McCormick, Miller.

Emelia Jones.: One last thing || Miller

emi-jones:

mc-miller:

emi-jones:

Emi felt her heart beat faster every time Miller turned over to look at her. He had happiness in his eyes. Something that she’d just noticed, as if it wasn’t there before the conversation they had. “You better keep your eyes on the road,” she joked as he turned over to look at her again. She smirked at him as he turned back to drive. It was all unbelievable. After one short conversation, she’d gone from depressed to cheery. They were happy again. She was with him. He was with her. There was nothing else she wanted. Every time he smiled his adorable smile at her, she melted. His smirk was worse. She remembered back at BarBend when he would get into a flirtatious mood and make her blush endlessly. Thinking about the good memories they had brought back all the butterflies as if she was reliving the moment. She turned her head to face Miller and rested it on the seat, admiring the look of perfection. She felt relieved being near him. Just sitting there, next to him, made her feel safer than ever. She missed being in his arms. Lying in bed all night in silence with his arms around her. There was nothing to be said. Just the feeling of Miller close to her was enough. It was her idea of a perfect night. His question, however, brought her to think of home. If she’d ever go back. Where she would stay. How she’d explain herself if she ever did go back. Her parents would probably lock her in her room forever. Rail up the windows so she could never leave again. She’d have to figure it out before the night was over. Before they sent out the police to look for her or something. “Anywhere but back home,” she said with a sigh. She thought about the places they could go and just be together. She would’ve asked to go to his house, but afraid it’d be too much, she bit her tongue. “Not going back to that place ever again,” she rolled her eyes to the thought.

At Emi’s lighthearted joke, Miller’s face tinged a deep shade of red. She’d noticed how often he’d been looking at her. It didn’t seem to be like something in his control, however. He’d get these almost overpowering urges to look at her. Take in her beauty. Show her how much he really loved her. But he couldn’t do that. Not now. They’d just gotten back together and he didn’t want to risk messing up what could be his final chance with her. He’d fallen too quickly and reacted rashly last time and he wasn’t about to let that happen again. If she left him, for good this time, he didn’t know where he’d be. He’d probably drink himself to an early grave, drowning his sorrows in his dad’s leftover Jack Daniel’s. He could feel her eyes upon him, but he willed his gaze to stay on the road. He knew they needed to stop somewhere before she became to big of a distraction unintentionally and he ended up getting into a wreck. He furrowed his brow, listening intently to her. Every word she said, no matter about what, seemed to captivate him in the strangest way, making him feel as though he needed to listen. Everything she had to say was important in one way or another. “You don’t have to. You can come with me. Maybe back to my place, if you need somewhere to get away to for a while. You can stay with me as long as you need.” He said, momentarily taring his gaze from the road to offer her a warm, assuring smile. He hoped what he’d proposed wasn’t too much of a step forward. Going to fast as they had before would only prove to be disastrous just as it had been the last time. He figured his dad would be passed out by the time he got home, anyway. That’d give him no time to discover that Emi’d be staying with him. He was afraid of what might occur in the scenario of his father finding them, but he thought it worth the risk. She needed a place to stay and he wasn’t about to let her out on her own. Not when she needed him. Not ever.

Every time Miller blushed, Emi felt the urge to go up to him and give him the biggest hug ever. She’d missed that blush. A month without seeing it was painful. Almost as painful as not being there with him for that whole time. She smiled at him, and turned back to look straight ahead. The road they were now on was a bit more familiar. It wasn’t too far from her high school. Senior year was just about to end and she hadn’t showed up for weeks, still being able to keep her grade up to a B. School had always felt like a breeze to her. Going in, writing a bit of pointless crap on paper, coming home, and repeating the cycle. She looked back at Miller who was offering her to stay at his place for a bit and smiled in admiration. She really didn’t think he’d ask since it wasn’t his problem at all. “Yeah, I’d love to,” she said, ignoring her thoughts. She paused to think about it again. Miller, being Miller, would offer her to stay at his house whenever she wanted, since, well, he was Miller. The most sweetest person she’d ever known. Knowing that, she knew he was probably just trying to be nice. “Are you sure? I can find another place to stay, I’d hate to bother you or anything,” she assured. One of her friends would probably let her stay with them. Even though she’d been putting them off for weeks, she figured they didn’t mind since a few of them had already offered to run away with her. For now, none of that was important. Where she stayed would be a problem for later. The only thing on her mind was Miller, and spending the night with him. She could think of the rest later.

