32 GB - Mikhaiah Fanfiction

9 - Shoot the Shot

Later that afternoon, when we finally returned to Micah's house, or my house, she wasted no time pulling out her camera equipment. The living room, with its soft lighting and eclectic decor, felt warm and inviting—more so than I'd noticed before. As she carefully laid out her cameras on the coffee table, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation.

"These are my babies," she said with a grin, gesturing to the various cameras. "Each one has its own personality, so to speak."

I smiled, touched by the way she spoke about them. There was a passion in her voice that reminded me of how I used to talk about my film camera. It made me feel connected to her in a way that was both strange and comforting.

Micah handed me one of the cameras—a sleek, modern device that felt light in my hands. "This one's easy to use. Let me show you."

She stepped closer, and I could feel the warmth of her body beside mine as she guided my hands over the buttons and dials. Her touch was gentle, her voice low and soothing as she explained the basics. I found myself less focused on the camera and more on the way her fingers brushed against mine, the way her breath tickled my ear as she leaned in to point something out.

"You see this?" she asked, her voice soft. "This adjusts the focus. Try turning it slowly."

I did as she instructed, but my mind was only half on the task. The other half was acutely aware of how close we were, of how her presence was starting to feel like a comfort, a balm against the strangeness of this new world.

As the evening wore on, we moved around the apartment, taking pictures of anything that caught our eye—books on the shelf, the way the light hit the curtains, even a cup of tea sitting on the kitchen counter. Each time I framed a shot, Micah would stand close, offering tips, but also laughing and teasing in a way that made me feel... lighter. Less alone.

At one point, I turned the camera on her, capturing her mid-laugh, her eyes sparkling. She looked at me, surprised but pleased, and for a moment, the air between us seemed to thrum with something unspoken.

"Let me see," she said, stepping closer, her voice suddenly quieter.

I handed her the camera, our fingers brushing, and when she looked at the screen, a soft smile curved her lips. "You've got a natural eye, Aida," she murmured, glancing up at me, her gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Or should I call you Ate Aida? Ate Aida sounds more respectful."

Our eyes locked, and the room seemed to shrink around us, the world outside fading into the background. 

"Micah," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, but I didn't know how to finish. I didn't know how to put into words the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside me—the gratitude, the fear, the unexpected warmth that seemed to grow every time I looked at her.

But she seemed to understand without me having to say anything. Her smile softened, and she reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear in a gesture so tender it made my breath catch.

And in that moment, I felt it—that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't such a bad place to be lost after all.

---

As the evening light began to dim, casting a soft glow over the room, I set the camera down on the table, the weight of everything suddenly pressing on my mind. Micah was sitting beside me on the couch, her eyes still bright from our time together, but there was a question I couldn't keep inside any longer.

I turned to her, my voice tentative. "Micah, can I ask you something?"

She looked at me, her expression open and curious. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, gathering my thoughts. "Why are you helping me? I mean, you've been so kind, so patient, even though... well, even though you have every reason to doubt me. I can see it in your eyes sometimes, that you're not sure if you believe I'm really a time traveler."

Micah's smile faltered slightly, and she glanced down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. "You're right," she admitted after a moment, her voice soft. "I do have doubts. It's hard not to, you know? The whole idea is just... it's incredible, almost impossible."

I nodded, feeling a pang of understanding. "I know it sounds crazy. I can hardly believe it myself."

She looked up at me then, her eyes searching mine. "But even with all those doubts, there's something about you, Aida. You're different—not just in the way you dress or talk, but in the way you see the world, the way you look at everything like it's both familiar and brand new at the same time. It's like... it's like you don't belong here, but you do."

Her words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I could see the conflict in her eyes—the part of her that wanted to rationalize everything, to dismiss my story as some elaborate fantasy, and the part that couldn't quite let go of the possibility that it might be true.

"So, you're helping me because...?"

Micah took a deep breath, as if gathering her thoughts. "I'm helping you because, deep down, I think you need it. Whether you're really from the past or not, there's something about you that feels... lost. And I want to help you find your way, even if I don't fully understand where you came from."

Her words touched something deep within me, and I felt a surge of emotion I hadn't expected. It wasn't just about being lost in time—it was about feeling seen, understood, even if only in part.

"I can't thank you enough for that," I said quietly, my voice thick with emotion. "It means more to me than you could ever know."

Micah smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "You don't have to thank me, Aida. Just... promise me you'll let me help, however I can."

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. "I promise."

It didn't matter whether she believed I was a time traveler or not. What mattered was that she was here, by my side, helping me navigate this bewildering new world. And for that, I was deeply, profoundly grateful.