How Green Becomes Wood

He really quickly looked up, and in two motions, pulled up his sleeves to flash his arms at Xander, "I haven't been doing anything bad and I'm not hiding anything." Equally as quickly, he pulled his sleeves back down and tucked his hands tightly beneath his armpits. "It's just not. A very comfortable. I wasn't prepared. For this."
 
"Damn, kid, not what i was expecting, but good to know," Xander said with a nod. He picked out a carrot stick. "Me neither. Guess we could walk away now, I guess, and that'd be that, but..." He hesitated and took a deep breath. "I... want to... try... to be friends. With you. If you'll let me. And can stand the idea." Hd looked away, flushing from embarrassment.
 
"I'm a weird, quiet, bullied kid with no roots. I'm used to making people make assumptions." Milo replied, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees, still with his hands tucked, "I don't want to not be friends but I--It's hard enough already. I'm sure I used to be normal but I haven't been normal since I was eight, and people either don't like how abnormal I am or they like it and I move away and then both of us get hurt and so I try not to bother learning names anymore because it makes it easier if I do not exist." All of this he said with his forehead pressed against his knees, essentially staring at his lap. And it was the only way he managed to say it, and he only forced himself to be able to say it because he had been entrapped. "And I'm weird and my life is weird and I don't really care when people bully me because it means I'm distracting them from kids who aren't moving in a few months at most, and they don't really know me, anyway, but your friends are supposed to know you, and to be a good friend you have to let them know you. And I can't do that if I can't trust the things I say won't be used against me, and I can't do that if who I am, or who I appear to be, is vivisected when you're upset. Because if that's how it goes, I don't need more people to remind me of how much of a weird, fucked up loser I am. I'd rather have my teeth smashed in."


When he finally finished speaking, his voice tightening and relaxing all through his rapidly paced monologue, he gripped himself more tightly, still not raising his head to look at Xander. He'd probably end up with stupid corduroy lines in his forehead, but he was enough of a freak already, nobody would think twice about it, if they noticed him at all.
 
Out of everything Milo said, the word "vivisected" was what stuck out to Xander in that way that the stupidest of things became all you could think about. Didn't that have something to do with slicing up animals? That didn't seem to fit. He shook his head and rubbed it, trying to get himself to focus. After a minute of thinking, he said slowly, "You keep talking about how I'd use or did use things things I know about you against you, and... I don't really get it. I'm trying not to be dense here, but I'm honestly not seeing the link. What I said, about you not wanting to be friends and pushing people away and self-fulfilling prophecies... I kind of meant it to hurt, yeah, but it was also about me. And it wasn't just a you thing. It was how that specific thing affected me. 'Cause I was trying pretty much for the first time ever to make a friend, and I suck at it, so I was feeling awkward and like I was failing and it felt like you were making it even harder, like I had to chase you down and prove to you that I was somehow worth it, I guess? I dunno. I was frustrated about it. Then when you actually do come and be friendly... my head got weird. Like it had to be me approaching you to... I don't know. My head wasn't in a good place and I was mad because it didn't feel like I was doing things right and I didn't see you coming to talk to me as a good thing like it was.

"Anyway, that was an us thing. You and me. Not just a you thing. Something like... I don't know, your photography? That's a you thing. That's different. If I brought that up, I'd see that as using it against you, but I don't understand how what I said was using something against you." He kept his eyes on his lunch box, giving Milo space to explain it to him. If he didn't understand, how could he not repeat the mistake?
 
"You don't know a lot about me, but you know that I keep myself to myself. And you know I find places like this. And when you were yelling at me, all you did was tell me how I hide and I act like I want friends but then push them away and mope around that I don't have any. Keep accusing me of pretending. Didn't say much with words but your tone made me feel like..." He shrugged, but kept his forehead on his knees, "I don't know. Like it had all just been collected. And since those are my... I don't know... weaknesses... I guess... the moment you felt threatened, it was like you were trying to hit me where you thought it was hurt most. 'You take stupid pictures and it's annoying,' doesn't compare to, 'You hide and then act depressed when nobody wants to be friends with you.' And you weren't totally right, by the way, not completely, but I still... It made me wonder, what if I say the wrong thing, which seemed like a neutral thing, or a helpful thing, but you know more about my weaknesses? If I say something but you're even more frustrated that day or even more in your head and I say something and you bite deeper? If you use more of what you know? We had been interrupted by the janitor."
 
