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The stars shined brightly that cool and breezy night, air timid as the creeping fear built its way up through tired lungs. Milo wasn’t looking where he was going- he couldn’t see the oncoming train. He was too distracted to hear the horn blaring at him as he tripped.
“MILO!!!”
Oliver’s scream faded as his hand latched onto Milo’s arm, yanking him into his embrace as they both tumbled to the ground.
The train passed and Milo sat shaking, mumbling to himself about how scared he was. Panting heavily, Oliver dug his nails into his shirt, fists palming the cool fabric in his hands.
This time- in this universe- he wouldn’t be alone. Milo was here to stay, but he was fading with each passing day. The light may not have been as strong, but it still blinded him. Oliver’s soul and spirit ached as Milo pulled him to the edge of the earth, readying to jump into the abyss bellow.
———
Faded red bricks line the walls of Oliver’s house, gutters dripping from leftover rainfall. It was empty and deafeningly silent despite the two residing inside. The sun was starting to set- pinks, purples, and warm reds swirling in symphony as wispy clouds rolled by.
It was beautiful.
The two boys decided to spend some time together, missing their past relationship before the almost-fatal accident. They fell into an almost uncomfortable silence as they sat together. Oliver lied on the bed behind Milo, watching over his shoulder. He stared at him as he sketched away, graphite hitting the paper with a delicate scratch. Was it strange to say he missed the boy sat right before him? Milo pauses his methodical process to sigh. Oliver perks his head up at this, curious to why his friend is so solemn.
“Milo?…”
“Hm?”
“Everything… okay?”
The air shifts between them as Milo swallows.
“Just… thinking, I guess…”
“About what?”
Milo visibly tenses, putting down his sketchbook and exhaling shakily.
“I-“
He turns to look at him.
“Oliver- if you hadn’t caught me that day… what… what would you have done?…”
Oliver’s eyes shoot up in surprise, a deep, stinging pain penetrating his chest.
He blinks.
“What?…”
His voice comes out as a barely audible whisper as Milo turns away once more, scoffing at himself.
“Never mind I… It-its nothing…”
Milo starts to stutter, a strange habit he had developed- only ever showing itself when he was anxious. He holds his arms to his chest, breathing harshly. Oliver’s breath hitches in the back of his throat, legs moving subconsciously to sit up. He pushes himself off of the bed and goes to sit next to his weary friend. Milo looks over at him with sunken eyes, fingers twitching, itching to hold onto something. Oliver averts his gaze momentarily, staring at the wall before them.
He sighs.
“What would I have done?…”
He taps his finger on his arm.
“I mean… do you want the basic answer or the actual answer?”
Milo barely turns his head towards his voice.
“Uh… the… actual answer?…”
Oliver nods and wracks his brain for a suitable response.
He inhales sharply, then hums in epiphany.
“If I hadn’t caught you that day, Milo…”He turns to look at him, expression soft yet serious.
“I wouldn’t let go. Your memory, your face, our friendship… I would never forget.”
His tone is careful and quiet, like one would use when speaking to a frightened animal. Milo, though his eyes light up momentarily, quickly turns his face away and starts to pick at his cuticles.
“Why?”
Oliver almost flinches at the question.
“What?…”
Milo turns back to stare at him, gazing straight into his eyes.
“Why, Oliver. Tell me.”
Oliver stumbles over his thoughts for a moment, unsure of what to say.
“Do I… need a reason?… you’re my best friend… is that not enough?…”
Milo trembles a bit.
“I-“
He pauses, pulling his legs in close.
“I… don’t know…”
Oliver tries to speak, but the words die in his throat.
He sighs.
“Uh… well…”
“I guess…”
“Uhm…”
Milo turns to look at him, expecting a silent response. He wasn’t disappointed, just… numb. Oliver exhales, gripping his jeans slightly.
“Well… for starters… you’re like, my best friend, obviously- but uh… also like…”
Oliver’s head hangs low in shame.
“God… I’m not good with words- I’m sorry…”
Silence.
Oliver turns to look at Milo, only to be met with a blank expression. He blinks in surprise, suddenly finding his last bit of confidence. He had to try. For Milo.
“Okay. Uh- Milo- you’re…”
He sighs and starts to fidget with his fingers, searching for something- anything to say. Before he can think, though, he blurts out an answer.
“Everything.”
Both boys sit in shock for a moment, staring at each other. Oliver’s mouth gapes open- why did he say that?Goosebumps prick his arms and neck, but he can’t stop now. So, he clears his throat and decides to continue.
“I-I guess what I mean to say is- you’re… kind, an-and patient, and you’re… so much that I can’t… find the right words to describe just how perfect you are.”Milo’s mouth parts slightly, doubtful and hesitant to cut him off.
He continues. Oliver’s hands motion to Milo, trying to explain his feelings through his words and mannerisms.
“You have this… light in your eyes, I can’t- can’t explain it but… I feel blinded by it each time I look at you- I-it’s breathtaking… and I- uh…”
Oliver scoffs at his cheesy words and starts to rub the back of his neck.
“Milo… If I could somehow… become you, join your conscious- live inside of your heart and head… I would. No questions asked. You are… perfect. To me, at least… and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you… you’re my best friend and-“
He sighs.
“And if I lost you… I think… I couldn’t live on… being happy, at least. I could, ya’know, live but- I wouldn’t be-“
He wrinkles his brow, searching for the right words yet again.
