"Nnngh," I mumbled groggily, trying to pull Milo closer to me as he laughed quietly. His large hands rubbed my back once, before pulling the blankets up around my body, kissing my forehead.

"I'm just going to help prepare dinner, okay?" Milo said, and I frowned, but nodded. Milo smiled, kissing me once again, running his fingers through my hair. "Do you want Lark to come up and stay with you for a bit?"

"Mm. Might be safer for all of us. She'll probably blow the microwave up if I leave her downstairs," I said, giving Milo a small smile as I rubbed my eyes, rolling over on my bed to lie on my side, staring at my boyfriend. Milo sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on a sweatshirt, hair a little flat on the side he had been lying on for the past hour. Milo chuckled, humming in agreement before taking my hand in his, kissing my palm reassuringly.

It's been a few days since my... break down? Was that what it was? I hadn't said it out loud, but something had definitely snapped that day, splitting me into pieces. I hadn't been able to calm down straight away, my nerves like pulled elastic just waiting, waiting, for Milo to realise that I wasn't worth it. When I told him that he's going to leave, that I know that he's lying to me when he told me he'd stay, when I screamed at him and... hurt him, I was just waiting for him to say that he realised I was right.

But he hadn't. Didn't. 

No, he was still here, giving me sad but devoted looks, gently pulling me to him to hold me close and to stop me from lashing out. And God, I wanted to push him away, to make him go away on my own terms. I wanted to make him leave, rather than watch him leave because he didn't want me any more. But the more he assured me in his quiet, determined tone and looked at me with his stupid, lovely face, I couldn't bring myself to fight him any more.

So, instead of trying to push him away, I held him closer. Too close, crushing him and suffocating him, but Milo didn't say anything. He just held me, rubbed my back, bundled the two of us in one too-small blanket and matched his breaths with mine. I was clingy, needy, desperately hanging off Milo like an anchor but he didn't seem to mind at all. 

Sometimes, he would grow a little exasperated when I didn't let him leave my room, following him to the bathroom with my blanket wrapped around my shoulders, head pressed against the semi-closed door. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't sit still when Milo closed the bathroom door behind him, the light click of the lock deafening to my ears. I didn't bang down the doors, at least not on the second day, and would simply stand in front of the door, hands on the wood. 

I didn't know how Milo knew I was standing there - maybe it was the shadow I cast under the door, or the occasional scratches my nails would etch into the door, but he did. Milo would let out a little sigh, open the door, and pull me into the bathroom. He would plant me on the edge of the bathtub, mumble for me to turn around and not look while he showered. I didn't, not wanting to give Milo a reason to finally push me away. 

Any other day, I probably would have been been trying to sneak unashamed glances at my boyfriend's naked body, and Milo would have definitely caught me and grumbled about it, and I would turn away with a smirk and teasing remark. Maybe if I weren't so scared I would have made suggestive quips and flirted, but instead I just sat there, nibbling on my fingernails and listening to the steady pelter of water behind me. 

Now, Milo gave me a long look as he stood up from the bed, our hands still locked. I squeezed his hand once, my tentative smile peeking out from the edge of the blanket.

"It's okay," I said, squeezing his hand again. "I'm okay."

"I know," Milo said, eyes crinkling as his smile widened. His thumb rubbed a circle on the back of my hand, before slowly letting go. Milo turned to go downstairs to save whatever Lark was attempting to make for us downstairs, and I felt the need to speak before he left the room.

"I love you," I whispered, Milo stopping with his hand on the frame of the door. He turned around quickly, fast enough that I caught the surprised and affected look on his face, which slowly seeped into unadulterated joy. It wasn't that I never said it; hell, I told him I loved him all the time before we even started dating. But it was probably the way I said it, the way it was an 'I love you' and a 'Sorry' in the three words, and a 'Thank you' and a promise murmured in the spaces between them. 

Milo seemed to lean a little on the door frame, head knocking lightly against the etched wood.

"I know," Milo said, making me pull my blanket tighter, my heart constricting. "I love you, too, Ducky."

I smiled as I watched Milo retreat from the door, a little apprehensive about seeing the vision of his back deserting me, but held myself together. Rolling myself across my bed, I pulled Milo's pillow closer, inhaling the scent that lingered there, smiling. 

Yes, Milo wouldn't leave. He wouldn't, I want to trust him. I think I can trust him. I want nothing more than to trust him.

I hugged the pillow tighter, face buried in it, when Lark came into the bedroom. 

"Are you asleep, Dovey?" Lark asked, melodic voice soft, holding the shape of a smile. I shook my head in the pillow, my ex-girlfriend chuckling, before climbing onto the bed beside me.

"Did you blow up the microwave?" I asked, voice muffled by the pillow, Lark laughing loudly at that, shoving my shoulders into the mattress in jest.

"Wow, rude. No, I did not blow up the microwave, unlike you," Lark huffed, and I turned my head then, giving her a raised brow.

"Oh, really? Then what was that loud crash Milo and I heard earlier?" I pressed, corner of my mouth lifting up as Lark crossed her arms over her chest, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face in offence.

"I just dropped a pot, okay?" Lark said, sticking out her tongue, making me giggle. "And I may or may not have burnt the mince. And I potentially, uh, spilled the seasoning mix all over the counter, but I cleaned it up!"

