Milk and Cream: Sequel to Coffee and Aspirin

ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ 1 ᴏғ 2

BE BROUGHT TO MILO MARTINEZ

The words looked blurred in the mess of my tears, I couldn't stop the tears from falling onto the sensitive white envelope.

I know who wrote it; the handwriting was obvious to me. I know I should read it but I can't bring myself to get past this one simple line of words.

Why?

For awhile, I haven't been able to answer that so simple three-lettered question. Why? Why did I do it? - no, why did I think I could do this - I allowed, he allowed me! - to do all of this.

I know why he did it. I know what to expect from the letter. I know I won't like what's inside. I know.

Why?

I remember with clear memory of how we met, how we all met. How could I have been able to do this to myself? To him? I'm not sure.

It seemed like yesterday when we met.

Flashbacks ✨

"Hey there."

The words were spoken with a sense of calmness that I didn't own. I looked up and to my left where he sat.

"Got an extra pencil?" He asked.

I frowned at him. Why would someone go into class without their writing utensil? Whatever the reason, I turned to my right where my backpack sat, unzipped the front pocket and turned back to him, handing him the yellow wooden pencil.

"Thanks." He took it from me, our fingers just barely connecting; he grinned.

I blushed and returned to taking notes, however, I was unable to get him out of my mind.

Normal ✨

I still laugh about it. Our friendship grew from a simple pencil. Just an ordinary one. Eventually, our time spent seeing one another in Astrology class turned into milkshakes and tea time, where we met Sasha.

Sasha was a special little person. They stood at only 4'11 and they were non-binary. Every morning before school, the three of us would meet up at Steak and Shake and have breakfast, or even dinner there.

Flashback ✨

Sasha and I lived close together, having lived in the same dorm complex, so the two of us would meet up with him in the mornings before classes. He always got the same thing every day: a plate of pancakes and a vanilla shake with M and M's.

Sasha and I sat across from him in our favorite booth and the morning began. We talked, we sipped on our shakes and coffee, and even got some last-minute homework done. It was wonderful.

Normal ✨

I still reminisce on those happy moments sometimes. I wonder how Sasha's doing now-a-days. Would they be working as a mechanic as they wanted? Or be forced to work as an artist like the rest of their family?

After I went with him to America, where I met him, something changed in me. I'm not sure what it was but I was different then - I still am.

I know I'm mentally ill - Sasha and him knew that as well - but I guess after this, I know the extremity of my illness.

I'm so sorry.

Would they forgive me? Would he and him? I'm not sure. I doubt it. Why would they? I ruined their lives - I've taken his - and still, I wish for redemption and mercy.

Why?

I'm sick.

Why?

I'm screwed up in the mind, I know.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Wh -

"SHUT UP!"

—
him is Harry if you didn't catch it and him is Henry.