His heart began beating madly as she accepted his offer; thinking of spending the night, or maybe even longer, with Emi gave him an indescribable feeling. He felt better than he had in months. No urges to pick up the bottle, none to drink his sorrows away. He had no sorrows, he was back with Emi, and that was the only thing that mattered. His heart continued to flutter rapidly as she spoke with that same angelic voice, skipping a beat every now and again. “You could never bother me. In fact, it’d be a bother if you didn’t stay,” He assured her, offering his signature smirk with pink tinted cheeks. At that moment, he couldn’t think of anything more bothersome than worrying about her being elsewhere. He didn’t want the feeling to come back. The empty, hopeless, miserable feeling that he’d been plagued with ever since he’d decided to break up with Emi. He never wanted that feeling to come back. He wanted to feel as he was now; happy, carefree, blinded by love. Nothing felt better in the world than being with her, and nothing felt quite as right without her. He had a hard time remembering how he’d gotten along with out her. She was his everything now, and to imagine losing that was enough to kill him. His mind consumed with only positive thoughts, he didn’t even think of the consequences if he were to be caught with her at his house. He didn’t want to think about that. They wouldn’t get caught in the first place. When they were together, it felt like nothing could hurt them. However naive and cliche it sounded; those were his feelings exactly. He’d never fallen like this before. It made him question whether he’d ever fallen in love. None of his past relationships was compared to this one. His feelings for his past lovers never exceeded his for Emi. She was everything he wanted and more. He’d never had that with anyone else. Miller wished his mom could meet her, knowing she’d have loved Emi. He had vague memories of his mother; but in them she’d always been loving, caring, nurturing, everything a mother should be. His father had it planted in his head that Miller was the reason she left. Though Miller was never troublesome as a child and a bit of a mama’s boy, he believed his father because it was the only thing he’d ever been told. Ever since she left when he was seven. He often wondered where she was, how she was doing, if she missed him like he missed her. But then he remembered she didn’t. If she did, she’d have came back, wouldn’t she have? She would’ve never left him if she actually loved him. She’d have stayed. But she didn’t. She left him with his drunken, abusive brute of a father without a single warning. There were no heartfelt goodbyes. No letter explaining herself. Just an empty wardrobe and no aroma of breakfast wafting into Miller’s bedroom from the kitchen. Ever since his mother had left, he’d had terrible nightmares. His sleep was fitful and restless - when he could fall asleep, that is. Some nights he’d just stay up until the crack of dawn, sitting at the window, waiting for a mother that’d never come home. His father said it was stupid. Waiting and waiting when he was sure she wouldn’t come back. She didn’t want Miller, that was why she left. He was a pathetic, useless, waste of space in her life and she didn’t care. All of this uttered from the mouth of his father; all of it believed by Miller. When he used to have nightmares, his mother would always come into his room, try to sooth him. Give him a warm cup of tea to drink and then rub his back until he drifted off to sleep, the nightmares seemingly warded off. There was no one to do that now. Now, he had to deal with it on his own. The lack of sleep, the endless nights. He wondered if it showed on his face, how little he slept. He avoided looking into mirrors at all costs. He didn’t want to see himself for the longest time. After breaking up with Emi, he’d been completely and utterly disgusted with himself, unable to even look in the mirror and barely able to hear his own voice. He hated himself for the pain he’d put himself, and more importantly her, through. Before he could delve any further into the depths of his thoughts, they’d pulled up to his house. Sucking in his breath, he took the key out of the ignition, letting himself out of the car and then helping Emi out. He reached out for her hand, walking towards the door of the house. “Be as quiet as you possibly can.” Miller said solemnly in a low voice, praying his father would be passed out somewhere. He reached into his pocket, digging around until he found his spare key. The door creaked open, a little too loudly for his liking. He shut it softly behind them before inching forward, towards the living room, where they would need to cross to get to Miller’s room. About half way through Miller let out a sigh of relief, seeing no sign of his father. “Okay, we’re almost the-” He began, but was unable to finish his sentence, feeling himself being pulled up by the scruff of his neck. Looking back from the ground to behind him, he noticed he was hovering in the air, wanting to cry out from the pain in the back of his neck. He tried turning his neck to look at his captor, and the sight terrified him. There his dad stood, a good head taller than Miller with about 200 pounds on him, holding him up by the back of his neck. “What do you think you’re doing? And who’s that?” He asked, freeing the skin of Miller’s neck from his grasp, causing the boy to drop to the ground. “N-nothing! T-that’s Emi. Remember? I told you about her. Remember?” Miller stuttered, trying not to sound to frightened. His father merely snorted, looking at Emi as though she were a prime rib and then looking to Miller as if he were trash. “Didn’t I tell you she was out of your league? You need to aim low, buddy. Fives don’t aim for nines. You’re a five, my friend,” His dad explained, slurring his words slightly. He was drunk. Terrific. “Now, do you remember my policy of no friends - or girlfriends - in my house?” He asked, disgust clear in his voice. “N-no, dad. You’ve never told me that…” Miller said, trying his best to remember that rule, but failing. He’d never once told Miller that he couldn’t bring friends over. It wasn’t like he had, anyway, but still. “Are you back talking me?” His dad asked, his face becoming flushed with anger. Before he could get a chance to explain himself, his father had lashed out, landing a swift punch to Miller’s jaw. Miller let out a small yelp, but said nothing, knowing it was best to keep quiet and let his wrath continue. “I never told you that rule because I assumed you had no friends. Let alone a girlfriend, or whatever the fuck she is. She’s pretty hot, though, I’ll give you that. Looks a bit like a hooker, though. How much did you pay for her?” Miller’s father said, shrugging at his out of line comments. Rage bubbled within Miller, causing him to jump to his feet. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t you ever call her that. She’s not a hooker. Just because you pay for all of your women doesn’t mean I do, so shut your fucking-” Before he could finish, a searing pain shot through his left eye. Dazed, Miller fell backwards, unable to defend himself as his dad hovered over him, jabbing him everywhere he could. “I’m your fucking father, boy! You hear that? You ungrateful little twat! Don’t ever fucking speak to me like that, you worthless son of a bitch!” His father yelled, continuing on with the direct hits connecting to Miller’s jaw, his eyes, nose, anywhere else in arm’s length. All Miller could do was lay there in silence, struggling to push his dad off him - but to no avail. He felt a warm, sticky substance begin trickling down the side of his head and nose, but was too out of it to discover what it was. He could’ve handled being beaten like this, but what all made it worse was that Emi was there, and if she got involved, he knew his father wouldn’t hesitate to wail on her as well. He lay there, taking the beating, praying that Emi wouldn’t try to intervene and just let it happen. He deserved it, anyway.

(Source: alexandrawhite)