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It was nearly one in the morning when Jesper heard a soft double-knock. Whoever was there was lucky that he happened to have a sleep schedule so fucked up it was only outdone by Kaz Brekker. His father slept like the dead. Not even the sound of Jesper falling off his window ledge mid-sneak out had been enough to wake him. So really, the person at the door was just lucky Colm had him for a son. 

Another knock sounded, slightly louder this time. The door. Get the door.  

Jesper tumbled out of bed, fighting a brief wrestling match with his quilt. His mother made it when he was still a toddler, knitting for months so it would be large enough for him to use when he was grown. His toes nearly peeked out the bottom now, but he still slept with it nightly. 

He clumsily unraveled himself, tossing the blanket back to the safety of his bed. The door, Jesper. Why was someone even knocking this late? Robbery? No, that was ridiculous. What criminal would start a robbery by knocking on the victim’s door? 

He didn’t bother answering his own question, slipping out the door and down the hall, the old farmhouse floorboards creaking in protest. His phone was still clutched tightly in his hand, which he hadn’t noticed on his way out. The lock clicked quietly as Jesper switched it down, and he pulled the door open. 

In front of him stood a wide-eyed, trembling Wylan—his Wylan—arms wound around himself tightly. “What the hell?” Jesper blurted immediately, because Wylan shouldn't be here. They both knew it was far too dangerous for him to sneak out and risk being caught by his father. “Wy, what—” 

The moment his boyfriend raised his head, Jesper’s words caught. Wylan had a split lip and a shallow scrape on his cheek, and dried blood glinted on his knuckles, which were curled tightly into his button-up shirt. 

There was only one person who would have been able to hurt Wylan—a boy who couldn’t leave his house after dark—this late. And Jesper was going to murder him. He was going to find Jan Van Eck and break a bone for each injury he’d given Wylan before dumping him in the harbor to drown. 

That was a scarily Kaz-like thought, but Jesper snapped out of his shock before he could dwell on that. His boyfriend was shivering in his thin, short-sleeve polo, clearly everything but okay, and Jesper was standing in his doorway like a stunned idiot. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—I just—I had to leave. I know it’s late, I—” 

He stepped aside so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Jesus, Wy,” he interrupted gently. “Get inside, darling. You’re shivering.” 

Wylan’s eyes widened for half a moment before he took up the offer, limping—for god’s sake he was limping?—cautiously into the living room. And Jesper found himself taking after his mother, immediately springing into action with a murmured, “wait here.” His boyfriend only nodded, the crystal-blue eyes Jesper loved so much glazed over with shock. 

He dug through the first-aid cabinet in the kitchen, collecting what he needed and tucking it underneath his arm, as well as stopping by the freezer for one of those soft ice packs his father bought after Jesper sprained his ankle a few years ago. He couldn’t help but wonder if Van Eck had ever done anything similar for his son when he was sick or injured. Jesper doubted it. The man was as vile as they came.  

Don’t you dare think about that bastard right now, Jesper scolded himself, pressing a hand against the ice pack to shock the rising fury back into the dark pit it came from. No matter how much he wanted to, putting a hole in the wall or spewing a string of curses wasn’t going to help Wylan. 

His boyfriend was still standing in the exact same spot he’d been minutes ago, slightly hunched into himself, shoulders drawn close to his ears. “Hey Sunshine,” Jesper said delicately, offering an encouraging smile when Wylan’s gaze focused on his face. “You with me?” 

He nodded, slowly at first, then sharper. “I think so,” he replied, voice husky. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 

“You’re okay,” Jesper agreed, even though that was far from the truth. He needed Wylan to be present enough to not get startled into a panic attack or bolting. “I need to get you cleaned up love. Can I touch you?” 

Wylan’s eyes widened for a moment, clearly surprised to have someone asking for his permission. It’s not hard to imagine why. He cleared his throat and nodded quickly. “I—yeah.” 

Jesper hummed to show he’d heard, tenderly clasping up a pale, shaking hand in his darker ones in order to lead him to the couch. The cushions hardly even dipped under Wylan’s weight. He was sitting straight up, posture rigid, like a soldier.  