Xander gave a slight nod. "I get it." He chewed on the end of his carrot stick more to give himself something to do than for a desire for carrot sticks. "I don't really know where to go from here," he admitted. "I could tell you I don't want to hurt you like that, but it's just words, and I sure as hell didn't mean it the first time. I've been trying to get better about the anger thing 'cause it's like what you said about smoking. It doesn't just hurt me. I don't want to be mean. I don't. But I can't promise I won't, I don't know, relapse or whatever. So, I guess you just... have to take your chances." He sighed, knowing exactly how lame those words were but not knowing how else to express them.
 
Milo chewed on his bottom lip, sitting uncomfortably in the silence. He wasn't like Dark, who enjoyed it, or like Daizi who had learned to appreciate it, or like Sloan who stubbornly coped with it to not give anyone the satisfaction of speaking first. He was so used to it that it only bothered him more and more. "I like you," he said eventually, "but that's not... comforting. I don't want to walk around afraid that at any moment you may end up yelling at me." He raised his head, putting his chin on his knee instead of his forehead, "You don't say sorry, you know? You explained why you did it, and told me you don't blame me if I don't want to stick around, but you never said, 'I'm sorry.'"
 
"Oh." Xander fiddled with a second carrot stick. "You asked me a question," he said quietly. "You asked me if yelling at you made me feel good. It doesn't. It never has. Well, it kind of did once, but that was a weird set of circumstances that ain't going to repeat themselves. But it felt better than what I thought the other person would do. It didn't make me feel one bit better with you. And I'm... I'm s-sorry that I did."

The words were difficult to get out. He'd never had to say those words before. Never had to voice them like this. In fact, though he'd never been told in as many words, saying sorry had always been represented as a kind of defeat. Saying sorry meant you lost. He tensed, waiting for that feeling of defeat, that he'd lost some kind of battle, but it didn't come. It felt weird, but not fully bad. Just weird.
 
"Thank you for apologizing." Milo replied, dropping his head back down and being silent again. He hadn't been certain of if basically forcing Xander to say the words would actually make him feel better, but if nothing else, it didn't make him feel worse. And he did seem sincere about it, even if he seemed to have to fight the words out. It helped Xander answered his original question.

After awhile, he spoke again, "I think. You have to take more chances than I do. Because I'm not, I can't..." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. This was all fucked, and he wanted to run, but he was trapped going through exactly what he tried to avoid, "A chance." He said at last, "I know that your brother called me once bitten, twice shy, like it was flaw, but if keep giving people third and fourth chances when they treat you badly, they keep doing it, and I don't care if it's someone who just wants to hurt and destroy but if they claim they don't want to... I'll forgive you, but if it happens again. I won't."
 
An abuser. That's what Milo thought Xander was. Or at least his potential. Xander didn't look at him, the full realization of what he had already suspected but didn't want to accept sunk in. He fisted his hand so tightly his nails dug into the skin, nearly drawing blood as he forced his expression to remain neutral. Maybe he was right. Dark said he had changed, and he knew he had, but if a sort-of stranger accused him of such behavior, maybe he couldn't change enough. At the same time, it didn't feel fair. How much more did he have to apologize? How much more did he have to show he was sorry? It had been one time! Once! Yeah, Milo had the right to be wary, but he was making Xander feel as if he was some kind of rabid dog. Xander had done nothing but try to look after him except for that one mistake. Was Xander wrong to think that Milo was being unfair? Or was Milo right to treat him this way? He bit his own lip, his stomach knotted, but he pushed the emotions down. At least for now. He knew he was supposed to deal with them, but not now.

"Why can't you take chances?" he finally asked. He wasn't accusing. If anything, he sounded almost resigned. "Why can't you make friends? Why do you have to move a ton when you don't want to? If you don't want to leave a mark, make friends, or any of that, why even bother giving me a second chance? I don't want you to be whatever the hell normal is. I wouldn't know what normal was if it bit my ass, but I don't understand."
 
Milo looked as if he was trying to compress his entire body into a ball, "Because I've seen what happens when you do. And I don't want to live like that any more than I already have to." He gripped his skin, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around himself, "I move because of my mom. She just comes home. Says we're leaving. I get notice sometimes. Other times I don't. She loses her job, or she gets bored, or something happens that I know better than to ask about. So we go some place new. When she gets out, we're going to New Mexico, she said. We're going to where Billy the Kid is buried. Just over two hours from Santa Fe. It'll be good this time. She promised."

This time, as he spoke, his voice grew progressively more quiet, until he was barely not whispering, "And I can't make friends, because I'm... this. Just some Rat Freak. It's not like I could invite anyone over, and it's not like I ever learned how to speak to people, and I always have to say goodbye anyway." He finally let go of his sides and instead grabbed onto his hair, "I want to give second chances because I want to be normal, even though I can't be, until maybe I'm out West, because Mom says it'll be different, but probably not then, because this is the kind of person I am."
 
