Treble Clef IPA // Roleplay With Eris

"Oh! Uh–" Mila trailed off as she stood, bringing the blanket around her small frame again. Her mind scrambled, looking for anything, anything, that they could talk about, but all her brain was providing was a hollow buzz between her ears. Out of commission it seemed. Exhaustion crashed over her further and she yawned, fully giving in. His bed had looked comfy after all. "Yeah… Okay. Goodnight, Baylee." She said softly, moving around the island and back towards the living room. As she passed him, Mila suddenly reached out, wrapping her arms tightly around Baylee's middle in a warm hug. She stayed their for a moment, despite the way he had stiffened at her touch, enjoying the comfort of not only his warmth, but apparent strength too. Very slightly, she could feel something touch her back, as if Baylee was returning the hug, but she couldn't be sure.

Mila let go as quickly as she had grabbed him and with a soft pat, pat, pat of her feet on the floor she vanished into his bedroom.

Baylee watched her leave with a stunned expression, his arms still raised stiffly in the position they were in the hug. How long had it been since he'd had a hug? Like, a for real hug, not the bro-hug that he typically did when him and Berry got off of work. It……it had to've been the last girlfriend he had in high school, well over a decade ago. When his dad died, and he pushed everyone away.

The heat that raised to his face was so aggressive that he wondered if it was truly safe for his health. Christ, was he really that lonely? It was an emotion that had become so normal that he barely noticed it anymore. Then Mila comes around and…..everything he thought was alright wasn't anymore. But in the best possible way. Fuck, he was getting sappy.

(Timeskip to the next day?)

Through the fog of probably the best sleep she'd had in years, Mila could hear her phone chiming. She had purposely made the ringer as annoying as possible so she wouldn't be able to sleep through it. Unfortunately, it was working too well this morning. She groaned, stretching and sitting up to dive into her duffle and shut the stupid thing off. The clock read a bright and cheery ten AM. Mila did not feel bright and cheery. She considered plopping back into the warm embrace of Baylee's bed, but it was Baylee's bed. Blushing furiously, Mila slipped out of the warm covers, going into the bathroom to wash her face and try to tame the wild mess her waves had become.

A few moments later she stepped out into the living room, still clad in only Baylee's shirt and blanket around her shoulders. Blinking against the sunlight, she looked around curiously. "Good Morning?" Where was he?

"Mornin', búp bê," his voice called from the kitchen, the sound of sizzling heard and the smell of breakfast floating into the kitchen lazily. When she shuffled into the kitchen, she saw him, changed into a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top, in front of the stove with a pan of bacon. A large stack of pancakes were still steaming on the large plate on the island, a full bottle of syrup resting patiently next to them. An open egg carton was on the counter next to him, but it seemed that he didn't get to them yet. "Figured you would've liked some breakfast."

(had to make it short, bout to go home. Be back in a bit!)

Mila's eyes widened as she saw the spread. Paired with her freshly washed face and semi tamed hair, she looked almost entirely different from the vixen that sang for tips. Although the circles under here eyes suggested that she may need to spend more time sleeping. She stepped further into the kitchen, one hand pressed against her loudly protesting stomach. When she reached Baylee's side, looked up at him with playful anger. "I was going to make you breakfast. Now my plan is foiled!" Honestly, what was she supposed to do now to thank him for everything he had done?

Mila momentarily got distracted from her fretting by the plate of already cooked bacon and snagged a piece, popping it into her mouth with a 'mmmm…so good.'

"You were takin' so damn long to wake up I thought you were dead," he said, gently slapping her hand when she reached for another piece of bacon. He looked energetic and happy now that she was awake and moving. "Không, không, không. They aren't done yet, Mila. What you can do is make the eggs."

Baylee grabbed a spatula from another drawer in the kitchen, pulling off a paper towel from the role and beginning to set the bacon on the paper. Once that was done, he stepped aside to give her room on the stove.

"Cook them in the bacon grease," he said, gesturing to the pan, "It makes the eggs taste damn near magical."

Mila stuck out her tongue, as she folded the blanket and tossed it onto the loveseat. A light shiver went through her since her legs were deprived of warmth, but she settled into her spot at the stove, looking more than pleased with herself. "Well– how do you like them? Scrambled? Sunny? Over easy? An omelet? I can get pretty fancy with theses bad boys, if I say so myself." As she spoke, Mila nosed around the ingredients that Baylee had lain out. Spatula in hand, she hummed, moving slightly to the beat sounding in her head. It was obvious to see that she was back to her confident mood.

"Surprise me," he said, reaching up and opening a cabinet with his left hand, the inside of his wrist exposed to her for the first time. It was criss-crossed with red, slightly faded scars, dragged diagonally across his wrist….except for one. A single, long line of purplish red scar tissue that damn near reached his elbow. Like someone had dragged a knife all the way down it. "Jus'…not sunny. Nevveer liked that shit in my life."