A silent shiver passed through him at the thought, discarding his phone on the side table. “You can relax, Sunshine,” he offered, uncapping the antiseptic and dripping a little onto a cotton round. “You’re safe here.” 

Wylan made a quiet sound that felt like a half-formed sob, but when Jesper looked up, any trace of vulnerability was already gone. His chest constricted painfully at the thought that his boyfriend still didn’t feel safe enough to be open.  

“This might sting,” Jesper warned. Privately, he hoped it might help bring Wylan back to himself, while another part of him flinched away from putting the other boy in any more pain than he already was. He didn’t want to think about any other injuries—worse injuries—that might be hidden. 

Wylan needs you. 

He cupped Wylan’s chin, tilting it slightly upward as he gently dabbed at the cut across the boy’s cheekbone, frowning at the bruise already starting to form around it. What the hell did this? It clearly wasn’t from any kind of human punch or slap. Did Van Eck throw something? 

Wylan kept his gaze trained downward as Jesper worked, refusing to meet his worried eyes. He didn’t react as dried blood was wiped away from his lip, or as antiseptic was dabbed over his torn palms and scraped knuckles. Jesper knew it had to have stung at least a little, but Wylan had a high pain tolerance for reasons that made him want to storm the Van Eck mansion all over again. 

“A book,” Wylan said suddenly, voice quiet and still wrapped in a thin layer of fear. “He threw a book at me.” His fingers reached up to ghost over the injury on his face, and a sharp, self-deprecating laugh slipped from his throat. “Ironic, huh.” 

He threw a book at his illiterate son. 

Fucking hell, Jesper was going to kill Van Eck, but first he was going to put him through all the same torture he’d put his own son through. Maybe he could get Kaz to help. He was always one for taking down rich men on power trips. Even better—he would gladly show no mercy to the man who beat Wylan. 

Jesper gathered every bit of willpower he had to keep from storming out the door then and there, blowing out a long breath to steady himself. “That’s ridiculously fucked up.” 

“I mean...” Wylan shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “He had a reason.” 

He had a reason. 

“Absolutely not,” Jesper hissed, straightening to look his boyfriend in the eyes, the cotton pad still clenched in his fist. His gaze trailed over the other boy’s beautiful rusty-gold curls, the soft slope of his face, the eyes so clear and blue he felt like he could dive in. “Wylan, darling, no reason could ever justify hurting you.” 

His boyfriend glanced away, guilt etched into his expression. He knew Wylan didn’t believe him, but he would keep repeating it until he did. Until he realized that some parents didn’t deserve children. Until he knew the only person at fault here was Jan Van-dick. 

However much he wanted to, he wouldn’t push for more details right now. Instead, he laid a hand on Wylan’s thigh, brushing his thumb across the fabric in what he hoped was a comforting motion. “I saw you limping. Did he...?” 

“It was my fault,” Wylan explained, and Jesper glanced up sharply with narrowed eyes. “Really. I was running and I tripped. I think I might have twisted my ankle.” 

Thank god. He’d envisioned much darker causes he didn't want to think about for another moment. But it was still an injury none the less, so he moved to take off the other boy’s shoe to look, then hesitated. “Can I?” 

“Yeah.” 

He slipped the untied shoe off with ease, wincing at the swollen ankle it revealed. How far did he push himself, injured like this? he wondered, praying it wasn’t the near two mile distance between their houses. “Did you walk all the way here like this?” 

Wylan was playing with his hands, rubbing a finger between two others firmly— a nervous habit Jesper noticed within minutes of meeting him. “Just...partly. This was the only place I could think of to go.” 

“God, Wy,” he sighed, though grateful his boyfriend hadn't ended up wandering the streets alone and injured. “We’re gonna need to ice it. Can you make it to my bedroom?” 

He nodded, starting to stand, then froze without warning. Anxiety dawned again on his expression. “Your dad—are you sure we won’t wake him?” 

