I saw [MILES WISTON] at a coffee shop in [MANHATTAN] today. I forgot how much [HE] looks like [FREDDY CARTER]. They are a [TWENTY-EIGHT] year old [BAKERY EMPLOYEE AND FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER] who’s been in NYC for [SIX MONTHS] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [INTELLIGENT AND THOUGHTFUL] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [IMPRESSIONABLE AND ASOCIAL]. [THE LAMENT OF EUSTACE SCRUBB BY THE OH HELLOS] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. — [mar, she/her, 27, e.s.t.] [filling a wanted connection for one of holly wiston’s twin siblings]
tw: death, child (almost) death, hospitalization, surgery
full name: miles james wiston
known as: miles, milo to his family
age: 28
sexuality: heteroromantic, demisexual
gender: cis male
occupation: employee of red velvet, his sister’s bakery; freelance photographer
appearance: pale, tall and slim, (often messy) brown hair, striking blue eyes
personality: quiet and insightful; a green thumb; hardly ever in touch with his own emotions; a heart that is fragile in more ways than one; a former academic prodigy with an eidetic memory; a loner who secretly yearns to belong
-
the wiston family nearly endured a different tragedy a few years before the loss of their father and husband: the twins were born premature, and baby miles was very nearly lost to a severe heart defect. after a long, arduous surgery and the caveat that the condition might continue to plague him throughout his lifetime, the wistons gratefully took their new children home. and life was good...for a while.
miles was only five when his dad passed away, and he has more memories of the man as a frail figure in a hospital bed than as the vibrant, loving father he once was. growing up, he would hound his older sister constantly for stories about the man, eager to hear about their lost and dearly missed parent.
with an eidetic memory and an avaricious appetite for books, little miles was an academic prodigy. the only thing that kept his teachers from advancing him a few grades was his lack of development in the social arena. it wasn't that he was shy, per se - he just didn't seem to need people; or at least, he didn’t need anyone other than his mother and sisters. they were his protectors, and they loved him fiercely - and he them.
when he reached his teen years, a growing restlessness and general feeling of being lost overtook him. the last straw was his beloved older sister, holly, moving across the pond. he fell into a bad crowd, desperate to fill the void that his father (and now his sister) had left, and a group of scoundrels gladly and greedily put his memorization skills to use. after a monthslong crime spree they were all caught and arrested, and after serving a brief stint in a correction facility miles was put back on the straight and narrow. he went to university and then grad school before landing a plush job as an engineer, but after a few years realized it wasn’t the life for him.
holly, knowing him better than he knows himself, sensed his unhappiness and invited him across the pond for a visit. the city intrigued him, and something within him clicked while he was there. soon after, he was moving into his sister’s guest room and agreeing to help out at her bakery while working on his photography.
( ─── :: “ i wouldn’t call it ownership. “ kneeling on the floor, jackson sifted through the stacks of books that littered his apartment in place of most of his furniture. he was sure the one he’d been talking to miles about last time he’d been in red velvet had been in here somewhere ── he just had to find it ( albeit that was a task that was likely to be a while ). “ she just kind of laid claim to my apartment and i couldn’t evict her without looking like an asshole. it’s more like having a really shitty roommate. “ glancing over at miles, jackson’s eyebrows raised slightly at the other man’s description of him ── or cat people in general. “ introverts and nonconformists ? “ he echoed, planting his palm against the floor and pushing himself to stand once he’d figured out that the book in question was not in this particular pile. his gaze darted to duchess, perched lazily on her throne, and his hands came up to gesture to himself. “ dunno what gave you that idea. i’m just using her to pick up women. since she doesn’t pay rent. “
miles’ eyebrows quirked up at the older man’s questioning of his word choice. “why is that? because she owns you?” he asked, as if revising his statement so that it could still technically be correct. “isn’t that what people who have pets say?” he watched the cat as she eyed him cannily back, wondering how it was that jackson came to - well, if not to own, to share a living space with her. the man gave his reasoning, and miles looked at him askance, squinting slightly. “’without looking’ - to the cat?” he asked, a bit of puzzlement seeping into his voice. jackson had struck miles as someone who didn’t care a whit as to what others thought of him, and he’d just supposed that species didn’t make a difference in that regard. miles shrugged, distancing himself from the data; it hadn’t been his experiment, and he didn’t want to be held responsible for it. it seemed to be a pretty frivolous use of resources if you asked him - but then again, science was science. jackson gestured to himself and spouted one of his lines, and miles merely blinked at him in response, unimpressed. “right,” he replied flatly. “and what’s the success rate of that particular tactic?”
