay," Milk replied, his eyes shining with a mixture of hope and fear.
Love's father, realizing where the situation was heading, approached Milk, whispering, "I think you misunderstood, Milk, what I told you."
"Relax, Mr. Golf," Milk replied, never taking his eyes off Love.
"Hmm, okay," Love's father pulled away, but the tension in the air was palpable.
Love looked back at her father, frowning, and then at Milk, her heart racing in a mix of anxiety and confusion.
"What a situation," Love muttered to herself, shaking her head, wishing she would be swallowed by the earth right then.
"Love, I know sometimes we drive each other crazy..." Milk started to say, but was interrupted by Love.
"Get up, okay?" Love whispered, her voice shaking, trying to contain the storm of emotions.
"But I can't imagine my life without you," Milk said, hopelessness seeping into his words.
"Daughter, please get up," Milk's mother tried to get her attention, but in vain.
"I don't want you to do something you'll regret, Love," Milk insisted, his voice thick with emotion.
"Don't do this," Love whispered, anguish boiling over.
"Well, Love, do you want to..." Milk was saying when she was interrupted again.
"No, Milk, I'm not going to marry you," Love replied, louder than she had anticipated, the pain in her words cutting through the air. "I'm leaving, and you have to accept that, Milk."
"But I haven't even asked yet, Love," Milk replied, her voice full of desperation. "And no, you're not just leaving," she made air quotes with her hands. "You're running away!"
"Milk, stop," Love whispered, embarrassed, but the pressure of the words wrapped around her like a net.
"You're running away, Love, from your father, from your home, and from me. You're forgetting me completely!" Milk exclaimed, frustration and pain boiling over.
"Milk, I'm not going to talk about this now," Love replied, her voice breaking, tears threatening to escape.
"If your mother were alive, she would be disappointed in you, Love. You know what? If she were alive, we wouldn't even be here having this conversation," Milk said, anger and pain seeping through his words.
Love looked at her father, seeking help, but his gaze was a mixture of concern and sadness.
With tears in her eyes, Love turned to Milk. "Don't talk about my mother, Milk! It's over, okay? It's over! I never want to see you again."
"How about starting by going to the other side of the world, huh?" Milk snapped, clearly disappointed, her voice high and sharp.
Love left the room, leaving everyone in silence, and ran to her room, tears streaming down her face. Milk, with a heavy heart, left without looking back, and the house was enveloped in a deafening silence, in the face of the storm that had formed between them.
Love sat on her bed, a sea of tears streaming down her face, as if the world around her had collapsed. Each sob was an echo of all the unspoken words, a silent scream that resonated in her chest. The pillow was soaked, and she felt like a helpless child, lost in the chaos of emotions. The darkness of the room seemed to intensify the pain, as the shadows moved to the rhythm of her suffering.
Across town, Milk drove her car, her heart heavy and her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The streets reflected the city lights, but to her, everything was blurry. Anger was taking over her being, a storm that threatened to swallow any vestige of reason she had left. The car engine roared, but nothing seemed louder than the echoes of that last conversation, the cutting words that could not be undone.
The party, which should have been a celebration, had turned into a melancholy parade of uncharacteristically dull farewells. The friends dispersed, each taking with them a piece of the joy that had once filled Love’s home. The laughter faded, replaced by the heavy silence of uncertainty. Love’s father, worried and helpless, had tried to comfort the guests, but his words seemed like hollow echoes in the air, unanswered.
When he reached Love’s room, he knocked gently on the door. “Daughter, are you okay? Can you open the door, please?” His voice was soft, but it also reflected concern. The silence that followed was deafening. His heart clenched with the certainty that something was very wrong. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t have the right words to comfort such a deep pain.
“Daughter...” he tried once more, but was only answered by a distant lament that reached him, and all he could do was walk away, a weight on his heart. That night, the father sat in the living room, surrounded by friends who tried to disguise the fragility of the moment, but he knew that, behind the forced smiles, there were many unresolved feelings.
Meanwhile, Love continued her silent battle against tears. She didn't understand the depth of the pain she felt. Every memory of the moments they spent together invaded her mind, intensifying the despair. She remembered the laughter, the conversations that lasted until the wee hours of the morning, the looks exchanged that said more than words could ever express. And now, as if a door had been closed, all of that seemed lost.