Jamie shed a layer of stress from my life.

That had been the opposite of what I predicted, no matter how impressive the sex was. I thought it would be a win-lose situation, a bittersweet arrangement, a compromise between satisfying my body and dealing with the logistical fallout. But that was not so.

He stuck to the contract. After the all-clear came back from our tests, he visited practically every night. I suspected Krista knew very well something was going on between us, but I knew Jake definitely did. He was not blind to his twin brother leaving their room and returning hours later, if at all, in the night.

But thankfully, none of our friends prodded us for answers.

Vivian: No go tonight. Endo acting up.

I tossed my phone onto the bedside table and fell back into bed with a groan. My medication helped a boatload in managing my symptoms, but there were days when the pain barrelled in unfettered. Flowing through some simple asanas had helped clear my mind, but it hadn't relieved the agonising stabs in my abdomen and lower back. It hurt so much I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't study, or read, or anything. I curled up in bed early, willing sleep to come.

An unexpected knock came at the door.

"It's unlocked!" I called through clenched teeth.

Contorted in the foetal position, facing the wall, I didn't see the visitor. But I heard his footsteps. He was so familiar to me now, I could place him by the weight and rhythm of his walking. I could trace every part of him in the dark. I could find him in a crowd following the feeling of his stare.

"Hey—" His sentence cut short. The air bristled.

I knew, having seen me in the state I was, Jamie was warring with himself about what to do. He'd never known me like this—incapable and weak. I hated feeling like that.

I glanced over my shoulder. He wore his tatty XXL Halston University t-shirt, boxers and slides. He looked ready for bed. But just the motion of raising my head caused a bolt of pain to lance through my torso. I curled tighter around myself.

"Fuck. I thought I told you not to come over."

"I brought you a hot water bottle," he said quietly, raising the object in his left hand explanatorily. "Thought it might help."

Relief flickered in my head. Heat did help, but I couldn't stand, let alone walk out into the common room and fix a pouch for myself. Nor could I ask my best friends; Krista worked at Topaz on Fridays and Riley was still at the open mic event hosted by Poetry Club.

Unable to express more than a simple approval, I wheezed, "Thanks."

Jamie lifted my blanket and slid the hot water bottle across to me, letting it drop right in front of my stomach. I clutched it slowly, the edge of the knife inside me dulling as the heat sank in. Even through its cover, the hot water bottle was nearly scalding, but I appreciated the numbing, blanketing heat over the targeted jabs of pain.

"Should I leave now?" Jamie's voice was tremulous, uncertain. "Is there anything else I can do?"

I shook my head first. Don't leave. Then I nodded. My voice was small when I asked, "Get in? And tickle my back?"

Facing the wall, eyes squeezed shut, I didn't know if Jamie would humour me. The room was silent after my request. But then I heard Jamie flick his slides off, felt the dip in the mattress, smelt the comforting scent of clementines and body soap.

"Of course," he whispered, his mouth just behind my ear. His hands slipped under my shirt, the skin coarse but the touch soft. His fingers rippled up and down my spine, drawing my head out of a bloody, red room and into a lighter one. "Like this?"

I nodded. "Can you talk to me, please? I want to hear your voice."

"About what?"

"Anything," I answered. After a beat of silence, I realised that was a vague demand to make of him. "Tell me a fairytale."

"A fairytale?" He was surprised. Then, "I think you've heard them all."

In a sense that was true. I did know of Cinderella and Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. But I'd never had those stories read to me. In the literal sense, I hadn't heard one fairytale my whole life.

"I've picked them up through pop culture. But in my family, we have different sorts of children's stories."

Jamie was silent behind me. His hands kept up their feather-light wander along my spine.

"I have one," he announced at length. "It's kind of gruesome."

"I love gruesome."

"It's called Hans, Who Made The Princess Laugh. Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled over a prosperous kingdom. His daughter, the princess, was famous for her beauty, and she had lots of dudes wanting to marry her. But she was also a real bitch. Never smiling, never laughing, and refusing to be wooed by any men."

I smiled into my chest. I had no idea about this story. It was sweet that Jamie took so long to think up an obscure fairytale for me. I listened more intently than I would have to a familiar story, which drew my thoughts further from the pain.

"The king got fed up because she was old and rich enough to marry. He promised that whoever could make his daughter laugh would have her hand in marriage and half of the kingdom." Jamie's voice suddenly was the most captivating thing I'd beheld all week.

I wondered, "Why only half the kingdom?"

Jamie paused. He let out a quick, amused breath at my question.

"It was her inheritance from her mother? I think only male heirs could hold the throne, so the other half would pass to her son—if she eventually had one."

"Oh." His fingers danced to my waist, and back up my spine.

Jamie continued, "But there was a catch. Whoever tried and failed would have three strips cut out of their backs and salt rubbed into the wound—"

"That's counterintuitive," I interrupted. My brain obsessed over details like this, flaws in logic, always philosophising. "If he really wants his daughter married off, he shouldn't be adding a deterrent for those who might try."

"Maybe he wants to filter out the suitors who'd just screw around? Weed out the weaklings?"

From another angle, that was a valid hypothesis. "Mm. Alright. Go on."

"Word got around to a family with three brothers. The eldest brother was a soldier, and he'd been laughed at plenty of times while he ran his training drills. He went to the princess' window and did his drills right outside, but she was as melancholy as always. Needless to say, he went home with a very sore back."

