Chapter 24
NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP
Micah - Snagged Thread
Light Christmas music drifted as Micah walked down a long aisle of international candy.
The snow in his hair was melting and running down the collar of his coat, his cheeks still bitten from the December wind.
Going to a Christmas tree farm had been a huge mistake.
He hadn’t known that the smell of pine reminded Cosmo of Royce, but it still felt like Micah needed to make up for it somehow.
This international market advertised having fake trees, but they hadn’t made it far enough through the store to find them yet.
Despite Cosmo voicing their distaste for “suburban mom” decor, they kept stopping to look at ornaments and gingerbread house kits.
Micah was afraid he might lose his beloved among the decor because Cosmo’s fair isle patterned leggings might as well have been camouflage against all the throw pillows.
Cosmo opened the glass door of a cooler at the end of the candy aisle, then let out a tiny gasp.
“Syrok! I haven’t had this in years. My grandpa sold it at his deli.
” Picking up a narrow box, they waved it at Micah.
“It’s curd cheese coated in chocolate. A little like yogurt or cheesecake. I must get one.”
Micah stopped at the cooler then swiped all of the boxes of syrok into his shopping basket. He shrugged at Cosmo’s confused expression. “I know it doesn’t make up for our last stop, but a dozen tiny Russian cheesecakes can’t hurt, right?”
Cosmo shrank into their coat, pressing their nose against the collar.
Their curls were tucked beneath a knit hat, but even without an ever-present lock of hair hanging in their face, it was hard to read their expression.
“Micah…” Christmas music filled in the silence between their words.
“I need to tell you something. When you asked me to come with you this weekend to pick out a little tree, I – I experienced presque vu. I thought maybe it was my imagination, but when we went to the tree farm, it happened again.”
That didn’t make sense. Micah had felt something at the tree farm, but he’d brushed it off as childhood nostalgia.
And he’d been too distracted by Cosmo’s reaction to the scent of the trees to notice anything else.
He still got presque vu occasionally, but only during conversations with his brother.
His best guess was that Other Micah had moved away, maybe to live with Everett.
Cosmo’s presque vu had stopped entirely – because on the other timeline Cosmo was dead. “How is that possible?”
Cosmo’s teeth dug into their lip. “Because we’re going to make another parallel universe.
You’re going to help me, and it’s going to work.
It already has if I’m alive and helping you tie a pine tree to the top of your car on some other timeline.
” Their eyes grew glossy, their voice barely a whisper.
“In that universe, I’m never abducted. And darling, you don’t have any scars on your face. ”
Goosebumps pebbled Micah’s arms. His chest heaved, and he nearly dropped the shopping basket.
His past self was still carrying out his life from three years ago in apartment twenty-one.
Still participating in art fairs and dating Courtney and welcoming life models into his studio.
He hadn’t let Derek in yet. Didn’t know Derek was a threat.
Pulling in a deep breath of cinnamon and potpourri, he said, “What do we need to do?”
“We write it all down in a notebook. Warn our other selves about what’s to come.”
It was a huge risk. They’d be changing the entire trajectory of two lives.
“I don’t know. My assault has shaped every decision I’ve made afterward.
If I never become an anxious shut-in desperate for connection, there’s a good chance I’ll never meet you at all.
Making sure you’re alive and safe is more important than whether or not we have a romantic relationship, but if I don’t know you, how am I going to give you a notebook of warnings? ”
“But we’ve already met. The only reason your past self lives in that studio is because I saw you in the bathroom as a ghost, and it frightened me into moving out.
Thus enabling you to move in. If you’re never assaulted, maybe you won’t fall for me in the same way, but if we’re both artists active in galleries and the art community, surely we’ll run into each other at some point.
Especially if your other self has a notebook of future events. You’ll be looking for me.”
There was so much confidence in Cosmo’s face.
Micah hadn’t noticed the presque vu the way Cosmo had, and he wasn’t sure their theories about how spacetime worked were even correct, but presque vu had given Micah enough future knowledge to stop Cosmo’s death.
