Swooped | ✓

Chapter 35: The Ones I'd Swoop For

"Nnngh," I mumbled groggily, trying to pull Milo closer to me as he laughed quietly. His large hands rubbed my back once, before pulling the blankets up around my body, kissing my forehead.

"I'm just going to help prepare dinner, okay?" Milo said, and I frowned, but nodded. Milo smiled, kissing me once again, running his fingers through my hair. "Do you want Lark to come up and stay with you for a bit?"

"Mm. Might be safer for all of us. She'll probably blow the microwave up if I leave her downstairs," I said, giving Milo a small smile as I rubbed my eyes, rolling over on my bed to lie on my side, staring at my boyfriend. Milo sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on a sweatshirt, hair a little flat on the side he had been lying on for the past hour. Milo chuckled, humming in agreement before taking my hand in his, kissing my palm reassuringly.

It's been a few days since my... break down? Was that what it was? I hadn't said it out loud, but something had definitely snapped that day, splitting me into pieces. I hadn't been able to calm down straight away, my nerves like pulled elastic just waiting, waiting, for Milo to realise that I wasn't worth it. When I told him that he's going to leave, that I know that he's lying to me when he told me he'd stay, when I screamed at him and... hurt him, I was just waiting for him to say that he realised I was right.

But he hadn't. Didn't. 

No, he was still here, giving me sad but devoted looks, gently pulling me to him to hold me close and to stop me from lashing out. And God, I wanted to push him away, to make him go away on my own terms. I wanted to make him leave, rather than watch him leave because he didn't want me any more. But the more he assured me in his quiet, determined tone and looked at me with his stupid, lovely face, I couldn't bring myself to fight him any more.

So, instead of trying to push him away, I held him closer. Too close, crushing him and suffocating him, but Milo didn't say anything. He just held me, rubbed my back, bundled the two of us in one too-small blanket and matched his breaths with mine. I was clingy, needy, desperately hanging off Milo like an anchor but he didn't seem to mind at all. 

Sometimes, he would grow a little exasperated when I didn't let him leave my room, following him to the bathroom with my blanket wrapped around my shoulders, head pressed against the semi-closed door. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't sit still when Milo closed the bathroom door behind him, the light click of the lock deafening to my ears. I didn't bang down the doors, at least not on the second day, and would simply stand in front of the door, hands on the wood. 

I didn't know how Milo knew I was standing there - maybe it was the shadow I cast under the door, or the occasional scratches my nails would etch into the door, but he did. Milo would let out a little sigh, open the door, and pull me into the bathroom. He would plant me on the edge of the bathtub, mumble for me to turn around and not look while he showered. I didn't, not wanting to give Milo a reason to finally push me away. 

Any other day, I probably would have been been trying to sneak unashamed glances at my boyfriend's naked body, and Milo would have definitely caught me and grumbled about it, and I would turn away with a smirk and teasing remark. Maybe if I weren't so scared I would have made suggestive quips and flirted, but instead I just sat there, nibbling on my fingernails and listening to the steady pelter of water behind me. 

Now, Milo gave me a long look as he stood up from the bed, our hands still locked. I squeezed his hand once, my tentative smile peeking out from the edge of the blanket.

"It's okay," I said, squeezing his hand again. "I'm okay."

"I know," Milo said, eyes crinkling as his smile widened. His thumb rubbed a circle on the back of my hand, before slowly letting go. Milo turned to go downstairs to save whatever Lark was attempting to make for us downstairs, and I felt the need to speak before he left the room.