𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 • Neil Perry

Chapter 11

MILLY took all the caution in the world to close the front door without making a peep. Her face and Neil's alike contorted with the furrowing of their brows and the gritting of their teeth, all until the door was entirely sealed shut.

She slowly took her grip off the handle, Neil relaxing with a gentle sigh. And she led the way upstairs, pressing a finger to her lips. The both of them shared hushed giggles, followed by the shushing of each other, all until they touched base.

Neil was the final one in the room, leaning against her bedroom door with more deflating relief.

He picked up the curved chair by her vanity with the intention of hooking it under her handle, only for it to tumble to the floor.

He tried his best to save it but it came thumping to the ground all the same.

Milly turned sharply, a hand flying to her mouth as Neil's eyes widened to the size of tennis balls at her.

His arms outstretched toward the chair relaxed, "Sorry, I didn't—"

"I've tried it before, it doesn't work," she says. "Obviously."

The both of them held one another's eyes, laughter falling between them after a brief pause.

Milly took off her coat, hanging it on her bedpost, then the single white glove that she placed on her bedside table. Once she'd sat herself down on the bed's edge, she watched as Neil strolled slowly around the space, eyeing its walls.

"So... this is your room," he says.

"It's not my room," Milly replies emptily. When his head turned away from the photos stuck to her mirror, she knew she owed him an explanation. "My room has bluer walls with loads of posters and one window that can see out onto a busy street with loads of cars. And my bed's smaller with three broken planks taped together under the mattress. And, god, don't get me started on the neighbours—they're loud and mean."

"Sounds miserable."

"I think life's what you make it, and this place..." she looked around the room, it's pink walls shrouded in darkness, "it may be perfect but it's not home."

Neil unbuttoned his coat, folding it over the back of the chair he fixed up onto its legs again. Then he joined her on the bed.

"Do you want to move away?" he asks.

"I need to," she held his eyes. "There's not a lot keeping me here. What about you?"

"I want to live a full life. I want to travel, I want to see the world. I want to do something memorable."

"I don't think it's what you do that makes a memory, it's... it's how you feel."

He looked over every inch of her face before letting his focus fall back to her light eyes. "How do you feel right now?"

"Alive."

That answer was enough for Neil to close the gap between them. And Milly let him. She let him hold her face in his hand, she let him lean into her until her back was pressed against her bedsheets. She opened her lips to him, welcoming his feverish tongue as he pressed deeper. His other hand found her hip, tracing the figure of her body as he kicked off his shoes.

But each sole fell with two bumps. One... and two.

And the sound didn't stop at Milly's ears, she heard it in her chest too, her body flinching underneath Neil.

He shot up, looking over his shoulder to eye the shoes that hit the ground a little heavier than necessary.

When he looked back at the girl pressed against her mattress, he grit his teeth apologetically. "Sorry."