“You’re standing in my bedroom with a cocktail, and you choose to bash candy corn again.”
“Am I doing the flirting thing wrong?”
“I’ll give you another chance.”
Micah sipped his screwdriver and cleared his throat. “It’s a delightful, only slightly-cursed confection in cheery fall colors, and the aftertaste of having licked an envelope only lasts for five minutes tops. The chocolate ones taste like death.”
Cosmo narrowed his gaze. “I meant flirt with me, not the candy corn.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Very. No one ever tells me I taste like death.” He drew in a deep breath. “And you don’t want to flirt with me anyway, do you? Because you don’t likeme. You like the idea of me. The dream of me. You lied when you said you found me just as fascinating alive as you did when you thought I was a ghost.”
“It’s not that I like you less now that I know you. It’s the opposite. It’s just that the dream of you was safer. Easier.”
“I’m difficult?” Cosmo huffed. “Ask any past lover, and I’m sure they’d say the same.”
“No. You’re not. You’re captivating and talented. And so beautiful. I have not been able to stop staring at you today. But even so, we can’t ignore the things that separate us. I can’t pretend that my baggage isn’t there, or that where I’m at in my life isn’t different from where you are.”
“Who said anything about ignoring it? It’s part of your package. I get that.” Cosmo leaned against his desk and sipped his screwdriver. “Just like my baggage is part of mine. And despite what you think, I don’t believe we’re that different. I find your art unsettling. You findmyart unsettling. What more do we need?”
He put up a convincing argument – that, or Micah just badly wanted it to be true. “Promise me something then? Anythingelse happens, you get another creepy message or Zedd threatens you, don’t push me away. I’m not going anywhere just because he or Royce are jealous.”
“I promise. But in return, I don’t want your mental health to be a reason to push me away either.” He poked Micah in the chest. “And stop saying you’re too old for me. You’re not.”
Baby steps when it came to moving forward in life. That’s what they’d promised each other. Cosmo wouldn’t remember – that conversation was three years ago for him – but Micah had no doubt he would still encourage Micah to go at his own pace. If they could embrace each other’s eccentricities, then why not their flaws too?
“Alright. Deal.” Micah pointed to the skull on the art desk. “What is it?”
“A badger. I encased the entire skull in resin before slicing through, because I needed thinner slices and didn’t want to compromise the structural integrity of the bone. I’m recreating the negative spaces in clay, which I’ll then cast and mold in colored resin. Then put all the pieces together and dip it again so it’s a solid block.”
“So much work goes into your pieces. Will there be a trompe-l’œil aspect to this one too?”
“Yes. The sculpted slices will look like candy.”
“I can’t wait to see it finished.” He glanced at the cubes stacked haphazardly in the center of the coffee table. A long crack spidered through one, and the corner was jagged and cloudy. “Can you fix the damaged one?”
Cosmo shrugged. “Probably, but I’m not sure I care enough to.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“No.” Plucking a remote from a small bookcase, he aimed it at the TV above the bed, then flipped through channels. “One of my favorite things about October is all of the classic horror movies play on a loop.”
On screen, a man with filthy fingernails slapped a wad of cash onto a table. Someone dropped a sugar cube into a glass of absinthe and urged the man to take the puzzle box sitting between them.
“Hellraiser!” Cosmo said.
“I’ve heard of it. Never seen it.”
“I am all sorts of disappointed in you today.” Cosmo sat on the bed and patted the space next to him. “It’s only just started.”
He didn’t want to talk through anything, and Micah wasn’t going to push him. If company from someone safe while they watched a movie about Hell’s BDSM community was what Cosmo needed right now, then so be it.
After kicking off his shoes, Cosmo slid up against the pillows, burrowed in Micah’s sweatshirt. Micah sat beside him, then set his drink on the coffee table. The man on TV solved his puzzle box, then screamed as hooks dug into his bare flesh. Cosmo jumped, then gave Micah a sheepish smile. The scene transitioned to a gore-coated floor, racks spinning with bloody body parts.
“Damn it,” Micah said. “His torture dungeon is way better than mine.”
“You should be taking notes. Although that blood is sure to damage the unsealed hardwood.”
