Wicked Love
Blaise pushed open the door to the villa and found a puppy. He was in a terrible mood today, so when the little stray dog came up to his feet, he decided to take it home, regardless of whether Milo would allow it or not.
After changing his shoes, Blaise found the villa's living room quiet and dark, with no human voices in sight. His heart tightened, and he took a few steps inside with the dog in his arms. Only when he saw people did he relax.
Milo, dressed in a loose white T-shirt and cotton trousers, leaned against the railing, his bare feet on the paving stones, his back slightly hunched. In the distance, the office buildings appeared as countless gray patches, dappled with light. The evening breeze ruffled his soft black hair. Hearing the noise, he turned his head slightly to look at him. A flash of crimson light appeared, and Blaise noticed that Milo was holding a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke swirled, obscuring his face; his drooping eyelashes were soft, and his dark eyes shifted slightly before looking elsewhere.
Thin and lonely, like a wisp of smoke that might dissipate at any moment.
Blaze suddenly remembered the happy Milo in those photos. Was he really that miserable, unwilling, and unhappy being with him? Blaze suppressed the urge, turned around, went into the kitchen, rummaged through the cupboards, and tried to take out a bowl to give the dog water.
A series of clanging sounds occurred, which didn't seem unusual to Blaise, but to Milo, who was standing on the balcony, it was an unbearable noise.
The noise from the clattering of bowls and chopsticks turned into a cacophony of chatter and maddening clamor, and Milo's hand, holding a cigarette, began to tremble unconsciously.
Blaise carried a bowl to the living room, trying to give the puppy water, but the puppy was clearly uncooperative and started barking.
Milo stubbed out his cigarette, then suddenly turned around. His entire face trembled involuntarily, from his neck to his ears, turning a deep red from pent-up anger.
"Shut up!" Veins bulged on Milo's forehead, and his voice grew louder and louder until it was almost a roar, "Shut up! Shut up! All of you shut up!"
That was completely hysterical and neurotic.
Blaise stood there, stunned.
The injured puppy curled up in his arms, yelping in fright and even urinating all over Blaise.
Milo grabbed a glass from the table and threw it at Blaise.
Blaise dodged the cup, but a small cut on her cheek was made by a shard of glass.
Why can Milo smile like that in front of Miles? But with him, it's always a rollercoaster of emotions, unpredictable and moody? What does he take him for, a rag that can be tossed away at will?
Blaze was also furious: What are you doing!
Milo leaned against the wall, his strength drained by the intense emotions. He glanced at Blaise and suddenly laughed.
"Was Steven actually dead when you buried the body that night in Gan Valley?"
Blaze was stunned and stood there, not expecting Milo to ask him that question.
Seeing his expression, Milo burst out laughing.
Since Jesse has presented him with evidence, it means the matter is settled and there's no need for further questioning.
Milo walked forward barefoot, the cold shards of glass piercing deep into his soles, but he was completely unaware.
The cigarette ash held in his left hand fell in a flurry, leaving grayish-white spots on the blood-stained floor. Milo approached Blaise, who stood frozen in the middle of the mess, step by step.
There was no warning whatsoever.
"Slap!" A crisp and vicious slap landed hard on Blaze's face, so forceful that Blaze's head snapped to one side.
Milo looked up at him and asked disdainfully, "Blaze, aren't you my good dog?"
Blaze froze completely. The burning pain on his face was nothing compared to the shock and bewilderment surging in his eyes. Before he could even react, a second slap landed with even greater force, and clear finger marks quickly appeared on Blaze's cheek.
"At least dogs bark, can you?"
Blaze's Adam's apple bobbed. He looked at Milo, whose demeanor had drastically changed, and vaguely sensed that something was wrong. He tried to raise his hand to restrain Milo's arm and calm him down. But Milo recoiled as if burned by his touch, pulling his hand back sharply and avoiding him with extreme resistance.
Milo lit a cigarette with trembling hands, chuckled nervously in a low voice, and walked straight past Blaise's tall figure to the glass display case in the corner of the living room.
Two items stood alone in the cabinet. On the left was the crystal ball that had been smashed once and clumsily glued back together by Blaise himself; now only a bare, cracked resin base remained. On the right was the miniature cactus plant Blaise had bought for him, lush and vibrant, so much so that… it was almost blinding.
"Bang—crash!" Milo grabbed the glued base and slammed it hard against the hard cabinet door, instantly shattering the already fragile resin into pieces.
Milo grabbed the innocent-looking cactus potted plant next to him, and without even looking at it, slammed it hard to the ground. The fragile terracotta pot shattered with a crash, soil splattered everywhere, and the emerald green cactus rolled among the glass and shards of porcelain.
