Milo Murphy's Law of Love

I'm Going To Recover... Eventually...

Okay! Here it is! Enjoy!

Milo sat in the hospital room, his back hunched with his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He cried every half hour, recalling the events. He couldn't get the image of your bloody broken body out of his head. The sick thunk was still haunting him. Milo let out a whimper as his hands flew to his face to cover his now watering eyes. His shoulders shook violently as Milo let out quiet sobs. You lay only inches away from him, your eyes peacefully closed. There was a bit of dried blood on the edges of your lips and around your nostrils. Your chest rose up, struggled slightly against the tight hold of the gauze, then slowly fell back down. Your arms lay at your sides, your nails crusted with tiny bits of asphalt, blood, and dirt.

Your hair was tied back in a loose pony tail, a few wisps slipping out and ghosting over your face. You looked so peaceful, and if it weren't for the steady rise and fall of your chest, Milo could mistake you for dead. The room was mostly quiet, except for the constant beep, beep, beep of your heart monitor. Milo sighed, looking up at you as tears flowed down his cheeks. Milo hesitantly reached out for your hand, but quickly drew back when your fingers flinched. Milo spared a glance at your face, and saw your eyelids flutter open. You drew in a large gasp, the sound slightly wet. Your eyes darted around the room as you raised a hand to your head.

Milo quickly grabbed your wrist, however, right before it could make contact with the bandages. "Don't!" Milo said, gently pulling your wrist down. You took another deep breath as your eyes flicked to him.

"M... Milo? Wha... What happened?" You asked, glancing around the room again. "W-where am I?" You asked as you sat up slightly. You immediately flinched and moaned at the sudden burst of pain that shot through your ribs. You fell back to the bed, causing another painful flinch to wrack your body. Milo pulled away from you at the sound, his features caving in towards himself. You looked at him, your eyes showing concern and confusion.

"Milo?" You asked, your voice hesitant to break the silence. Milo refused to meet your eyes, his lowering to the ground. "Milo, answer me." You said firmly, your mind racing for reasons as to why he wouldn't respond.

"You were hit. By a truck." Milo mumbled. Your eyes widened, but you kept quiet, hoping he would continue. "You... He was going pretty fast... You got... It was awful... You were so-" Milo cut off abruptly, sobs erupting from his throat. Milo covered his eyes once again as heavy sobs shook his being. You faintly remembered the truck, and the pain. Oh, you remembered the pain. And Milo. Milo was there. He held you. You remembered hearing his sweet, soothing voice. Calling for you. Calling out to you.

"Milo. What else happened?" You asked, looking at the thirteen year old with concern. You wanted to know what happened. Why you couldn't touch your head. Why your chest hurt so damn much. Why your nose felt like it was the size of an apple. Why you were in a hospital. What was upsetting the young boy so much.

Milo just sobbed louder for an answer. You were taken back by this, but didn't press the matter. You would find out sooner or later, it was just a matter of time. You reached a hand out and gently touched his shoulder with your finger tips. Milo jumped away, a crazed look in his eyes as he stared back at you. You frowned, then motioned for him to come closer. Milo shook his head no. You scowled harshly at him, pointing to the side of your bed. Milo flinched at the harsh gaze, then slowly and hesitantly made his way over to where your finger was pointing. He sat down and looked at you with eyes that held so much pain, so much hurt... So much knowledge of what had happened... You ignored them, opting to look down at his hand, which you grasped lightly in yours.

Milo's nerve endings felt alive at that touch. Milo didn't quite understand what he was feeling, but he knew it was wrong. You touch was so feather like and gentle, almost like a ghost. Your condition was awful, and all Milo could think was it was all his fault. He knew you only wanted to know what had happened to you, why you were in a hospital in critical condition, but he wasn't ready to go back to the wreck. Not now, and it felt like he'd never be able to. The horror. The blood. The sick sounds. They were all too fresh for him to even start recounting at the moment.

You rubbed your thumb soothingly over his, stroking up to the knuckle, then sliding back down and running across the last joint. Milo sighed at the feeling, his body relaxing at your touch. You smiled gently as you tugged his hand closer, pulling him down with you. Milo's eyes went wide and his body rigid as he laid flat next to you. You rested your arms across his waist and pulled him close to you.

"(Y/n), I don't think-"

"Shhhhhh... Get some rest Milo. You need it. Trust me, you look awful." You said, chuckling lightly. Milo chuckled too, but it was a sad sound. You frowned at the noise.

"Milo, you know I'm going to recover after this, right? The only thing I'm gonna have left are a few scars." You mumbled in his ear. Milo stiffened at the mention of scars.

You sighed angrily. "Milo, lift your sleeve." You muttered. Milo looked over his shoulder at you, his face hanging with shock.

"Wh-what?" He asked quietly, not really sure if he had heard you right.

"Milo. Roll. Your. Damn. Sleeve. Up!" You semi-yelled, your voice going hoarse at the slight strain. Upon hearing your pained tone, Milo tugged his sleeve up as fast as he could and thrust his arm at you. You tenderly grabbed his wrist and tugged his arm closer to your face. "Milo, dear, can you tell me what this is?" You asked, pointing to a bright, petal pink scar tracing over Milo's bicep. Milo gulped, his eyes glancing nervously between you and his arm.

"Milo. Answer me." You stated firmly. Milo nodded, then shakily smoothed his cowlick back.

"A-a scar..." He muttered. He glanced back at you to see your reaction. Your face remained neutral as you gently ran your finger over it. Milo shivered at the feeling, his face flushing slightly.

"And where did it come from?" You asked, now running your nail over the pink flesh. Milo suppressed a deep sigh.

"Milo?" You asked, your voice twinged with annoyance. You dug your nail slightly into the young boy's arm. Milo let out a grunt, his muscles twitching as he bit back a moan.

"I-I had b-been with Z-ack and we f-fell off of m-my roof. I landed o-on a p-pile of br-anch-ches, and got c-cut pretty b-badly." Milo fought the words out. Here he had thought that Murphy's Law was the hardest thing to deal with, that asking Amanda out would be the most terrifying, but you. You terrified Milo, you made it hard for him to control himself around you. You were so... Unpredictable and dangerous. You had that glint of mischief that followed you everywhere, and Milo found that entrancing. From your bright face, and stubborn attitude, he couldn't find anything about you that he didn't absolutely love.

"If you can have scars," You said, running your nails across every inch of scar you could find. "Than I can have scars too." You stated, running your nails down his entire arm. Milo gulped, shivered, and even bit his tongue. But he nodded regardless.

"Good. Now lay down. I need sleep, and so do you." You said as the young boy turned back around and shakily laid back down. Milo could feel an uncomfortable feeling between his legs, and he hoped you couldn't see what had happened to him. He crossed his legs and sighed, starting to relax, and trying to ignore the feeling he was getting.

 Your grip tightened slightly around him as you sighed in relief.

It was going to be a night full of tossing and turning, Milo was sure of it.

And it all started when you cried out his name in your sleep.