Chapter 8
Milo
“We’re saved!!!” Milo called from Ethel’s doorway, having gotten a text that they were all eating dinner at her place.
The tiny, condemned building might have been crumbling at the edges, barely upright and violating however many codes, but they’d managed to make a home of it.
Milo in one apartment on the top floor. Ethel and Shelly each with a tiny one-bedroom on the second floor, and the boys sharing one large three-bedroom on the first floor.
Well, it hadn’t been a three-bedroom to start with.
The wall had caved in at one point and they’d just decided to keep it.
When he said they had, he meant their funds had decided. There was no way they could have afforded renovations. So the dudes got a frat house. Busted walls and all.
So, sure, the loan for the new place would probably be impossible to get, he might need to sell an organ or two, but for the first time there was a real, tangible plan that just might work. So if Milo had to work another three jobs to save their place, he would.
“In here!” Shelly called, the distinct scent of sage and incense filling the air. It was so strong Milo couldn’t even begin to guess what Ethel had made for dinner.
For all he knew they were eating leaves and ash.
He sprinted down the blip of Ethel’s hallway, every inch of the wall covered in framed cross-stitches Ethel had made, most of them vulgar and/or pornographic in nature.
She had a true talent. He turned right at the end of the hallway, entering the tiny kitchen slash dining room to find his people—HIS HOARD, apparently—sitting around the table.
There was so much food on it that the legs looked bent under the weight.
The mismatched plates held all of Milo’s favorites, which… while sweet, was very suspicious.
Milo frowned as his eyes landed on Ray sitting among his people, green eyes kind as he looked at Milo.
He was dressed in his usual soft knitted vest over a button-down shirt, his salt and pepper hair making him look distinguished.
He was only slightly older than Milo, but he looked so much more put together and in control of… well, everything in his life.
“Come sit down,” he said and Milo forgot all about his previous excitement. He counted the wrinkly gray heads quickly and found them all accounted for. Ray was clearly okay too, so Milo didn’t understand the somber atmosphere.
“Who died?” Milo asked, lowering himself into the remaining free chair, squished between Conrad and Shelly, immediately getting covered in glitter from where she brushed her hand over his shoulder.
“Everyone’s alive and okay, love,” she said. “And will continue to be so for the foreseeable future. The cards have been kind.”
“But the brains have not,” Ethel said to her.
“I love trains,” Conrad said.
Ethel rolled her eyes. “You came in late last night and we didn’t get a chance to talk. How are you holding up?”
Milo frowned. “What? I’m perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Especially because—”
“Milo,” Ray said, “you just had a pretty serious perspective shift thrust upon you. It’s to be expected…”
“Yes, yes, whatever,” Milo said. “Apparently I’m a dragon. Shock. Gasp. OMG. Hashtag unexpected. But it’s the best thing ever.”
“It is?” Clarence tilted his head, rubbing the little gold cross he wore around his neck.
“Yes!” Milo exclaimed, reaching for a deep-fried drumstick.
“Explain,” Ethel said.
“Planes are nice too.” Conrad nodded decisively.
Milo swallowed a mouthful of chicken. “Okay, so, the universe keeps throwing Rowan my way.” Shelly gasped and clutched the blouse over her heart. “He came into the coffeeshop this morning and we got to talking.”
“You didn’t bite him again, did you?” Ray asked.
Milo shook his head. “He was actually useful this time, so I didn’t have to.”
“You never have to bite—”
“Shhhh.” Ethel threw a napkin at Ray.
“Long story short,” Milo said, “the building he plans to build after this one is torn down is a dragon hoard exhibition gallery type thing. Something.”
“A what?” Clarence asked.
“It’s basically where rich dragons will display whatever trinkets they collect so other dragons can come and oooh and aaaah over them.”
“Oh. I think I’ve heard of those. You can pay admission to go in and view them,” Ray said. “The dragon fetishizers go nuts over them.”
“So our home is being swallowed by darkness after all,” Shelly said.
“Not if I play my cards right,” Milo said. “I’m a dragon, right?”
“Yes,” Ray said.
“And dragons have hoards.”
“Boy, you barely have underwear without holes in it,” Ethel said. “What would you possibly have to display there?”
“You,” Milo said with a giant grin.
“Come again?” Ray asked.
“You. According to a very unwilling source of information, there are no rules as to what a dragon’s hoard can be as long as it’s of value to him, enriches his life in a meaningful way, and he has forged a bond with it that warrants protection and care.
You… You’re my family, yes. But if we say you’re also my hoard, which you are, in a way, Rowan has agreed to carve out a space for you in the new building. ”
“We’d be on display for people to come look at us?” Clarence asked.
“We’d be in porn?” Shelly asked.
“Oh for fuck’s…” Milo slammed a hand onto his plate, the abandoned drumstick bouncing out of it and rolling across the table.
