𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 - miles fairchild

𝟏𝟎. 𝐒𝐎 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓

miles's pov.

the guy y/n was with, which i now found out his name was caleb, was waiting outside with us and the crowd.

there were so many people surrounding the building as the sun began to rise. of course all of them were there for one reason and that was to exploit whatever was going on for views.

i mean, whatever y/n and that girl are doing in there must be dangerous if even the cops are involved, guarding the whole place off.

i just hope y/n hasn't gotten herself into any more trouble. y'know, besides breaking out of prison.

suddenly the girl who tried to kill kate came running out of the building into the crowd, clearly in distress.

"what's wrong with the psycho cheerleader?" i snicker, asking caleb.

caleb narrowed his eyes, "you think you're funny?"

"sometimes."

i nervously gulp, i'm really bad at small talk.

i'll just shut up from now on.

flora gasped, "look, there's y/n!" she points to the top of the staircase at the building entrance where the girl stood.

she looked like absolute hell yet somehow she was still gorgeous simultaneously.

—

y/n's pov.

i look like absolute hell, which i guess is appropriate since i've practically just been through it.

i pulled all my hair ties and pins out so my messy hair naturally just sprawled out. i had blood dripping from my face in several places, the top of my head, my lip, my nose, i could really go on.

i had some dirty ass oil that was on the boiler room floor on me.

whatever, at least i feel fine.

i stand on top of the staircase, looking out at the crowd, awaiting whatever response the police would make.

i heavily sigh and pull out a cigarette and my lighter, bringing it to my lips i puff out some smoke as i tried to find the crack of dawn peaceful.

'what now?' was my main question.

what in the hell do i do now?

i really just wanna run off with miles forever but it's not like a bunch of police aren't in front of the building right now.

and if i really do want to make things right then i guess i shouldn't resist.

i look down at my forearm where a bunch of tally and burn marks are.

god, what the fuck is wrong with me?

i lock eyes with miles from a distance.

i mean, i think i did.

i can't see shit from that faraway but his figure is facing me and i'm gonna take it as him admiring me right now.

i hope you can get glasses in prison.

anyways, he's honestly the only motivation i have left to live.

him and his stupid hair and awkward smile and lanky body. just everything about him is fantastic.

he also seemed a lot more steady and calmer, i somewhat feel responsible for that and i'm genuinely proud.

i was pulled out of my trance when i heard a sudden commotion in the crowd, and what seemed to sound like a gunshot.