Page 53 of Meet Cute

“No, like…” his fingers sink into my skin, “alive…”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. Can I see where he’s coming from? Yes. Did I expect it? No. “I… I mean…”

“The night we met… Y-You were crying. I remember.”

“...You noticed that?”

He offers me a weak smile. “Of course. You were so sad, but you still… you still stepped in to make me feel better. It meant so much to me.”

“It just felt like I had nothing to lose,” I admit sheepishly. “It’s not… I’m not usually so brave. It wasn’t some heroic gesture.”

“That’s what makes it special, though. You did it for me. It wasn’t fate or anything stupid. It was… a connection.”

Not once had I ever thought about it that way. It had always been some stupid, reckless thing I did at the lowest point of my life. But what if he’s right? What if it really was some special connection? What if everything that happened in my life led me to him? It’s honestly a scary thought, but it makes sense. Things happen for a reason.

Even bad things.

My legs might hurt, but my heart feels full. It’s funny how that works. Any explanation I have would sound psychotic. I know I’m stupid. I’m the dumbest person on the whole planet to fall for the man who did this to me.

But it’s not like he’s some crazy masked freak from a shitty horror movie. He’s a real person, and an insecure one at that. I guess I’m making excuses, but I just… I’m not upset anymore. Not really.

Should I be? I don’t see why I should. Life has been whizzing by lately and holding on to things only makes them hurt more. Life is about forgiving and forgetting. Except my parents. I’ll never forgive my parents.

They don’t deserve anything, especially not my forgiveness.

FORTY

“Stay still, okay?” Love and affection shines through in Finn’s quiet rasp. The sun has barely risen yet here he is, kneeled down and wrapping up my legs with gauze. “You need to be very careful, okay? You can’t… Y-You can’t force yourself. You’ll make it worse.”

Physical therapy is a key part of recovery, and I’ve already been lacking in that regard. The bed feels so much bigger when I’m plopped down in the center of it, waiting for Finn to leave because I’m embarrassed.

Once I hear the door close, I’m set. Instead of staring up at the photos of myself I’d rather shut my eyes. The focus is simple: mobility exercises. It’s too early to put any weight or anything on them, but Finn was going on and on about my limbs going stiff.

I take one singular breath before trying to lift it slowly. Big fucking mistake. The pain is nothing I’ve felt before—fire tearing through my blood and veins. Gritting my teeth, I throw my head back.

This is what I was scared of. What I kept in the back of my head. What if it’s been too long? What if the muscles are all fucked and it will never heal? The person who did this to me is right outside the door, and I should hate him.

But I don’t. Of course I don’t. I sound like a damn loser when I say that he apologized, but he did apologize. There’s a difference between saying your sorry and meaning it—and I truly believe he meant it when he said it.

With another heavy breath I lift my leg one more time, going as slow as possible. It moves barely a centimeter, but that’s better than nothing. It’s so hard. Nothing about this is fun. Do I even need to do this? Finn’ll take care of me.

Something about that thought rubs me the wrong way. He would love it if I became super dependent on him, wouldn’t he? …Yet in spite of knowing that, I’m not fully against it. I must be the sickest person on the planet to want it. Nobody is more disgusting than I am.

I don’t want to be better. I want to be his forever.

“Finn…?” I call without shouting, only for the door to immediately open. Silly boy was standing on the other side waiting for me, wasn’t he? When he lifts me up I feel like I’m in heaven again.

His embrace is the safest place in the world. Nothing will hurt me when he’s around, since he’d sooner get himself killed. Looking up at him, I can’t help the little smile that sprawls across my face.

Finn notices all too quickly, smirking at me. “W-What?”

“Nothing,” I avert my gaze as my cheeks go hot. “Just… thank you.”

“For what?”

“...Taking care of me.”

His expression softens. “I have to. It’s… I-It’s my fault. I know that…” There’s a pause before he gently sets me down on the couch. “I wish I didn’t do it. I really wish…”