Page 69 of Enslak

My chest did something complicated that I chose not to examine too closely.

"I also understand," he continued, "that you might not want the same thing. Or that you might want to wait. I'm not asking you to decide anything right now. I just wanted you to know."

I looked at him for a long moment. He held the silence without fidgeting, without filling it, just giving me the space to think.

"I want the same thing," I said. "I've wanted it for longer than I'm going to admit out loud."

Something moved through his eyes, a warmth he didn't try to conceal.

"But I need to say something first," I continued, "and I need you to actually hear it, not just agree because I'm the one saying it."

He nodded once. Patient.

"You've been through something that would have destroyed most people," I said, keeping my voice level. "Your mind is still healing. And I've been your caretaker for most of the time you've been conscious, which means there's a power imbalance between us whether we want one or not. I'm not saying that to talk either of us out of anything. I'm saying it because I want you to know that I see it and I take it seriously." I held his gaze. "So if at any point you feel confused, or your thoughts go sideways, or you want to stop for any reason, I need you to tell me. Not because you think it's what I want to hear. Because it's what you actually need."

He was quiet for a moment, genuinely considering it rather than rushing to reassure me. "And if I want to keep going?"

"Then I'll trust that."

"I can stop," he said. "I want you to know I understand what I'm choosing. I've been thinking clearly for days now, not hours. I remember who I am." He met my eyes steadily. "I remember enough to know that I want this, and enough to know the difference between wanting something and needing to take it."

Something loosened in my chest that I hadn't known was tight.

"Okay," I said.

He reached over and covered my hand with his, slowly, giving me every chance to shift away. I turned my palm up and let his fingers close around mine.

"I'd like to kiss you," he said. "If that's something you want."

It was such a deliberate, careful thing to say. I was going to do something embarrassing if I wasn't careful, like cry, which would completely ruin the mood.

"Yes," I said. "That's something I want."

He leaned toward me and I leaned toward him and we both miscalculated the angle simultaneously, our noses bumping in a way that was entirely undignified.

"Sorry," I breathed, laughing despite myself.

"Don't be," he said, and the warmth in his voice reached his eyes. He adjusted his angle, one large hand coming up to cup my jaw with impossible care, and kissed me.

There was nothing tentative about it this time. He kissed me like someone who'd spent days thinking about exactly how to do this, with attention and intent and a patience that made it more electric rather than less. His mouth was warm and unhurried, and I leaned into him without deciding to, one hand finding his chest, feeling the slow steady thud of his heart beneath my palm.

When we broke apart, both of us breathing differently than we had been, he pressed his forehead to mine and said nothing for a moment.

"Still with me?" I asked.

"Very much," he said, and the quiet certainty in his voice settled something I hadn't quite let myself rest until then.

He stood, and I stood with him, and he offered me his hand rather than sweeping me off my feet, which told me more about who he was than any grand gesture could have. I took it, and we walked back to the cave together in a silence that felt like the beginning of something rather than the absence of words.

Inside, the afternoon light came through the cave entrance in long golden bars, the kind that makes everything look like it exists slightly outside of ordinary time. Enslak had made this place genuinely comfortable over the weeks, the bedding thick and soft with layered grasses and thermal blankets, the space arranged with an attention to my comfort that I'd never quite been able to acknowledge out loud without feeling like I might come apart.

He turned to face me, and I watched him take a breath. Deliberate. Grounding himself.

"We don't have to do anything tonight," he said. "What we just did was enough."

"I know," I said. "But it's not all I want."

His eyes warmed. "What do you want?"