"Good God, woman," I said, gasping dramatically. "Guess we're all going hungry tonight then, huh?"

"Well, I'm hoping Milo can salvage something from the mess. He's not the greatest cook either though, so my hope is very, very small right now," Lark said, pinching her fingers together as she squinted. 

I laughed, Lark giving me a warm look as she silently regarded me, tucking her legs under her as she sat on my bed. She carefully reached out, brushing some of my long hair from my face. I could see her eyeing the darkening self-inflicted bruise in the middle of my forehead, trekking down to the others on my jawline. She didn't comment on them, and just brushed her fingers over them, soothing.

"We're here for you, you know," Lark said, tucking some of my hair behind my ear, fingers grazing my earlobe. "Milo and I. And Gia and Geoff too, I'm sure. You have us, your Parliament."

I laughed at that, the sound a little strained as a wave of emotion passed over me, clogging up my throat.

"What are you gonna do? Swoop at anything that tries to hurt me?" I said, joking lightly as I pulled myself up, the blanket dropping from around my shoulders.

"Magpies are very defensive of their family, you know," Lark said, shrugging with a smile. "You protected me, from the fire. I'd do the same for you, too. Even without wings."

I didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. Lark seemed to notice the words getting stuck in my throat, simply opening her arms up to create a space for me. A laugh bubbled from my chest as I flung myself forward, holding onto Lark tightly. 

We didn't say anything and just hugged, our embrace saying more than words ever could. It had always been like this with Lark, just birds of a feather, understanding each other to the bone. I found comfort in it, always.

When we pulled back, though, Lark spoke. She had a little tension in her brow as she clasped my shoulders, squeezing.

"You don't have to agree, Culver, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. You know, a professional," Lark said, thumb massaging my shoulders soothingly. She could probably feel the immediate tension that seized me shoulders, rubbing them more carefully, untying the knots in my muscles. "There's nothing wrong with that, Dovey. If you get get a cold, you go to the doctor. This is the same. There's nothing to be ashamed of, but if it helps, you know I've been seeing someone too, and she's really helped."

"I don't know..." I said, sniffling. "It's, uh, I'm scared. If... If I see them... this thing I have, it becomes real. I don't..."

"That's true," Lark said, nodding. "God knows I felt the same way. It's like admitting that... that you're ill. But that's the first step, because once you find out what's making you ill, you can try to get better. Do you... Do you want to get better?"

I did. I did. I really did. I didn't want to feel like this, I didn't want to hurt myself, but most of all I didn't want to hurt other people. I didn't want to be the reason Milo had a sad, pained expression on his face when he saw me, I didn't want to be a burden, or a problem, or something that was wrong.

"I do," I said, a scratch to my voice. "Just... Just not right away. I need time."

"Of course," Lark said, hugging me again. "I'll give you the details of the doctor I'm seeing so you can call her when you're ready. She's really good."

"Okay," I breathed, knotting my fingers together. It was then that my stomach rumbled, making Lark and I both laugh loudly.

"I'll go check on how our dinner is faring," Lark said, hopping off my bed. Lark's face morphed into surprise when I got up too, retracting my wings so I could pull on a baggy hoodie - one of Milo's, I think. It smelled like him.

"I'll... I'll help too," I said, Lark blinking like she had something in her eye. "I want to help."

"Just promise you won't blow up the microwave," Lark said, coughing a little and turning her head, hands quickly wiping her eyes. 

"Can't make promises I know I won't keep," I said, nudging my friend's elbow, stepping around her with a light smile, which she returned with a roll of her eyes.

When the two of us made it downstairs, Milo was glaring into a sizzling saucepan of something. Without looking up, Milo grumbled into the unidentified sludge in the pan that smelled of something foul.

"I don't know what you did to this poor beef, Lark, but I don't think it's edible," Milo huffed, turning down the heat in defeat.

"I think we should just order pizza then. Or get Uber eats. I wouldn't mind a kebab, or HSP, or something ridiculously unhealthy," I said, Milo's head snapping up as he jumped, clearly surprised to see me in the kitchen, or downstairs in general. In the past few days, I hadn't left my room at all, Milo and Lark always bringing me food as I lay in bed, my body and mind weighed down by everything and nothing.

Milo, like Lark, looked like he was about to cry, but managed to hold himself together as he ran his fingers through his hair, nodding. He swallowed thickly, before dumping the mysterious contents of the saucepan into the bin, washing his hands and slipping around the counter to wrap his arm around my waist, kissing the side of my head happily.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Milo said, and I leaned into him as I grabbed my phone out of the pocket of my loose pyjama bottoms.

"Order whatever you guys want, it's on me," I said, holding my phone out to Lark, who squealed and began to quickly scroll through various menus, practically drooling onto my screen. Milo and I chuckled as we watched her tap her fingers everywhere, Milo's hand rubbing my hip.

I want to give back everything you two have given me and more, in any way I can. Whatever you want, whatever you need, it will never be enough, because you've given me everything.

But I can try.

I'll make damn sure I'll try.

A/N: I've wrote this chapter listening to A New Day Has Come by Celine Dion, and I think the song is really fitting :') The song hit me right in the emotions at 2am, y'all.