The car ride back to the Kingsley mansion was cloaked in silence. Victor drove with his gaze fixed on the road, occasionally glancing over at Milo, who was lost in his own thoughts. The tension was evident, and Victor could sense that something weighed heavily on Milo's mind, but they weren't close enough for him to ask outright. In reality, they weren't even friends yet—just two people whose lives happened to overlap in the oddest of ways.
When they finally reached the mansion, both of them stepped out of the car. Victor cleared his throat, breaking the quiet.
"You're welcome to stay here for the night. The guest room is ready," he said, gesturing to the main hallway.
Milo nodded gratefully, managing a faint smile. "Thank you."
After asking Victor for directions, Milo made his way to the guest room. Victor watched him go, feeling an inexplicable urge to follow but pushing it aside. Milo looked drained, and he couldn't help but wonder what had caused the sorrow that lingered in his eyes.
An hour passed, but Victor's thoughts kept circling back to Milo. The image of Milo's downcast face and the sadness clouding his gaze weighed on Victor's mind, making it impossible for him to relax. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside Milo's door, hesitating for only a moment before knocking softly.
A few seconds later, Milo opened the door, and Victor's breath caught. Milo had clearly just taken a shower; his damp hair clung to his face, and he wore a simple bathrobe, the fresh scent of soap and a faint hint of cologne enveloping him. Droplets of water trailed from his hair down his neck, and for a brief moment, Victor found himself captivated by the sight. But he quickly looked away, pulling his thoughts back in check.
"May I come in?" he asked, his voice gentler than usual.
Milo nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. As Victor walked in, he tried to think of something casual to say, something to make Milo feel comfortable.
"Are you… feeling alright?" Victor started, searching for the right words. "Do you need anything? Something to eat?"
Milo shook his head, offering only a slight smile in response, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor. His silence was telling, and it tugged at something in Victor that he couldn't quite name. He asked a few more simple questions—small talk that usually felt easy but now felt like walking through a field of eggshells. And each time, Milo's answers grew quieter, his posture more withdrawn.
Finally, Victor couldn't take it any longer. He studied Milo's face, noticing the red tinge to his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. "Milo…" he murmured, his tone a mix of concern and quiet insistence. "Tell me, what's really bothering you? Did something happen?"
For a moment, Milo didn't answer. Then, a single tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, and his voice trembled as he tried to respond. But no words came.
Victor felt his chest tighten, the sight of Milo's sadness stirring something protective within him. Without thinking, he reached out and took Milo's hand, gently squeezing it in reassurance. Milo looked down at their joined hands, surprised, his lip quivering as he fought back more tears.
"It's okay," Victor whispered, his voice softer than ever. "You don't have to hide it."
Before he even realized what he was doing, Victor stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Milo, pulling him into a comforting embrace. He could feel Milo's shoulders shake as he finally allowed himself to break down, the weight of his emotions spilling out in silent sobs.
Victor held him close, one hand resting gently on the back of Milo's head, the other rubbing soothing circles along his back. He didn't speak—words seemed inadequate in that moment. Instead, he simply stood there, offering warmth and understanding, letting Milo know he wasn't alone.
After a while, Milo's sobs quieted, his breathing steadying as he relaxed into Victor's arms. Slowly, he pulled back, looking up at Victor with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.
"I'm sorry," Milo whispered, his voice barely audible.
Victor shook his head. "You don't need to apologize. Everyone needs a shoulder sometimes."
For a brief moment, their eyes met, an unspoken connection passing between them. Victor's usual stoic expression softened, and he found himself wondering how someone like Milo had endured so much without breaking. But as the silence grew, he realized that maybe he didn't need to know all the details. Just being there for Milo, offering a moment of comfort, felt like enough.
They shared a small smile before Victor gently squeezed Milo's shoulder, giving him one last look of reassurance. "Get some rest. I'll be just down the hall if you need anything."
Milo nodded, his voice steadying. "Thank you… for everything, Victor."
Victor nodded in response, giving him a faint but genuine smile before turning to leave. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't shake the lingering warmth in his chest—a warmth that surprised him, and one he wasn't quite ready to understand.
***