After setting the pan of bread on the kitchen counter – it smelled heavenly – he joined Cosmo outside. A cigarette jutted from Cosmo’s lips as he leaned against the railing, his gaze on the gray sky. His cheekbones shimmered with some kind of highlighter that matched his cardigan, and little cartoon decals of ghosts and pumpkins adorned his nails. He looked like the patron spirit of Autumn, and if he tasted like pumpkin spice, Micah wouldn’t be surprised.
Smoke rolled out of Cosmo’s nostrils. “So, I got my nails done.”
Bringing Cosmo’s fingers to his lips, Micah kissed each one, even though they smelled like cigarettes now. “I noticed. Very cute. Is that your good news?”
“No. Afterward, I went to the police with Zedd’s note and I told them what you said about him skulking around. They said it probably wasn’t him. It was either them – the police, I mean – or the pranksters they’ve been looking for. I guess the popular social media dare right now is to knock on someone’s window at night, and if they open the door, they’re hit with condiment packets from Jojo’s. You know, the ones everyone hates because all you need to do is breathe on them for them to explode and get all over you?”
“Good lord. Don’t kids have, like, homework they should be doing?”
“Didyoudo your homework?”
“No.” And as much as Micah was afraid to concede and let his guard down, itwasalmost Halloween. Scaring people into opening the door in the middle of the night wasn’t funny, but Micah was grateful he hadn’t lunged over the threshold with a filet knife.
Cosmo held up his finger. “I begged the police to go talk to Zedd anyway. They tried, but he wasn’t home. Neighbor said they hadn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon when he was loading band equipment into the drummer’s van. He was off to go do a gig in Fairview. I’m sure it’s the same venue he’s always at there, where they play late into the night.”
It was hard to refute that. And Micah had been intent to focus on what could go right today. “I never thought teens pegging people with ranch packets would be something to be grateful for, but I’ll take it.”
Cosmo stubbed out his cigarette. “Do you feel better?”
He blew a deep breath through his nose. “Yeah.” Now he needed to address the fact that they were still standing on the balcony.
He thought about how he’d played with Cosmo’s hair as he read to him in bed the night before, both of them content, their bodies wrapped up in each other. Thought of their heartbeats pounding into each other, of Cosmo’s spiced berry scent and slender fingers. Dancing, tears dragging mascara down Cosmo’s cheek as Micah promised to give him all the love he deserved.
Before he could think it through, he gripped Cosmo’s wrist and pulled him over the threshold and into the apartment. He slammed the door shut and locked it, every muscle tensed to protect the eggshell fragility of his conviction against the roaring panic he was certain would come. But it didn’t. There were no klaxons ofBad! Stop!No sensation of having the wind knocked out of him or his feet cemented to the floor.
Cosmo stood stiffly beside him with a look of shock on his face. “Uh. Okay…”
Tension unspooled from his shoulders. He’d done it. They were both standing inside like it was nothing. Like it was normal. For nine months, he’d been bested by that dented and dusty threshold. For nine months, he couldn’t let someone walk over that strip of metal. But he hadn’t been focused on the threshold this time, only about all the things Cosmo made him feel. There’d been no time for his brain to unleash the monster of panic, just like when he’d run into the studio to rescue Cosmo from past-Ximena’s exploding lightbulbs.
The solution seemed so easy. A red-hot coal burned in Micah’s chest. He should have been able to let Cosmo in from the beginning. It shouldn’t have been this hard. And the knowledge that it was still only Cosmo this worked with made the coal in his center smolder even more.
Cosmo searched his face. “It – It worked?”
“It worked.”
Cosmo bounced on the balls of his feet and clapped his hands. “Darling!”
Resisting the urge to drive his fist through something, he gave Cosmo a gentle peck on the lips and tried to feel some of the joy Cosmo was clearly experiencing for him.
The scent of banana, cinnamon, and cream cheese filled the kitchen. Micah pulled down a plate, then paused as he reached for a knife. He needed two plates. He had company, and he needed two plates. His fantasies were as simple in theory as Cosmo’s, but just as difficult in practice. Why? Why was it so difficult?
“Look at us!” Cosmo said. “You let me in without a problem and now we’re eating my baking. I am so proud of you.”
Clenching his jaw, Micah shook his head and said, “You shouldn’t be.”
“Why ever not?”
Micah scowled at the door, at that stupid goddamn threshold. “Because it shouldn’t have been this hard for me to do in the first place! I’m so far from having my shit together. You didn’t see the state I was in after my assault.” He flung an arm toward the empty couch. “For Christ’s sake, I told you how I looked just a week ago after you broke up with me. It was disgusting. It’s a miracle that couch doesn’t smell like armpits. After your assault, you didn’t crawl into a bed and stay there for three months. You didn’t stop showering or cleaning or eating.”
Cosmo’s eyes widened. “What happened to me wasn’t–”
“I know you’re hurting. But you got out of the bad situation you were in. I’m proud of that. You confessed to me the things you want and deserve, and now we’re doing them. I’m proud of you for that too.”
“I’m not allowed to be proud ofyoufor making progress?”
Micah opened his mouth, then closed it again. He rubbed his forehead, eyes shut, unsure of what to say.
Cosmo said, “I realize that seeing your progress isn’t as easy as comparing one of your old drawings to a new one, but I’ll bet it would be just as dramatic if you could. And not only have you let me inside without panicking, you’ve got your reception at Night Gallery–”
