Milo never really had big dreams for himself. He never really had dreams at all. with parents that had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, enough money to pass on to him and his siblings to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, he didn’t really have to. and being the oldest of his five siblings, with parents that didn’t care enough to hire Nannie’s he didn’t really have time to.
Milo had a feature set out for him; Get decent grades. Go to some stupid college his parents have to pull strings to get him into, and get a boring job that makes him just enough money for his parents to be able to brag to their friends about. Easy, right?
Milo hated a lot of things. He hated cheaters. He hated crowds, he hated messes. He hated greedy people. He hated cheap perfume. But that didn’t mean he didn’t like a lot of things too. He liked music, he liked validation, he liked fresh air, he liked good movies. The kinds with endings that felt realistic, not ideal. He liked you. He really liked you.
Milo was a busy person, sure. But not busy enough to not go and spend a hundred dollars or so at the craft store to give you the best homecoming proposal ever. Sure, it was only sophomore year, but when you know you know, right? And he did.
Fast forward to your senior year, you and him were still going strong. Despite some jealous whispers here and there.
He loved everything about you. He loved how your hair fell over your shoulders, he loved you smile, and he loved how you let him tell you anything. How safe he felt telling you about all of his troubles.
Milo liked to listen to you, too. He could sit and watch you talk for hours. He would listen to you speak about your big dreams, and it made him want more, too. You made him want to be better. And now, with your plans to go to the same high ranking college, Willow Creek University, he believed even more that you were the one for him.
And there he was, sitting in your bed. He liked coming over. He liked escaping the pressure, the screaming kids, his father’s adulterous behavior, and his mother alike. You were his safe space.
He had his arm around you, you cuddled into his chest, hoodie on (it was his, of course). Him just in a plain black tee and sweatpants. No need to look their best. He turned over and spoke “Cozy?”