I should be surprised by the fact that he’s never told his bandmates his sexuality, but I’m not. Not really. Based on his reaction to Tate and Yury, I got the feeling that he wasn’t as close to them as some old articles might imply.
You can’t trust what you see online. Just like how the current articles going around about Milo are false too.
“How did they take it?” I ask. My hand finds his cheek, and my finger rubs against the lips he’s chewing again. The wound he’d inflicted on himself last time has only just healed, but he’s already bitten his lips a juicy red.
Milo sucks on my finger. If it’ll make him stop chewing his lip until it’s broken and bruised, I’d happily give my fingers as a sacrifice.
He releases my digit and nuzzles into my palm. The action has my heart squeezing too tightly.
“They took it well, I guess. Tate was pissed I kept it from them for so long, but he’s always been a hothead. Yury was mostly disinterested, Harvey only nodded, and Sully looked concerned.”
Milo blew out a breath through his teeth.
“Can I ask why it seems like there’s friction between you guys? You’re closed off every time they’re mentioned.”
Milo looks at me, gray eyes filled with a sadness that I wish I could take away. My thumb runs under his eye, and his lids close for a brief moment of peace.
“I guess there is,” he finally answers with a sigh of his shoulders. “I feel guilty toward them.”
“Why? Because youkept your sexuality to yourself? You don’t have to be out of the closet to be validated. That’s a conversation you don’t have with anyone but yourself,” I tell him.
Milo’s lips cock up in a half smile. “You’re so quick to defend me when I haven’t even gotten started on why I’m the villain of the story.”
“You’re not the villain,” I insist.
It only makes Milo laugh again. “I’m not so sure you’ll be thinking that once you hear the entire story.”
My fingers find his waist and press him closer to me so there’s not an inch of space between us.
“I always take the side of people I care about,” I admit.
Milo’s brow creases in the middle. “Am I included because you’re my bodyguard?”
“What? No! I—”
I squeeze my lips shut before I can tell him what I feel for him is more than what any bodyguard should feel for his client. I want to be with him, not as hired help, but as someone who stands by his side and protects him because I want him to be happy.
It’s a dream that’s likely to never come true.
Milo presses his lips flat when he sees I don’t answer, but he doesn’t push me to continue. I can’t decide whether I’m thankful or regretful that he doesn’t. But the moment passes before I can ask, and I can visibly see Milo’s mood shift. He’s not looking at me anymore, but at something off in the distance. Maybe even something in the distant past.
“We were practically kids when we started, you know? And it felt like as soon as MYTHS debuted, the five of us were shot into stardom and the entire world’s eyes were on us.”
My hands shift on his waist to knead the fleshy part of his sides, and the touch seems to ground him a bit. He returns from the memories that haunt him and comes back to me.
“I never really had good interpersonal skills, you know?”
“You? The guy who claimed me as his BFF after what seems like only minutes of meeting me?” I ask in disbelief.
Milo laughs. “But that’s my entire point. I never understood the line of friendship. I always think I’m closer to people than I really am. People find me obnoxious,” he mutters quietly.
My heart breaks for the man who showed himself and wasn’t accepted. I wish I could go to his past self and shield him from those who didn’t understand him.
“So I learned to be good at hiding away from everyone. The other members of MYTHS, especially. I poured my entire focus into the band, and my parents passed away a year after we debuted—”
“Shit, I’m sorry. It must be hard to grieve when you’re under the spotlight like that,” I murmur and continue my small circles on his waist.
Milo shakes his head. “It wasn’t easy,” he says with a laugh that held no humor. “Dozens of relatives I’d never seen before suddenly popped up for the funeral, all wanting something from me. My aunt Anabelle—Ethel’s old roommate at the nursing home—had to chase them all away. She was a firecracker. It’s why she and Ethel got along so well.”
