Writer's shit: I was listening to Marianas Trench's "Porcelain" and started thinking about Miles's current state of growing distant and afraid to break down and tell someone, and this fic just sort of popped into my head. My muse is beating me up to write it This was also inspired by Anernerk's fic, Black Roses, which is such an emotional read, and I suggest it to anyone if you haven't to read it.

Without further ado, I'm about to bombard you with feels. I also wanted to write this in Tristan's POV, but I suck at writing in first-person so I gave up on that.

You thought by now, you'd have it figured out

You can't erase the way it pulls

When seasons change

Miles sighed, trying to catch his breath. The burning sensation on his reddening wrist was intensifying with every glance he gave it. He looked up at his father with pleading eyes, begging him to stop. Miles tried to block his father's next blow, but he was caught off guard when he felt a strong grip on his collar. He swallowed, uncertain and terrified of what his father might do. A wicked grin spread across Mr. Hollingsworth's face as he firmly placed his other hand on his son's shivering cheek with a echoing slap. Miles flinched, trying to fight him off only to realize he was defeated. "Why do you always ruin everything?! For once, why can't you just stand by and smile?" Mr H's voice hissed, slamming his son's face against the glass painting, making it shatter on his head, leaving cuts and glass shards sticking everywhere. Miles knew he shouldn't have fought his father, he knew he should've just bit his tongue, but that just isn't how he worked. He always had to push at everything twice as hard. He finally felt his father's hands off of him, but wherever he touched was still burning with distress. Miles wanted to run. He wanted to escape. He wanted his escape, but his feet seemed to be cemented to the ground. He felt like this couldn't be real, like this was all just a nightmare. The blood trickling down his cheek told him otherwise as his throat seemed to close. His father's words made his head spin, getting into every train of thought he had. He couldn't think.

It hurts sometimes

To find where you begin

But you are perfect porcelain

Miles swallowed on the closing walls of his throat, trying to grasp at what really just happened. His father lost the election because Miles said something. He spoke up. He exposed his father in front of everyone, but not in the way he wanted to. They were only caught fighting right before the press arrived and before any fists were thrown. "The real Miles Hollingsworth II, everybody. The man who will stop at nothing to keep everyone from seeing his facade. To make his family so picture perfect, so happy with their plastered on smiles. Well, surprise surprise, all of this, us, we are't real. We're his puppets, whose smiles he drags up every time to keep our curtains intact." Miles felt like the world had been lifted off his shoulders, only to drop the entire universe on when he felt his father staring daggers into his eyes. The entire crowd gasped as Mr. Hollingsworth jumped onto the stand, attempting to cover that entire speech up with a couple of reassuring laughs, but no one was buying it. Some members began to crawl away in disbelief, others with shock and resent for this man that they were about to elect to keep their town safe. Mr. H's face fell as he looked over at his son who was still proudly standing with his head held high. He instantly slouched when his father's fuming anger reached him. What was coming now couldn't be undone. All Miles could do was run.

The slow and simple melody

Of tears you cannot keep from me

It's alright if you don't know what you need

Miles started fumbling to move, feeling as if his body was a stranger. He began to stumble and tip as he walked, but he continued on anyway, bounding toward the door. Hunter stopped him, trying to figure out what happened, but Miles pushed past with the smallest bit of strength he could muster. Hunter called after him, beginning to run, but Miles was much too far. The sting of his cuts became apparent when he felt the soft wind on his face, followed by a drizzle of cool rain. To a normal person, this would've barely been noticed. But to him, every step felt more challenging than the last as he trudged to the blonde's house. Miles was so sure he didn't want to face him, not after what he said. Tris couldn't even look him fully in the eye without wanting to run, but Tristan was the only thing that could bring him comfort at this point. His brother had seen him in such a state, and he knew if he explained to him, he would deny it. No, Hunter couldn't believe that his father was an abusive prick. And even if he did, if Miles were to tell him, there's no telling what Mr. H would do. The rain and wind began to pick up, nearly knocking Miles off his feet. All he could think about was Tristan. What will he do when he sees me like this? Will he run? Will I just be too much for him to handle as well? These questions swirled around in Miles's head, dizzying him even more as his vision began to blur from all the rain. He saw the familiar Milligan household just meters away. He started picking up his pace, putting an arm in front of his face to protect it from the rain as much as he could. He banged on the door, shivering and leaning against the door frame to keep him upright. He started panicking when he didn't hear footsteps, pushing himself off the door. Just as he did, it swung open, and there stood a blonde boy with a confused look on his face. He instantaneously pulled him inside, helping him onto the couch. "What happened?" Tristan asked softly, trying not to pry but also trying not to break him. Miles slipped off his wet shirt and started shivering when he felt Tristan's hand on his face. Tristan slid a blanket on his shoulders as he examined his scars. Small glass shards were still in the nooks and crannies of his cuts. Miles reigned his emotions in with a leash as his boyfriend's face contorted with concern.

