Milo #2
It was the same list Anabelle had drilled into Milo every time they went out in the city at night.
They could still remember their first time going to a club when they turned 21.
She’d handed them their house keys, with a pink can of pepper spray and a purple whistle so new it still had the tag on it.
She’d shown Milo how to use the pepper spray and whistle years earlier, but before she let them leave, she pulled down a glass and made them practice putting the reusable drink cover over it.
Over the years, Milo had lost the pepper spray, the whistle rusted, and someone invented a drink cover that could be worn around the wrist like a hairband, but the sentiment remained the same.
Maybe that was why Ray didn’t so much as bat an eye at Milo’s overprotectiveness. “Yup,” he said, popping the “p” as a way to smooth the stain across his lips. “Got it all in my bag.”
Milo smacked a kiss on Ray’s forehead, sans lip product because they still had to do theirs. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Please try to make good decisions tonight.”
This time, Ray didn’t just bat his eyes, he rolled them. “Yes, nonbinary parental unit, whatever you say.”
Milo’s pony snorted through their large nostrils, and Milo scrunched up their human nose.
“Sorry,” Ray said, his face falling. “Is that…too gendered still?”
“You tried, and that’s what matters,” Milo said, applying the final swipe of eyeliner to Ray’s lids.
“Could you maybe explain why that isn’t right?” Ray asked, his cat ears popping out, messing up the hairstyle he’d spent twenty minutes working on.
Milo rose from their crouch and stepped in front of the mirror to do their own makeup. They had told Rowan they needed to talk to Ray, and although this wasn’t exactly a convenient time, it would be nice to tell Rowan tomorrow that they had followed through.
“I can try, but I’m not entirely sure either.”
Ray’s ears twitched, but other than that, he sat perfectly still as Milo attempted to explain while dodging the fog in their head and trying not to stab out their eye with the eyeliner pen.
“So, back when Anabelle and I were trying new pronouns basically every week, I had a similar problem,” Milo said.
“Nothing was wrong with any of the pronouns, but none of them actually fit. He/him sort of feels like a tight pair of socks that I’ve been wearing for so long, I mostly forget how uncomfortable they are.
She/her is at least something different, but after a while, it starts to have that same too-tight feeling.
They/them is a little more ambiguous, but still isn’t quite right.
It’s almost like I need some fourth thing, or maybe a combination of all three. ”
“I think that actually makes total sense,” Ray said. “So instead of using they/them to express being nonbinary, it’s sort of like you’re using they/them because no pronouns are quite right, but at the same time, they’re all sort of right? And at least they/them is a bit more neutral?”
Milo blinked several times against the mascara wand before turning to face Ray.
“Yeah, that’s exactly it. I don’t think I’m a cis man, a trans woman, or nonbinary.
I’m genderqueer and…” They moved the word around in their mouth for a moment before deciding to give it a shot.
“And I like to dress and express that in gender nonconforming ways, including my pronouns.”
“So, it’s almost like you’re using they/he/she pronouns. Or they/she/he?”
Milo’s pony whinnied and sunlight broke through the fog in their head. For just a moment, they could see across the chasm. Anabelle wasn’t waiting on the other side of it, and the fact that she never would be again had Milo grasping for the edge of the sink, but…
They could almost make out Rowan, with his steady encouragement; Ethel, with her unwavering acceptance; and Ray, with his steadfast commitment to being there for Milo.
“Oh my gods,” Milo whispered, blinking hard down at the sink to try and keep their tears at bay. They didn’t have time to redo their makeup, and they definitely didn’t have time to explain everything going on in their head.
“What?” Ray asked, his whiskers sprouting as he glanced into the sink, as if there was some imminent threat coming up out of the drain.
“I love that,” Milo whispered, blinking two more times just to be safe. “They/he/she. That’s exactly how I feel! Not any one of them over the other. Any and all. A mix.”
Ray beamed at them but then his brow creased again. “Does that mean you want me to switch back and forth between them?”
Milo turned back to the mirror and stared deep into the eyes of their reflection.
They were feeling a little more on the masculine side today, but nothing so distinct that they would want to ask for he/him pronouns.
They’d done a little reading on gender fluidity, and that wasn’t how they felt.
