#retagging because apparently milo does have a last name

[sinofwriting]

Never Have - Milo Crown

Words: 569 Summary: Milo has never been the first choice.

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Milo had never been the first choice, you weren’t even the first Milo, his cruel brain would remind him. So, he didn’t know why he thought that she would be different.

The girl, not woman, not when she was nearly too young for him to be interested in, who had become as close to him as Michael. The girl who when first meeting him had been making shit coffee and even worse tea with bleeding fingertips and bruises underneath her eyes.

Three jobs she had explained when he asked why she was so lethargic, the bruises never fading only seeming to get darker. The answer had made him balk, the idea of this girl barely twenty working three jobs to the bone. It made him demand her name, the blasted shop she worked for not giving the employees name tags. She had given it with a confused look and a slight frown and it sat heavy on his tongue for the rest of his day.

He had returned the next day with questions burning in him, ones he could’ve easily gotten, but he wanted to hear them from her. He wanted to know why such a young girl was working herself to the bone and why. It wasn’t just to survive, no one worked three jobs and still had a fire in them if they didn’t have a reason. Something they wanted.

And he was pleased to learn that he was right, she had more reason than just surviving. Her bleeding fingertips that he noticed were due to sewing, she wanted to be a fashion designer. She could afford to live with two jobs but her hobby required a third.

It was all too easy to find where she lived and start paying her rent, uncaring of how she yelled at him the next day demanding to know why, what he wanted. Because to him it was easy. As soon as he started noticing things about her, she had become his, much like Michael had years ago, and he took care of the people he thought of as his. They didn’t need to want for things he could easily provide with all the money he had, was left. His illness, while severe and killing him, wasn’t truly costly.

His answer as to why and his offer for her to make him clothes had made her huff, glare but she had nodded, accepted.

He hadn’t at first even realized his feelings for her, Michael pointing them out when he came to check on him nearly a year after he had first met her. And with that realization came the realization that he wouldn’t be her first choice for a partner, not even the last.

He was ill, very ill. And he knew that he wouldn’t live for much longer unless the cure that Michael seemed to be growing ever close to happened soon. His illness canceled out his money and his good looks. There was also the issue of as far as he knew and had seen, she had never looked at him as anything but a friend. And in the time they had known each other, she had never been on a date or talked about going on one.

So he grew distant and short, his temper getting the better of him as he realized there was something he wanted that he couldn’t have. That he could never have.