aka. Milo is actually just a tired suburban dad who has to shuttle around his family in an upscale minivan
“I swear to god, if you all don’t shut up, I’m turning this car around!” Milo yells from the driver’s seat as his siblings argue in the back. He thinks he sees his brother throw a stress ball at his sister in retaliation for something or the other, Milo doesn’t know, but it takes all of him to not slam his foot on the break.
“Can we get five guys?” His sister asks from the passenger’s seat, unperturbed by the chaos behind them. He squeezes the wheel to reign in the last threads of patience he has.
A chorus of Five Guys! Five Guys! interrupts the brewing fight between the rest of the Pierce clan and he has no choice but to swerve left at the nearest drive through.
“Alright, but if someone stains the seats, I’m throwing them out of the car.”
It is the house at the end of the lane, shrouded in both ivy and sin (as the neighborhood liked to whisper). Mr. and Mrs. Pierce have long since left their home for warmer pastures, leaving their six children to run the premises however they please.
Few get to see the inside, but many suppose that that is what gives it it’s charm.
Opulent is one way to describe it. Maximalist is another. And finally, full of life and chaos, for the children that grew up there (despite having homes and lives of their own), often frequent the house for reasons undisclosed to the public.
Milo Pierce, the eldest of the pack, safeguards the house with his life, popping in almost every day to make sure that it is kept in tip-top shape. Very seldom does he invite people outside of the family in, so when you step foot past the looming doorway of the esteemed manor, feel fortunate, for you have been invited by the devil himself into his lair.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”
PART 1
13.
She had an awkward haircut. That was what he noticed first. Rough edges and crooked bangs that hung over wide green eyes that sparked fire whenever she talked.
She was loud, like a fire cracker, and she was annoying, like a wasp that wouldn’t go away... and she made his heart beat faster every time she smiled at him, which pissed him off even more.
He could go on and on about her, and he probably talked his parents’ ears off enough for them to testify to that... But he’d never admit to why. He’d never admit to the fact that he thought she was intelligent, probably smarter than he was at times. He’d never admit to the fact that he thought her eyes were the prettiest color of green he’s ever seen. Like smooth river stones and sea glass.
“I’ll see you when I see you, Pierce.” She said over her shoulder as her parents loaded their moving truck. In that moment, he noticed that her teeth were perfect, and that the dusting of freckles across her nose looked like stars. He raised a hand in a weak wave without saying anything more, mostly because his throat was tight and the heart hammering in his chest wanted to yell at her for leaving him.
But instead, he watched her and the moving truck grow smaller and smaller till he couldn’t see anything at all.
That was the first time his heart cracked just a tiny bit... and he didn’t like it.
25.
“You’re leaving.” Milo’s head turned slightly, fingers lingering on the buttons of his dress shirt as his bed partner looked at him from across the room. He paused for another moment before a small smile curled at his lips, cocky and knowing, a smile of a man in his prime with the underworld at his fingertips. “You sound surprised.” He retorted.
The man in his bed sat up, and sure Milo’s heart fluttered a little bit but he managed to stomp it down before it got too far.
So against his better judgment and the incessant yelling coming from inside of himself... he doesn’t turn around.. He knew he’d see sad eyes and a face that he wanted to hold in his hands. He’d see a man that had a good heart and a kind smile, and he’d see the moments of tenderness they managed to share because Milo couldn’t bring himself to be anything but. Not when he was around him.
And amidst all of that, the haze of golden daylight that the man in his bed managed to exude... he also saw something that worried him.
Weakness. The soft underbelly of a beast that Milo wasn’t ready to face. “I don’t want you to leave.” Was the other man’s response, quiet and vulnerable that it tugged at Milo’s heart strings. “I want you to stay.” He continued, and for a moment there, Milo thought he would. And he probably could... He probably could crawl back into bed with a man that had the power to hold his tar-black heart in his hands. Tear at the walls that he had built so furiously in an attempt to keep the sun away.
He could give in.
But he doesn’t, and he walks away, and he hears a heart breaking the second he leaves the room.
And for a moment, he manages to convince himself that it wasn’t his.
“You don’t need to keep checking on us, my love, your father and I are doing fine on our own.” It was a thinly veiled attempt to placate him, he knew that, but he supposed that a part of him, the part that played the dutiful worried son, appreciated it nonetheless. Things have been getting out of hand in London lately, and with the truce now in shambles and Pestilence up in arms after the explosion, Milo decided that he had to settle some things in his own empire before dealing with whatever thunderstorm the Horsemen were brewing next. He glanced outside his parents’ vacation home window before turning to his mother with a small smile.
“Are you growing tired of my company, mother?” He teased. “I’d have thought you’d enjoy the disruption. Life here must be...” He paused to think of the right word.
“Boring?”
“Your words, not mine.” He hummed as his mother let out a small chuckle, snipping at the flowers she was getting ready to arrange. It was still odd seeing her in such a new setting. Domestic. Peaceful. “Are you running from a fight, my love?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts, her eyes still focused on the peonies in hand. Milo had to snort in disbelief. “When have I ever run from a fight?” He retorted, brows furrowing in mild offense.
“Well then why are you here?”
“Do you not want me here?”
“Emilio...” He grimaced at the use of his full name. He stiffened slightly as the Pierce matriarch lifted her gaze to meet his, her dark eyes cutting through him like steel. He pressed his lips together before shaking his head and turning his gaze back out the window, to the crashing waves of the nearby beach.
“You and I both know there are many ways to win a fight.” He finally said, fingers dancing across the rings decorating his fingers. “And I don’t need to be in London to move my pieces.” It was true. He had never been at the forefront of battle, always a shadow in the sidelines that pulled at whatever strings he could grab a hold of. But now... he could feel the change coming. A smile curled at the corners of his lips as he felt a vibration against his thigh. He pulled out his phone and pressed it against his ear.
“Michaela Pinkett wishes to speak to you. ASAP.” That was all he heard before the line went dead. His smile grew. He turned to his mother before closing the distance between them and pressing a kiss against her temple. “I just wanted to say goodbye for now. I may not be able to see you again for quite some time.”
The elder woman grimaced. “What did you do?”
His grin turned boyish, so much so that his mother had to smile back, albeit warily. “What must be done.” Was all he said in return. “Keep safe yes? So I don’t have to worry about you?” She could only laugh, shaking her head in exasperation. “Milo, you act as if we did not teach you everything you know.” She paused for another moment before taking her son’s face in her hands and squeezing. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Milo’s grin turned shark like. “Never.” He ducked as his mother attempted to swat his head before quickly making his way to the door. “Tell your siblings to call! They never call!” Was all she could shout out as Milo nodded his head in acquiesce, phone once again pressed to his ear. With every step he took, he could feel the giddiness rising in his chest, the thirst for power clawing at his throat as he pulled out of his parents’ driveway.
“Mon coeur, I believe what we thought would happen is finally happening.” He said into his phone.
A pause.
“Get me a flight to London. I have a meeting I need to get to.”