“We won’t,” Jesper promised firmly, pushing himself up and pressing a kiss to Wylan’s hair. “Trust me. Nina could sing into his ear and he wouldn’t wake up.” 

A ghost of a smile flitted across Wylan’s face at the image. “Okay.” 

There he is. Jesper would take that tiny smile over any miracle.  

He stood first, offering a hand and a smile of his own. Wylan stared at it for an extra-long moment, hand hovering by his side, before accepting. His fingers were freezing.  

“Lean on me.” 

“I can walk fine, Jes.”  

“You’re lying.” 

Wylan bit his lip, clearly deciding whether or not to argue, but finally gave in and allowed Jesper to slip an arm around his waist. But as soon as his hand made contact with his boyfriend’s side, he sucked in a sharp breath, flinching away. Regret spread across his pale, freckled face immediately.  

“Wylan,” Jesper said slowly, retracting his arm as his heart’s steady rhythm sped up, every horrible thought he’d had since seeing his boyfriend throwing themselves to the forefront of his mind. “What happened?” 

“It’s nothing really—” 

Jesper brushed a few stray curls from Wylan’s forehead, resting his palm on the side of his face. He loved the boy standing in front of him more than anything, but could only hope Wylan was able to see it in his expression. “Don’t lie to me, sunshine.” 

He swallowed, relaxing into the touch just a fraction, avoiding Jesper’s eyes again. “He kicked me.” 

Kicked... 

Jesper was going to be sick.  

How could someone who called himself a father look at the brilliant, kind, amazing person Wylan was and kick him like he was no more than scum? He really hoped Kaz knew how to hide a body. 

Wylan needs you. 

“Can I see?” 

The other boy looked pale, but he nodded anyway, tenderly unbuttoning his polo. And when he slowly pulled it open, Jesper almost wished he hadn’t. A large splotch of purple was blossoming across his side in the unmistakable shape of a shoe, knocking the breath painfully from his lungs. 

Nausea boiled in his throat. “I’m gonna go get another ice pack,” he told Wylan hurriedly, diving for the kitchen before he could get a response, heart pounding so loud it echoed in his ears. As soon as he was out of sight, he leaned heavily against the cool counter, desperately holding back the tears springing into his eyes. 

Wylan needs you, Wylan needs you, Wylan needs you. 

He chanted it like a mantra, frantically trying to pull himself back together. The room was fuzzy, and his chest was being constricted like rope had wrapped around it. His mother used to say panic spread faster than wildfire. One person started, others would quickly follow. The last thing either of them needed was for Wylan to see him and fall right back into his own terror. 

Wylan needs you. 

He inhaled a long breath and stood, pulling the freezer open with a little more force than necessary. Cold air splashed into his face, dimming the buzzing panic a little, so he took more time than he really needed to find the icepack. 

“Come on Sunshine,” he said as he emerged and made his way back to Wylan, trying for light. “Let’s get you lying down.” 

Wylan nodded and obeyed without protest, allowing Jesper to guide him down the hallway. He shut the bedroom door behind them, wincing as it creaked loudly, and moved to rifle through his dresser for clean clothes. A moment later he tossed the other boy a soft band t-shirt and old sweatpants he thought might fit. Wylan caught them, then stared, almost looking confused.  

“You need to change, darling,” Jesper explained gently. “Your shirt has blood on it.” 

“Oh.” He glanced down at himself like he’d forgotten. “Are you sure?” 

He offered a comforting smile, crossing the room to peck his boyfriend’s cheek. “Positive. You can keep them if you want. I’m sure they’d enjoy seeing something other than the inside of a drawer.” 

The thought of Wylan leaving made his chest tighten all over again. Jesper didn’t want to ever let him go back to that place, to willingly send him straight to the person who hurt him. Even the idea made him sick to his stomach, every bone in his body screaming protect him. 

Wylan snorted quietly, a smile tugging at his lips, jolting Jesper back to himself. Fireworks went off in his chest and chased away the worry, elation bubbling at the fact he’d managed to get a laugh out of his boyfriend. God, I missed that sound. He couldn’t help returning a grin of his own. 