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Xander hesitated as he took in everything Milo said. Finally, he said, "There's something my foster dad has been trying to teach me. People can change if they want to. Not their core selves, I'll never be a happy ray of sunshine like Alec, but I've started to learn how to connect with people properly. I've learned to cook and that I like it. I'm... I'm not that good yet at any of it, but if I can change, so can you. If you want. But..." he shrugged, "it takes a hell of a lot of work and changes that you don't like. And you deserve to feel better. To have better."
 
How was he supposed to respond to that? There was nothing wrong with it, he knew, and it was surprisingly gentle and understanding, but he didn't know what he was supposed to do with what he had been told. He tried to imagine changing and being someone who didn't feel like he did all the time, but no version of himself came to mind. Not positive version, anyway.

"What if this is my core." He asked, still gripping his hair.
 
"I doubt it," Xander said dryly, a bit of an automatic response. He tried to soften his words a bit. "I don't have all the answers. All I know is you deserve to be happy and to have things and people that make you happy. I don't care what you think of yourself right now, being happy isn't something you gotta earn or wait to get a new place to find so you aren't miserable. It's not going to be every day, but the good should outweigh the bad on the whole." He closed his lunchbox even though he hadn't eaten more than a couple of carrot sticks. "Like with the most current situation here. You deserve to have a friend that you don't have to constantly be afraid of and worry in the back of their mind that they're going to hurt you. That you don't have to treat like an unexploded bomb." And he deserved to not be treated like a monster. He thought. Maybe. "So, if you think you want to give me a second chance and trust that I won't hurt you again, we can make this work. I mean, you can be wary and reserved, sure, but not expecting me to blow my top. Giving me the benefit of the doubt. If you don't think you can trust me, I don't blame you, I really don't, but I don't think we can make it work. And you deserve better. You don't have to decide right now. You can think about it."
 
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Furrowing his eyebrows, Milo looked up at Xander again, "I don't understand. You keep telling me that I have to just take a chance and hope it won't happen again, and that you can't promise that it won't, and then tell me not to expect it to happen. You're sorry, but you can't promise it won't happen again, but I should trust you and give you the benefit of the doubt when you've told me it might happen again, and I don't even know how to avoid it because all you've said is that you've got anger issues and your head was weird." He rubbed his face underneath his glasses, "All the information I have is the information you've told me, and it's not like I don't want to trust you, I don't care about scorched earths, but you're the one who said that wasn't a weird and out of character thing for you, and--" he took a sharp in breath to stop himself from mentioning how Alec had spoken with him, "--if that's how you act when you feel scared, and I can't tell when you're scared, then I don't know how I'm supposed to both trust you and give you the benefit of the doubt and also keep in mind that's something that might happen again, because you've said it might. I don't know how your brain works and all I know is what you've told me."
 
Xander shrugged. "I don't know how my brain works, either. I think what I'm trying to say is..." He hesitated, looking for the right words. "I don't like hurting people. It's a good incentive to try to change. And... I'm trying to learn how to communicate how I'm feeling more. Especially after what happened. I can't promise I won't snap at you, but I can promise that I will try to tell you when I'm feeling..." he groped for the right word, "triggered. I can promise that I am trying to change how I react and how I talk to people. I don't know myself very well," he admitted uncomfortably. "I spent most of my life trying to be something else, somebody other people wouldn't mess with, or if they did, they'd get hurt back if they hurt me. I didn't think about what I wanted or needed or felt. I avoided trying to deal with myself because... it hurts. So... I can't tell you much because I don't know much. I only started trying to learn about me like a year ago." He shrugged again. "Sixteen years old and I'm still a stranger to myself."
 
"I think everyone is still a stranger to themselves," Milo replied, after a long pause. "That, or we're just the two most screwed up people on the planet. I think aliens must be real because I am one. I don't mean that literally, I'm not crazy." The look on his face indicated he wasn't joking, but instead very deeply and sincerely felt this about himself, "But I guess if you can promise to make an effort not to speak to me like that, I can promise to try to trust you. Because otherwise we're just two aliens."
 
"There's a lot more of us aliens than you'd think, Stitch," Xander sighed. He glanced around. "Lunch is probably about over. We should consider going out, I guess." He didn't move just yet, staying put on his pillow.
 
Xander snorted. "Doubt you're stupid. Ignorant, maybe, but not stupid." He looked up at the underside of the bleachers. "But it's no fun to have what you don't know rubbed into your face."
 
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