A breathy chuckle escaped me. Jamie, his voice, was doing something to me. It felt a balm to my wounds, a lullaby. The pain in my abdomen was still there, but it had to war with Jamie for dominance over my mind. Slowly, I extended my legs, stretching my knees away from my chest. The pain didn't intensify, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"The second eldest brother was a schoolteacher. He was born with one leg much shorter than average, and one leg much longer than average. He walked with a cane, but he could make himself short as a toddler or as tall as a giant in a second. He'd been laughed at plenty in his lifetime," Jamie recited, his hands ceaselessly working. "He went outside the princess' window and started reciting his lectures, bobbing up and down as he strolled. A small smile formed on her face at the sight, but suddenly she was as quiet as always. The second brother went home with a very sore back. The third brother was called Hans. His father did not believe he could do it; he was unskilled and ordinary-looking."

I observed with a quirk of my lips the similarity between Hans and Jamie. He was also the youngest of three brothers, and unassuming, whenever anyone first met him. Nice, but not too nice. Funny, but only when he really tried to be.

From Diana Wynne Jones, I learnt the rule of three: it dictated something special would happen to Hans, and in all honesty, the title pretty much gave the whole story away, but the droll, predictable tale still had my full attention.

"Instead of going to the princess' window and announcing himself, Hans asked the king if he could take up a job at the castle, carrying firewood and water for the cook. The king agreed. One day, Hans was fetching water from the stream when he saw a large, fat fish. He scooped it into his bucket and began his walk home."

With small, hesitant movements, I tried to turn around in the bed. Jamie noticed immediately and ceased tickling my back, but his voice continued.

"On the way, the fish caught the eye of a woman with a golden goose. Its feathers shone from a distance, and she asked Hans if she could trade the fish for the goose. This is a special goose, she said, because whoever is touching it will stick fast if Hans would only say some magic words. Hans thought this was a very good trade to make."

Now that I could look upon Jamie's face, my heart gave a palpable squeeze. I took in the movements of his lush lower lip as he spoke. The twitching of his throat when he made vowel sounds. The flecks of hazel in his emerald green eyes, holding mine tenderly.

"On his way back, an old woman saw the goose and wanted to stroke it. 'Alright,' Hans said. 'But don't pluck out any of its feathers.' The second she touched the goose, Hans said the magic words. Then the woman stuck fast, hobbling along behind Hans as he walked."

I nearly laughed then, figuring out the final direction of the story. But a cramp hit my gut even at the thought of it, and I clamped down on the mirth I felt. Maybe the princess never laughed because she had perpetual endometriosis cramps, and laughing would have hurt her so much she would have been knocked out.

"As they walked through the town, an old man whom the old woman had antagonised throughout her life saw the old woman stuck fast. Laughing at her misfortune, he landed a swift kick to her butt just as Hans said the magic words. So then there were three of them, one hobbling, one hopping on one foot, as they approached the castle."

Jamie's hand slid slowly to my hip, under my shirt. I thought he would try to tickle my back whilst I faced him, but his hand shifted over my waist and into the curve of my back. His touch was warm, solid and comforting against my bare skin, his thumb drawing soothing circles on my lumbar region.

This was an even better sensation than being tickled.

"The king's blacksmith saw the party and started laughing and mocking them. He was a large, strong man, and wondered if he could hold all three of them back with just his tongs. He clasped the old man's shirt just as Hans said the magic words."

By the lamplight, I saw Jamie's eyes illuminate when he launched into the conclusion of the story.

Had he always been this handsome?

Even though I would have been loath to admit it at the Halloween party over a year ago, I had always thought the twins were good-looking. Jake was attractive, and Jamie even more so. But now I was drawn to him in a manner that went deeper than his looks. His calm, enchanting tone. The protective way he held me. How I always felt safe with him, albeit with a side of irritation.

"Soon, the princess heard a commotion outside her window. At the sight of the four of them walking, hobbling, hopping and dragging their heels, she burst out in laughter. But Hans was not done. He went to the kitchen to deposit the water and drew the attention of the cook. She wanted to pet the lovely golden goose, but Hans wouldn't slow for her. She only managed to grasp the blacksmith by his collar with her cooking spoon in her other hand when he said the magic words."

I shifted closer to Jamie so that his arm went all the way around my torso, and looped my own around his back. My fingers ran absentmindedly along his toned muscles. He instinctively held me closer, pressing his chest against mine.

"When they returned to the princess' window and she saw that they had dragged the cook along, too, she laughed so heartily the king had to hold her up. She and Hans were married, inherited half the kingdom and lived happily ever after," Jamie completed his story with a soft, sleepy smile.

I saw that smile of his and the next second felt this odd sensation in my heart. Each heartbeat of his seemed to thrum directly in time with mine, so close were the planes of our chests. Like something was reaching out, yearning. Like a frozen rosebud thawing and unfurling.

"Hm." I tried to muster up my usual sarcasm, but all I felt was warm. Soft. Like I could melt into his arms and be happy forever. "Like The Human Centipede but make it medieval."

"Sure it is," Jamie rolled his eyes, before leaning his head down to press his forehead against mine.

Our breathing slowed. Jamie reached his arm back to turn off the lamp without looking. Clearly, he'd gotten familiar with my room just as I had with his body.

"You have a nice storytelling voice," I said in the dark. "Maybe you could narrate children's picture books or cartoons when you're in New York."

Jamie's arms tightened a fraction, and his nose brushed ever so softly against mine. He humoured my joke, "As a side hustle?"

I tilted my nose upwards, aching to feel that heart-wrenching sensation again. I smiled wide when I felt Jamie inch his head forward again, letting me caress him. We didn't kiss.

A blissful sigh slipped into the air, muffled by the drowsiness and the darkness. I couldn't place who'd made the sound. Perhaps both of us.

"Yeah," I breathed before I fell asleep. "Maybe."

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My babies. I'm soft. The way to a girl's heart is through her funny bone.

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Aimee x