He kept his back turned while Wylan changed, humming under his breath, one hand drumming against his leg. The faint hisses of pain every few seconds made his heart clench a little more. He hated it. 

Wylan cleared his throat. “Jes? You can turn around now.” 

He did, a grin splitting his face the moment he caught sight of his boyfriend in the dim lamplight. The cuffs of his sweatpants were rolled up so much they looked round, and he was swimming in the already-oversized t-shirt. "You look ridiculously adorable.” 

Wylan rolled his eyes as if to ignore the way his face was flushing red. “You’re ridiculous. These are huge.” 

“Well, not my fault my boyfriend is so attractive in my clothes,” he hummed, glancing his boyfriend up and down dramatically.  

The redness deepened drastically, earning Jesper a flustered giggle. “Shut up Jes, I hate you.” The sound was bright for the first time since Wylan had shown up at his doorstep, warming his entire body like a ray of sunshine. He stepped forward until he was leaning so close their bodies nearly pressed together.  

“Nah, you love me.”  

Wylan let out a slow breath that tickled his neck. “Maybe a little.” 

And then their lips met with hardly a thought, a burst of energy coursing through Jesper, warm and soft and addictive. A hand snaked around his waist, while his own slipped into thick, red-gold curls. And for a moment, every horrible thing about the night fell away, and it was just the two of them sharing comforting heat in the closeness of his dimly lit bedroom. 

Wylan pressed closer, but Jesper immediately noticed the way his shoulders tensed and he inhaled sharply through his nose. But he didn’t stop. He’s pushing himself, Jesper realized, quickly breaking away despite the fact that all he wanted to do was continue and forget about everything else. “You’re hurting yourself darling.” 

His boyfriend’s eyes fluttered open, darkening in defiance. His anxious, distant state from only minutes ago seemed to have somehow disappeared already. “I’m not fragile Jes.”  

Jesper kissed his temple, but without any push, and clasped the other boy’s hands in his. His gray eyes met Wylan’s blue steadily. “Wy, you are one of the strongest people I know.” He opened his mouth to argue. “But you’re still injured.” 

Wylan huffed in frustration, though without the bite from a moment before, flopping backwards onto the bed. “So bossy.”  

“Rude,” Jesper whined, flopping down beside him, although more gently. “Excuse me for caring about the health of my boyfriend.” 

That time he got an eye roll. Jesper shook his head fondly, standing and grabbing the ice packs that had been abandoned on the desk. “You’re a fucking menace.” 

Wylan smirked from where he was still stretched out on the bed. “But I’m your menace.” 

“Stop flirting and move over,” he scoffed, although he kept his voice bright and teasing. God knew it was easy for Wylan to take things he said the wrong way. 

The other boy simply obeyed, flipping himself so he was right-side up, and sliding over to the left side of the small twin mattress. “Bossy,” he muttered again, grinning when Jesper raised an eyebrow at him midway through crawling onto the bed. 

The ice packs burned where they were grasped tightly in his hands, but it kept him grounded as he tugged Wylan’s sock off and was hit with the sight of the swollen ankle. Jesper grimaced as he secured it with a wad of sticky bandages, trying not to think about how much it probably hurt. But still, he didn’t know what was worse; the injury itself, or the fact that Wylan hardly reacted as the freezing ice pressed against his skin. 

He straightened to admire his work, knees still tucked underneath him as he crouched on the bed, searching Wylan’s face for any sign of discomfort. But it was blank as always, save for a tiny twitch of his eye. “Is that too tight?” He tried after a few seconds of getting nothing. 

The other boy shook his head, offering a reassuring half-smile. “It’s fine Jes.” 

Jesper didn’t fully believe him, but there was nothing he could do if Wylan wasn’t honest. So he moved his gaze to his boyfriend’s chest, swallowing. Any other day he would eagerly admire the smooth, pale skin and swooping collarbones, maybe throwing out something flirtatious while he was at it. But now, the idea of even setting his eyes on the bruise staining his boyfriend’s chest again made him want to vomit. 

