Micah nodded. He would never scoff at Cosmo’s achievements, no matter how small they seemed to be from an outside perspective, and he needed to allow himself the same understanding.
“I’d love to help you out with this.”
“Great.” Micah sighed. “I don’t need to do the whole portrait. Just the act of having you pose in the living room while I start sketching will be enough to help.”
He headed into the living room, pulled out his pad of drawing paper, and set it on the easel. He took his pencils from the drafting table and dropped them into the little plastic cup on the easel tray. This used to be a ritual he enjoyed. Sharpen his pencils, wiggle the easel around to face the front room, roll up his chair.Please get comfortable. Tell me something about you. Do you have kids? Pets?
“Micah?”
He looked up. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘what do I need to do?’ Do you want me to pose a certain way or stand in a particular spot?”
“Right there is fine. Can you shift most of your weight to one leg?”
Cosmo was a natural at poses, which had been clear from his Flashbulb pictures. He shifted, his hip jutting out and adding visual interest to the line of his body. Light from the front window picked up amber highlights in his hair. Micah gripped a pencil, his mind trying to drift to places he normally avoided.
The man’s name had been Derek, and Micah didn’t ever want to know their names now. He’d come inside and said,You have so many plants. The first time I ever walked by, I thought a woman lived here.It had caught Micah off-guard, needling a part of him that still worried about being perceived as a gender he wasn’t, until he decided the comment was just plain sexist and odd.The first time I ever walked by.
But he’d brushed it off and set up his drawing tools anyway.
Cosmo had pulled off his cardigan and opened the first two buttons of his shirt. He saucily slid the shirt off one shoulder and winked. “Should I take it off?”
“Um… Yes, sure.” He was trying to have fun with this, to put Micah at ease. “Your pants too, if you want.”
Grinning, Cosmo pulled off his shirt. His ribs flexed beneath his fair skin, and a thin silver necklace chain sparkled against his collarbones. His arms were lean, shoulders and elbows and wrists all sharp angles. Veins snaked up his hands and into his forearms. He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them off.
Micah needed to concentrate on Cosmo. On his task at hand. He didn’t need to think about Derek, or how eager he’d been to get started.
He didn’t need to think about Derek asking for a glass of water, and as Micah turned to fetch it, Derek ripped the replica sculpture ofComedianfrom the wall and smashed it into Micah’s face. His glasses had shattered, and a piece of the lens went straight into his eye. Then Derek hit him again. The worst part was never understanding why Derek had done it. He hadn’t tried to rape Micah. He hadn’t stolen his wallet or his electronics. His family had suggested it was a hate crime, but Micah passed well enough as a cis man that he didn’t know how Derek would have known he was trans. His thoughts only circled back to the idea that there was no motivation – it had been violence for violence’s sake – and the notion kept him awake more nights than the pain in his face had.
Cosmo plucked the pencil from Micah’s hand. “We should stop.”
“What? No.”
“You’re clearly upset.”
Whatever Micah had looked like just then, it hadn’t been the result Cosmo was aiming for. Micah took his pencil back and loosely started a sketch. “I’m okay. Please.”
For a moment, Cosmo just stood there, but Micah kept drawing, so he walked back into the center of the room, standing at the edge of a blade of light streaming through the curtains. Pink indentations remained on his calves after he peeled off his socks. His knees were prominent knobs, and dark hair ran across his thighs.
Micah forced his shoulders to relax, his hand sketching more from muscle memory than conscious effort. He drew the jut of Cosmo’s hips, his narrow waist, and his navel.
“Can you tell how flat my ass is from this angle?”
“Do you want me to give you a more generous one?” Micah asked.
“No. That would be a lie.” Cosmo smirked. “Just make sure you get my banana bread right, okay?”
The tip of Micah’s pencil broke against the paper.
Cosmo walked to the easel and clucked his tongue. He slid his hand along Micah’s neck. “You don’t seem like you panicked doing this, but you also don’t look like you’re having a good time.”
Micah thought about the sharp metallic tang of blood in his mouth, of trying to scream but nothing coming out, each blow of the sculpture making him more confused and sluggish until he couldn’t fight back at all. “Maybe I don’t want to draw anymore.”
“Should I get dressed?”
“Yeah.”