location: jackson’s place, he’s borrowing a book or something idk
“i wasn’t aware that you owned a cat,” miles said as he laid eyes on the fluffy feline lounging on the sofa, frowning slightly as he registered that the creature seemed off somehow. he generally liked animals, having supported his twin’s lobbying to get a pet when they were children, and he understood the sense of comfort that must stem from sharing your home with another living creature - but this cat just seemed weird, and miles would certainly be keeping his distance. “then again, i suppose you’re the type - studies show that cat owners are more likely to be introverts and nonconformists. you seem to fit that bill, more or less.”
“they say that baking is a science, but somehow i doubt decorating falls into the same category,” miles mused, frowning down at the snowman he’d just frosted into existence; the thing was abominable, that was for sure, but at least he knew that the pastry as a whole was pleasing to the palate if not the eye. his older sister had taught him well, and he really did appreciate the precision and definitiveness of baking. miles understood measurements and numbers and chemistry, those hard and fast rules that made the world around him a bit more navigable. mixing together eggs, flour, and butter would always result in dough - no room for misunderstandings or misreading cues or feeling like he’d somehow failed as a human being. baking was just baking. there was the added bonus that it was inherently sentimental and special, miles having spent hours in the kitchen with holly and their mother growing up. even now it felt undeniably comforting to be standing beside his sister at the countertop, working together on pastries that were meant only for them and their sister.
“mum still coming to visit for christmas?” he asked, setting down his piping bag to try to nudge the snowman into a more pleasing shape.
“ it’s jaws! ” izzie exclaimed suddenly, as he brought up sharks and their sad tale. although the rays had always been izzie’s favourite, she felt a sort of kinship with the sharks. they were these big scary creatures, and yet all they really wanted was to be left alone. “ i blame jaws. i mean, sharks were already a pretty intimidating creature, but i swear the likes of jaws has done so much damage to them as a species. people go out and hunt them on boats just for fun, and they think they’re justified to do that because sharks are this killing machine. but they’re not! discovery channel too - shark week is the worst. that’s why i think being here is so important, ” they raised their hand to gesture to the aquarium space around them. “ i’ve had a lot of animal activists who tell me that we’re wrong for holding the animals here. and i think i agree that whales and dolphins shouldn’t be kept captive. but it’s so important that we have places like this to educate people, you know? to show them that while you should always be cautious around animals, the ocean isn’t such a big, scary place. ” out of breath, they came to the end of their rant, and then felt their face heat up. their fingers flew up to touch their neck. “ sorry - sorry. i just get really passionate about it. “
when he questioned about them about their ocean adventures, izzie ducked her head in embarrassment. “ well, no. ” they explained. after all their talks about the ocean being a wonderous and not-at-all scary place, it felt wrong to explain their reasoning behind their lack of boating experience. but miles was safe - a friend. “ it.. makes me anxious. being out at sea. so many things could go wrong. i would love to see the animals in the wild but… ” she trailed off, and then offered a shrug. “ you know. ”
miles blinked, surprised enough by izzie’s outburst to glance over at her. he wasn’t exactly used to seeing them so fired up, their passion sensed loud and clear even by him. he listened to her, mindful to nod every so often so she knew he was paying attention, and when they at last fell silent he frowned. “you don’t have to apologize,” he said, almost confused as to why she felt the need to show contrition. “you clearly know what you’re talking about, and that’s respectable. not to mention - well, that you care,” he said a little awkwardly. he didn’t know a more eloquent way to put it, really. izzie clearly had deep affection for any and every sea creature, and he admired them for it. “you’re in the right job, as they say. and you’re right, that people should learn things here. not everything should be feared just because it’s unknown - and if it is, knowledge has a way of dispelling those fears.”