Wylan needs you. The thought gave him enough strength to push the nausea down again and focus on the task at hand. He reached out instinctively, then hesitated, drawing back slightly. “Can I...?” 

Wylan smiled again, though Jesper didn’t miss that it was a little more strained this time. “You don’t have to ask, Jes.” 

“I want to.” 

“Oh.” For a moment, he was afraid his boyfriend was going to cry or argue or maybe both. But he only gave another tiny smile and let his gaze drift toward the ceiling. “Okay.” 

Jesper nodded, more to himself than anything, then grabbed the second icepack from where it was creating a small patch of water on his sheets. A towel was already folded around it, but he unfolded it and refolded it to be sure there weren’t any corners that would dig into Wylan’s already battered skin. 

His breath caught as the other boy tugged the shirt up to his neck, revealing the mess of purple and yellow like spilled watercolors. Nausea burned in his throat, and his skin felt clammy. Wylan was still so beautiful; nothing could ever erase that, but now the smooth canvas of his body was battered and discolored. 

Wylan needs you. 

With shaking hands, he crawled closer to his boyfriend and laid the icepack down as gently as he could. Wylan sucked in a sharp breath, nose crunching up, and Jesper immediately recoiled. “Shit sorry—” 

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, clenching his teeth as he grabbed the darker boy’s hand and guided it back to the injury, a shiver passing through him at the cold. “It’s gonna hurt. But it’ll help in the long run.” 

“Are you sure—” 

“I’ve dealt with this kind of thing plenty of times, Jes. I’m sure.” 

Jesper tried not to let the shock and disgust show on his face as the words hit him like a brick. His stomach rolled so hard he thought he might vomit right then and there. The way Wylan said it—matter of fact, almost exasperated—made Jesper want to wrap him in his arms and never let go. To go back and undo all the hurt he’d gone through before they found each other. To give in to grief and sob for every fucked up thing Jan Van Eck had done to his own child. 

“Jes?” 

Jesper swallowed down the emotions raging war and managed a shaky smile. “Sorry. Just got distracted. Is the icepack okay?” 

Wylan huffed in mock-exasperation, the corner of his lips twitching up into a knowing expression. He wrapped an arm around Jesper, pulling him down to lay against his good side with surprising strength. “It’s fine, Jes. You don’t need to worry so much.” 

He rested his head on top of Wylan’s soft curls, inhaling the scent of coconut shampoo as his boyfriend nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck. “I know. But I do anyway. Especially...” His gaze flickered down to the finger-shaped bruises on his boyfriend’s wrist without his permission, and he swallowed. “Especially tonight.” 

Wylan’s eyes went distant in the way that said he was thinking, but he didn’t answer. He exhaled slowly, warm breath brushing against Jesper’s skin. His hands found copper curls without any thought, mindlessly carding his fingers through just to fidget. His boyfriend melted into the touch, pressing his entire body closer, eyelids drooping.  He was clearly exhausted. 

He was exhausted. It hit Jesper suddenly. He hadn’t had slowed down enough to realize the way his body was pulling at him for the last half an hour, and now that Wylan was safe, they were both shutting down.  

“I think it’s been long enough,” Jesper murmured, sitting up and removing the melting icepack from a half-asleep Wylan, who whined at the sudden lack of warmth. He set it back on the nightstand and carefully tugged the t-shirt back over the boy’s chest, not allowing himself to look too closely. “That feel any better?” 

He got a sleepy hum in response that he thought might have meant “a little.” A tiny chuckle slipped from him without thought, and Wylan’s lips twitched, though his eyes remained closed. Jesper reached over and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into a comforting darkness. His boyfriend burrowed back into him immediately, a quiet sigh of contentment slipping from his lips as Jesper eased the blanket over them both. 

Tomorrow, he’d get Wylan to tell him what happened. Tomorrow, they’d figure out what they were going to do. But for now, Jesper allowed his eyes to drift shut, lulled to sleep by the sound of Wylan’s steady breathing. 

*

Tomorrow came a lot sooner than Jesper had expected. 

