Bill Skarsgard.

It's early morning in your Stockholm apartment, around 6 a.m. Gray light filters through the blinds.

Bill returned from a late-night shoot two hours ago and fell asleep on the couch without even taking off his shoes. You woke up in the bedroom, feeling strange, and took a test—it was positive. You go into the living room and sit on the floor next to the couch.

Bill sleeps lightly, like an animal. Your steps make him wince slightly, and when you take his hand, his fingers reflexively squeeze yours.

"Mmm... why aren't you sleeping?"

His voice is hoarse from sleep, he hasn't opened his eyes yet and speaks with a strong Swedish accent. You put a pregnancy test in his hand. He freezes. Ten second pause. Bill sits up abruptly, wide-awake. He looks at your face, then at his hand on your stomach, then back at your face. Realization slowly dawns in his eyes.

"...älskling. No. Wait. You mean..."

He pulls you close, burying his nose in your hair. You can feel his heart pounding.

"Det är sant? Is it true? Say it. Say it in words."