Blaze reacted and grabbed Milo's frantic arm.
"Get out!" Milo roared, his eyes bloodshot, like a wounded, trapped beast. "Get out of here! Get out!"
The little dog, which had been cowering at Blaise's feet, was terrified by the sudden, violent noise. It howled pitifully, dragged its injured hind leg, and limped away frantically, crashing through the half-closed door and disappearing into the darkness outside.
Milo's reason was completely consumed by rage. He lunged at Blaise like a madman, kicking his calves with his blood- and mud-covered feet, shoving him with all his might, and recklessly pushing him toward the door.
"Get out! Get out! Do you hear me! Get out—!"
Blaze was forced back step by step by his violent, reckless shoving. He could have easily stopped the out-of-control attack, but he didn't. He didn't even raise his hand to block, but silently and passively endured the storm of kicks and shoves. Just like that, Blaze was kicked and punched by Milo, staggering out of the door.
"Bang!" The heavy door was slammed shut by Milo with his last bit of strength. The huge impact echoed in the empty villa, making the walls seem to tremble.
The moment the door closed, Milo leaned against the cold door panel, as if all the strength had been completely drained from his body. He slowly slid down the door panel and sat on the ground, covering his face with his hands tightly. Suppressed, broken sobs finally broke out of his throat and escaped from between his fingers.
In an instant, emotions burst forth and could no longer be contained.
More glasses shattered, screams and curses mingled, and fists pounded the walls until blood seeped out.
"Disgusting, so disgusting," Milo muttered to himself, unconsciously walking into the kitchen. He pulled out a drawer, grabbed a fruit knife, and almost without hesitation pointed it at his wrist, his hand trembling violently.
He felt like a balloon filled with water, on the verge of bursting. Just one cut, just one cut. If he could make an opening, all the pain would flow out, and he would be at peace.
Is this really necessary?
Do I really have to die in vain like this?
What a cowardly fool! She was just tricked by a man once, is it really worth making such a fuss about dying?
Besides, is he clean himself? What kind of good person is he anyway?
Milo trembled all over, and one loud voice after another screamed around his mind. Finally, he threw away the knife and started punching the wall with his fists. Even after his joints were broken, he continued to pound on the wall, venting his anger and disgust.
Blood trickled down the white wall in thin streams, mingling with sweat and dripping onto the floor. He then started banging his head against the wall until the intense pain forced him to his senses. Only then did Milo realize that his face was completely wet.
fraud.
fraud.
Everything in this world is fake.
Theo Greene is long dead, and Milo... there's no such thing as Milo in this world.
Milo pulled out some pills from the drawer and swallowed two under the running water from the sink faucet. He bent his arms over the sink rim, splashed cold water on his face, closed his eyes tightly, adjusted his breathing, and tried his best to resist the surging urge to self-destruct.
He hated his out-of-control self, hated his out-of-control life, and wished he could immediately peel off his skin, cut out his flesh, cook it, fry it, or do whatever he wanted—anything would be better than being this so-called "human" who was neither fish nor fowl.
After a long while, Milo felt that his body's reaction seemed to have subsided as the sedative took effect.
He belatedly realized what he had just done, but at that moment, he didn't even have the strength to regret it.
Milo turned around wearily, only to find Blaze standing by the door, looking at him and the mess on the floor.
Water droplets dripped down his cheeks, and Milo's lips curled into a stiff smile, a flippant grin.
Was it because seeing his illness and his appearance was different from the perfect image he had envisioned? Did that lead to disappointment? Disgust?
It's pointless.
Getting to this point is fucking pointless.
"Blaze, who am I?"
Blaise raised his hand without hesitation, but suddenly he hesitated.
"So you finally understand? Theo Green, whom you admire, has everything you desire, but do you truly understand him? Do you know he also harbors dark thoughts? No, you don't. What you admire is merely a beautiful, imagined shadow. He died when you were just beginning to experience love, which is why you're so obsessed. Even now, standing before you, you're still trying to reach for Theo Green's shadow through me, even knowing it's impossible, you keep your head buried in the sand. You're foolish, always have been, and that's why you've retained this weakness. From beginning to end, I've been using this weakness to play along with your act."
"But now, I'm tired, I can't keep acting."
Milo felt his stomach cramping in waves.
Seeing Milo about to leave, Blaze suddenly panicked. He had a premonition that this time, he would truly lose him.
Blaze, however, gripped Milo's shoulders tightly, his eyes growing increasingly red.
Milo raised his voice: "I told you to get lost, can't you understand human language?"
