Milo was concentrating on the picture when he turned to look at Xiao Yu. Her kiss shocked him, and he almost resisted it. At first, he hardly kissed back, before loosing himself in her kiss. The soft, supple warmth drove straight through his lips into his very being. With the day they'd had, he let himself melt into her touch. He didn't realize what he was doing until he'd had his hand buried in her hair as he pushed her into his own kiss. He only wanted one thing in that moment.<i>More</i>. Delving himself further into the taste of her mouth, he could feel the temptation running through his body. In fact, his hand started to trail down from the back of her head, to the curve of her neck, the soft skin warm against his hands.<br/><br/>That was, until he almost dropped his computer. He felt it start to slip from his lap, and he had to abruptly pull away from her kiss, grabbing his computer before it hit the ground. "Damnit," he muttered as he had to stand up to grab the computer. He set it on her nightstand, looking back to her. He let out a small laugh, "Sorry to get so heated there Xiao Yu, to be honest, it's been a while since I've been involved with anyone."<i>Way to kill the mood, you shit. </i>Even he realized that he'd just about obliterated his chances. "Need anything while I so happen to be up?" he said, blushing at how out of control he'd let himself get.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/>It'd happened again. He only needed to stop her, to show her he could love her. Gasping in pain as he pulled out the star in his arm, dropping it into the basin. Wrapping a light bandage around it, he looked around his house. It was nearly as destroyed as him. Slowly, he stopped crying, and bleeding. Numbed, he couldn't think. Blindly stumbling around, he slowly just walked around, picking up what he could. He piled the broken furniture in a pile, looking with disdain at the size of the pile. Grabbing loose parchments off the ground, one soon stuck out to him. The parchment was finer than the others, a whiter hue, a sharper edge. It wasn't too damaged, and he pulled it out, looking over his own handwriting.<br/><br/>It was his letter to her. He'd planned on offering it to her, asking for her hand in marriage, and he solemnly looked at his naive words, the heart poured into the page. Standing, he walked over to his box, a simple but sturdy gift from his father. The wood was lined with a soft cotton, and the style was braced in what he'd guess to be brass. Folding up the letter softly, he put in it the box. The thought of his proposal forced his heart down, more than he already was. Setting himself onto the ground, he held the box in his arms, and leaned back as a fresh line of tears started to stream down his cheeks.