he cocked his head slightly, finding her answer a little curious; surely if she loved these creatures so much, it would follow that she loved the ocean, wouldn’t it? but their reasoning was logical, and once again he nodded. “right, yes - probably a bit safer on dry land. i’ve always wanted to go on a submarine voyage - and if i ever get the chance, i know now not to extend the invitation to you,” he said, smiling slightly and hoping that the comment would land as the successful joke he’d meant it to be.
miles doesn’t do ringtones, but izzie does have a special vibration pattern assigned to their texts
What contact photo my muse has set for yours:
he often brings his camera to the aquarium because the creatures are among his favorite subjects, and one day izzie...y’know....just happened to be in the shot....
(he didn’t do anything with the picture, of course, other than make it their contact photo)
What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:
izzie’s enthusiasm is infectious, and her messages often make miles smile
How quickly my muse responds to your texts:
i think it’s surprisingly quickly, usually within the hour if he’s not preoccupied reading or editing photos
How often our muses text:
i’d say pretty often, maybe a few times a week - i’m sure izzie is usually the one to initiate an exchange, and miles is a little self-conscious about how formal he is in his texts, but he tries to keep up
How often our muses call:
i think miles has probably initiated about five calls ever in his life - so, probably never
Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:
i don’t think it’d come up, but no, he wouldn’t!
Last text sent from my muse to yours:
I just finished reading a fantastic study on bioluminescence - could I forward it to you?
for the most part miles never has his phone set on anything but silent, but holly is one of a select few whose messages/calls he has on vibrate
What contact photo my muse has set for yours:
this picture - it’s probably at least a few years out of date by now, but it’s one of his favorites of her. maybe it was even the first birthday miles was able to attend after his sentence was up so it was extra special for him.
What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:
**this is his general opinion for everyone: i'm sure people expect him to be a total grammar snob and stickler for spelling, but he really doesn’t give too much of a flying leap. and unless your message contains nothing but emojis for him to riddle over like hieroglyphics, he doesn’t actually mind them either.
How quickly my muse responds to your texts:
surprisingly quickly. he figured out early on having a phone which vibration patterns like..best got his attention, and he uses those exclusively. he usually figures they’re time-sensitive, so he’ll do his best to reply in a timely fashion
How often our muses text:
i can’t imagine that often, seeing as they live together and miles is at red velvet most days. probably it’s usually more of a practical thing, asking one another to pick something up on the way home and miles asking slightly worrying, evasive questions about how up-do-date the bakery’s insurance is...
How often our muses call:
again it’s probably not often, and miles certainly isn’t the type of person to call ‘just because’. he sees calls as a practical nuisance more than anything.
Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:
absolutely never, even if he does kinda hate them. with their father’s death and everyone’s various health issues, i imagine the wistons all have a fair amount of anxiety about missing calls for fear of missing something important, miles included. that said, i think phone calls do instill a sort of dread in him bc he’s always associated them with bad news.
Last text sent from my muse to yours:
Please don’t be alarmed by the fire extinguisher on the kitchen counter; I promise I was using it only as a counterweight for an experiment and not for its intended purposes. There was no repeat of the January incident.
they blinked up at him, empathetic curiosity painted across their features as he muttered under his breath. izzie wasn’t nosy. they didn’t often press for more information ── they themselves were a rather private person, and didn’t enjoy sharing past problems with other people. but she had gotten the inkling that miles and his sisters hadn’t exactly had it easy. the way violet fussed and worried over the lot of them said enough. drawing their hands up to their chest and curling their fingers around the top of the clipboard, they offered him a reassuring smile. “it’s good that you have each other for all of it, then,” she mused, before letting the topic fall to the wayside, drifting onto the next conversation.