“I wouldn’t be living… alive… does- does that make sense?”
Milo nods, but his gaze stares past him- mind going too fast for him to focus. Oliver smiles and turns his head away, a bit flushed.
“So… yeah… I uh… guess that’s it…”
He swallows the lump in his throat, embarrassed that he said all of that corny bullshit. Milo, however- voice wavering- opens his mouth to respond.
“I don’t believe you.”
Oliver’s blood chills on the spot. Silence fills the room- was it this cold before?…
“W-what?…”
Milo’s eyes fog up slightly and he pulls his arms closer to his chest.
“I don’t… I don’t believe you, Oliver… I can’t… I-I can’t… I’m sorry…”
His voice is desperate- cracking from emotion- trying to suppress the sobs creeping up his throat. Oliver is at a loss on what to do. How is he supposed to help him now? He was so close earlier… how did it spiral this fast? He tries to reach his hand out to Milo as a last ditch effort, only to have him flinch away and start to cry. Oliver freezes.
Fuck.
“H-hey… hey- hey!… it’s okay, Milo… I promise… I’m here for you…”
Milo shakes his head frantically, backing himself into the nearby wall, hands balled up and pressed against his head.
“N-no… no no no…”
He starts to tremble.
Memories- lights, wind, his shoulder dislocating where it was pulled- Milo’s mind was flooded. It was getting harder to breathe with each passing second. He tried to keep his eyes open, to steady his heart, but he couldn’t. It was too much. The endless pain that lived under his rib cage had finally broken, flooding his body like a broken dam. Tears clung to his eyes- to his face, to his clothes- excretion symbolizing his forgotten self. He had told himself ever since the almost-accident that he would have been better off dead; if Oliver hadn’t caught him, would anything have changed? No. Not really. Milo knew he wasn’t special. So why did it hurt so bad? Why did he feel so worthless? Why did he feel so scared?
…
Why couldn’t he feel anything at all?…
Oliver panics as he watches Milo cower, unsure of what to do. He had never had a breakdown this severe- would his methods even work for Milo? Would anything even change? How was he supposed to help something that was fading right before his eyes?…
Oliver’s breath hitches as he throws his arms around Milo, trying to ground him back to reality. Milo squirms in his grasp, hyperventilating at the new pressure. An attack this severe couldn’t be solved with gentle coaxing and sugarcoated words- it needed the touch of something real- someone real. Oliver didn’t try to stop him as he thrashed around. He just sat there, limbs tangled and holding Milo in place. He couldn’t risk him leaving now. If he did, how would he stop him? It was too much of a risk. Oliver tightens his grip on Milo and forces him to sit still. The exhaustion that would come from his frantic movement was inevitable, but it could at least be lessened.
…
Milo felt trapped. Claustrophobic in a way, being contained like this. He didn’t understand what was happening, but the sudden embrace had snapped him out of his thoughts. Now he was just afraid. Afraid of himself, afraid of his mind, and afraid of what the future may bring. He couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to. It was suffocating in Oliver’s hold, the warm breath against him clinging to his skin. Milo cried. He cried and he whimpered and he shook. He couldn’t help it. He was scared. Oliver was scared, too. He didn’t know if this was helping, and he didn’t know what would help in the long run. Was he making a mistake? He knew he shouldn’t touch someone having a panic attack, but something told him this wasn’t one. This was worse. Something had triggered Milo- was it something he said? Something he did? Oliver tries to wrack his brain for anything he could have done.
…
Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe Milo was just scared. That’s okay, Oliver could fix that.
He pulls away one of his arms from his embrace and starts to run his hand through Milo’s hair. This had always helped when Oliver was afraid. A gentle touch, a comforting motion, something physical. Something real. All that mattered was that Milo was here. Oliver didn’t know it at the time, but he needed this just as much as Milo did.
…
The second Oliver started to massage his scalp, Milo relaxed. Not fully, but gradually. He could feel his pulse start to slow and his breathing was no longer ragged. His mind started to clear and his body no longer trembled. Whatever episode had commenced earlier was finally over. Milo takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders drop. He finally felt safe enough to do so, and what he had once found suffocating he now found lovely. Oliver pulls his hand away from Milo’s hair and starts to rub his back instead. Apparently, his methods had worked. Oliver was forever grateful to any god that was listening. He sighs, resting his hand on Milo’s lower back as he speaks.
“Milo?…”
“Mm.”
“Feeling better?”
Milo nods subtly against his chest. Oliver smiles and gives him a gentle squeeze.
“Good.”
Silence soon washes over them- not uncomfortable, just quiet. Some silences don’t need to be filled; sometimes, presence is enough.
…
Milo shifts his weight, his body now fully pressed against Oliver. He sighs.
“Thank you…”
Oliver tenses for a moment.
“For what?…”
Milo smiles.
“For being here.”
“Just for being here?”
“…Don’t get cocky.”
Oliver laughs.
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t.”
“Good.”
Silence.
“Hey, Oliver?”
“Yeah?…”
“I…I think I believe you now.”
“Took you long enough.”
Milo scoffs.
“Shut up.”
Oliver huffs a laugh. He no longer missed the boy in his arms. Milo was safe. He was real and that was all that mattered. No longer did he drift through the seasons like a wandering spirit, and no longer did he feel more distant than death; Milo was alive. And to Oliver, that was more than enough.