A whole notebook of warnings would have the power to do so much more. And besides…
“There’s a comfort in knowing that no matter what universe we’re in, every Micah and every Cosmo will fall for each other.” He cupped Cosmo’s cheek and gave them a soft kiss. “I thought that before, and I still believe it. Let’s buy your candy and a plastic tree and figure this out.”
Micah pushed his key into the knob of apartment twenty-one and creaked open the door. Ximena hadn’t rented the studio to anyone else, but it no longer felt like his, especially with the lack of furniture. And he couldn’t shake the sense that he was intruding – because he was.
Clutching at his arm, Cosmo whispered, “You’re certain you saw something on the camera?”
“No, I heard him. He was talking to Courtney. My ex-girlfriend. His future ex.” The conversation had been indistinct, but he’d clearly heard past-Micah say the word “ghosts.” Which meant that Micah’s intrusions into the studio weren’t going unnoticed.
They just needed to time it when the veil of crossed timelines was thin enough to see each other.
Courtney’s voice drifted. It had a hollow quality like she was on speakerphone. “–such thing as ghosts. It’s all a product of human imagination, the way we naturally try to pick shapes out of clouds or figures from the shadows.”
“Or Jesus from a grilled cheese sandwich?” past-Micah replied.
He was never going to get used to hearing his own voice. And past-Micah should have known Courtney wouldn’t believe him. Should have called Everett instead.
“Exactly,” Courtney said. “Hey, you wanna come over tonight? I’ll order takeout, and we can play cards or something.”
“Eh, I’m kind of busy.”
Cosmo cringed. “Ouch.”
Micah leaned to his ear. “They’re on their way out. Don’t feel bad. The only comment she ever made toward my art was ‘It’s nice.’”
Pressing a hand to their mouth, Cosmo feigned nausea and hissed a little too loudly, “Dump her.”
Micah walked into the room, and his shin slammed into something hard. “Ow!” A coffee table had materialized in the center of the room. The past was dangerous. He tucked his composition notebook under one arm and rubbed his shin. “My leg is going to look like a piece of discount fruit tomorrow.”
Cosmo smacked him, and Micah straightened. Past-Micah stood in the hall, mouth agape, with water and soap bubbles dripping from his hands. He’d always called Courtney while washing the dishes.
Past-Micah’s throat worked, his chest heaving.
Micah thought about the faint imprint of future memory he’d had of sitting in the freezing shower stream in all of his clothes, completely broken by Cosmo’s death, and Everett hauling him out of the tub.
He resisted the urge to give his past self a hug.
That future wasn’t going to happen. Not on this timeline.
“We’re not ghosts.” Micah pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “More like time travelers from a couple years in the future.”
Past-Micah blinked and seemed to regain a bit of his composure. “Did you come to give me lottery numbers?”
“No.” Micah stepped forward and offered him the notebook. “I don’t know how much time we have, but everything is in there. We only wrote down things we thought you needed to know, and” – his gaze drifted to Cosmo – “I promise there are no spoilers for the good parts.”
After wiping off his hands, past-Micah took the notebook gingerly and traced the words To Micah and Cosmo on the cover. He looked up. “Are you Cosmo?”
Cosmo smiled and gave a little wave. “You’re cute without the scars too. Please don’t lose that notebook. The warnings inside are very important.”
Past-Micah flipped it open and stared at the pages. Micah imagined what he was seeing: bold red marker that screamed, HIS NAME IS DEREK. DO NOT LET HIM IN.
Cosmo planted a gentle kiss on past-Micah’s cheek, which immediately turned a deep shade of pink. “Take care of yourself, darling.”
And Cosmo. They were taking care of them too. Micah still didn’t understand what the note taped to the last page of book meant, only that it was a message Cosmo had to learn the “hard way.”
Frantic motes engulfed past-Micah’s face. Micah reached through the mist swallowing him and squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t let Cosmo know you hate candy corn.”
Cosmo said, “We should have come back in time to give you some taste.”