"Not sunny…Right." Mila said absently, eyes locked on his wrist. For a moment reality falter around her and she was back in a filthy apartment, her mother sprawled out on the living room carpet, blood oozing out of her arm as she screamed– Mila blinked and she was back in the sunny kitchen, Baylee looking at her curiously. Meeting his gaze with a soft one of her own, she bumped her hip against his. "You're in for a treat! Got any cream?"

God she wanted to do more than these barely there touches. Especially after seeing that scar… She wanted to hug him again. Look into those green eyes and just tell him– Ugh. She shook her head as she cracked a few eggs and whisked them together with some green onions and cheese. What could she tell him? That 'everything eas going to be okay'? hell they both knew that shit didn't fly.

At least Mila could tell him that he wasn't alone.

"I do, actually, if your alright with Irish cream." he said, pulling out a plate and setting the bacon on it. His plates were, surprise surprise, plain white, devoid of any designs or colors. They were the cheapest available. "I was seeing if I could make a Mudslide cocktail in case someone asked me at the bar." Or I was just finding an excuse to drink. He walked over to the fridge and opened the cold sumbitch open, choosing to try and loose the sinking feeling in his gut as he explained what the drink was. "It's a mix of Bailey's Irish cream, vodka, and coffee liqueur. It was actually pretty fuckin' sweet. I typically like my cocktails sour, but I guzzled that shit down."

"Well it's for the eggs." Mila deadpanned, arching a brow at the man. She was impressed with his knowledge of alcoholic beverages, but sometimes a girl just wanted some regular old cream. "As much as I love my alcohol, It's a bit early for me. How about some milk?" Seeing Baylee open the fridge, Mila slid under his arm and peeked in, curious about what other yummy things he could have inside. She was standing much closer than before, almost flush against his side. If she was being completely honest with herself, it felt nice to be there. Much nicer than she would have expected.

"Yes, well, of course I have milk," Baylee said, rolling his eyes. He glanced down at her nearly pressed up against his side and made a decision he wouldn't have made a few hours ago. He let go of the top of the fridge door and gently laid his arm over her shoulders, pulling her the slightest bit closer. "I can't just live off of only alcohol." If only I could.

"One can only dream, am I right?" Mila said softly, ignoring the blush that made her toes curl. Spotting the milk, she leaned forward to snag it. "Ah perfect! D. Can't stand that watered down nonsense." She was babbling and she knew it, but the words didn't seem to want to stop. The heavy weight of his arm was both comforting and distracting. "This is the best for making things creamy, you know? Well other than Heavy cream, but that's–" She turned towards him instead of away from him as she tried to go back towards the stove, the result meant that since he was leaning down a bit, their faces were merely inches apart.

Mila blinked. "–Expensive." She breathed, thoroughly distracted now by the way the green of his eyes lit up in the morning sun.

"Suppose it is," he agreed softly, stepping out of her path to the stove and pulling his arm back. It was progress. The fact that he managed to damn near hug her without even coming close to blushing was a huge victory in his book. Even when they were barely inches apart, he kept his calm and cool demeanor. God, her lips looked so soft. The urge to kiss her was almost unbearable, but he restrained himself. Instead, he asked this: "What do you think about going out to dinner after I take you back home?"

Mila returned to the stove almost in a daze. It was best to talk to him when she wasn't looking–at any part of him. "Dinner." She mused while mixing and pouring out her fancy egg blend into the crackling pan. It was interesting to see how her focus zeroed in, and a new version of her smile appeared. She really enjoyed cooking. "I would really like that." Mila told the eggs.

When she looked up at Baylee again, her blush was gone, instead replaced by that cheeky grin she had been giving him at the bar. With a flourish, she slid a perfect omelet onto one of the plates. "It's a date."

"Is there any place that's caught your eye 'round here?" he asked, jumping up onto the counter next to her and setting his hands on his knees. "There ain't a lot of restaurants in the area, but the ones we got are good as hell."

Christ, that smile. How could she captivate him like this? No one ever made him feel this way before. He actually wanted to be around her, and was willing to go out of his way to keep her around. Hell, he brought a complete fucking stranger over to his home and let her wear his clothes. With anyone else, he would've had a nervous breakdown, but with her….

Baylee didn't realize he was scratching his scar until she looked over at him and frowned.

"I'm….guessing you've noticed my arm, huh?" he asked, cringing slightly.

Mila looked up from Baylee's scar, blinking herself out of another memory. She hadn't realized she'd been staring. He looked so sad that she had seen it, and underneath that a drop of insecurity grew and grew. Placing the spatula and second set of eggs she was holding back on the counter, she gently took his left hand in both of hers. Mila had to get closer in order to do this, standing between his knees and looking up into his gaze again.

