( milo steps towards mat across the threshold, and just about every part of him yells at him to back away, put as much space between the two of them as he possibly can. he should leave this apartment and never return, remove himself in order to remove the seemingly guaranteed danger from milo's sphere, no matter how little he knows about this apparent threat.
those icy blasts only sprang from his palms in a moment of pure terror, and right now, mathias find himself still as afraid as ever — of himself, more than anything. he doesn't know what he's capable of, this newfound power within him. one wrong move and he could freeze milo, too, reduce him to nothing but a well-sculpted ice statue. how can he control something he doesn't understand?
before he can even think to act on those intrusive thoughts, milo's voice stops him in his tracks. don't. so he doesn't. it does little to soothe the immediate instinct to recoil when that hand grips his shoulder; mat flinches, folded arms tightening in on themselves. the earnest half-grin that spreads across the other boy's cheeks hits him hard, even as his brows knit together with seemingly perpetual worry, even as his whole body seems to shake with the harsh waves of adrenaline that rocket insistently through his veins. )
Milo ...
( he doesn't even know what he wants to say; does he push him away like his mind says he should, or does he pull him in closer like his heart wants? mathias can be rational — he can think clearly, make the right choice, or so he thinks. )
You shouldn't — you shouldn't be so close to me, Milo, what if I — ?
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those icy blasts only sprang from his palms in a moment of pure terror, and right now, mathias find himself still as afraid as ever — of himself, more than anything. he doesn't know what he's capable of, this newfound power within him. one wrong move and he could freeze milo, too, reduce him to nothing but a well-sculpted ice statue. how can he control something he doesn't understand?
before he can even think to act on those intrusive thoughts, milo's voice stops him in his tracks. don't. so he doesn't. it does little to soothe the immediate instinct to recoil when that hand grips his shoulder; mat flinches, folded arms tightening in on themselves. the earnest half-grin that spreads across the other boy's cheeks hits him hard, even as his brows knit together with seemingly perpetual worry, even as his whole body seems to shake with the harsh waves of adrenaline that rocket insistently through his veins. )
Milo ...
( he doesn't even know what he wants to say; does he push him away like his mind says he should, or does he pull him in closer like his heart wants? mathias can be rational — he can think clearly, make the right choice, or so he thinks. )
You shouldn't — you shouldn't be so close to me, Milo, what if I — ?