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As the con drew to its inevitable end, the same as any living, breathing thing, Milo felt that beautiful end-of-life glow in their bones. The once glimmering streetlights were starting to burn the glass and dim. The streets grew emptier and more polluted, bits of discarded cosplay and broken merch cluttering garbage bins. Vendors had closed up shop, rendering the air to more of a fuel-stench rather than the greasy, fast-food allure.
They took the time to set their phone down and appreciate the atmosphere. Tomorrow, this would be all gone. The streets would return to the cutthroat normalcy of nine-to-fivers, cars and cabs and billboards displaying the newest brand of eyeliners and latest movies, rather than niche merch and panel performances.
It was a good time. Milo learned a lot, like the fact that they really did have a lot in common with April First, of all people. Who would think the illustrious Milo Belladonna and all their cat memes and beauty vlogs would mesh so well with a cutesy clown with a melodic voice and hidden thirst for blood? Zoe was a doll as always, Doug, too. It was nice to get to meet Nico, no, befriend Nico, because they were nothing if not the friendliest monster they’ve ever met. Liam was still Liam, a shame, but they started to at least respect some of his aspirations. The Redemption Arc Program, mostly.
The sound of two deep, brooding voices behind them had Milo turning their head. Speak of the devil, it was two members of the very program. In these dim hours, Milo almost couldn’t make them out, if it weren’t for Omen’s distinctive silhouette and Gerard’s unmistakable, skull-adorned staff.
“It does not matter who he has courted! Liam is reprehensible and you’ll get nowhere by bowing your head to his foolish teachings!”
“You don’t know anything! He was damaged by Joy! He gets me!”
“He is fooling you. Deceiving you! He is trying to manipulate you.”
“He would never! That’s something Joy would do, not Liam.”
“It's like I'm speaking to a brick wall…”
Milo took the opportunity to grace the former villains with their presence. “Good evening, you two. Do I sense some juicy Liam-related drama?”
Omen scoffed, pointed teeth caught on her lower lip. “Begone, Liam-lite.”
“Ouch.” Milo raised their brow. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the iron maiden this morning.”
“Fuck you!” Omen pointed in their face harshly. “You think you’re so much better than him, but you aren’t! You waste all your time on that wicked tiny screen, sharing pointless photographs and drowning in sycophants. And the preaching, good lord! The preaching!”
Milo pouted, arms folded. “I’ll have you know, I haven’t looked at my phone in almost ten minutes. And I’ve got at least sixty notifications by now.”
“Ugh.” Omen turned away, boots clanking as they stormed away. “I’ve reached my limit of idiots!”
“Talk about a sour attitude,” Milo muttered, glancing at Gerard, who lingered, looking about as gaunt and dark as the stale evening around them. “Those Redemption Arc Program meetings must be a real blast with her around.”
“Can’t be surprised…” Gerard sighed. “Liam makes toxic choices when it comes to women. Although, I too am guilty of such mistakes…”
Milo smiled softly. “Why don’t you come sit with me and enjoy the last evening of con together?”
“Why bother? This whole event passed in the blink of an eye…as have each day before it.” Gerard stared lifelessly into the void. “Time is just an illusion to me…another blink and I’ll be bones…”
“Trust me, darling, I’d let you know if your name popped up at my next gig.” Milo gently took his arm and guided him to the nearest picnic table. “So…I can’t help but notice you seem a bit preoccupied by an old ex. Perhaps by the name of…Joy?”
Gerard glared with those over-lined red eyes. “Now you’re just mocking me.”
“I’m teasing you,” Milo corrected, ankles crossed. “And let me just say, you have my condolences. Nothing hurts quite like heartbreak. It’s truly dreadful when I have to reap a soul from a body so…young and full of life. Love can be such a powerful, dangerous thing.”
Gerard’s lower lip quivered. “I just…can’t believe she never really loved me…she said she liked all the poems I wrote…”
“You poured out your soul for her, and she drank you up and spit you out. It hurts. I’m sorry, babe. I see you, though. I’m here for you.”
A cathartic sob slipped past his cold facade. “I can never love like that again…I gave her my all…there’s nothing left of me…”
“I find that hard to believe.” Milo smirked. “Are you familiar with the law of conservation of energy?” When Gerard fixed them with a confused, almost hurt expression, Milo continued, “energy cannot be created or destroyed. The same goes for emotions, darling. Although it may feel as though they come and go, what’s really happening is conversion. The grief you’re feeling now has the ability to become love. And, vice-versa.” A sweet smile. “There is hope.”
Gerard clenched his fist. “Erugh, don’t mention her name either…”
Milo blinked. “I’m…sorry? How many witches are in the Coven again?”
“Three. Joy, Hope, and Faith.”
“Ah, okay, so let’s…try not to use those words, my apologies.” Milo winced at their own blunder. “My point is, you can, and you will love again. Emotions are just like life, cycling through a neverending, beautiful system of waxing and waning. Like the moon’s phases, or high tide. It will come. Just give it time.”
For a moment, Gerard seemed to actually soak in Milo’s wisdom. “So…can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“You’re a reaper, correct? You…know when people are going to die? And how?”
“I get about a week’s notice, give or take. Depends on how busy my schedule is.”
“…could you tell me when Joy’s going to die? And how?”
Milo couldn’t help but release a light, baffled laugh. “Would that truly set your restless heart at ease?”
“It would. I would feel something like solace.”
“Very well. You’ll be the first person I contact once I get that notification. Although…” Milo walked two fingers across the table, right towards Gerard. “I’d need your phone number if we’re going to make such arrangements.”
They sealed the proposal with a wink, and they could swear Gerard’s pale face flushed pink. “Uh…sure. I really don’t use my phone much, but…well, if it’s something this important…”
“Darling, when I text, it’s always important.”
“Well, I…prefer talking face-to-face, when possible…”
“Facetime is never off the table.”
“I mean, without phones. Like this. Like we’re talking, right now.”
“Oh. Like, a date?”
Gerard was at a loss, now. Maybe he’d never been flirted with so directly. Maybe he'd never been flirted with by anyone but the girl who broke his heart. His eyes were dodgy, but his hands twiddled the wood knots of his staff with what clearly looked to be excitement. “Uh….s-sure…”
“Hashtag slay!” Milo clapped their hands. “Oh, it’s going to be so much fun. We could meet at the park. I’d love to hear your poetry. Do you like cheeseboards? Please tell me you like cheeseboards.”
Gerard’s eyes sparkled with awe. “Wait…you’ll…actually listen to my poetry?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You have a way with words only a true patron of the arts such as myself could appreciate.”
For the first time since Milo met this man at con, they witnessed him smile. It was shy and humble, but so, so beautiful. “I’m…looking forward to it. Ugh, but can we meet in a graveyard instead of a park?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Milo swatted a hand. “You’re totally right. The aesthetics of a park and your poetry would not pair well. You pick the location, I’ll meet you there. Plus, if I get a work call, I’ll be nearby! It’s perfect!”
“And…could we meet at midnight? Something about the sunlight really just…sets me back…”
“Of course. Nothing more romantic than a date at dusk.” Milo leaned across the table again, not sparing Gerard from a sultry smirk. Judging from the way they saw his gaze bolt from their eyes to their lips and back, they had him hook, line, and sinker. “This Friday?”
“Yes,” he uttered breathlessly. “I’ll see you then.”
Milo stood gracefully, tugging the hood of their cardigan over their head. “I’m looking forward to it. A reaper and a necromancer…I’d say we make a good pair.”