"It's not what you think." She said softly. Her fingers traced the scars on his arm in a featherlight touch, she didn't seem aware that she was even doing it. "It's bringing back memories I didn't even know I had. But that was another life, another person experiencing those things. Just like this." A gentle tap on his arm. Baylee was looking at her so intensely, a million thoughts and emotions passing through his eyes as she mumbled on. Mila had the wild thought that he may kiss her.

"Ah–anyway I hope you enjoy your omelet." She said, breathless as she pulled away sharply and turned back to her awaiting ingredients.

She was right. If she had stayed in that position for only a second longer, he would've leaned in and kissed her. He was so emotionally vulnerable that he would've done any thing to keep her close to him. It was the first time in years that he even thought of the scars on his wrist, and they weren't good memories.

He sat on the floor of the bathroom, his back leaning against the toilet bowl. His bare chest was sticky with half-dried sweat and tears, and his skin was pale and sickly. How long had it been since he'd left the house?….Two or three days. His sister was in the living room, just outside the door. Her voice floated through the door, speaking of potential places Baylee could stay until he graduated. If he were to have his way, they wouldn't have to worry about that.

The biggest knife that he could find was in his right hand, vibrating slightly as his whole body seemed to shake. His left wrist was lined with thin, shallow cuts that formed a bloody red X. It wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. When his dad died, it was a sudden, devastating loss. But…he didn't watch it happen. He couldn't stop it no matter what he had done differently. But his mom….he watched every moment of it. Every single beer bottle, he had to clean up. Every single pill she needed, he gave her. Yet….still, he couldn't stop that either. He was useless. THe knife slowly moved for his his wrist, his hand shaking violently.

Baylee's entire body tensed up and his eyes went wide as he snapped back to reality. A single, warm tear trailed down his cheek when he wrapped his arm around his waist and looked down at his lap. Stop crying, he tried to will himself, Mila's right there.

Although Mila was working on her own omelet, she was hyper aware of Baylee to her left. He hadn't moved since she pulled away. Hadn't made a single sound. She was terrified that she had made it super awkward and he was figuring out how to ask her to leave. So when Baylee did move again, she almost, almost flinched away from him. But he was still so silent.

Mila looked up just in time to see the tear move down his cheek and her reaction was instantaneous. The kitchen utensils clattered against the counter as she dropped them, but she didn't care because she was hugging him again. It was a bit hard since she was so tiny, but Mila managed to fit her arms around his shoulders, their bodies flush as she squeezed Baylee tight. "I'm sorry." She whispered into the skin of his neck, her lips a hairs breathe away from touching him. "I didn't mean to–say stupid things. Please don't cry Baylee."

"Ain't your fault, búp bê," he mumbled, his whole body seeming to shake when she touched him. It made it seem like something was wrong, but he reached out and gently hugged her back. It kept her close to him, which was something he needed right now. The extent of his crying was that single tear, but he was still F.I.N.E.: Fucked up, Insecure, Needy, and Emotional. "It's jus'….bad memories. Rung cảm xấu."

"You're going to have to tell me what that means." Mila laughed gently, her body vibrating with the action. It pleased her immensely that Baylee's response was to hold her a little tighter. She shifted her hold so that her arms snaked around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder. Comfort wasn't quite the right word for what she felt in this moment, but intimate was also a little much. Something in between the two, since her heart was pounding in her chest like a war drum. "I understand how you feel though…Memories are a real bitch." Another soft laugh as she tried to bring him back to the present with her.

"Means 'bad vibes,'" he mumbled, setting his chin on the top over her head and letting out a deep sigh. Some of his composure was beginning to return, making his breathing steady and his heartbeat almost return to normal. Almost. Something about just…touching her made his heart beat faster, so he doubted it was going to fully go away. "Sorry about…all of this. I'm not usually this emotional, I swear."

Mila made a 'pfffft' sound and although Baylee couldn't see it she was grinning again. "Nothing wrong with being emotional." She said. Giving him a little squeeze, she pulled back just enough so they could make eye contact. There was a dangerous lack of distance between their faces now. "Next time you could just ask for a hug, though. I don't mind. Sometimes you just kinda need one." Mila's eyes glittered as she spoke, her words taking on her usual playful tone once more. It would be so damn easy to get on her tip toes and kiss him, she hardly thought he would stop her in the moment as well. But Mila held herself in check with her own words. Sometimes you just need a hug. Just a hug, you uncontrollable hussy.

"I didn't want one, to be honest," he admitted when she finally pulled away, keeping eye contact with her up until the point she turned around to make her own omelet. Even just barely moments after, he still missed the color of her eyes. There was something comforting about them. Made him feel less guarded. "I would've just walked out if you didn't hug me."

(Wanna timeskip until they're at her apartment? I'm not sure if I have anymore smalltalk left in me)

(yea! That's a good idea.)