“You wouldn’t be in porn. And nobody would be coming to look at you.
We can frame it as it being a private collection unavailable to the public, You’d just have your own space you could live in. ”
“Would that work?” Ethel asked, clearly trying to find the catch.
“In theory, yes. But it will depend on how well I do.”
“What do you mean?” Ray asked.
“I have to become a dragon,” Milo said. “I have to be accepted by dragon society and registered as one officially. And to do that, I have to learn the customs and the behaviors and all of that so I can prove it, because all my records distinctly say human on them.”
“And you’re supposed to do that…how?” Ray asked.
“Rowan said he’ll help,” Milo said.
“He said that?” Ethel asked.
“Of his own free will?” Clarence added.
“Well, I might have forced his hand a bit, but he said yes.”
“It’s coercion,” Ray said.
“Still counts.” Milo shrugged. “Do you guys want a home or not? Because we won’t be getting rich any time soon and this is the only plan I have that doesn’t involve squatting.”
“Dragons still have to pay for those spaces, Milo,” Ray said.
“I know. I’ll take out loans. Get more jobs. I’ll do whatever I have to, but we are gonna keep our home. I promise you that.”
Milo watched them exchange looks—worried, hopeful, scared.
He let them sit with the information for a little bit, take it in, realize what it all meant.
The tiny speck of anxiety over how they saw him now that they knew reared its ugly head.
Because this wasn’t just about knowing he was a dragon anymore.
This was about going along with the plan and agreeing to present their relationship as something they might not be comfortable with.
“I…I know this is a lot,” he said softly.
“I know how you feel about dragons. I know you swallowed those opinions for me. And now I’m springing this on you, calling you my hoard, offering solutions that might not pan out.
I get all of that. I wish I had something more stable and sure to give you, but…
I don’t. You might hate it, but me being a dragon is our only hope. ”
He looked up at them and found most of them staring.
“Oh, Milo.” Ethel stood up and squeezed between chairs to get to him and pull him into a hug.
“We don’t hate you,” Shelly said. “None of us could ever hate you.”
“You are a gift,” Clarence said. “I might have lost some of my faith, but not all of it is gone. And it tells me you are a miracle sent to us by someone who knew we’d need you.”
“Being your hoard feels more like an honor than a burden,” Ethel said, and Milo realized his walls were crumbling to dust.
His eyes misted and burned, and before he could stop himself, tears spilled over his cheeks as they all piled in around him, hugging him from all sides.
He’d found them by pure chance. He’d come to look at the apartment and found Ethel living alone in a dilapidated building. She’d inherited it and kept it running while she had the means. But the place had worn down with time and she couldn’t keep up. Tenants had left, and she’d remained. Alone.
He’d offered to help around the place in exchange for a bed in the empty space on the top floor. Ethel had done him one better. She’d roped her retired friends in to donate furniture and make his place look like a home.
Then came Glenn. They’d found him at bingo night, sitting alone at the end of one table, folding tiny paper flowers out of the cards and humming softly to himself.
He barely remembered his name. Had no idea where he came from.
They’d tried looking for his family but nobody ever came forward. So he stayed.
And Milo found another job.
Then Shelly knocked on their door with Clarence holding her arm. They’d heard they could sleep there for a night or two while they looked for a place to stay.
They never left.
Conrad came through Clarence’s old church.
Milo found more jobs to cover bills. Remembered their medications. Learned their quirks. Loved them. Claimed them as his own without even realizing he was doing it.
But with their number growing and resources dwindling, Ethel had to sell the building just for them to continue making ends meet.
She’d made sure to make the new owner agree to let them keep renting and it worked.
For years they’d lived in peace until Rowan’s company offered the new owner money he couldn’t refuse.
And now it was on Milo to fix it because they were his.
“We love you,” Shelly said, because the feeling was very much mutual.
“I love you too, guys.” Milo wiped his face with his sleeve as they dispersed back to their seats. “Okay, enough feelings. The food’s getting cold.”
They sat back down, waiting for a moment for Clarence to say his prayer. The little round table went silent, Clarence’s soft muttering the only sound. Milo smiled.
He really did love his family.
“Hi, I’m Glenn, and I’m an alcoholic,” Glenn said finally.
“No, you’re not,” Ethel said. “You’re a librarian. And demented.”
“Who got cemented?” Conrad asked.
“You sure you want to keep them?” Ray asked from across the table and Milo chuckled.
“’Fraid so,” he said, digging into the food.
Notes:
The idea of the old people being Milo’s hoard was one of the very first that came to us when we initially started thinking about this story. We wanted a dragon who had zero idea he was a dragon and had managed to get himself the weirdest collection a dragon could have.
Why old people? Zero clue XD
But they are so insanely fun to write we just couldn’t pass the opportunity.