Page 104 of Haunt the Mall

“I believe it.” Managing stuff often meant making small concessions to get on with the day. After all, he didn’t go on break for her. He didn’t invite her over or give her his jacket. She was just making trouble. Again. “I’m sorry my questions upset you. I’m still new to this relationship stuff,” I said.

“Me too.” He tugged his bangs and glanced over his shoulder. “You don’t want any more secrets between us, right?”

I nodded and hugged the plush, bracing myself.

He sighed and sat on the bed. “I apologize for not being more forthright. I…I’ve always had to deflect from serious topics. My parents think I’m not living up to my potential, especially compared to Zero. They figure I should be in tech too. I was in her classes often enough I could probably pass as a mediocre electrician or data scientist.”

I nudged him with my foot. “But you love movies. You’re a great manager, too.”

“Thank you.” He slow-blinked and squeezed my sole. “You are as well.”

This man. I had to focus on what he was saying, not smother him with kisses the second he opened up or flattered me. I softened my voice. “What about your sister? Can you be open with her?”

“Somewhat.” He frowned. “Maybe because I tagged along to her classes, she sees me as some kind of emotional support puppy…or a mildly annoying little brother. We love each other, but she doesn’t take me seriously. She didn’t believe the widow was malfunctioning. When I sent her a video, she said I didn’t need it to perform properly. She doesn’t think about my needs…generally.”

He hunched over and shook his head. “Sorry. I am grateful to her, and I appreciate she’s been through a lot, but I uprooted my whole life for her sake. It’s time I got my own life outside the theater. A life with you.” He placed his hand on my thigh.

My insides fluttered, and I scooted up to hug his side. “You deserve the world, Victor.” I'd be happy to share mine.

He shifted to wrap his arm around me. “I’m glad she let you come here. And that she helped. If not, I would’ve gone to you in a second.”

“She’s a good person. We’re all just doing the best we can.” I kissed his cheek. Whether we’d survived a horror or were in the throes of a romance, I loved how vulnerable and safe we were together. Real life was hard. It was complicated. So were happy endings.

I eased back on the bed, then used the spider plush’s fuzzy leg to beckon him closer. “Do you want to cuddle with us?”

“Absolutely. Let’s get a movie started. Something terrible.” He queued up something from a web file and snuggled in.

On-screen, a middle-school-aged Victor swooped aside mushroom-style bangs and called for his assistant in evilness. A small mech, most likely one of Zero’s creations, rolled into shot. Its engine was so loud Victor had to shout his lines. He committed to the role with a strong voice, dramatic presence, and Shakespearean levels of importance placed on every line.

I laughed and tapped his chest. “You made this?”

“Yes, I wrote and directed it for a class,” he said.

I nodded along to the wide, wobbly follow-shots in presumably his old house. “Oh, very cinematic.”

His chest rumbled under my cheek. “The only saving grace of showing you this movie is that you’ll probably talk too much to actually watch it.”

“Hey.” I laughed, nudging his side. “I’m enhancing the experience. I love this. And I love you. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“You’re welcome.” His lips grazed the top of my head.

“So, does the evil assistant turn on you or do you change your ways in the end?”

“Watch the movie.” He chuckled, lightly rubbing the underside of my arm. “If this one proves too painful, we can pick another from those bookshelves.”

“I like this.” I squeezed him and Bitsy. My whole body tingled with pleasant anticipation.

If we lived together one day, we could do stuff like this every day: cuddle, laugh, fuck, and chat. Every day would be its own little adventure. After all, he did have an extensive movie collection.

43

Go in Peace

A few days later, Victor and I went to the theater before it opened to pay our final respects to the widow. He’d worked something out with insurance and the mall owners, but Zero wouldn’t be able to hang our eight-legged friend from the balcony again. The widow was going home. To the basement.

She slumped against the far wall, roped off and ready to be taken away. People still stopped for selfies with her impressive personage, so we waited until she was alone to approach.

I patted her faux-fur leg. “May she rest in peace.”

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