“every morning,” they explained excitedly at miles question. it wasn’t like izzie to fill up the space with their words ── they often preferred to let other people do that ── but miles was such a good listener that they often found themselves babbling without even realizing it. “i don’t really have too, but it’s one of the coolest parts of my job. since i’m a the curator of the sharks exhibit, it’s kind of my responsibility to make sure that all of the fish inside are healthy and comfortable with each other. and i find that it’s easiest to do that when you’re in the tank with them ── i know some people might think it’s really scary to be in the water with that many sharks, but some of them actually enjoy being pet! isn’t that so funny?” as they spoke, their head swiveled on their neck, as if the excitement they had in sharing that piece of their job wasn’t able to be contained in their tiny body.
“anyway, it is really like a whole different world down there. i imagine it’s probably even cooler in the real ocean but,” they shrugged one shoulder, “i’ve never been diving, so.”
miles felt the flush travel further down his neck when he felt izzie’s gaze on him, but he couldn’t say that it was an entirely unpleasant sensation. he focused on the walkway a few steps ahead of them as they made their trek, trying not to hold his breath as he anticipated follow-up questions or curious comments or - oh. well, then. his lips pulled upward slightly even before he stole a glance at them and saw their own smile, and he returned his gaze forward even as his own expression brightened still further as a result of it. “yeah,” was all he replied. “i’m glad of it, too.”
he would never make the claim that conversation came easy to him, or that it was something he enjoyed, but those waters were somewhat murky where izzie was concerned. he found it soothing, listening to her talk about her position and everything it entailed, not to mention their great love of all things aquatic. he himself had always been fascinated by the ocean and everything it held, and his interest had only grown since meeting izzie. “yeah,” he agreed, still smiling slightly. “pretty funny. but - sharks have always been misunderstood, haven’t they? they don’t cause nearly as much destruction as they’re accused of, and yet they’ve been cast in the role of villain for so long that it seems the general population will never realize just how magnificent they are. it doesn’t quite seem fair, does it?” he observed, a more pensive expression now on his features and a slight frown pulling his lips downward.
“no?” he said, surprised by the information. he would’ve thought they’d have all sorts of underwater adventures under their belt by this point. “do you have any plans to travel? to see all the oceans for yourself?”
Holly was tempted to have one more go at hanging up the fake webbing. She climbed back up on to her stool and tried a quick throwing motion. It didn’t work at all what with the material being so flimsy and light. It simply floated back down, landing neatly on her head. She exhaled a sigh, rolling her eyes just before Miles walked into the room. “Ah, brilliant, you’re here!” Climbing back down, she walked over to him, removing the fake web from her head before she held it up to him. “I wanna hang this up on that beam up there but I can’t reach. These little legs just don’t do the trick sadly.” She gestured down to her legs, which were covered in bright orange tights today. “You probably don’t need the ladders but I can go get them if you do? I don’t want you to fall whilst standing on a wobbly chair or something.” Holly neglected to tell him that was what she’d been doing. Safety for everyone else and slight rule-breaking for her. “Doesn’t matter too much if you can’t reach though, I’ll just have to find somewhere else to spook up!”
&
miles furrowed his brow as he watched his elder sister pull filmy webbing from her hair, reaching out to pluck a fallen bit of faux silk from her shoulder himself. he followed her gaze to the beam she’d indicated, and as she went on he wordlessly took the decoration out of her hands before standing on his toes to toss it up in what - in his estimation at least - seemed to be an appropriately natural-looking formation. “like that?” he asked, looking back down at her with his eyebrows raised inquisitively, wondering if he’d been helpful. he looked all around the bakery, taking in every detail of the decorating she’d done before he’d arrived. “you’re sure there’s even anywhere left that you haven’t ‘spooked up’?”
𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬. Four months of flute, football for a season, dragon books for a year. Things had always been so uncompromisingly riveting until they weren’t. As she wriggled, jumping in place to pull the costume up over her hips her back collided with the bathroom door, earning a grunt of frustration. This costume was the amalgamation of a years worth of abandoned fixations. Her papier-mâché phase that had briefly bled into an obscure piñata collection that culminated in a horrific near indestructible clown head that she’d made for the kids last day of summer vacation that ultimately took two adults with hammers to crack open –– after a good half hour of letting the kids at it unrestrained with a baseball bat. Her sewing craze where she’d made her own dresses and a tote bag for just about everyone she’d ever met, which resulted in meters of unused fabric clogging her closet after the thought of sewing another became suddenly as entertaining as lodging her taxes. Finally, her painting period which ended almost as abruptly as it began when she realised it was not a talent she naturally adopted and that while it was easy to think of elaborate art, it wasn’t easy to execute. The possum’s face was the closest to a fulfilled vision Violet had ever come with a paint brush. But it felt good to finally burn through the remnants of those fleeting era’s, freeing up space in her room and mind as she put the materials to use after so long stagnant. So good in fact, she’d spent accumulatively nearly sixty hours on the little bastard.
“ Hold on ! It’s worth it I promise !” She yelped through the door, struggling as she twisted her torso unnaturally, trying to see her back in the mirror as she positioned the babies along her spine with their little velcro adapted feet. Despite her and Colson spending the last two years trapped in a fluctuating separation, they’d worn a couples costumes as recently as the past Halloween. Romeo and Juliet, disturbingly. The silliness of her costume now felt comforting, knowing it would have horrified him. She fastened the last of the seven possums right between her shoulder blades, smiling to herself as she swung the tail back and forth in the mirror clumsily. Nights spent super gluing fur to her fingers began to feel worth it now the absurdity of it was all together, though she was certain her roommates would disagree. Both were rather disappointed Violet wouldn’t be joining them on their endeavours to make out with as many Michael Myers as possible. She slid the giant head over her own, struggling already to see out of the little eye holes she’d carved in it’s mouth.
“ So ! ” She announced, peeking the door open as she peered the disturbing snout through the crack before bursting out arms wide in a 𝐓𝐀 𝐃𝐀 ! fashion. She craned her neck right back, trying to look up at his face without the. head sliding and blocking her view, the inconvenience doing nothing to dampen her excitement. “ What do you think ? ” She asked brightly. “ Neat, huh ? ”
&
it would surprise absolutely no one to learn that miles wasn’t a fan of halloween - at least, not the actual practice of the holiday. he would gladly read about its history and different cultural practices for hours, but the idea of putting on a sensory nightmare of a ridiculous outfit and drinking himself sick while also gorging on candy - he’d pass quite emphatically, thank you. instead, he’d be enjoying a quiet evening with the apartment to himself while his sisters went out and had - well, their brand of fun.
and yet the evening currently found him listening to some rather unusual sounds coming from the bathroom his twin was using as a dressing room. he had been innocently detailing his camera lens when she’d rushed into the apartment, spouting excitable vi-isms about how he just had to see her costume. he had grunted something noncommittal in response, focused on a particularly stubborn spot, but as time had passed his interest had become piqued - what costume on earth could possibly be this involved? finally he heard her announcement and sensed movement out of the corner of his eye, and he was forced to do a double take when the first glance raised more questions than answers. he opened his mouth, closed it again. “it’s - well. i mean, it’s certainly lifelike,” he decreed, impressed with the amount of detail. “bit...different than your usual,” he ventured cautiously. “but it’s good. i certainly like it a lot better than last year’s,” he added, though this costume’s lack of a counterpart supplied by a terrible husband already boosted its standing by default.
the conversation shifted slightly, veering towards miles’ contentedness with his sisters, and izzie fell quiet, listening. their eyes shifted to look over at him, a soft smile still pressed against their delicate features. “that’s really nice. you guys seem close. especially you and vi.” she observed, letting their chin rest against the top of the clipboard that they almost always had in their arms when they were putzing around the aquarium. in a way, izzie was jealous; they didn’t have as sturdy of a relationship with their younger brothers that they wish they did. there was some kind of disconnect between what their brothers wanted and what she wanted, and it often ended in frustration for both parties. their heart ached for the kind of family dynamic that she saw in the twins, but it wasn’t a bitter sort of envy. and it was how it was. they couldn’t really change it.
