Milo - Post Chapter Twelve (Patreon)

A single flame sparked, glowing bright as Milo breathed in, the smoke curling from his lips a moment later. He flicked the ash to the side, staring at the headstone that was before him. It was unmarked. Probably Malcolm’s doing. He was smart enough to not advertise this death. Not when so many could take advantage of it. Milo knew it was them, however. Could feel them, still beneath the ground. Wrapped back up in the embrace of the world once more.  He supposed with being fae, this should have given him comfort. A return to the land. The source if you will.

It only made him feel sick.

“So, I guess this is it, yeah?” Crouching down, he looked at the stone before him. An open pocket watch was draped over the grave marker, that hands of which had yet to move.  Milo didn’t know if they would.  There was little doubt in his mind he would ever see their face again. The Night Market was said to always return, as the story goes, but most likely not in this lifetime.  Milo didn’t think he had much of a lifetime left, really.  Looking up towards the night sky, the tears were not stitching themselves back together, but they were not splitting either.  The gates were closed. The Night Market was cut off from the rest of the realms. He had succeeded. He had saved the market. So why did it feel like he had killed them.

“I didn’t enjoy any of this,” he said softly.  It was a confession only made in the midst of a graveyard where no one was available to watch him.  But Milo had always been at his most honest when the rest of the world had turned their back on him.  “The amount of times I almost told you everything, you have no idea.”  Bitterly, he laughed, taking a long pull on his cigarette, hearing the burn of the carbon paper.  “Not that it matters, right? Because I didn’t. I didn’t tell you.  Who the fuck is going to care about what I wanted to do when what I actually did is so far from reality?”

There was very little room to explain his actions and in truth, he was tired.  He didn’t want to. Because the one person that deserved that explanation was already gone.  Let the others think what they will.  He didn’t deserve their sympathy.

“Here’s the thing, here’s what I hate,” he scrubbed a hand across his face. “You weren’t supposed to be real.  Do you honestly think that I brought you forward, flesh and blood, and just was okay with destroying you? I know I’m not a good man but this? You were not the blood I wanted on my hands. But you knew that, didn’t you. I have a feeling you know far more than I do.  Far more about me than you should. I could see it sometimes. The way you would look at me. The way you’d reach out. It’s like you knew things that you really shouldn’t have. That I had kept from you because I didn’t want to get close. I…”

He flicked the ash from the cigarette, biting at the flesh of his thumb. His eyes had grown brighter since their death.  Twine flames eternally burning.  Cause for concern on another day though.

“I spoke to Neve. Fucking Baron of the Fates has been serving me kafe since I was a child.  She knew. Did you know that? She knew I would one day be this. Some bullshit rule about not being able to tell someone their own tapestry or some shit.” His hands were shaking down as he fought the tightness in his chest and throat. “She told me this was ordained. That you knew what would happen. That you accepted it. Why the fuck would you accept this? If you knew why the fuck wouldn’t you have stopped me? I wanted you to stop me. Why didn’t you…?” he trailed off, his words becoming choked.  Pressing the palm of his hand to his mouth, he took deep breaths, staring at the unmarked grave.  Eyes were upon him from the chapel up above.  The graveyard keeper tasked with most likely reporting on who sat by this grave.  Let him report.  If Mal really wanted to find him, there was no doubt he would.

“I know it sounds like I’m fucking blaming you,” he started. “I’m not.  If anything, the fact that you came here as a human? Got me to fall… Well, I thought that was nearly impossible. I wanted it to be impossible.  But you did it. You took every little bit of me that I laid before you and eviscerated it.” Milo laughed, bowing a bit to the stillness of the stone. “Well played.”

He stared for a long moment, face impassive as he became nothing more than an unmovable stone in the midst of the dead.  He willed the clock to move. He willed it with everything he had.  But it remained silent.  The blessed sound of a soul that wished to return to the market not beating.

“I’m gonna try to come back here,” he told the gravestone.  “I want to check on you. I– I really don’t know if you’re gonna want to return but… fuck, I never had hope with Mal but I want to have so much fucking hope with you.” Eyes filling, his heart began to crumble.  Mal had died all those years ago and he had taken a part with him. And just when he was getting it back, the world had begun to scream.  “I fucking hate that you made me hope again. Why did you have to make me fucking hope?”

Tossing the butt of the cigarette aside, his head hung low as he breathed deeply.  Control. It was what Mal always had taught. Milo had never mastered it.  Filled with too many emotions and too much anger. Plus there was probably something about him being a fucking fae in there that had something to do with this bullshit.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Fucking shitty of me to put that one on you.” Standing, he pushed his hands in his pockets.  “I stand by what I did.  I was going to lose you either way, it seemed. But at least this way, you have the chance to come back. Maybe fall in love with someone that is worthy of you. Now, Taliesin on the other hand? Now there’s a fucker we’re going to be killin’ real soon, darlin’.  I don’t know how much you approve but as your Gatekeeper or whatever bullshit I’m sure Mal filled your head with, I’m gonna clean up my mess. Because that’s where my mistakes lay. Believing the masked fucker and every bit of his lies.  I’ll deal with that one.  The market will be safe again.  Hopefully someone doesn’t off me beforehand, yeah? Whatever fucker inherits this godforsaken role after me is going to be a sad son of a bitch.”

He kicked at the ground. His time was running short. He had a passage outside towards the Outlands. Answers might be waiting there.

Pulling one of his chains off from around his neck, he pressed a kiss to the cool metal before he laid it across the grave.

“Take care of yourself, darlin’.  Worlds depending on it.” With one last look, he cleared his throat.  “I’ll see you soon.”