Milo
YOU’RE MY brOTHER. It’s my job to worry about you.
I was starting to feel fucking insane. I didn’t know what amounted to brotherly care, and what was something much more visceral that still went without a name.
I picked apart the moment we shared in my bedroom during the party, and every single interaction after it, hoping I’d find the answers somehow in those fleeting moments—anything but asking Jasper outright what it all meant.
If I asked for clarity, I could get hurt.
I didn’t want to get hurt.
I’d sooner gut myself than feel the discomfort of having misread our intimacy as anything more than him taking care of me. As the day dragged on, I decided that being suspended in this space between not knowing and still receiving affection was somehow less painful than digging for the truth.
I sank into the couch, thumbing through games on the PlayStation until I decided to open my friends list and saw that Oliver was online, which made all of my thoughts even louder.
I threw the controller down onto the coffee table, closing my eyes and embracing the fact that my world was crumbling around me, and it was all my fault because I couldn’t feel anything a normal amount.
“No one to play with?”
I wrenched one eye open to look at Jasper, who was standing in front of the television, his body language casual, and his expression unreadable.
My gaze dropped to his bandaged hand, and then I was even more annoyed because he’d cleaned himself up on his own after tending to my injury, robbing me of the opportunity to soothe my guilty conscience after he’d walked in on me during a moment of weakness.
He’d never been present when I hurt myself; he’d only ever seen the aftermath.
“Nope.” My nostrils flared. “You fucked the only person I had to play with.”
“Fair.”
He didn’t look remorseful. If anything, he looked pleased, and I wanted to pick the controller back up and beat him with it.
“I guess that just leaves me,” he added smoothly.
I clenched my jaw and looked away, focusing instead on the balcony door.
He was unbothered by my attitude, moving from his spot to claim the cushion next to me.
I watched our faint reflections in the glass, tracking his movement as he reached for two controllers on the table.
I froze as he pushed one into my lap, the innocent slide of his wrist over my leg undoing the last hour I’d spent convincing myself that things were fine the way they were.
“I don’t want to play with you,” I grumbled.
“No?” He raised a brow.
I turned to face him then, and our knees brushed. The controller slipped out of my lap and clattered to the floor. I couldn’t do this. I was so fucking stupid to try playing at being normal when every time I looked at him, I wanted to kiss him.
And then punch him.
And then kiss him again.
“What do you want to do, then?” Jasper asked, leaning down to pick up the controller from between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine.
He always left it up to me.
I couldn’t keep making decisions like this. I was terrible at it, always choosing the wrong ones, always digging my hole another foot deeper.
“We’ve kissed twice,” I said quietly, but it definitely wasn’t what I meant.
We fucked.
“We have,” he acknowledged, a secretive smile touching his lips as he set the controllers back down on the table. “What about it?”
“Is that normal now?”
“Nothing about us is normal, Milo.”
I bit my lip so hard I thought it might bleed.
“Are you asking because you want to kiss me again?” He smirked.
“No,” I said impulsively.
He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, spreading his legs and letting his knee bump mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. He was fucking infuriating, even in silence.
“I don’t believe you,” he said flatly.
My heart rate climbed, defensiveness taking over. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“Always.”
I gaped at him. “Stop fucking with me.”
He tilted his head. “I can fuck with you and be honest.”
I was at my boiling point, my skin too hot and too tight. Did he think it was funny to tease me this way? Couldn’t he see I was losing my fucking mind?
“I can be honest, too.” The words tumbled out of me before I could swallow them. “I hate that you fucked Oliver.”
“I know.” His chest rose on a deep inhalation, a flicker of regret finally passing over his face.
“I can’t stand the thought of you looking at anyone else,” I added frantically, on the verge of losing steam. “Someday you might get a real partner, or get married, and then I’ll… I’ll be all by myself.”
“Not happening,” he said easily. “Other people are too much work.”
Other people. He was lying; I was the definition of too much.
I dug deeper. “What if that changes? What if someone becomes more important than me?”
“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended that you think that’s even a possibility.” He glowered.
The finality of his words made me melt even further into the couch, all the energy I spent looking for a fight ebbing. I turned my head to look at him, at a loss for words. He shifted closer to me until our sides were flush, reaching over and brushing my cheek with his thumb.
“Are you done?” he murmured.
“No,” I said bitterly, even as exhaustion crept in.
“You’re right.” He huffed. “You still need that kiss you were bullshitting me about.”
My stomach flipped violently as he pressed into me, one hand gripping my leg and the other curling around the back of my neck. I jerked back slightly on instinct, resisting the very same thing I’d asked for in the early morning hours, always contradicting myself.
This was heavier. He kissed me deep and slow, a stark contrast to the playful kisses he’d given me in the morning, and even the filthy one from the night before.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, coaxing me open, and I met the leisurely slide of it with my own.
Where I tried to go too fast, he forced me to slow down, making sure I felt everything in full.
My fingers flexed in my lap, too afraid to reach out and take what I wanted for myself.
I started to feel lightheaded, my eyelids growing heavy, and every inch of my body radiating with heat.
By the time I found the nerve to touch him, I was trembling, searching for his hand on my lap without ever breaking away from the kiss. When I found it, I squeezed.
“For the record,” he said breathlessly against my lips. “You can kiss me anytime.”