Unorthodox

twenty two

Amelia's POV

Monday was really hard on me. Between making sure I got all the work I had missed from leaving early and making sure Xavier didn't fight Logan, I was worn out. Milo told me to get his work for him because he wouldn't come. He told me to make sure nothing happens to Logan that would make him get suspended, who knows why. I was told to come over after school so he could explain something to me, so that's just what I did.

I pull up in the empty driveway and go ring the doorbell.

"Hey you." He greets with a smug smile before secretively pulling me inside.

"Someone's in a good mood."

"Mhm." He kisses my forehead and intertwines his fingers with mine as we walk to his bedroom.

"Have a seat." He leads me to his desk chair that I start to rock back and forth in.

"What's up?"

"I know how we're going to get revenge on that prick Logan." He gives an unexplainable smirk. He turns his back to me and reaches into his closet.

"With this baby right here." He spins back around with the object and my breath gets caught in my throat.

A gun.

"Milo... Please tell me that's fake." I say, never taking my eyes off of it.

"Nope, one hundred percent real and loaded." He laughs darkly.

"Milo this isn't funny, you can't shoot him!" I scold.

"Relax, I'm not that crazy. I'm just gonna plant it in his locker." He rolls his eyes.

"Don't you think that's a bit much? Where the hell did you even get a gun?" My heart is still racing at the thought of something going wrong.

"No honestly I don't, he put his hands on a lady- not just any lady, you. He made you cry. Stop defending him Amelia."

"You make me cry too but you don't see me framing you."

"The difference between us is I would never hurt you physically."

"But-"

"Oh c'mon he deserves this."

"He won't survive in jail." I try to reason with the scary boy.

"His problem not mine." He shrugs.

"You won't either if you get caught." I add.

"You're the only one that knows, it better stay that way."

"Is that a threat?" I ask with wide eyes.

"Call it what you want." He looks down at me with his icy eyes and I'm the first to break the eye contact.

Every time I think I'm starting to know who he is as a person, he surprises me with another side of him.

"Please don't do this." I stand from the chair and slowly walk towards him.

"Why are you so against this?" He sighs. "I'm doing this for you."

"I know but it's too risky." I stay inches away from him, still eying the gun in his hand.

"I would risk it for you, I'd do anything to show you how much I fucking love you."

"Lo-love?"

"Shit, I didn't mean it. Pretend I didn't say that." He panics, backing away from me.

"Oh."

"Don't look at me like that, please." He begs.

"Like what and can you please put the gun away?"

"Fine." He hides the gun away back in the closet. "Don't give me that sad pouty face, I'm not trying to get hard right now."

"Well I'm sorry that you said you love me even though you didn't mean it." I sass back. I watch him shift uncomfortably in front of me. "Do you get turned on by my sadness?"

"N-no it's not that. It's just you look so...innocent and vulnerable, I can't help it." He shuts his eyes tightly and grips the desk next to him.

"You have some serious issues." I shake my head and fill the large gap between us.

"I know." He opens his eyes and places my hand on his cheek. "By the way, I do love you, I'm in love with you."

"Milo-"

"You don't need to say it back, I know it's early and I've caused you pain but I needed you to know." He gives a sad smile.

"Thank you."

I don't understand why but I started crying. Maybe I'm happy that a guy actually cares about me enough to love me or maybe I'm just overwhelmed by the mess I've put myself in. I'm probably crying because I might love him too. It's hard to admit you care about someone who isn't mentally stable. If I was a good person, I would get him the help he needs somehow but I'm not. As sick as it sounds, I like him like this.

He brings my palm to his mouth, leaving a tender kiss. I stare back at him with puffy eyes, taking in all his features. How can something so fragile be so complicated?

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Author's note: I'm trying my best.