Page 152 of Misery

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He follows, my name a prayer on his lips.

We collapse together, sweating and breathing hard.

After, we lie tangled, sweat cooling. "That was?—"

"Fucking amazing," I finish. "So good."

"Yes."

"Good. Remember that. Because I want more of this, Oskar."

"I will."

We're quiet, processing. Then I laugh.

"What?"

"We're really doing this. Moving in together. Being together. After how crazy everything has been."

"Is that funny?"

"It'sinsane. You stalked me. I should hate you."

"But you don't."

"No. I love you. It's fucked up and probably unhealthy, but it's true."

"I love you too."

"I know. You killed your brother for me. That's either love or insanity."

"Both, probably."

"Probably."

I curl against him, his arm around me. Safe. Chosen. Mine. "Oskar?"

"Yeah?"

"The watching. It's really done? You won't do it again?"

"If you want privacy, you have it. If you want space, you get it."

"And if I want you to watch? Sometimes? When I'm painting or sleeping or just existing?"

He's quiet, then, "Then I watch. When you ask. How you ask."

"Good."

It's not perfect. We're not perfect.

The foundation is cracked, the trust rebuilt with tape and hope.

But it's ours. Our choice. Our future.

"I forgive you," I whisper. Not completely true yet, but becoming true. "Or I'm starting to. Piece by piece."

"You don't have to?—"

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