It was almost like the soda concoctions they used to create with Anabelle.
Growing up, they hadn’t eaten out very often, and when they did, it was usually fast food.
That had been fine with Milo, because whenever they ate out, they got to create what Anabelle called their “magic potions” by mixing all the fountain drinks together.
As if by magic, every sip had them discovering new flavors and flavor combinations.
Even though each sip was a unique experience, the ingredients were always there, mixed together in the giant cup they passed back and forth between them.
“I think I may still lead with they/them, but with the understanding that androgyny is not my entire identity, it’s just one part of it,” Milo said, the taste of fizzy, too-sweet soda on their tongue.
“And you can feel free to use those pronouns around other people, but don’t feel the need to correct anyone. I’ll do that in my own time.”
“Okay! I hear you, and I got you,” Ray said, hopping up from the toilet seat.
“You always do,” Milo said, wrapping an arm around Ray’s shoulders.
After Milo did their own WWPDP check, they headed out. Ray had been right, and the road closures didn’t affect the drive over, but it took nearly 30 minutes to find parking, and by the time they arrived at the door, Milo and their pony were a bit on edge.
When they walked in, and someone immediately called Ray’s name, a not-so-tiny part of Milo wanted to turn around and walk out. Thankfully, it was just Hank, the gruff bartender.
“Hi, boys, what can I get for you?” Hank asked as he slid four beers across the bar to a group of shifters. “Busy night tonight, so you’ll want to get your orders in early.”
That was an understatement. The club was rapidly filling up with eager-looking shifters.
“Oh, and because I keep fucking forgetting, your name should be on this list, and you can take a corresponding wristband,” Hank gruffed, nodding at a stapled stack of papers that had seen better days, and a box filled with red, green, and yellow wristbands.
“I’ll take a daiquiri, please and thank you, Hank!” Ray said before scurrying over to the list.
“The usual for me,” Milo said. They almost didn’t say anything more, but at the last second they added, “And I’m not really going by ‘boy’ or ‘man’ or ‘guy’ anymore.”
Hank raised both eyebrows as he picked up a cocktail shaker and began shaking it next to his head. “Roger that. I’ll try to remember for next time.”
“Thank you!” Milo said, giving a campy salute before following after Ray.
“So, it looks like the bracelet color corresponds to whether you’re looking for something serious, something playful, or you’re just here to socialize,” Ray said.
Without hesitation, Milo grabbed a red “socialize” bracelet, and Ray pursed his lips, but didn’t comment as he fished out a green bracelet for himself.
Most of the greens were already gone, which made sense given it was a singles’ event.
The red was probably for folks like Milo who were there for emotional support.
“One Daiquiri and one usual,” Hank said, appearing in front of them with their drinks. He held out his hand, and Ray handed over his card.
“Aww, thanks, sweet pea.”
Ray rolled their eyes and turned to survey the bar. “I think I can keep you stocked on Shirley Temples for the night without breaking the bank.”
Milo hip bumped him, and Ray hip bumped them back.
Milo used it as an excuse to start swaying to the upbeat music.
There were small clusters of shifters all around the room, but the majority were already on the dance floor.
Usually, at events like this, Milo would suggest they dance first so Ray could work off some jitters, but they could also take a lap around the room and scope things out.
“Do you want to—” Milo went to ask, but a tall shifter seemed to materialize at Ray’s side. He had a green bracelet on and eyes only for Ray.
“Hey there. I would offer to buy you a drink, but since you beat me to it, could I offer you this first dance?”
Milo bristled at the fact that the man had probably been watching Ray since they walked in, but Ray blushed and peered up at him through his lashes. “I’d like to get through a little more of my drink first, but then yes, you can have my first dance of the evening.”
“Care to get to know each other a little first?” the man asked, holding out a hand for Ray like he was offering him help up out of a chair.
Ray glanced at Milo, and even though their pony huffed, Milo nodded.
“I’ll catch up with you in a bit?” Ray asked, and all Milo could do was nod again.
Ray followed the shifter over to one of the few available high-top tables, leaving Milo alone at the bar as shifters continued to stream into the club. The mixing scents of cologne, perfume, and pheromones had their pony curling their lip back in distaste.