Swooped | ✓

Chapter 9: Crazy as a Loon

I woke up to find Milo at the foot of my bed, arms crossed over and face frigid. His finger tapped on his arm as he stared at me, and I whined, cowering beneath my doona. I heard Milo scoff, the blanket soon wrenched from above me and thrown onto the ground in a heap.

"Nooo, it's too early for me to get yelled at," I complained, flapping around on my bed, burying my head under my pillow. My voice was muffled as I whined, my wings slapping at my walls.

"It's the afternoon, and after what happened last night we need to have a serious talk!" Milo argued angrily, grabbing my ankle and tugging me out from under my pillow. I grumbled to myself, but rolled over onto my side, giving Milo the meanest look I could muster in my state of minimal consciousness. Milo just exhaled sharply, sitting on the edge of my bed, hands in his lap.

"I'm serious, C," Milo said, voice a tone softer now. I huffed, blowing a wayward strand of long hair from my face. "This is serious."

"Poo. You know I hate being serious."

"Shut up. Look, what happened last night was..."

Terrifying. Crazy. Ridiculous. But also badass as fuck?

"The flying? Yeah, how good was tha-"

"I don't care about the flying!" Milo said loudly, before pressing a finger to his temple, as if rubbing it would push out the tension in his body. From where I was lying down, I could see the taut planes of his back, the rigid curve of his spine, the fidgeting of his arms as he twiddled his fingers together. "It's not... It's not the flying. It's the fact that you could've been seriously hurt, C."

"Oh, right," I said, pulling myself up to sit cross-legged. Poking Milo's back to get him to face me, I was startled to see a distraught expression on my best friend's face.

Oh no, this is so much worse than him being mad. I'd rather Milo be mad than sad.

Guilt clambered its way up from my chest and into my throat at Milo's expression, the two of us submerged in silence.

"Sorry," I eventually mumbled, Milo's eyes darkening. "I... I guess it was pretty scary for you, huh."

"Me? Scary for me?" Milo said, laughing dryly. "Of course it was scary for me! It was terrifying! When I came back, you weren't at the bar, so I figured you were dancing, or with Geoff and Gia. But then I saw your shots, and there were still some left and you never just leave without finishing your drinks. Then the bartender said something about that rapist, and then Gia called and I thought that you were... would..." Milo groaned something unintelligible, running his fingers through his hair. "What scares me the most, though, is that it doesn't seem scary to you."

"Well, everything turned out okay, didn't it?" I offered, pushing a smile towards Milo, which was shot down quickly.

"That's not what matters here, C! You could've been seriously hurt. And... and I'm not blaming you for what happened, I'd never blame you for what that guy tried to do, but I just need you to understand that this is not okay! You're... You always act like these things are okay, and you don't realise when you're in danger, or when you could seriously hurt yourself, and that's really fucking scary!"

Milo's voice was rising rapidly, his hands moving in the air in erratic movements that coincided with the fierceness of his voice. Fierceness that was just a fragile vase holding a whole lot of fear. Seeing the way I was frozen at his words, Milo faltered, eyes dropping to the bed. Taking a deep breath, Milo forced himself to calm, but I could tell that he was still riled up by the way his leg kept bobbing up and down, making my mattress shake rhythmically.