☆ ~ 𝓦𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒪𝒻 ℒ𝒾𝒻𝑒 - Milex Fanfic ~ ☆ [+18]

Pistachio - Introduction

• Miles Peter Kane •

Wirral/ Birkenhead, England. 

Some relatives told me that I enjoyed a level of creativity which used to be noticed even above other boys of the same age, adding to this, a distinctive way of looking in detail at the environment that surrounded me.

I was raised as an only child by my mother and two of my aunts. My mother, Pauline, knew that, from an early age, I would become an artistic boy, above all. For as long as I can remember, I was excited by the idea of ​​meeting someone with whom I could experience those tastes and sensations, regardless of what the rest said. Today, it doesn't bother me to discuss my sexuality, so I can affirm the delight that women give me and also recognize that boys have a captivating sex appeal.

I have always considered myself serene and a bit lonely. I could play alone or entertain myself. Most of the time I got involved in the attic of my house, I went there to listen to the old records on the vitrola that my grandfather kept among all the dust in that small room.

I still want to do it again.

I constantly heard countless musicians, and although all instruments used to be interesting for me, I carried a fascination for the saxophone, although after a while, I learned to play classical guitar, understanding at that moment that I had fallen in love with it would like to play professionally, definitely leaving aside the previous instrument for not having given it enough attention. At twelve, I got my first Spanish guitar as a gift. I started without any kind of knowledge, but as the days passed I learned the chords, although I have to admit that it was only a small hobby, knowing that I wouldn't have the possibility of living as a musician unless destiny directed me to reach the lucky star and manage to be a popular rock star, or something like that.

________________________________________________________ 🐢

~ Pauline ~ 💖

My mother is significant in my life. She taught me to cultivate affection and respect for others, likewise, to give love whoever it was. When I was almost seven years old, Pauline would sit on the couch in the living room and begin to tell me about her life. Everything that she was showing me was undoubtedly half kitsch, but also beautiful, simply because of the way she expressed it, always with delicacy and enough sweetness. She could feel my attention to her words filling her eyes with excitement. Another moment of my childhood was when I saw her in the garden by the scent of flowers, with the hose in her hand to soak them in water, singing a soft melody that impregnated my thickness with tenderness and charm.

I can also remember the times when she was dedicated to preparing the delicious English dinner to share with some of the relatives who visited us on Friday afternoons. One day, before ending the talk and watching the sun go down, she confessed to me that one of her life's wishes was that her only son find complete stability. My mother has always been a deep and direct person, and it is something that I don't stop liking.