A Hero Can Save Us

San Diego Marriott Marquis & Marina
July 16, 2015
8:40 AM

I stifled a laugh, my cheeks burning.
"You were awesome," Russ yelled, piercing my ear drums, "this video has 500,000 views already."
"So everyone has seen me make a fool out of myself?" I asked with a gasp.
"Well," Milo admitted, with a shrug, "yeah, but they loved you."
I felt entirely idiotic, but perhaps it had worked in my favor in terms of the friends I had now grown oddly attached to.
I sighed, "So, what do you want to do today?"
Milo yawned, scratching his dark hair, "the Masquerade is tonight at 7:30."
I groaned, "I don't feel like walking around until then, I don't feel like doing much of anything, right now."
Russ rubbed sleep from his eyes, "I've got to head home for a while and take a shower, I reek of beer."
Milo suppressed a laugh, "Well, that's what happens when you jump over the bar Dukes of Hazzard style with a bottle of Budweiser in each hand."
"It would have worked out, too," Russ replied heading toward the door, a tired grin on his face, "if the bartender hadn't been in my way."
Milo and I burst into laughter as he left the room. When I caught my breath, I ordered breakfast from Room Service and Milo and I ate on the sofa as we flipped through the hotel cable.
Eventually, we settled on Sandler film, Mr. Deeds after Milo yelled, "that movie is great!" so loudly it nearly sent me into convulsions.
We lazed on the couch for a few hours, watching films from the past, my head on his shoulder. We were half-way through Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, when Milo sighed. I pulled away from him, looking him in the face. His hazel eyes were filled with unexpected sadness, his forehead wrinkled in frustration.
I gripped his wrist gently, "what's the matter?"
He slowly looked me in the eyes, attempting to feign confusion, "I'm good."
"Milo, I know too much about social cues to believe you," I told him seriously, searching his face for indication.
His resolve weakened, removing my hand from his wrist, only to hold it in his own.
"Today is the 16th, right?" he asked, his tone melancholy.
I quickly checked the date on the cable menu, before nodding.
He stared momentarily at our hands, his fingers tapping the spaces in between mine, "today's the 2 year anniversary of my father's death."
My eyes widened, I had no idea.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, squeezing his hand supportively.
He sighed again before looking into my face searchingly, "I honestly had all but forgotten."
He looked as though he was ashamed of himself and his gaze slipped to the floor.
I gently nudged his chin up, forcing him to look at me.
I stared into his tear-rimmed eyes, "let's go see him."
His eyes widened a bit, "it's 90 miles away."
I shrugged, not letting up, "that's like what, a half an hour in California?"
He smirked crookedly, "Are you sure?"
I nodded profusely, "absolutely."

Santa Ana Cemetery
2:30 PM

We pulled up after a couple hours of driving in near silence, only stopping at a floral shop, where Milo bought a dozen white roses. Before us, the brick gates loomed, the words 'Santa Ana Cemetery' glowing gold in the afternoon sunlight. Milo parked, before grabbing the bouquet of roses and getting out of the BMW.
I sprinted to catch up as he passed through the cemetery gates, roses clenched in his left hand. As we stepped through, it was like a different world. A sad empty world.
The grass cut meticulously short, grave stones protruding from the ground in every direction. Some were decorated with wreathes of roses and lilies. Others were abandoned, caked with dirt and worn beyond the point of repair. It seemed to go on this way as far as the eye could see.
Milo seemed unperturbed by this as he moved as if following a tracking system, roses still dangling in his hand beside him, a stray petal falling behind us occasionally. I took his hand in mine, in attempt to give him strength, but his fingers just dangled weakly in between mine. At last I could see the beacon, so to speak, that he'd been seemingly following this whole time.
He began towards it with purpose, tears forming in his eyes again. As we reached the large grave stone, he stopped quickly. A wreath of purple flowers already lay at the base.
"Laurel has already been here," he informed me, his voice thick with the beginnings of tears.
He stepped forward tracing the words on the Granite stone, with his fingers. It read:
Peter Anthony Ventimiglia
1953 - 2013
"Beloved Father and Husband"
He placed the now somewhat wilted, white roses at the base, before sitting down in the dirt. He held his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking in an obvious sign of tears. I quickly went to him, throwing my arm around his shoulders.
He looked me in the eyes, tears sliding relentlessly down his cheeks. I smudged them away with my thumb. I realized though we were both filled with pain, his greatly surpassed mine and maybe it had been the sadness in my eyes that day that spawned this odd friendship between us. I rested my forehead against his, staring into his red-rimmed hazel eyes, willing myself to understand his pain.
He placed a gentle hand on my cheek before telling me, his voice breaking, "I really miss him."
I pulled him to me, leaving his head to rest on my shoulder, as I stroked his dark hair, softly crooning, "I know, I know."
We remained like this for a few minutes, until no new tears fell upon the already soaked shoulder of my T-shirt. He took my hand and stood with a new resolve on his face. We silently left the rows of gravestones and headed back to San Diego.

