Micah snorted.
Another commenter left:I want to be that sweatshirt.Cosmo wrote,Please have a little more ambition in life.
Cheeks aching from how hard he was grinning, Micah scrolled through the comments on each shot. Ice sleeted through him as he stopped on the photo of his and Cosmo’s hands.
They all leave you eventually, you cheap slut. But I won’t.
They all leave you eventually, you cheap slut. But I won’t.
They all leave you eventually, you cheap slut. But I won’t.
They all leave you eventually, you cheap slut. But I won’t.
They all leave you eventually, you cheap slut. But I won’t.
Micah swallowed hard. The commenter’s account was brand new, with only five followers. The profile pic was of some punk band. Hadn’t Cosmo mentioned his ex was a singer? Zedd probably created a throwaway profile every time he got wind of Cosmo being with someone new. But it wouldn’t work this time.
After screenshotting the comments and hitting theReportflag for each one, he left a comment of his own:
For you, my love, I would watch hours of infomercials.
For you, my love, I would pull on wet socks.
For you, my love, I would endure ten paper cuts.
For you, my love, I would drink bathroom tap water.
I’m here for you, my love, and I’m not going anywhere.
Even if Zedd’s messages were removed from Flashbulb and his account suspended, he’d probably make another one and see Micah’s comments. He’d probably click on Micah’s profile and try to figure out who’d stolen Cosmo’s heart. Good.
Micah took more selfies. They didn’t look any better than the previous ones, but that was no longer the point. After adding some artsy filters, he loaded them onto Flashbulb, then walked to the drafting table and snapped photos of all of his portraits and sketches of Cosmo. He added them to his account and tagged Cosmo’s profile.
He glared at Zedd’s disgusting comments. “Look upon this anisocoric bicon and despair, loser. I’m not going anywhere.”
A softmeowcame from somewhere nearby. Micah expected Phantom to materialize and weave through his legs like she oftendid. He turned around; the room was empty. Themeowcame again, a strained and pitiful sound, and he realized it was coming from outside. When he opened the door, a flash of dingy white fur disappeared behind an empty flowerpot sitting on the balcony.
“How’d you get out here? You, missy, are an inside cat.” He’d never really thought of himself as a cat person, but she brought him comfort during her unpredictable appearances, and he could only imagine how upset his other self would be if something happened to her.
He stepped around the flowerpot, and Phantom darted away from him and through the open apartment door. She immediately went to her water dish in the kitchen and drank greedily. Her fur was clumped with dried mud and burrs, and dirty tear tracks ran from her eyes. Bits of dried blood coated the inside of one of her ears.
Micah knelt down to check her ear, and she scurried down the hall and dove under his bed.
“What in the world happened to you? You even lost your… Oh.” He straightened, staring at the clods of mud on the tile. She didn’t lose her collar. He hadn’t given her one yet. The frightened, filthy cat beneath his bed was real, and this was the first time they’d met.
His other self hadn’t mentioned what a poor state she was in when she first turned up. As much as he wanted to, he resisted the urge to follow her into the bedroom and pull her into her arms. Instead, he opened a can of cat food and scraped it into her dish. When she returned to the kitchen and started eating, he kept his distance. Hopefully with her belly full and a warm place to sleep, she’d grow comfortable enough to let him clean her up a bit later.
He folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “Welcome home.”
Cosmo - Snagged Thread
The familiarity of Night Gallery made sliding into the temporary position as registrar much easier than a first day at a new job normally was. It helped that Cosmo had experience doing half of the required duties during his time as Identical Dog’s art handler.
It was impossible to forget that he shouldnothave been doing those duties as the art handler, because his new director, Clarence, scrunched his face and shook his head every time Cosmo mentioned some aspect of his experience. Clarence had muttered the phrase “how unbecoming” half a dozen times, and it was only noon.
Clarence stood at the computer, squinting through his thick glasses as he trudged through instructions about a program Cosmo already knew how to use. The light from the monitor settled into the creases of his face and made him look much older than the forty-something he probably was.
Simone was wandering the gallery and kept appearing at random times to ensure Cosmo was doing okay, but she wouldn’t always be here, and Cosmo would be working under the direction of Clarence most of the time.