Blaise gestured silently, his emotions rising: I don't understand! Keep lying to me! As long as I'm useful to you, that's fine! As long as I'm willing, it's worth it!
Milo roared, "But I won't!"
Blaise still wouldn't let go.
Milo's chest heaved violently. He looked into Blaise's stubborn eyes, hardened his heart, and kissed Blaise's lips forcefully, almost taking away his breath.
Their lips intertwined, but Blaze could only feel pain.
During the scuffle, Milo reached up to Blaise's waistband, pulled down his pants, and then squatted down without any warning.
Blaze felt a chill run down his spine and, almost a second before Milo could take his mouth into her mouth, he pushed him away and buttoned his pants back up.
Beyond the immense mental shock, an indescribable resistance and pain instantly gripped Blaise's heart, along with an inexplicable sense of rejection and antagonism.
Milo knelt on the ground, then suddenly laughed, tears streaming down his face. "See? You can't accept it. You can't accept Theo Green doing this, you can't accept him being so despicable, can you?"
Blaise clenched his teeth, clearly on the verge of exploding with rage.
"Do you love me?" Milo looked at Blaise. "Blaze, who do you really love? Can you even tell who's in front of you?"
Milo didn't know why he was crying; his emotional breakdowns came one after another, driving him to the brink of madness.
Blaze's suppressed rage surged up, and he grabbed Milo, gesturing wildly: Why should I care! You are clearly him!
He couldn't understand Milo's words, let alone why he would ask such an absurd question.
Milo hardened his voice and pressed, "Say it! You love me, you love who I am now, not some bullshit Theo Green! I want you to say it out loud! Blaze, can you fucking do that?"
Blaise's chest heaved. Of course he couldn't. He couldn't speak. Besides, what could he say to Milo to satisfy him? If he said he loved anyone, Milo would always find a reason to hold onto it.
Why has he changed so much? Why has he become so unreasonable and uncontrollable?
Theo Green isn't like that.
The person standing before him, a person who was always perfect, seemed to have suddenly developed cracks, cracking open and becoming mottled.
The question that had been building up inside finally erupted under this interrogation. Blaze grabbed Milo's arm and gestured: "And what about you? Who do you love? Are you using me to get revenge on Miles?"
Milo laughed self-deprecatingly, tears streaming down his face.
This day came so quickly and decisively. He recklessly shattered the deceptive deal, and surprisingly, he felt a great sense of satisfaction.
This destructive pleasure that surged from the depths of his heart made Milo blurt out: "You deserve it! You really think Sigon treats you like family? Someone who truly loves you wouldn't send you to your death time and time again! Theo Green doesn't love you, he never will, he's long dead! As for me, of course I don't love you either! What is there about you, you idiot, that's lovable? There's no one in this world who could truly love you!"
Blaze grabbed Milo's chest with one hand, pressed him against the door, and roughly gripped Milo's shoulder.
Is this what Milo wanted?
Do you have to force him to treat him with violence to prove that he doesn't love him like a god, treating him as a shadow of Theo Green?
"Get away! Get away!" Milo struggled fiercely, biting Blaze's arm so hard it bled, but Blaze wouldn't let go.
A strong feeling of suffocation washed over him. Milo gripped the doorknob, wanting to scream, but his mind went blank.
This pose...
This nightmarish, humiliating posture, like a dog kneeling and crawling on the bed.
I want to die.
Why can't he just die?
Milo froze, ceasing all movement.
But just as Milo gave up resisting, Blaise felt an extreme pain spreading through his heart.
What exactly is he doing?
Is he hurting Theo?
This terrifying thought suddenly popped into Blaise's head, and he felt like someone who was on a high ropes and had just lost his footing, about to fall to his death.
Going forward is wrong, retreating is wrong, no matter what you do, it's wrong.
He could no longer continue.
This is not what he wanted.
Blaise stopped.
Milo collapsed to the ground, his knees and elbows covered in bruises, and his face was a mixture of sweat and tears.
Blaise covered his face with his hands, forcing himself to pull himself out of the extreme emotion.
They were fine yesterday, and he could pretend that Theo didn't love him, so why, why did it still come to this?
Blaze tried to touch Milo's arm, but as soon as he touched his wrist, he saw Milo look up at him with eyes full of hatred.
A shocking display of hatred.
That gaze was like a branding iron burning every inch of Blaise's skin, causing him unbearable pain.
For the first time, Blaise realized he was a complete coward. He couldn't accept that Theo hated him. Just one more glance into those eyes felt like it would break his heart.
But, but this is Theo.
Blaze knelt on the ground, slowly grasped Milo's shoulders, and pulled the stiff, powerless Milo into his arms.
Theo, Theo, Theo.
You are mine.
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