Page 92 of Shifter Omegaverse AU

Even if Milo walked down those steps, all they would find at the bottom was memories because…

Anabelle, their beloved great-aunt, the only family they’d ever truly known, their confidant, thrifting partner, hiking buddy, ally, advocate, and best friend…

She was never coming back.

She wasn’t waiting for them in the city, in the warm, wackily decorated room she shared with Ethel. She wasn’t on the other end of the telephone or on one of the trips she liked to take to flea markets out of state.

Milo had lost the most important person in their life, and Andrew, their boyfriend, who should have helped them through it, had brushed their grief aside and kept them from Ethel, the one other person on the planet who could have helped them through their grief.

The room shook, and the rich reds and browns of Rowan’s hawk blurred and distorted, and yet somehow, Milo found themself walking down that staircase in their mind.

They gingerly removed feather after feather, matching the movements of their hands with the steps they took down, down, down into the chasm. They couldn’t see or hear their pony, and they couldn’t feel their hands or the sofa beneath them, but they kept going until finally…

They were alone.

There was nothing and no one here with them, just a never-ending expanse of white. In here, nothing seemed to matter. Not the progress they’d made on not just discovering but accepting and loving their gender. Not how far they’d come at work, even after losing their job and apartment and starting over from scratch. Not the lifelong friendships they’d forged with not just Ray but Ethel as well. Not their 4G, Triple S fated mate, or the family they were going to meet next week and hopefully become a part of…

Because Milo didn’t have any family left.

Anabelle.

Was gone.

And it fucking sucked.

It sucked so hard and for so long, and Milo was so, so tired of everything sucking and of the thick, cloying, suffocating fog. They were just…

So...

Tired…

All they wanted to do was lie down at the bottom of this chasm and sleep. They wanted to dream of Anabelle and wake up with a mind that didn’t bare the scars of her loss—

But then, as if speaking to them through the fog, they heard the grief counselor’s voice.

The chasm, and all the pain that came with it, was proof that Anabelle had been here, that she had walked this earth and allowed Milo to hold her sleeve at crosswalks and lean against her side on her old couch. The chasm was proof that Milo had loved another person with all their heart and received just as much love in return.

They didn’t want to live in a world where Anabelle never existed. They cherished every moment, every memory, every ugly sweater and loud print. They wanted to share those memories and all the lessons she taught them, both on purpose and completely by accident. They wanted to love and be loved and to do so with their full heart and mind, not clouded by fog or limited by the truth they had refused to face.

Their pony whinnied, long and low, a sad yet somehow hopeful noise.

At some point, they must have closed their eyes, because they squeezed them even tighter as the fog retreated, leaving them standing back at the top of the chasm again.

They could see across it now, and although it was too deep to see straight into, they could see the walls, as if maybe someday those, too, would begin to heal.

Feeling slowly returned to their body, starting with their nose, which was running, and spreading out to their head, which ached, and their shoulders, which were being squeezed just a little too hard—

Milo’s eyes flew open, and they found Rowan, in his human form, holding them tightly, Milo’s blanket from earlier a protective barrier between them.

“Ro-Rowan?” Milo gasped, their throat raw like maybe they’d been crying for some time now.

“I’m here,” Rowan gruffed.

“Rowan?” Milo whispered, and Rowan’s fingers flexed on their shoulder.

“I’m right here, baby.”

And he really was, right there on his couch, butt-ass-naked, holding Milo like some kind of bundled up beta burrito. A BuBB.