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It's a rainy Sunday evening, droplets pattering against the window, light flaring outside every once in a while signaling the rising storm.
Wylan sits curled up on the couch, blankets covering the majority of his body. He's not a fan of storms, or the cold, or really anything about the doom and gloom outside of his and Jesper's apartment window.
Jesper had just gotten up to grab another blanket from their bedroom, considering Wylan had hogged all of the ones in the living room.
As Jesper awkwardly reached beside the desk for a blanket, his elbow knocked into a book, half revealing an envelope tucked between a page.
With further inspection, Jesper noticed three more unopened envelopes. He didn't mean to be nosy, but truly it felt harmless as he took them out from the book—until he noticed the particular 'Van Eck' seal plastered over it. The edges were worn, as if they'd been handled one too many times but never opened, to be placed right back in between the pages of a textbook Wylan's already had Jesper read.
Jespers is not angry when he calls out, "Wy," just confused. "What's this?"
As Wylan walks into their room, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his eyes catch exactly what Jesper is calling about.
Wylan freezes where he's standing, blanket dropping to the floor, shoulders tensing in a way Jesper recognizes—not guilty, not defensive, just... small.
"It's nothing," Wylan says too quickly. "It's just junk, Jes."
Jesper frowns, eyes flicking back to the loud and proud seal announcing exactly who these letters are from.
"Wy, these are from him. It's not nothing." Jesper says, voice sharpening before he realizes it.
Wylan shrugs, "They're just letters." He says, already retreating into himself, shutting down before they can properly communicate—exactly what Jesper doesn't want to happen.
"You didn't tell me."
“I just- I didn’t think they were important.”
"You need to tell me these things. I can read them, make sure he's not- not planning on doing- I don't know, Jan Van Eck things!" Jesper begins to rant, pacing the floor of their room, hands exaggerating as he talks.
He doesn't mean to seem so frustrated, it's not supposed to be pointed at Wylan. He's just scared and angry at this man who hurt the person he loves so deeply. He knows Jan used to send Wylan letters, tracking him down and mocking him with words he knew his son couldn't read, expressions of his conditional love on the page.
Wylan's gaze drops to the floor at the mention of his father's name, his fingers worrying at the hem of his sleeve.
"It's not important."
Jesper doesn't stop his movement as he replies, "It is important."
"It's not!" Wylan insists, voice tight. "They're just— I don't know—I can't even read them."
Jesper's frustration spikes-not pointed at Wylan, never at Wylan. It's just fear. Fear in the wrong font.
Jespers has always been sharp and bright, theatrical even when not making the conscious effort to be. His hands lift in emphasis the exact second he takes an unconscious step forward, "Exactly! You can't read them, and he knows that! That matters, Wylan!"
Wylan flinches. Hard.
Maybe it's the tone of voice, maybe the movement, maybe the comment, maybe it's the way Jesper says his name, or maybe it's anything and everything about this whole situation.
It's instant, instinctual. His eyes squeeze shut as he stumbles back, shoulders jerking and head ducking, bracing for something that wouldn't come.
Jesper freezes, the room is dead silent.
"Oh," he whispers after a beat.
"Wy," he says softly. "Hey. Hey hey, you know I'd never-"
Wylan's gaze slowly drifts up, never making exact eye contact. He shakes his head faintly, automatically.
"I know," he says, the words not sounding anchored. "I know you wouldn't."'
Jesper is overly aware of his movement now, ensuring his hands are somewhere Wylan can see them and not flailing about.
"You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"
Wylan opens his mouth to answer, but no words come out. His eyes flick away, blinking fast like his brain is trying to gather all of the input and collect the right answer.
"Even if.." Wylan's voice trails off before coming back, barely above a whisper, "even if I really deserve it?"
Jespers heart drops.
"No," he answers immediately. "No. Wylan—"
Wylan isn't exactly listening anymore, gaze distant, arm curling inward as he goes to gnaw on the side of his thumb.
Jesper steps closer again, slower this time, movements obvious. His voice is gentle when he says, "That's not true. You have never done anything to deserve the way he hurt you. Ever."
Wylan's breathing hitches, "I didn't tell you because-" his words feel like they're tangling in his throat, catching and falling apart.
"Because it's just... him. If I tell you, then it's-it's real and you'll worry and I just don't want to be a-"
"A burden," Jesper finishes, quiet and gentle.
Wylan's gaze drops once again. A confirmation.
Jesper slowly gets closer, hands out as an offer. Wylan's eyes don't meet his as he allows Jesper to take his hand, lowering it from where he was biting.
Jesper is soft when he says, "You not telling me just means you're carrying it alone."
Wylan shakes his head, tears pulling but refusing to let them fall.
"I don't want him touching anything," he confesses. "Not you. No- Not me." He seemingly chokes out the last few words, like saying them out loud is an admission to something wrong.
Jesper squeezes Wylan's hand, giving opportunity for him to pull away—an attempt at grounding as Wylan's eyes seemingly float away. Jesper can tell his mind is only half there.
"You didn't deserve it," Jesper says, quiet but confident in his words.
Wylan's breathing stutters, tears still threatening to break loose.
"I'm sorry I flinched," he whispers. "I knew you weren't mad, I'm sorry."
"Hey hey hey, none of that, love." Jesper quickly replies.
At that moment, he wraps both arms around Wylan. Firm, protective. He feels the wetness of Wylan's silent tears meeting his shoulder.
How he hates the man who taught Wylan to cry so soundlessly. The fact that Wylan's allowing himself to cry at all is a miracle.
"I'm not angry with you," Jesper says. "I'm angry with him. I'm angry that he keeps trying to reach you like this. That he thinks he can get away with this every time.
Wylan's nod is faint, head buried in Jesper's shoulder, body seeking pressure.
Jesper lowers them to the floor, allowing Wylan to crumble into him like a puppet with his strings cut. Wylan's eyes slip shut, exhaustion creeping in, anxiety swelling in his chest that he files away for later.
And Jesper holds him through it all. Each tremble, each quiet sob. Even as Wylan attempts to get impossibly closer, searching for the grounding pressure of his boyfriend's body against his.
Jesper will hold Wylan as long as it takes.