At first, he couldn’t place what had dragged him from the comfort of sleep. Sunlight had only just been peeking through the curtains, and his mind still felt heavy and sluggish. And then he heard a strangled whimper so quiet he thought he might have dreamt it. He paused, waiting, his senses slowly clearing as he climbed awake. 

“No—no. I’m sorry.” 

Jesper’s mind jolted into awareness at the sound of Wylan’s slurred pleading, and his eyes followed suit. His boyfriend had curled the opposite way at some point, all his limbs tucked together in a tight fetal position. Sweat was plastering his shirt to his skin, and his fingers gripped the blanket so tightly his knuckles were white. 

Shit. 

“Wylan?” he tried, brushing strands of hair out of the boy’s eyes as gently as possible. “Wake up, love. It’s me.” 

“I can’t...nonono.” 

“You’re safe, darling. You’re okay.” 

“I—Father please.” 

His heart clenched tightly underneath his ribcage, but he refused to let his mind dwell on the words for too long. Having no idea how to help when Wylan was asleep, he leaned over to rub his hand up and down his boyfriend’s arm lightly in the hopes of waking him. 

It was a bad choice. Wylan shot up so fast Jesper barely had a chance to process it and scrambled so far backwards he nearly fell off the bed. A yelp of pain escaped him at the movement, and Jesper’s pulse shot into his throat. “Don’t—don’t touch me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Shit. Of course, he somehow managed to make this worse. 

He curled his nails into his palms, determined not to get distracted by berating himself. “Wylan, sunshine, you’re safe. Can you look at me?” 

His breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps, and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Terror-filled eyes darted around wildly, pupils blown, frantically searching for something that wasn’t there.  

Every instinct screamed at Jesper to cross the distance and pull Wylan into his arms until the trembling stopped, but he didn’t. Touch wouldn’t help anyone but himself. So he stayed exactly where he was and forced himself to keep his hands still and in his lap where Wylan could see them, making a point of slowing his breathing, both to calm himself and the other boy. “It’s just me, Wy,” he said tenderly. “You’re in my room. It’s safe.” 

Crystal blue eyes finally focused on his own gray ones. They weren’t clear at first; it felt like hours before the cloudiness fizzled away and they gradually dawned with recognition. “Jesper?” 

Relief crashed over him so hard he thought he might collapse. “I’m here, darling.” 

“Oh.” 

And then Wylan’s lip wobbled and he blinked rapidly, but it was no use. A few tears spilled over, and he wiped them furiously with the back of his hand. Jesper thought his heart might have shattered right then and there. “I’m here,” he repeated uselessly, limbs buzzing with frantic, helpless energy.  

Wylan sniffed, eyes drifting to the window, then back to Jesper. “Did I wake you up?” 

“Well, yeah.” He flinched at the guilt that darkened the other boy’s gaze, words tripping over themselves as he scrambled to fix it. “But it’s really not that early. It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, sunshine.” 

A shaky smile pulled at Wylan’s lips, though the tears were falling freely now. They were uncomfortably silent, the only evidence being the wetness glistening on his flushed cheeks. Jesper wondered how many times he’d cried alone, curled up in his bedroom, and nobody had any idea. “Does this...happen often?” 

Wylan shrugged weakly, rubbing his eyes again like it would somehow stop the crying. “Yeah. A lot—a lot of nights.” 

Jesper frowned, swallowing past the lump in his throat. That explained the light purple circles hanging underneath his eyes recently. He drummed his fingers on his lap, the pain pooling in his chest making him restless. “Oh, Wy...” 

“It’s—usually it’s not this bad. Sorry.” 

Jesper sighed, scooting slightly closer, but staying far enough that he wouldn’t feel cornered. “Wylan,” he murmured firmly, though still gentle. “It’s okay, love.” 

Wylan opened his mouth then closed it again, staring down at the blanket still gathered in his fists, picking at his cuticles uneasily. Jesper offered a hand, slowly enough that he had plenty of time to pull away if he needed, but the boy easily laced their fingers together with a grateful smile. 

