Well, that settles it. Milo was going to have to live with their mother for the rest of their life or at least right up until she got sick of them and kicked them to the streets. Not that Milo actually believed she would do that but still. The point stands. They were never moving out. 

They were now 30 minutes late to a meeting they had showed up 15 minutes early for, there was no way to get into the apartment building that they were supposed to be meeting potential new roommates in, and now their best friend won’t even answer her phone. So yeah, it just kept getting worse. 

Answer the damn phone, Marisol. 

They had circled the building enough times now to have lost count. Every time they think they’ve found an entrance–they end right back where they started and off they go, searching for something that should not be taking them this long to find. Milo slumped against the brick wall, finding sanctuary on the rough sidewalk.

They could change their name-again-and move to a different city. Hell, they could move to a different country. Whatever gets them far, far away from-

Their phone buzzed and they fumbled with their coat pocket, trying to pull it out. 

“Marisol?”  The name was out of their mouth before they had even pressed accept.

“Good morning, Milo!” Marisol chirped into the phone. Milo pulled the phone from their ear as a sudden crash, followed by a sharp static and what sounded like a crowd of people around her. “I just landed in LA and noticed I had missed calls. Sorry about that. But what did you think of the others? Didn’t I tell you they were lovely?” In good ole Marisol fashion, she was talking at the speed of light, far too chirpy for someone who just got off a flight. 

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been able to get inside.” They paused. “I thought you weren’t leaving until this afternoon.”

“Oh, I am going to ring Ronan’s neck!” She all but screamed into their ear. They winced. Heavens help whoever this Ronan guy was. Milo had been on the other side of Marisol’s wrath a handful of times now, and they did not envy him. She didn’t acknowledge the misunderstanding in flight times. Milo sighed.  “I told him he needed to meet you downstairs and I told him not to forget about it and I should have known better to leave it to him. Give me a minute.” Before Milo could say anything at all, she had hung up the phone. 

Well, damn. 

A few minutes ticked by and Milo twiddled with their phone, twirling it between their fingers and letting it spin. They stared down at the pavement, eyes focusing onto a crack and ears tuning into the low buzz of insects flying around them. They could always call their mother and not deal with whatever this was. Their final hope of moving out, starting their life up again relied on Marisol. Marisol, who booked a role on a television show like she had always dreamed and is currently in LA for said show. Marisol, who had been by their side ever since Wes died. 

Nope. Absolutely not. They blinked away the tears that were forming. No crying. Good first impressions. They were 92% certain that the last interview they cried in was the reason they didn’t get accepted. And it had been going so well. They wrapped the thin chain that hung around their neck, a thin, silver crescent moon dangling from it, around their fingers and pressed it to their mouth. 

“Why are you sitting on the ground?” Milo jerked back, letting the chain fall back to their chest, face flushing as someone appeared at their left. 

“Oh, hi, what the fuck?” Their eyes widened, finally meeting the gaze of the person greeting them. “Sorry, hi. I’m Milo.” 

“I assumed.” A woman smiled down at them. “Though that doesn’t explain to me why you are on the ground.” Milo shuffled to get up, dusting off the dirt. 

“Uh, I couldn’t find the entrance.” The woman had several inches on Milo and wore checkered pants with a plain tee and cardigan over top. Milo eyed the bottle of wine in one hand, a glass in the other. Okay, so at least they feel less bad about being late if no one knew they were supposed to be here. 

“Marisol explained. I’m really sorry. Ronan forgot to let us know that you were coming today.” Her lips pursed and something told Milo that this wasn’t a one time event with this Ronan character. Yippee for a new potential roommate. “I’m Apolonia, by the way.” She extended her hand and Milo took it, shaking. 

“Milo.” She knows that. Of course she knows that, you dipshit, you already introduced yourself.

She broke into a grin.

“And I’m here now, and I can show you around the apartment while they clean up upstairs.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to clean up, I’m sure it’s-” 

“No, really. It’s a disaster up there and I, for one, want to try to save our first impression somewhat. We really aren’t this bad at communicating.” She paused. “Mostly.” She led them up down a path that Milo did not see at any point of their entrance seeking journey. Where did that even come from? It was an alleyway, and Milo hadn’t seen this on any of their rounds but also, even if they had would they have walked down a random alleyway? Probably not. 

The  pathway was a dead end, the two of them now standing in front of a brick wall. 

“And this-” she paused, gesturing to the blank wall, “is why you couldn’t get in.” 

Apolonia took their hand in hers and immediately Milo could see it. The facade faded like ice melting away rapidly, right in front of their eyes. They opened their mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in their throat. The shimmer of magic glistened bright before disappearing completely and Apolonia pulled them forward and into it, entering a large courtyard. 

Shimmering lights twinkled in the morning sun and the consistent buzzing grew louder as they stepped further into the courtyard. 

Fairies.