I'm a fucking coward, Milo thought as he held the basket with his well washed and dried clothes, feeling even worse about running away when he got a whiff of the warm, citrus smell emitting off them.

They had never smelled so clean. From the moment he found a good amount of the clothes in a donation pile, the smell of bad burritos felt like it was etched into their entire being. Yet the strange kid got rid of it and Milo had the sudden urge to roll in the pile of warm clothes like a lazy house-cat.

It made him feel worse about being so rude, walking out like that just because he jumped to conclusions. He didn't know if that Willow guy was making fun of him. For all he knew, Willow really didn't know he lived on the streets. Nobody said he did so Milo just ended up making himself feel bad while standing in an empty laundry room, not sure if he should leave the building that reeked of money, or go back up and face his mistakes.

He sighed heavily and put the basket under his arm, scratching his messy, stubbly chin as he left the large laundry room and nodded at the security guard that had helped him when he got lost.

Sometimes, he hated having a barely functioning conscience, waiting for the day that he smothered it to death.

#

“I brought back your basket,” Milo said to the wide-eyed college kid, his explanation to get rid of the look of surprise the kid had been giving him for a full minute of silence.

“Hello?” Milo said, getting uncomfortable. He guessed the kid didn't expect to see him again.

Might have been laughing at that fucking embarrassing run-away and wondering if he got caught.

Stop jumping to conclusions. My fucking god, Milo.

“Oh! Right! You didn't have to! I'm just glad nobody took your things,” Willow said with a laugh, and Milo wasn't sure if he was being serious.

Who in this building would steal this pile of shit? He's messing with me, right?

“Right,” Milo said, stretching out the word and hoping he didn't sound as sarcastic as he wanted to be. “Anyway here an--"

“You sure you don't want to…” He stopped talking and trailed off, Milo not all that sure where they were going but was now curious.

“Don't want to what?”

Willow scratched the back of his head again, something Milo noted he did a lot, and glanced down at the floor.

“Want to…I dunno. Hang?”

Milo’s eyebrows curved upwards, the question unexpected. He looked down at the basket of clothes and thought it over, thinking he had already overstayed when he sat down and dug into the other’s food like a starving beast. He didn't factor in Willow wanting him around even longer, and that in itself was weird, the kid wanting him there.

Is he lonely or something?

“I mean you don't have to. I mean I just thought it'd be nice to know the guy that saved my life,” Willow said, a soft laugh escaping their lips, “but if you're busy, I get that and I mean you wouldn't want to hang out with a total dumbass who got drunk and you fell unconscious because you went out of your way to save him and I am so messing this up please stop me before I carry on an--"

“Okay.”

Willow sucked in a deep breath and panted, rambling pulled to a halt after Milo interrupted him.

“What?” he asked, running a hand through his short hair.

Milo shrugged, looking back down at the clothes, and said, “Okay. Let's hang. I'm not sure you'd want to after a good while though.”

If he's lonely, then fine. I'm lonely too.