Page 39 of Stalked By Shadows
“You can be whatever you want. Just because you are pretty, doesn’t mean you have to only wear pretty. Not that I’m opposed to either, or nothing at all.” I pawed through the cosplay side of his closet, finding easily a dozen jackets similar to this one. Some in faux leather, some in suede, and some in lace, all varied in color and size. I could have worn any of them and felt like a king.
“I like lace and ruffles. Dragon scales too, though on me it looks out of place. Maybe I haven’t found the right design yet.”
“How come these aren’t in your shop?” I asked.
“They’re new. And I’ve been playing with multiple patterns.”
“How new?” I looked around the room at the hordes of costumes, quilts, and bags, which were in the dozens of each. “How do you find time to make this stuff and still work the shop full-time, then give tours?”
“I craft when I’m stressed,” Micah reminded me.
“Which you’re saying is every second of your life?”
“Lately yes. And I don’t sleep much.”
I thought about that for a minute, analyzing what I had learned about him in the past twenty-four hours. He always seemed a bit on edge, though hid it well. “So when the thing outside makes noise and wakes you up, you get up and work on stuff?”
“Yes,” he confessed.
“When it woke us up last night did you get up and work on something while I slept?” That bothered me, as I had slept well for the first time in a while. Whether it had been from exhaustion or sleeping wrapped in the warmth of his Christmas scent that helped, I didn’t know yet.
“No. I went back to sleep when you did. I woke up early to text about the shop and then back to sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept that much in a long time.”
“Do you do that when Sky is here and you hear something? Get up and then go back to sleep?”
“I try to go back to sleep. Usually she falls back to sleep and I find a project to work on because I can’t sleep.”
I stared at the closet of stuff around us. “You said the feeling of doom started a little while ago. A couple weeks?”
He nodded, fiddling with organizing a shelf.
“All of this is from the past few weeks,” I deduced.
“Mostly. Some things are mine and I won’t sell them. Some are experiments that didn’t turn out right and I feel bad selling things that aren’t perfect. But yes, I’ve been working on a lot lately. Trying to find a distraction.”
A distraction from doom. Wow, did that sound creepy and difficult. Though I understood it. What if I felt the way I had that night in the desert for weeks at a time? I’d probably go mad.
He riffled through the hangers of costumes. “You can have the coat if you want. It was my first attempt at that pattern. Not sure I like it. I’d probably add more pockets, maybe use a mermaid print next time. I do like the cut of the shoulders and the length. A few of the other patterns have been a bit more complicated, but I’m not as fond of how they drape.” His tone sounded strained even while he rattled off sewing concepts I wasn’t sure I understood, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“Micah?”
He bowed his head, his shoulders slumping, and I heard the faintest sniffle. Was he crying?
“It’s my fault.”
“What is?” I asked, trying to follow his train of thought.
“Sarah missing, Mark dead.”
“No. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred tears. You had just met the girl for a few seconds in your shop. And that Mark guy was bugging you for ages.” Hadn’t I felt the same thing? Like it was all my doing? Maybe Lukas had been right about it being a meeting of two powerful forces. Or maybe two weirdos like us.
“A lot of people have suggested that I’m cursed now. People meet me and fall on hard times like some sort of chain reaction. Tim and Sky, even Lukas.”
I reached out and gripped his shoulder, turning him to face me. His eyes were watery with unshed tears and ringed with exhaustion. “This is probably going to be hard to hear because you’re a video star and all that… but you’re not the sole center of the universe. It doesn’t revolve around you, people aren’t cursed because they breathe the same air you do, life happens in misfortunes for most. Sometimes in clusters, sometimes it’s coincidence, but it’s not your fault. You are not the sun, moon, and stars, yeah?”
He gave me a strained smile. “Yeah? I’m a piece of shit, eh?”
“More like another grain of sand on a big rock like the rest of us.” I held my arms open, letting him make the decision to be touched or not. Just because I wanted to hug and comfort him, didn’t mean he’d let me. “I mean, if you look at things that way, then it could be as much my fault as yours. Since I’m probably cursed and I spoke to Sarah and Jared for quite a while, and silently wished bad things on that jerk Mark. If anyone is to blame it should probably be me. Though my therapist tells me not to ‘should’ on myself. How about we both agree to that? No ‘shoulding’ on ourselves.” Which sounded a lot like no shitting on ourselves. Good thinking, even if it was hard sometimes in a world that trained us to always be striving for a ‘should.’ “You told me you’ve been doing tours for ages and nothing happens, then I show up. Maybe I’m the cursed one? You sure you want to hang around me?”