Page 145 of When In Doubt

“I think so,” I mumble around a yawn.

He shuffles out to grab it, returning in just a few seconds and handing it to me. I set the alarm as he climbs back in.

“Do you want to put those on?” he asks. It takes s second for me to work out what he’s referring to, but he points to my Home Screen, gesturing to my sleep sounds app.

Thank God the lights are off, he doesn’t need to see how deep my face is flushing. “Oh-I, that’s okay.”

“Here, I don’t mind. We can put on a babbling brook or something.” He slips the device out of my grip before I can stop him, and opens the app.

“Oscar, wait⁠—”

“Oh,” he murmurs. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing what he’s seeing. He doesn’t say anything, and after a second, I crack an eyelid, not able to take the quiet. The familiar titles slide over the screen: Boyfriend ASMR, Hair scratches, Soft reassurance. My face burns hotter.

“I-um, sorry. I know it’s weird,” I choke out.

His heads whips around, seeing my embarrassment. He locks the screen and hands it back to me. “Hey, no, it’s not weird.” He reaches out and cups my cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.”

“It’s fine. I don’t really use them anymore.” I haven’t needed to. “I just used to get lonely,” I confess, “and it was nice to pretend I wasn’t on my own.” My nose stings with the threat of tears as I think back on that version of myself, so starved for any kind of affection.

Oscar’s hands slide up until he’s pulling me to him, dropping a soft kiss to my lips. “You’re not on your own now,” he murmurs against me.

“I know.” I give him a soft smile, the tears retreating.

“I could talk to you, if it’ll help you get to sleep.”

I sag, leaning forward until my forehead drops against his collarbone. “Not tonight, but thank you,” I mumble. Knowing he’s with me is enough.

“Okay.” He drops one more kiss against my hair and then he’s guiding me down until we’re both tucked under the sheets.

“You should feel honored. You’ve replaced the disembodied voice in my phone.” I go for a joke, wanting to cut some of the tension. It feels too vulnerable, him seeing all the broken parts of me.

“I’m honored every second that I’m with you,” he says earnestly.

I smile. “So am I.” I feel my eyes start to get heavier as I pull the comforter around my chin.

“Does this mean you’ll make me a sweater now?” Oscar says into the quiet.

I laugh, thinking back to his face on that first date when I explained the sweater curse. “I think you’re skipping a couple of steps there.”

“Ah,” he sighs, “I’ll get one out of you, eventually.”

I flush, heart picking up. Is he thinking about us getting married? Is that what he means?

“Come here,” he murmurs sleepily, oblivious to the bomb he’s set off in my brain.

I scoot a little closer, but it’s not enough for him. One of his arms bands around my waist and tugs until I’m sprawled on top of him.

“Was that really necessary?” I raise an eyebrow.

He wraps his arms tight around my shoulders until I have no choice but to rest my cheek against his chest. I feel his deep inhale, then the ghost of breath tickling over my hair as he lets it out.

“Very necessary.”

“We can’t sleep like this.”

“Yes, we can,” he assures me, tucking my face into his neck. “Shh, go to sleep.”

“I’m gonna get too hot.”