Chapter 10
THE ART OF FALLING APART
Micah - Present Day
This was not a baby step. Not a baby step. Micah’s heart was a runaway train, barreling through the dark.
Cosmo clutched the rose bouquet as they walked, his other hand so close to Micah’s that their knuckles had brushed, and his train-of-a-heart was going to end in a fiery explosion if it happened again.
He’d touched Micah during dinner too and gazed at him with interest, but all Micah could see when he closed his eyes were Cosmo’s kiss emoji replies to every suggestive Flashbulb comment he received.
Everett’s encouragement of Go sweep him off his feet sounded like a rallying cry for a battle Micah couldn’t win, but Cosmo was coming back to the studio, and dear lord, hopefully the place was clean.
“Damn it. I left rose clippings all over the counter.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it was better than announcing that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned the fridge.
“You arranged this yourself?” Cosmo asked.
“Yeah. They’re the complex’s roses.”
“I’m not sure why, but I assumed you bought it.” He pressed his nose to the petals. “I like it even more now.”
Breathe, Micah.
The complex loomed, art deco molding catching the soft light of twilight.
For the first time in nine months, Micah was going to be able to invite someone in.
He could stand next to them at the drafting table and talk about his sketches and compare mediums. He could offer them a drink and a place to sit.
The gin he’d bought earlier in the day might not be Cosmo’s drink of choice, but Micah was certain he’d at least made the bed and done the dishes.
Even though it was only one specific person he could invite inside, it was a start. Cosmo was giving Micah nerves of a completely different sort, and he needed to calm down.
Ximena stood outside her office, a stack of manila file folders in her arms. She turned around, then stared at Cosmo. Color drained from her face. The folders slipped from her arms and crashed across the ground, but she stood frozen in place.
Micah cleared his throat. “Guess who I found.”
Ximena screamed, crossed herself, and scrambled for her office door. She fumbled her keys and shook the locked knob, then ran around the side of the little building, disappearing beyond the bushes and into the dark.
Cosmo pinched his lips closed. “That happens on occasion.”
“She said you had an obituary.” Micah bent to collect Ximena’s folders, tucking the papers back inside. He was going to have to text her an explanation. Hopefully she didn’t send him a priest or an eviction notice before then.
“Yes, but it wasn’t supposed to go out until after I handed out the funeral invitations – which made it clear it was a party.”
“She didn’t know it was a party. She thought it was a real funeral.”
Cosmo helped pick up the mess, and his voice took on an irritated edge.
“Then she didn’t look hard enough at the invitation or was never actually handed one.
My execution was certainly lacking in some aspects of the event.
Now I get people randomly screaming at me when I’m trying to buy shampoo in the grocery store.
” He stacked everything neatly, set it in front of the office door, and placed a rock on top so nothing blew away.
“Chasing her down to give her the folders seems like a bad idea.”
“I agree.” Micah started to direct him up the stairs to the second level, then caught himself. “I was about to tell you where my place is, but of course you already know.”
“I don’t remember, actually. It’s been three years since I lived there. It’s twenty-something. Twenty-four?”
“Twenty-one.” Keeping in mind that so long had passed for Cosmo was going to be difficult, though his hair was longer than it had been in their ghostly interactions, one lock always hanging in his eye.
“How old are you?” Micah headed up the stairs and dug his keys from his pocket. “Twenty-nine?”
“Close. Twenty-seven.”
Micah suddenly felt ancient, and he was certain Cosmo could see every line on his face and the slight regression of his hairline. It only reinforced that he couldn’t assume Cosmo’s flirts meant interest, and working himself up was only going to end in heartbreak.
“And you? Wait – I’m going to guess it. Thirty-one.”
A laugh barked from Micah’s throat. Cosmo frowned and said, “I’m quite far off? Twenty-eight, then.”
Twenty-eight! “I’m thirty-eight.”
Cosmo smacked Micah’s arm. “You are not.”
“I am.”
“You don’t look it.”
Micah unlocked the door and swung it open. He shook out his tingling fingers. This was it. Cosmo was coming in. Everett’s coworkers were going to hate him for all the dancing he’d be doing.
He stepped over the threshold and turned to welcome Cosmo inside. Cosmo placed his foot on the carpet. Micah’s chest seized up. He slammed his hand against the doorjamb, blocking Cosmo’s entry. Cosmo flinched and stepped back.