The drive back to her apartment had been relatively quiet, but not an awkward quiet, more like they were finally getting used to the other's presence. Which was a bummer because now she had to go back home. After she and Baylee had finished their–delicious–breakfast, Mila had called the local tow guy and asked him for a hand. He was more than happy to help after naming a price that had Mila rolling her eyes. But she agreed anyway, not bothering to gripe that she could find cheaper tires in hell. Not like she couldn't afford it, her inheritance from her Aunt had been more than sufficient to start and fail at a couple life paths.

"It's the building on the left." She said, pointing out the window causing her keys to jangle in her hand. Baylee turned and parked, which surprised Mila, she was sure he'd just drop her off and co about his day. Maybe get some damn sleep. But when he turned to look at her expectantly, the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Wanna come up?"

"Yeah, of co-"

He was cut short by the sight of a black SUV approaching the apartment. The windows were tinted dark enough that it would've been impossible to see into it at night, but the bright noon sunlight made it just bright enough inside for him to see the scowling face of Jacob.

"Stay in the cab," Baylee growled, throwing open the door and damn near leaping out of the truck.

"You sumbitch!" Jacob shouted, slamming the door after he walked out. Baylee didn't respond. He only walked over to the back of his truck and began searching around.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Her ex continued, walking towards the man as he pulled out the shotgun.

"Back. Up." He said simply, pointed the barrel at Jacob.

"Shut up, ya chink. Bet dat thang ain't even-"

Baylee pointed the shotgun at the sky and fired off a gunshot so deafening it made Mila's ears ring.

Mila leapt out of the truck–she wasn't so good with direct commands–and ran to put herself in between the two men. God, Jacob certainly had perfect timing didn't he? Couldn't just accept a break up like any other man. He had to be all dramatic about it. Baylee, she had to admit, wasn't much better since he brought out the boomstick again. She smiled inwardly. He really was something wasn't he?

"Come on now, guys. We don't have to do this." She stood closer to Baylee, her hand somehow finding it's way to his chest. His heart was thrumming under her palm. Her other had was splayed out, about a foot away from touching Jacob. "Jacob–what are you doing here? I gave you back your worthless shit you left. Just go–"

Her words were cut off by Jacob reaching out and yanking her by the wrist towards him, aggravating the shoulder that he had hurt the previous night. The yelp of surprise and pain she let out sounded much worse than it actually was. But the crack! of Jacob's open palm meeting her cheek was about as heartbreaking as anything could get. Mila gasped, her free had coming to hold her face, blood oozing from the reopened wound on her lip. "You–You shut the fuck up." Jacob said, shoving her aside.

That broke whatever form of composure Baylee had left. As soon as he had slapped Mila, Baylee leaped forward and smashed the butt of the gun over the much bigger man's head. He pumped it, expelling the used shell and sliding a new one into the chamber before putting a foot on top of Jacob's chest, pinning him to the ground.

"You are going to do two things," the bartender growled, pointed the gun at the man's head. "One: You are going to pick your sorry ass up and apologize to Mila, or I will shoot out your fucking kneecaps. 2: You will take your sorry ass back to your home and never come anywhere close to her again, or I will shoot out your fucking kneecaps hiểu biết?"

(Translation: Understand?)

Jacob glared at Baylee from the ground, a string of curses flowing freely from his lips. He had matching wounds now on his face, it was almost comical. He turned his head slightly, taking in Mila who was spitting blood out onto the pavement, looking pissed. "Yeah–Yeah. Fine. Shit. Get this shit outta my face." He barked, pushing the barrel of Baylee's gun away from him.

He shrugged to his feet, once more looking at Baylee and then Mila, almost making sure that the other man stayed put while he made his apology. Taking two steps forward he faced the young woman. "I'm sorry I slapped you." Jacob paused, giving Mila a once over that made her skin crawl. "And I'm sorry you like chink dick now, little selfish bitch." Mila glared at him, but put her hand up to stop Baylee from charging. She'd rather him not kill her ex.

"Just go." She said, waving her hand in a shooing motion to prove that she couldn't care less. Jacob smirked, leaning forward to spit at her boots. "Yeah–whatever." He muttered, stomping back towards his truck. Only one his back was turned, did Mila's lip wobble and her eyes fill up. Her hand came up to cup her cheek again.

Baylee was at her side in an instant, the softest look she'd ever seen shining out at her, which only pissed her off. "Hey asshole!" Mila called. Jacob actually turned, which made her smile as she walked up and kicked him straight in the balls as hard as she could. He let out and awful wheeze and leaned down right into Mila's waiting fist. her punch wasn't nearly as harmful as his slap to her face, but it sure was satisfying.

She turned on her heel and strolled right past Baylee, who looked more than a little impressed. "Shall we?" She called over her shoulder to her bartender.