“i think i would prefer if i was a ray.” she laughed, her head falling back as she did. “when i’m in the tanks sometimes, i think about how nice it must be to spend all day swimming inside of them. i mean ── i’m sure the big ocean is probably far more exciting. but our animals have good lives, and it’s just so pretty underwater, you know? like you don’t have to worry about anything down there.” it was a wistful admission, one they didn’t realize had gotten away from them until they finished talking. flushing with embarrassment, they ducked their head down, studying the observation tanks as they walked by them.
miles considered what izzie pointed out, reflecting on everything that had happened in his lives and those of his sisters’: the loss of their father; violet’s failed marriages; miles’ arrest and incarceration, not to mention his various health problems. “been through a lot together, i s’pose,” he muttered. he didn’t know how much she knew about the wiston family troubles, miles at least keeping them all locked safely away, and he didn’t want to know the extent of their knowledge. if they seemed to accept him as - well as a friend, then -
miles was most certainly not blushing as he recalled the term they’d used in the group chat the other day; no, it was just warm in here, that was all. well, he was warm, at least. but it was far from an unpleasant feeling. it was....well, it was nice. that he had a friend. never had one of those before, had he? not one he wasn’t related to, at any rate. yes, it was....it was nice. dare he even say, it was lovely. and he didn’t think he could ask for a better friend than kind, patient izzie.
he looked at them when they made the admission, his gaze catching on her eyes and how they sparkled at the concept. eye contact had never been a strong suit of his, of course, but he enjoyed looking at them and admiring their features when their attention was elsewhere. he found a smile on his own face when he finally registered her words, thinking them so endearingly characteristic of her. “i know what you mean,” he said, as if to reassure them that he didn’t think the notion so fantastical as to be ridiculous. “it must seem like a whole new world down there. d’you ever get a chance to get in the tanks with them?”
October meant Halloween, which consequently meant that Holly had to deck out the bakery in all manner of spooky finery. She’d already filled two of the display cases with specially themed treats, and she’d ordered in various decorations to make the place feel as festive as possible. Pumpkins sat in the back kitchen, waiting to be hauled out front and arranged in an aesthetically pleasing, instagrammable way. She essentially just wanted to turn the whole bakery into a spooky Halloween grotto for everyone to enjoy. Her way of pushing any real life fears out of her mind.
Miles was in the back somewhere, and as she precariously balanced on a chair to hang up some fake spider webs (health and safety be damned), Holly realised she was too short to reach her chosen beam. “Miles?” She called out, slowly lowering herself down from said perch before she fell and injured herself. “I need to borrow you when you’ve got a sec. It’s a spook-mergency!” @mileswiston·
miles uttered a quiet but triumphant sound as he finally managed to pry off the industrial mixer’s panel, setting it down carefully before he tried to peer at the wiring within. he frowned when he found the light lacking, and reached for the flashlight he knew he’d left nearby - and then a sudden ghostly wail was breaking the still silence. miles flinched back at the sudden noise, clutching a hand to his racing heart as he located the source of the noise. the animatronic ghoul was still moaning as if miles had disturbed its uneasy slumber, and the man closed his eyes as he finally caught his breath. he hadn’t always been so jumpy; certain events in the not-so-distant past had shredded miles’ nerves and served to make him exponentially more skittish than before. logically he knew that he and his family were safe now, and he wasn’t in the same situation to merit a similar course of events, but, well, logic and emotion - fear - were two different things, weren’t they? but it was fine. his family was fine, and so was he. and speaking of -
he looked over his shoulder when he heard his name being called, the sound of his older sister’s voice helping calm him even more. yes, it was fine. everything was quite all right. still, he had to clear his throat before calling out, “yeah, coming.” with one last look at the decoration, he set out to join holly in the main area of the shop. “all right, hols?” he asked, unable to help a quick scouring of the shop before he was satisfied that everything was all right and his gaze returned to her. “what did you need?”
