Milo/MC/Mal In the shopping district

A burst of fine fibers exploded into the air, raining down upon us in a configuration of red, pink and deep blue.  There were a few curses interspersed with the commotion, along with quite a bit of laughter. When my eyes ticked over towards Milo’s and Mal’s, neither of them seemed concerned.

“Catarina, you put too much in the machine again?” Milo called out. I couldn’t see to who he was even referring to, but heard a voice come through the puff of twine. 

“Hush now, Milo Next. No one needs your sass today!”

There were a few calls as the surrounding individuals began to realize just who had stepped into the district and at such a lucky time. Suddenly, more than a dozen people were surrounding us, patting Milo on the back and sweeping him up in conversation. I squeezed Malcolm’s hand tight, looking around at the new faces with a wide-eyed gaze. I was proud to admit it was only slightly tinged with apprehension.

“Come on.” Malcolm tugged at me, getting me out of the midst of the crowd. “Milo’s fan club is going to fawn over him for a minute. You and I can get a better idea of what we want to buy.”

The invitation had come to Malcolm’s house. Mostly, because there was no guarantee of where Milo would ever be and because my mailbox had a family of mice living in it, who had a tendency to take letters and make them into small beds. But, it was addressed to the three of us. There was to be a small gathering on the Eternal Staircase, located at a jazz club that had been closed for years. Why we got sent the invitation was beyond any of us, but Milo looked more than excited to go, and there was even a faint winding of interest in Malcolm’s eyes. So, I had suggested we make an evening of it. Get ourselves some nicer clothes. Attend the event all together for one of the first official dates any of us had.

Milo had practically pushed us out of the house at dawn the next morning, buzzing with excitement. That excitement persisted as he continued to rapidly speak with the ones around him, leaving Malcolm and I to wander peacefully away.

The Fashion District was glitzy up top. Where the floating walkways swayed and the stalls were lined with gold. There was a flashy kind of brilliance to it all. But to me, the underbelly was where the true garments were made. The lower level of the district was a place that most did not venture, but now that I was here, I wondered if anyone realized what they were missing out on. Reams of fabric made up the walls of most of the shops, providing jagged barriers of patterned display.. Each stall boasted its own theme where ribbon and string were pulled from the canopies over head, allowing the shop vendors to sew beads and lace and leather all together upon soft spun garments.

Up top was made to seem expensive.

Down here, I realized, was where the real prizes were.

“This is phenomenal,” I breathed. I couldn’t help but reach out, running my fingers across various brass buttons. The possibilities here were endless.

“I always did like it down here more,” Malcolm said, walking arm in arm with me. “Everyone is a lot more welcoming here. Warmer, too. And Milo is in his element with all of them.”

Milo had grown up down here. After Feebus had taken him off the streets, he had slept beneath most of the garments for a time. Malcolm had told me he would still come down here some nights when he was missing home.

“Milo doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of fashion sense and finery,” I told Malcolm.

“Oh, Lamplight. The man knows his clothes. He just doesn’t care to show anyone, I suppose.”  We stopped at a stall where a woman was painstakingly weaving beads no bigger than a speck of dust, across a child size tunic. She looked up at us, signing something to Malcolm. He quickly signed back to her, causing her to grin before going back to her work. “She says to just let her know if we have any questions,” he relayed to me.

“I didn’t know you could sign.”

He nodded. “I had to learn. There was a guy at the fight club Milo and I used to go to. He got jumped one night and hurt pretty bad. Couldn’t speak after that. I helped him learn sign language. Mine is crude, but it gets me by.” He reached out for a stretch of black silk fabric with shimmering paisley designs. “You’d look good in this.”

I ran my fingers across it, feeling the way it flowed like water beneath my touch. “How fancy are we supposed to be for this event?”

“Not sure. It was always a nicer venue. But I don’t know what exactly we are walking into. Though, from my experience, you just wear the level of fancy that you are comfortable with.”

“I don’t know if I know what that is,” I told him honestly.

“Well then, darlin’,” an arm slung around me as Milo came walking back up. “You are in good hands.”

I looked up at Milo, noticing the way his shaggy hair fell around his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright with delight. “Do you want to pick something out for me?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said with a slight pop of his lips. “I want you to pick something out for yourself. And if it takes all day, then I will enjoy watching Malcolm get bored out of his mind. The man hates shopping.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “I like shopping. I just don’t like shopping with you.”

“Hey,” Milo protested.

“What? You run around like an overexcited puppy. It’s exhausting.”

I grinned, reaching forward to the fabric that Malcolm had been looking at. “I do like this,“ I said. “But maybe we could add something more to it?”

Milo nodded. “Could make a nice jacket, and then we can do something different for the pants. Leather shoes for sure. Some nice silver jewelry to go with it all?”

I could see the way Milo was nodding to himself, sizing me up and then looking back and the stalls while piecing it all together.  “What about you?” I asked. “What are you planning on wearing?”

“Oh, uh–”

Malcolm came around my side, leaning in conspiratorially. But not once did he lower his voice enough to keep his words from Milo’s ears. “That’s the thing about Milo. He’ll pick things for you and I and then be content to go in what he’s wearing now.”

There was a series of gilded mirrors near us. They were set up in a small circle for a customer could see either side. Gathering some of the fabrics, I walked over to them, gesturing for both my lovers to follow.

“Alright, both of you stand still,” I demanded. Side by side, the two could not look more different. Malcolm’s dark tones compared to Milo’s freckled light. Mal’s almost black hair to the honey strands of Milo’s.  I began draping fabric across both of them. Earth tones for Malcolm and more jewled tones for Milo.  Milo twirled and preened, putting on a show, while Malcolm thoughtful considered it all.

“I like the green,” Malcolm said.

Milo snorted. “Of course you do.” Then, turning to me, he held out a deep blue suit with gold embellishments. “What do you think of this? Jacket. Pants. No shirt.” He waggled his brows at me.

“I think you’d look stunning in it and make quite the scene on the dance floor.”

Milo pumped his fists in the air. “Perfect. Mal, you’re getting embellishments on yours. If Luke and I are fancied up, you have to be also.”

“By the lanterns, I hate when you get like this,” Malcolm muttered.

Milo walked towards him, crowding into his space and pressing his forehead against Mal’s. It sent Malcolm slightly off balance, leaving him to grab onto Milo to keep from falling. “You love it,” Milo muttered to him before spinning away. He came over to me, wrapping himself around me.  It was a different side of Milo. One that had been lost to me for so long.

“You’re happy here,” I said, reaching up to take his hand and place a kiss against his signet ring.

“Nah,” he said. “It’s not here.”

There was something to his voice. Something so much more that he wanted to say. “Then what is it?”

“It’s you,” he said. “Him,” he motioned to Malcolm. “It’s feeling comfortable in my own skin. Being who I want to be.” He squeezed me tighter. “You gave that back to me. Do you know what that feels like, darlin’?”

As I looked at Mal and felt Milo tucked around me, my heart soared. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I really do.” My voice was choked and suddenly I didn’t want to let Milo go. With my free hand, I reached out for Mal. He dropped the fabric and stepped forward, taking it. 

We stood there for a moment, the three of us gathered close. I caught sight of us in the mirrors, catching the different angles and the different looks on our face. But overall, there was peace. The peace that only came with acceptance. 

It felt like belonging.

It felt like home.