I'm right here when you need someone to see

It's not speak, or forever hold your peace

It's alright to take time and find out where you've been

You are perfect porcelain

Miles choked, shaking his head. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he turned his face away from the blonde who had rushed to the bathroom to retrieve his First-Aid kit. He returned with a bottle of rubbing alcohol, bandaids and tweezers. Miles's stomach lurched from nervousness and the overwhelming feeling of being taken care of by someone he's treated like shit for so long. He felt as if he wasn't worth it. Tristan's mind was racing with what could've caused this, but he kept his cool composure while helping Miles. The last thing he wanted was for him to be more panicked, more frightened than he already was. He gently started dabbing the wounds, making Miles hiss in pain, but he refused to pull away. Tristan grabbed the tweezers and began pulling the tiny glass shards from Miles's wounds, which was a tedious process. With every shard removed, his face would twitch with a pained expression and sharp breath. Miles tightened his grip on the blanket around his shoulders, trying not to look Tristan in the eye. If he did, everything would spill out of him, all at once. "Miles?" Tristan said, concerned. The emotions behind Miles's eyes all flooded back to fear as he zoned out, thinking frantically of what he should say. "Nothing... happened. I just... crashed into a painting. I was drunk..." His voice shook, nearly giving him away. Tristan placed a soft kiss on Miles's forehead, reassuring him of his safety. Miles let out a soft whimper-like sound before bursting into tears. Tristan had broken him. He started blubbering away, not saying anything, just burying his head in Tristan's shirt, letting his tears pool up on it. Tristan hesitated at first before wrapping his arms around the crying boy, making his cries intensify just a small bit, feeling the comfort that he needed to feel. "Who did this?" Tristan asked, rubbing small circles around back. Miles let out a sharp whine before speaking. "Why? Why does it matter? You'll just run... from me... like-like they all do... I've treated you badly enough, you don't need my problems on your shoulders." Tristan tightened his grip for a second before pulling away and looking into Miles's eyes. He wiped away his tears. "I'm not everyone. I'm not running. I'm not going anywhere. Don't you think if I wanted to, I would've left by now?" Tristan said sternly, meaning every word. He put his hand over Miles's with a sincere expression. "Who did this, Miles?"

When your heart releases

You won't fall to pieces

You'll let those old diseases lie.

"Wait, isn't today election day or something? Was it something with your father?" Miles made an unfathomable soft noise that was so small, Tristan almost missed it. Tristan's expression immediately softened, realizing why Miles had been so distant. "I-I'm so sorry Tristan. I never meant to say all those things to you... I was ju-" Tristan put a finger over Miles's lips. "Don't you dare apologize. None of that was your fault. You shouldn't have said what you did, but it wasn't your fault. None of this is." Miles swallowed, putting a hand over his throat. "Thing is..." He said weakly, trying to catch his breath. "It was... I-I yelled about my father's facade to the entire press..." Tristan shook his head. "That gave him no right to do what he did. You didn't start anything. None of this is your fault." Miles shook his head before continuing. "I ran. As fast as I could. Hunter saw me.. He started chasing me but I just couldn't stay. I had to come here... If I told Hunter, t-there's no telling what my dad'd do." Miles sputtered out, failing to keep his walls up from that point on. He was vulnerable, out in the open completely. Any question that Tristan asked, he'd immediately answer. "What'd he do?" Tristan asked unsurely, testing the waters, making sure he wasn't treading on anything dangerous. "H-he took me back into the house when people started leaving. We started getting into a fist fight, whenever I threw a punch he'd come back stronger, until he..." Miles took a sharp breath before continuing. "He threw me into a painting... and it shattered... It was the same painting that..." Miles shook his head as a tear pricked at his eye. "Nevermind. Let's just say this wasn't the first time something happened." He felt awful for telling Tristan all that. He didn't want him to worry about him at all, even though all he wanted was to be cared about. "I'm calling the cops." Tristan said simply, picking up his phone. "N-no, please don't..." Miles put his hand over Tristan's. "I-I can't face him. Not yet anyway. Please. I will call them, eventually, just give it some time. You're the only one who knows about this right now." Tristan hesitated for a second before putting the phone down.

Oh, and your heart releases

You won't fall to pieces

After a quick shower, Miles was back downstairs with Tristan's arms around him. Feeling his warmth was more than enough at that point. The comfortable clothes that Tristan lent him were the most comfortable things in the world, even if they were just a simple black polo and grey sweatpants. He felt comfortable, more at home than he ever felt. Tristan had The Notebook on, and usually, Miles wasn't one for sappy romance stories, but he decided to watch it anyway, and he couldn't say he wasn't enjoying it. He nestled into Tristan's shoulder, feeling safe. "I'll be ready to face my father..." He said softly and calmly. "As long as you're by my side while I do." Tristan smiled softly at him. "As long as your mother doesn't mind me moving in." He teased, but Tristan gave him the most serious look he could muster. "Well, I'm sure as hell not letting you go back there."

And your breath comes crashing in

Like perfect porcelain

Miles caught his breath in his throat. Was he serious? After all the shit, he'd still protect him, and let him move in with him? Just a week ago all Tristan could do was avoid his eyes, but now... Now all he wants to do is keep Miles safe. "I-I couldn't..."

"You're not going back there. Stay as long as you need." Miles heard a female voice at the door. He craned his neck only to see Ms. Milligan with an umbrella in her hand. "Tristan told me about your situation." Tristan scoffed. "I blubbered over the phone about how worried I was. I don't even know how you understood."

"But-"

"No buts, Miles. I'm-We're not letting you leave." Tristan said with a smirk. Miles was overwhelmed with how much his life could drastically change in one night, he felt tears beginning to spill out. He had a bright smile on his face as he looked at Tristan though, telling him he was alright. It could be better to feel so comfortable for once. To never have to be terrified of coming home. It's all he ever wanted, and to share that with Tristan was more than enough.

Maybe change is good.

Writer's shit: Wowza, that took me all day to finish. (Yes I am so lame that I say things like wowza) I actually had to stop for a little bit, because I actually felt what I was writing, and I was getting all emotional and stupid over it. These angsty Triles fics will be the death of me, but like I said, my muse basically had me in a chokehold with this one. I hope you enjoyed. :D