San Diego Marriott Marquis & Marina
5:03 PM

As we stepped hand in hand into the elevator, Russ appeared at the hotel entrance yelling, "Hold the door!"
Milo wordlessly held the door as Russ ran inside.
He smiled, saying, "it's you guys."
He looked from me to Milo's somber face, before pointedly giving me a questioning look. I shrugged, quickly pretending to be preoccupied by a smudge of dirt on the elevator floor. We quietly stepped out as the elevator doors opened to my floor.
Russ stared at Milo in confusion as I slipped my keycard in the door before letting them inside. I flipped the lights on as Milo and Russ plopped on the couch, Russ asking questions in hushed tones. Milo just stared at him, unmoving. I stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at me with appreciation.
Russ sighed before informing us, "I went ahead and picked up tickets for the Masquerade." He pulled three laminated passes from his shirt pocket, handing one to Milo and I.
"I had to argue with ticket guy for a half an hour to get these seats," he told us, a smug look on his face.
I looked uselessly at the ticket number, without recognition, I had no idea whether the seats were good or not.
Finally, for the first time since the cemetery Milo spoke, "these seats are pretty good."
Russ smiled with pride before asking, "Can we get some food up here? I'm famished."
I nodded quickly, heading to the kitchen area, to grab a menu off of the fridge. Through the doorway I see Russ begin to whisper to Milo again, to no avail. I thought as I grabbed the hotel phone from the wall that it was hard to believe that Russ had forgotten.
Russ then ordered food, sighing deeply when Milo would only point to what he wanted on the menu. Shortly after, as Russ went to the door to receive the food, I gave Milo a questioning look. He smiled gently, before shrugging. Though his thoughts were no clearer, I couldn't help but return his smile as Russ paid and tipped the attendant.
Milo ate his salad silently as Russ flipped through the cable and I picked at my chicken, stealing glances at Milo, wondering just what was going through his mind. Eventually, Russ theorized that we should leave earlier because the huge lines. Milo and I nodded emphatically before the three of us took an awkwardly silent elevator ride to the lobby.

