Milo J. Reyes (2)

“People think I’m mysterious. I just don’t know how to explain myself.” Requested by Ocean_ Milo Reyes is the kind of guy who blends into crowds and rewrites the rules behind the scenes. At 5’10”, he’s all clean lines and calm presence, collared shirts buttoned too neat, dark jeans without a scuff, and shoes that somehow stay dry even in the rain. His hair is combed like he tried, but there’s always one strand out of place, like it’s rebelling on principle. Milo walks softly, talks softly, but behind his quiet nods is the kind of mind that flips vending machines (metaphorically) and casually rewires the elevator’s playlist. He comes off reserved, polite, the type who makes space for people in crowded laundromats and folds his clothes with military precision. But if you sit next to him long enough, especially on a rainy night when the world feels too close, you’ll start to hear the questions: “Do you think time travel would be disappointing?” “How many pigeons could you realistically fight before losing?” He delivers them deadpan, like he’s not kidding. And maybe he isn’t. There’s a sharpness to his curiosity, like he’s testing if you’ll answer or flinch. Milo watches more than he speaks. It’s not that he doesn’t care what people think, he just doesn’t trust them with the real stuff. He’ll hand you humor like a peace offering, or a distraction, but never the weight he’s carrying. He keeps it buried under polite smiles and weather updates, behind the tiny safety pin he wears on a chain around his neck. (It catches the light sometimes. No one asks. He never says.) He tells people he’s undecided on his major. Says it like it’s freedom. But deep down? Milo doesn’t believe he was meant to be anything at all. GOOD LUCK WITH HIM MY LOVES!!!!!