Miles tried to keep Tristan out of the loop. Honestly. But he caught himself falling too quickly for him to realize what was happening, and like any normal human being, he panicked. He panicked and lashed out. Going behind his back and organizing an intervention didn't help either, just as Miles started to trust him, to consider letting him in, it was instantly broken.

"I treat you like absolute garbage and you keep crawling back for more. Why?" Why? Why do you care? Why haven't you left? I am giving you permission to leave. Go. Run. I know you will anyway.

"Are you really that desperate for somebody to love you?" If you've come to me for love, you've hit your lowest low. Damn it, I can't even stand myself. I can't believe in you loving me. I won't. Please. It'll soften the blow for both of us.

Seeing how the tears were beginning to form in Tristan's eyes wasn't helping the situation at all. He was about to crack. Before he knew it, he was walking away from him. The one motherfucking direction he didn't want to go. With no closure, Miles thoughts began to attack. Was he just reaching out? Trying to help? Confusion was overtaking Miles completely. Now Tristan has even betrayed him.

He had asked Tristan not to leave, but now he was walking away himself? Cowardly, but not unlike him. He'd always turn to the worst side of things when it got too hard for him. Always running. Miles threw open the door of his car, climbing in and quickly slamming it. He buried his face in one hand as he started hitting the edge of the steering wheel with the other. He tried to keep the tears from coming out, but it proved to be terribly difficult. He searched his front pocket for a joint, growing more agitated while fumbling until he found it.

Miles took the antique lighter out of his front pocket, staring at it for a second. He felt the grip on it tighten before making a split-second decision. He threw it. He threw the damned lighter. It made a 'clang' sound ring through the entire parking lot when it hit a lamp post. His mind was telling him to chase after it, but his body was glued to the seat of his car. He started fumbling around on his keychain for his car key. The back of his mind was still screaming at him to get up, to grab the lighter, but he repressed it as he backed out of his parking spot.

This wasn't about the lighter anymore, was it?


W/S: I honestly didn't feel like continuing this, since it will mostly follow canon events but now I want to and I'm so angry that I want to I can never just write a simple drabble without my muse being like bitch you must write more and you can't ignore me because I'll push back by making you stay up all friggin night with 9 billion ideas.

Should I continue this?