He doesn't know about her past, and they're both okay with that. They met under strange pretenses and it confuses Miles, but Esme likes whatever they are all the more for that. When she's lying beneath him, sometimes she pretends that she hears three certain words, but she wouldn't ever tell him that, though unbeknownst to her, he thinks about saying those same words just to tell himself that he has someone to say it to. They're frayed at every edge and they need someone, but they're too screwed up to belong to anyone else, so they need each other. She has a nasty habit of opening up when she's tired enough, usually after too many hours without some sort of chemical calm to steady her. Once scheduled to the nines, she's become more and more lenient with her meds around Miles, deciding he's a better substance to be dependent on.
She doesn't know the meaning of the word family in any other instance, but curled up in Miles' blanket -which she's decided is her new favorite- she can't shut up. "When I was little, I used to play in my mom's makeup and she'd always get crazy mad about it. When she was working late one day, my dad came upstairs and caught me, brush in hand and I was so scared that he'd get mad too that I just instantly started bawling. He felt so bad about upsetting me that I somehow convinced him to let me do his makeup, and when my mom came home he had two different blushes, red lipstick and clips in his hair." The story was relayed with a reminiscent smile, soft and sad, and lucky for her, her back was facing Miles so that he couldn't see her eyes water for the split second it took for her to collect herself. He doesn't understand why it's so hard for her to talk about her family, but as long as he never questions it, she's okay with keeping him in the dark.
She doesn't have much of her future figured out, but now that she's made the mistake of getting attached to the boy beside her, she's scared that he won't be in it. Nobody has stayed so far, so she doesn't expect him to be the first. These fears only recently started eating at Miles, but they've been hungrier lately, so Esme and her bag of tricks came at a good time. She's like a walking pharmacy, and in the pit of his stomach he knows that this isn't the answer, but he continues to fill that pit regardless, trusting the practical stranger to cure his ailments. She wants him to cure her too, but they're both still so empty and misguided.
Their hands always seem to gravitate together, and it's comforting while it lasts, but they're not sure what they're really doing, and nobody seems to be on their side, though that might be Esme's fault; she's not good at keeping anyone's secrets but her own, so Miles' new habit has been spreading like wildfire through the halls. If it gets too much to bear, she decided, she has plenty more in her stocked arsenal to make him forget that he cares. She learned how to forget a long time ago.