He exhaled a near-silent breath of relief, giving the soft hand a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

Jesper wasn't even sure if he was referring to the dream or the night before, but he would take either answer. All he wanted was for the tension pulling the other boy taut to be expelled one way or another, even if only enough to see his shoulders sag a fraction. 

Wylan nibbled at his lip, eyes downcast, but he didn’t outright say no. Something in his expression almost looked guilty. He wanted to kiss it off immediately. “It might help.” 

He took a shaky breath in, and Jesper gave another encouraging squeeze. “It was just...what happened. Last night. I don’t—I don’t remember everything.” His heart clenched painfully. “Just...bits and mostly—mostly the bad parts. I shouldn’t...” He trailed off with a frustrated noise, the trembling starting up again.  

Jesper’s body itched to reach out again, buzzingbuzzingbuzzing and completely useless. With difficulty, he swallowed down the frantic energy humming at the edges of his mind. “Do you want me to hold—” 

He didn't even get a chance to finish before Wylan dove at him, gratefulness lighting his lake-blue gaze like sunlight. His arms wound around his boyfriend’s body, mindful of the injuries, but practically giving out from the relief of having something to do with himself. “You know, if you were this eager to be held,” he teased gently, pressing a kiss to those copper curls he loved so much. “You could have come to me.”      

“I didn’t wanna just demand a hug,” Wylan protested weakly, face buried in Jesper’s chest. “I didn’t know if that was...okay with you right then.” 

Jesper chuckled a little, because how had he ended up in a relationship with a boy who was quite possibly the sweetest person alive? “You never have to ask for a hug, sunshine. I seriously doubt there would ever be a time I wouldn’t be okay with holding my gorgeous boyfriend.” 

The comment didn't have the effect he’d desired. Instead of rolling his eyes or squeaking in embarrassment like usual, Wylan’s frown deepened. Jesper’s stomach twisted. “You okay, love?” 

He nodded, but didn’t even seem convinced himself. “I’m fine, I just...” he trailed off, playing with his cuticles again, brows furrowing in anxiety. “I don’t want you to get fed up with me, or bored, or—” 

“Wylan,” Jesper interrupted sharply, but he closed his mouth after a shake of his boyfriend’s head that said let me say this. Still, he desperately wanted to jump in and shield Wylan from whatever he was about to say, but that wasn't what he needed.  

Just listen to him. Wylan needs you. 

“My father loved me once. When I was little,” Wylan began again, his voice shaking now. It was all Jesper could do to run one hand over his scalp and rub his back with the other. “Before—before he found out about...” He gestured vaguely at himself, but Jesper was fully aware of what it referred to; the thing Van Eck had used to make Wylan believe he wasn’t worthy of anything, much less love. 

Jesper wanted to smother his boyfriend with affection until he’d unlearned every fucking thing that man had drilled into him. 

“Sometimes, I can still believe that he’s only acting out of that love that must be buried somewhere. But then he—he does shit like this and I’m forced to remember how much he hates his pathetic, defective son.” New tears slipped from his eyes, but this time he didn’t make a move to wipe them away. “So I get scared that you’ll realize...you don't want me anymore. I know it’s irrational and stupid but it won’t—it won't just go away.” 

The words cut into a soft choked sound, and then Wylan was sobbing openly, all the terror and anger and pain of the night before bleeding out of him through the pained noises. Jesper pulled him closer, burying his face in the boy’s hair. “I’m not leaving you,” he murmured with as much conviction as he could possibly muster. “I want you. Not a perfect version of you that doesn’t exist. Although, I think you’re pretty perfect as you are.” 

That earned him a wet, broken laugh. It was a tiny win, but Jesper still smiled, tilting Wylan’s face up so he could press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s going to be okay, Wy.” 

His laugh faded as quickly as it came. For a moment, Jesper thought he’d retreated back into silence, but then his breath hitched, and Wylan’s fingers tightened in his. “It’s not, though. I couldn’t—he was having a bad day with the business and I couldn’t read the book he wanted.”  

