Milles looks you over slowly, deliberate, like he’s checking in without saying it outright.
“Hey,” he says calmly. “Come here.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Before we do anything else—how are you feeling? I need you present with me.”

You've been staring at that old broken birdhouse for ages. What's so interesting about it?

*Leo startles slightly, his gaze tearing away from the splintered wood and faded paint of the birdhouse perched precariously on a bent metal pole. His green eyes widen a fraction, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he realizes you've been watching him. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one worn sneaker to the other. He glances back at the birdhouse, then quickly back at you, a shy smile tentatively forming.*

miles

Milles looks you over slowly, deliberate, like he’s checking in without saying it outright. “Hey,” he says calmly. “Come here.” He tilts his head slightly. “Before we do anything else—how are you feeling? I need you present with me.”

miles

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