San Diego Convention Center
Outside Ballroom 20
6:36 PM

There was an air of anticipation surrounding us as we stood at the end of a virtually endless line of convention-goers. The street was filled excited chatter. I found myself bouncing on my heels as if it were contagious. Even Milo, couldn't not smile as a group costumed fanboys near us laughed and carried on, vocally voicing opinion on the costumes of passer-bys.
After an hour or so, the excitement had nearly began to wither, only to be renewed as the doors opened, causing burst of cheers throughout the line. I quickly twirled in joy, before taking Milo's hand as we followed the convention-goers ahead of us.
When we reached the door, my attention was caught by a large sign on the wall: Absolutely no flash photography! I, for a moment wondered why, before we stepped inside. I then saw rows and rows of costumed characters seated before us and instantly felt underdressed. Stealing a glance at Milo, the feeling was assuaged by his amused grin. Russ then took the lead, Milo and I followed him to the third row, where we shoved past groaning fanboys.
Once seated I understood why there was no flash photography allowed, as I peered around the ballroom, it occurred to me there were thousands of spectators here just for this event. As I watched people fill in the overflow seating, I felt a sense of guilt for my good fortune, seat wise. Milo's knee bounced in anticipation as Russ excitedly gesticulating whom he thought would receive Best In Show.
Soon, a hush fell over the crowd as someone lowered the lights. An unseen announcer presented three judges, none of whom I was familiar with but all of which brought a broad grin to Russ's face. I looked to Milo, who was smiling almost serenely. With the finishing of introductions, the announcer called for the first entry, a man wearing a white hat dressed as Finn the human, guiding a golden retriever with his hair trimmed short to look like Jake the dog.
The next two hours were mystifying. I now understood why thousands of people flocked here a year, as a woman in an elaborate Queen Amidala costume crossed the stage before us, red jewels sparkling in her headdress. A gasp escaped me as a man dressed as Resident Evil's Wesker stepped on stage, prosthetic, warped limbs and appendages protruding from his clothing, his dark sunglasses glinting under the spotlights. I found myself nearly in tears as a man who was dressed brilliantly as a Big Daddy from Bioshock walked across the stage holding the hand of a little girl dressed convincingly as a Little Sister, yellow contacts, bow and all.
At about 10, the unseen voice announced that there would be a short intermission while the judges made their final decisions. Nearly, no one moved, though the ballroom filled with talk of awards and costumes. I heard Milo laugh beside me, surprising after seeing the state he'd been in before. He and Russ were playfully arguing whose Spider Man suit had been best. I felt relieved as I watched them banter, as I made eye contact with Russ I could tell he was feeling similarly. After about a half an hour or so the lights dimmed once again, and the unseen voice told us the judges had made their decisions.
The judges filed on to the stage, a clipboard in each of their hands. From there they began calling off categories followed by their respective winners. Milo cheered loudly as his choice of Spider Man won Best Re-Creation, Russ booing loudly beside him. I was thrilled when the woman dressed as Queen Amidala won Most Beautiful, bowing gracefully, despite all her adornments. Soon, all the categories were awarded, the stage filled with amazing Cosplayers.
Eventually, people began filing out of the ballroom. I found myself still full of energy despite the late hour, as Milo, Russ and I pushed through the crowd.
Once outside, I twirled, calling, "that was amazing!"
Milo and Russ laughed; a shared look of amusement on their faces.
A gentle breeze blew as we headed across the street, the last streaks of sunset fading behind the skyline. As we neared the Marriott, Russ hesitated at the door.
Milo turned to him, "you go ahead, Russ."
Russ nodded, giving me a wave before continuing down the street.
From the lobby, Milo and I stepped into the elevator along with a group of noisy teens dressed as Star Trek characters. Once reaching my floor, Milo stepped out just a bit too eagerly. He took my hand as we started down the hall.
As I slid my keycard in the door Milo let go of my hand, expecting me to tell him good-bye. I turned looking him in his hazel eyes, thinking that this may be our last night together, when a thought occurred to me.
"Come in," I told him, pushing the door open.
He looked surprised as he walked inside; flipping the lights on as he went.
I headed into the kitchen, grabbing the remainder of the wine from the fridge and two tea cups, before unzipping my book bag and pulling out a pad of paper and water color pencils. What better way was there to immortalize the events that changed my life here, than to draw to the catalyst of them all?