The coffee table evaporated, and past-Micah’s phantasmal voice drifted. “Candy corn tastes like you’re eating a greeting card.”
Micah opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. “It really does. And not a fancy Hallmark one.”
“I feel ganged up on,” Cosmo huffed.
Micah took their hand and led them back to the apartment. Pinpricks of snow floated from the sky, melting as they hit the ground. He stopped at the door, then cupped Cosmo’s cheek and pecked their lips. “Are you okay?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Cosmo nodded. “It’s going to work. It already has.”
Deciding what exactly to write down in the notebook had taken so many nights of arguing and talking over things that neither of them even wanted to discuss in therapy, let alone at the kitchen table.
There were descriptions of Derek and the dates Micah would meet him, spacetime theories and details Other Micah might need, and they’d gathered evidence that connected Royce to the murder of the ceramics artist Micah used to know.
Even though it wasn’t conclusive, hopefully it would be enough for their other selves to tip off the police with.
This would be the biggest snagged thread of all, and only Other Micah and Other Cosmo would know how drastically it changed things, but sometimes that sensation of presque vu still flared up for both of them, often when they were together, indicating that in this thread and the new one they’d just created they were still safe and in love.
When they walked inside the apartment, Everett looked up from his laptop, which he was awkwardly trying to type on with Phantom in his lap. “Did you see him this time?”
“We did.” Even with Royce in prison, things were far from being wrapped up, but a heavy weight had been lifted from Micah’s chest.
Cosmo plucked a teardrop-shaped Christmas ornament from the box and hung it on a branch. After they’d set it up, they’d complained that it smelled like nothing, and even if it couldn’t smell like pine, it needed to be Christmas-y. They’d bought a can of cinnamon scent and unloaded it onto the tree.
“Everett, please tell me you’re the sensible brother,” Cosmo said. “Agree with me that candy corn is delicious.”
Everett closed his laptop and set it on the couch. “It’s not my favorite candy, but I like it. Especially the chocolate ones.”
“Ugh.” Micah plugged in the string lights on the tree. A kaleidoscope of colors twinkled from the branches. “At least we can all agree that candy canes are great.”
“I… don’t like peppermint,” Cosmo said.
Micah clutched his wounded heart. At least Cosmo had good taste in pies.
The eggnog pumpkin ones were sure to be delicious, and the two cinnamon apple pies currently warming in the oven made the apartment smell like the world’s best bakery.
A third apple pie sat on the counter, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a wide green bow.
Cosmo had said they didn’t want to leave it in their car, but they hadn’t mentioned who it was for.
Micah peeked at the tag, but he didn’t recognize the names.
“It’s for Zedd’s parents,” Cosmo said quietly.
Micah nodded. Cosmo hadn’t attended Zedd’s funeral, but they had chipped in for flowers and had a couple of brief phone conversations with his father.
Cosmo tugged on one of their polymer clay Santa earrings. “I doubt they’ll want me to stay long; they don’t hate me, but I also don’t think my presence is helpful for them. I found some old photos of Zedd in a shoebox, though, so I’m going to take those over with the pie.”
“You have such a big heart. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the photos. Hopefully the pie too.”
A knock came at the door. Micah crossed to it and peered through the peephole.
All the guests were here. His Christmas party was going to be tiny, but having five guests in his place at once would feel like a crowd.
They probably wouldn’t stick around for Cosmo’s “Killer Claus” movie later, but that was okay.
Micah’s favorite part of watching horror movies with Cosmo was the way they shrieked in a mixture of fear and enjoyment and clutched Micah’s arm.
If their terror-snuggling grossed Everett out, he could go back to his emails.
Hesitating only a moment, he swung open the door and said, “Hi! Merry Christmas.”
Déjà, Rye, and Ximena stood on the step, their arms laden with food and gifts. Déjà leaned forward in her oversized sunglasses and air kissed Micah’s cheeks.
“Feliz Navidad, mijo!” Ximena scooped him into a hug, pulling him half out the door.
Micah welcomed them inside. They stepped beyond the threshold.
He closed the door and smiled.