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But he doesn't. He won’t. “I’m not going anywhere. Uhm- you,” Simon says quietly, stepping back towards him instead of forward.
His breath stutters. “Wilhelm,” he insists, voice cracking.
“Wilhelm,” Simon repeats. The name feels unfamiliar on his tongue like it’s a foreign language. “I’m not going. We can stay another day.”
The sheer relief that floods Wilhelm’s face is almost painful to look at. His eyes soften, his shoulders drop, the tight line of his mouth trembles for a second before it steadies into a small smile, his cheeks turning pink.