Oh no. No, no, no. Micah let out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry. Hang on. Just… Just a moment.” He tried to calm his quaking limbs, but his mind was screeching unnecessary warnings. Bad! Danger! Run! Bad! Stop! Bad! Bad! Bad!
Cosmo let out an uncertain chuckle, as though this were another of Micah’s jokes that took him by surprise. “I don’t mind if it’s a little cluttered.”
Fighting through his racing thoughts, Micah reminded himself that Cosmo had been sitting on his bed just last night, and it hadn’t induced panic. This was the same Cosmo, only in the flesh, and there was nothing bad or dangerous about letting him inside.
He squeezed his eyes shut, dug his nails into the doorframe, and commanded himself to step out of the way and let Cosmo pass. But the more he insisted, the harder his hand cramped around the frame, his legs the stubborn roots of an ancient oak.
“You’re genuinely worried I’ll break the universe by coming inside?” Cosmo asked. “If it helps, I’m not scared, and I don’t believe something will happen.”
This phobia was not going to keep ruining his life. Not tonight. Not with Cosmo. Micah just needed to do something differently. He stepped outside, then turned and faced the open door. “Why don’t you try going in first?”
“Oh, I see.” Cosmo grinned and tugged on one tortoiseshell hoop earring.
“You’re not worried about me. You just don’t want to be collateral damage.
” He stepped into the studio, opened his arms, and turned in a circle.
“I don’t think my atoms are being rent apart.
Seems safe to come in. Look at all these plants! Your space is lovely. Very cozy.”
Lovely and cozy, and Micah could share that space with Cosmo. Cosmo was safe company, and he was already inside. Micah could walk in and shut the door behind him. It was easy. Nothing to it.
He clutched the doorframe and stepped onto the threshold. His heart pumped madly, body vibrating so hard it was going to shake his soul loose. Throat tightening and tears stinging his eyes, he clenched his teeth and pain zagged through his jaw. Just. Walk. Through.
Flinging himself away, he gripped the cold balcony railing and screamed. “Fuck!” It echoed across the parking lot, bouncing back at him. His voice broke. “God fucking damn it!” He yanked at his hair and kicked the railing until it rang like a tuning fork.
No matter how much he liked someone, no matter how safe they felt, he was never going to be able to share their company in his home because his brain was utterly broken.
The assault had nearly robbed him of his eye, and it was still robbing him.
There was no way to go back and be the man he was before, and there was no point to living as this one.
He smashed his fist into the railing, again and again. Blood smeared the metal, and the bars warped.
A hand grazed Micah’s shoulder, and he crumpled. He pressed his forehead against the concrete and let out a fractured sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Cosmo’s shoes scraped across the pavement. “Should – Should I leave?”
Micah pulled in a wet breath. “Yes. Just go. I can’t do this.”
Cosmo said something, but it was too low to make out. He hurried down the stairs, and his footsteps receded.
Micah picked himself up, walked inside, and slammed the door behind him.
Each throb of his heart sent pain shooting up to his elbow. Scrapes and lacerations ran across his knuckles, and they were already starting to swell. He wouldn’t be able to draw or paint for days. But who cared? He might as well shut himself up in here and never come out again.
The portraits of Cosmo stared back at him from the wall.
He took off his glasses, slumped over the drafting table, and sobbed into his arm.
His chest hitched and he fought for breath, praying that the next gasp of air wouldn’t come.
Then, in a month, when he didn’t pay rent, someone would find his bloated corpse and take him away from this cursed studio and put him in a grave – the grave he should have ended up in after his assault.
He’d survived, been doped up and stitched up, and sent on his way.
But he wasn’t fixed. All the hospital’s horses and all the hospital’s men couldn’t put Micah back together again.
A soft knock came at the door, and Cosmo’s voice drifted. “Micah?”
His heart surged. He wiped his face and sucked back his tears. After raking a hand through his hair, he drew in a deep breath and opened the door.
Cosmo stood on the step, one hip jutted out and a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He took a drag, and smoke curled from his nostrils. “Well, the good news is that since you’re unable to invite people inside, you’ll never have to worry about vampires.”
“I’d gladly trade the risk.”
“You should have told me.”
Micah blinked at the city lights through the blear in his eyes. “I thought it would be different with you.”
“Is it only company in your place that gives you an attack? We were in the bistro together and you were fine. Can you go into other people’s houses?”