The smile dissolved from Jesper’s face, mind flying back to the purple bruises littering his boyfriend. It was as if the words had escaped their locked cage inside Wylan and now, he couldn’t stop. Half of Jesper didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear how cruel and twisted a father could be toward his child. But the other half, the half that said Wylan needs you, would always win. 

“He grabbed my wrist, and I shouldn’t have, but I snapped at him. He shoved me. Threw the book.” Wylan’s hand brushed across the cut on his cheekbone subconsciously. “At one point I said something he didn’t like.” He sucked in a breath, shoulders curling slightly inward. “So, he kicked me.” 

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Jesper breathed, trying not to dwell on the image of a bruised Wylan curled on the ground, terrified and alone, while his father berated him relentlessly. But his mind did anyway, playing it on loop, so vivid and loud Jesper might as well have been there himself. He swallowed. “What did he say to you?” 

A wry smile crept its way onto Wylan’s lips, but it definitely didn't belong beside his tear-streaked cheeks and pain-filled, cerulean eyes. “The usual.” He shrugged, the motion uncomfortably mundane. “I don’t...I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” 

Jesper’s chest ached. He knew how strong Wylan was; he could easily handle a few injuries without much trouble. But of all the things Van Eck had done to his boyfriend physically, the ones that clearly hurt the most were the words he hurled without thought, the daggers formed out of sentences made to drive right into his heart. That was what hurt him the most. 

“Okay,” he replied gently, carding his hand through Wylan’s red-gold hair. “You don’t have to.” Wylan relaxed against him, the tension melting from his body like ice cream on a hot day. 

They lay there quietly, Jesper still holding him tightly as the trembling breaths tapered off, replaced by the occasional sniffle or sigh. But they didn’t rush, and little by little, the storm cleared. By the time light had begun to filter through the curtains, Wylan’s face had settled back into its calm curves. 

“You want breakfast?” he suggested. He’d heard more than one stomach grumble in the past few minutes, and Wylan seemed calm enough to handle the idea of food. “It has to have been a while since you ate.” 

He made a noncommittal hum that could have ranged anywhere from sure to don’t even make me think about it. Despite everything, Jesper couldn’t help but smile at how stupidly adorable it was. “I’ll take that as a solid maybe.” 

Wylan rolled over so he was more securely tucked into Jesper’s right arm. “I don't know if I can eat. My stomach feels...” he scrunched up his face in concentration. “Weird. Empty. I don’t know.” 

Jesper’s smile widened into a teasing grin. “Last I checked, an empty stomach just means hungry.” 

His boyfriend scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Jesper could see he was smiling too. “Not that kind of empty, obviously.” 

He tipped his head onto Wylan’s shoulder, pressing his cheek against the fabric of his shirt comfortably. If it was up to him, they would stay intertwined like this forever. “We don’t have to do breakfast yet. Maybe just something easy, like tea, or toast, or water.” 

“I think...I think I could handle that.” His expression twisted back into anxiety not even a second later. “What about your Dad?” 

“I’ll handle it, sunshine.” He pecked Wylan’s nose, drawing out a little giggle that washed over him like a warm breeze, loosening the tightness in his chest. “And besides, he's practically adopted you anyway.” 

“Okay,” Wylan agreed, but neither of them made a move to leave. Instead, they stayed there, listening to the quiet thump of the other’s heartbeat. Jesper relished the sound of his boyfriend’s slow, easy breaths, and the feeling of their bodies pressed so close they were nearly fusing together.  

Wylan twisted his head to look straight into Jesper’s eyes. The storm was gone now, leaving a calm, clear, blue behind. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that expression of comfort resting on his boyfriend’s features.  

A hand squeezed his. “Thanks for all of this Jes.” 

Jesper smiled, eyes never leaving Wylan’s face, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. “Always,” he promised, and he meant it. He would do this a thousand times over if it meant his boyfriend would be safely in his arms, because he loved Wylan with every inch of his body. 

“Always,” Wylan echoed, smiling quietly, and for once, he seemed to believe it.