Miles Jeremiah Morrison (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keytomylife) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2016-06-18 01:11 pm
keytomylife) wrote in muserevival2016-06-18 01:11 pm
Entry tags:
122.2. Quote
"I am trying my hardest not to act how I feel." - Unknown
Despite his best efforts to thwart the loneliness trying to engulf him, Miles was sitting on the beach alone with a bottle of beer, watching the sunset. His knees were drawn up, elbows resting on them as he gazed at the water lapping on the shore and took a swig from the bottle. He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. No messages. No missed calls. No notifications. Everyone was off doing their own life things. He didn't want to be that needy or clingy friend who called his friends up and disturbed their peaceful Friday evening on dates or resting from a hard week at work.
Broken hearts were hard to mend. Not impossible, though sometimes it felt that way. He just wanted someone to hold. He wanted someone beside him, feeling their warmth nestled against him. He wanted to lie with them and look at the stars once the sun set and night fell. He wanted to hold their hand and walk along the beach with them, feeling the wet sand between his toes. He missed Liam, but at the same time, he felt like feelings were developing for someone else. Someone else he shouldn't be feeling this way about because he was one of his closest friends. Were they just misguided feelings because he was rebounding? But that was the last thing he wanted to inflict on anyone.
It wasn't always possible to pump yourself full of the positive affirmations. 'Life's too short'. 'Be yourself'. 'You make your own happiness'. 'Just keep swimming'. Hell, the list went on. And on, and on, and on. It was just hard to feel them when there wasn't someone there you could turn to and say, 'Look at me, look what I'm managing, and I couldn't do it without you'.
He dug his toes into the sand and pushed them back to the surface, watching the grains tumble from his feet back into the pile belong. He thought he had nailed the love thing. He really thought Liam was his perfect match, but now he had to somehow adjust to the fact Liam was never his. He was always Damien's, and that really fucking hurt. He felt sad and betrayed, but had been trying not to wallow. He felt lost and alone, but he had been trying to keep himself busy. Then one night with someone else that Miles remembered vividly - the other person didn't remember a thing because he had been drunk. He felt cheated out of another moment of intimacy he was craving.
Most of all, he just felt tired. Tired of pretending he was lonely, or pretending he was cool with the break-up and happy for all those involved to finally have what they were meant to. He wasn't denying them that at all, but when was it going to be his time? Where was his person? How come it seemed to easy for everyone else, but near impossible for him?
Through the earbuds in his ear, Lou Reed's Perfect Day was playing. The song that had been playing on the iPhone dock when Rhys had started kissing him the other night when he had been drunk. And Miles hadn't tried to stop him. Maybe he should have. Just friends, just friends, just friends. That should be perfectly okay, because Rhys was one of the best friends a guy could ever want. He was one of the best sort of people this world needed more of. They shouldn't have done it. Miles had told Rhys it hadn't changed anything, because that was what Rhys needed to know, but something had changed. Maybe that 'something' was only Miles feeling even more alone.
After a moment of staring at his screen, Miles brought up Clint's number and sent him a text: know anyone who would be up for a night of no-strings fun?
What was he doing? But did it even matter what he did?
His phone buzzed with the return message: always. any special requests?
Miles' head was telling him to back out here and try to find something else to channel his feelings into. This probably wasn't the answer, but at least it would be a warm body next to his for a night. His response: anyone who knows how to fuck away baggage.
Before Clint's next response came through, Miles drained the beer of his last few drops. He took his wallet out and found the crumbled photo of him and Liam he hadn't been able to discard up to them. He looked at it with a shake of his head and then rolled it up, dropping it into the bottle. What was the fucking point of holding on to what never was?
He walked down to the water's edge and threw the bottle as far out into the water as he could. Water lapped over his feet and he watched the bottle splash into the sea and disappear. That part of his life was gone. He just had no idea how he was supposed to figure out what should come next.
miles morrison ( oc )
Despite his best efforts to thwart the loneliness trying to engulf him, Miles was sitting on the beach alone with a bottle of beer, watching the sunset. His knees were drawn up, elbows resting on them as he gazed at the water lapping on the shore and took a swig from the bottle. He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. No messages. No missed calls. No notifications. Everyone was off doing their own life things. He didn't want to be that needy or clingy friend who called his friends up and disturbed their peaceful Friday evening on dates or resting from a hard week at work.
Broken hearts were hard to mend. Not impossible, though sometimes it felt that way. He just wanted someone to hold. He wanted someone beside him, feeling their warmth nestled against him. He wanted to lie with them and look at the stars once the sun set and night fell. He wanted to hold their hand and walk along the beach with them, feeling the wet sand between his toes. He missed Liam, but at the same time, he felt like feelings were developing for someone else. Someone else he shouldn't be feeling this way about because he was one of his closest friends. Were they just misguided feelings because he was rebounding? But that was the last thing he wanted to inflict on anyone.
It wasn't always possible to pump yourself full of the positive affirmations. 'Life's too short'. 'Be yourself'. 'You make your own happiness'. 'Just keep swimming'. Hell, the list went on. And on, and on, and on. It was just hard to feel them when there wasn't someone there you could turn to and say, 'Look at me, look what I'm managing, and I couldn't do it without you'.
He dug his toes into the sand and pushed them back to the surface, watching the grains tumble from his feet back into the pile belong. He thought he had nailed the love thing. He really thought Liam was his perfect match, but now he had to somehow adjust to the fact Liam was never his. He was always Damien's, and that really fucking hurt. He felt sad and betrayed, but had been trying not to wallow. He felt lost and alone, but he had been trying to keep himself busy. Then one night with someone else that Miles remembered vividly - the other person didn't remember a thing because he had been drunk. He felt cheated out of another moment of intimacy he was craving.
Most of all, he just felt tired. Tired of pretending he was lonely, or pretending he was cool with the break-up and happy for all those involved to finally have what they were meant to. He wasn't denying them that at all, but when was it going to be his time? Where was his person? How come it seemed to easy for everyone else, but near impossible for him?
Through the earbuds in his ear, Lou Reed's Perfect Day was playing. The song that had been playing on the iPhone dock when Rhys had started kissing him the other night when he had been drunk. And Miles hadn't tried to stop him. Maybe he should have. Just friends, just friends, just friends. That should be perfectly okay, because Rhys was one of the best friends a guy could ever want. He was one of the best sort of people this world needed more of. They shouldn't have done it. Miles had told Rhys it hadn't changed anything, because that was what Rhys needed to know, but something had changed. Maybe that 'something' was only Miles feeling even more alone.
After a moment of staring at his screen, Miles brought up Clint's number and sent him a text: know anyone who would be up for a night of no-strings fun?
What was he doing? But did it even matter what he did?
His phone buzzed with the return message: always. any special requests?
Miles' head was telling him to back out here and try to find something else to channel his feelings into. This probably wasn't the answer, but at least it would be a warm body next to his for a night. His response: anyone who knows how to fuck away baggage.
Before Clint's next response came through, Miles drained the beer of his last few drops. He took his wallet out and found the crumbled photo of him and Liam he hadn't been able to discard up to them. He looked at it with a shake of his head and then rolled it up, dropping it into the bottle. What was the fucking point of holding on to what never was?
He walked down to the water's edge and threw the bottle as far out into the water as he could. Water lapped over his feet and he watched the bottle splash into the sea and disappear. That part of his life was gone. He just had no idea how he was supposed to figure out what should come next.
miles morrison ( oc )