I found Milo on the couch, mild confusion on his face. I sat beside him, popping the cork from the bottle, pouring a bit into each cup. I motioned the second towards him.
He chuckled, "You know I don't drink."
"Live a little," I told him, before he took the cup from my hands.
He took a sip before grimacing, "this stuff never tastes any better."
I laughed, taking a drink and pulling the drawing pad onto my lap.
"What's that for?" he asked before emptying the tea cup, a drop escaping down his chin.
I swiped it away with my thumb, "I want to draw you, if that's okay."
He nodded wordlessly, refilling his glass, taking another drink, before sitting his cup on the table before us. I opened the pad to an empty page, before getting up and adjusting the lights.
"How do you want me?" he asked with a laugh as I sat back down beside him.
I smirked removing a black pencil from the box, "do whatever's natural."
He leaned back against the couch, his arms spread out over the back. I leaned over, removing a piece of hair from behind his ear and placing it gently on his forehead, feeling his breath against my skin.
"Good," I told him, scooting back and beginning to work. I began with his handsome face, focusing on his eyes, attempting to capture the glow of goodness within them, moving on to his nose, before starting on his crooked mouth, dotting his jaw with light stubble. He grinned at me as I compared my art to the real thing. After about 20 minutes, I felt satisfied, as if I had captured the moment as perfectly as possible in such a short amount of time.
"Done," I told him, a proud smile hurting my cheeks. He sat up quickly, shaking the circulation back into his arms.
"Can I see?" he asked taking a swig straight from the wine bottle, obviously somewhat affected by it's contents.
I nodded emphatically. He rested his chin on my shoulder, looking down at my art, before taking it in his hands.
An incredulous smile took over his face, "I'm impressed."
"You like it?" I asked skeptically as he resumed staring at the drawing. He was quiet. I stared down at my now black smudged hands in self-conscientiousness. He nudged my chin, as I had done to him earlier.
His eyes pierced mine, "it's amazing."
He rested his palm on my cheek, softly. I felt him growing closer. I didn't stop him this time.
For the first time our lips met, the taste of wine clinging to his, as he pulled me closer. I felt his hand of the small of my back as he kissed my lips gently over and over. In the back of my mind, I felt a sense of guilt, but pushed it away, my hand on Milo's chest.
Heat rose all over my skin as he pulled my lip ring teasingly with his teeth. Suddenly, I was in his arms as started toward the bed, his lips never leaving mine. In moments, I was looking into his hazel eyes above me, before we clashed again in a kiss.
I felt daring as I found the buttons of his shirt fumbling with the first one. His tongue trailed my bottom lip, begging for entry, which I granted. My fingers grew quicker, in my passion, relief flooding over me as the last button opened, exposing his bare chest and stomach.
I pushed his shirt from his shoulders, then running my hands over the muscles in his arms. Impassioned, he broke away, lifting my shirt over my head effortlessly. The moment it was gone, as if he couldn't resist, he kissed me again, his hot breath against my cheek.
I kissed him breathlessly, stopping only to remove his pants before he returned the favor. We were intertwined, my legs wrapped around his as he kissed me relentlessly. He groaned softly as I nipped his crooked lip with my teeth.
He sat up, pulling me into his arms, beginning to fumble with the clasp of my bra. Cold fear filled me, stopping me in my tracks. I wasn't ready. I grabbed his arms, pulling away to look in his eyes, preying he'd understand this change of heart.
He smiled with sympathy, "if this is all you're ready for, this is all I need." My heart felt like it would explode in my adoration for him, at that moment. I pulled him back to me, our lips colliding. We continued in this fashion for hours, until we were both breathless, our skin sticky with sweat. Eventually, we lay intertwined, as his breathes grew deep with the beginnings of sleep. I sighed, before drifting off, a calm falling over me.

San Diego Marriott Marquis & Marina
8:49 AM

I woke with my head on Milo's muscular chest, with a start. Distantly, I heard banging. I nearly laid my head back down when it occurred to me, that someone was at the door. I gently got out of bed, doing my best not to wake Milo. Sure enough, someone was banging on the door.
I began opening the door before beginning to hiss, "Keep it down, will you? There are people asleep in he-"
My words choked in my throat, as I stood there in nothing but Milo's button up shirt and my underwear. Travis stood on the other side of the door, a look of shock on his face as he looked me over.
"Abbey?!"