If you must mourn, my love
Mourn with the moon and the stars up above
If you must mourn,
Don't do it alone
You // Keaton Henson

It isn't until Jens is taking daily walks with Lotte that he appreciates the sun.

It's gotten warmer, the light shining against the skin of his face, shining through his eyelids when he closes his eyes, a bright, soft, red glow. It reminds him why his mother always took the extra few minutes before leaving to rub sunscreen over the back of his neck and the tips of his ears, so he pauses before leaving to toss the bottle of it to Lotte.

"I don't want to," she whines as he ties his shoes, and she tries to give it back. "It makes me feel sticky."

"Would you rather get sunburned?"

She stares at him stubbornly before he takes it and starts applying to himself, staring back. When she finally looks away, he quickly reaches out and swipes at the tip of her nose, leaving a dash of sunscreen in its path. She gasps loudly, trying to shove at his hand, but she misses.

"Jens!"

"Hm." He bends down, rubbing his cheek, analysing the glow of sunscreen on her nose. "You might want to rub that in."

She huffs, glowering at him.

"I hate you."

"You'll thank me when you don't get skin cancer."

- - -

He also didn't realise how much he hates social media until scrolling through it is the only thing he really ever does.

It's exhausting.

Every time he looks at someone, some influencer or celebrity, or even just some kid from school who just seems... better than Jens, there's a little part of him that whispers to him, telling him that he needs to do better.

But it's addictive, the self criticism. He scrolls, and scrolls and scrolls and scrolls, laughing at a few videos (sending them to the guys), but watching some and just looking.

Watching how people look, how they talk, how they smile. Wondering how he looks to other people, if other people look at him the same way he looks at them.

It's something he's always wondered (but being limited to his apartment and short walks hasn't helped his existential curiosities). If the beauty he finds in everyone else's faces, in their voices and the way they carry themselves, is as visible in him as it is in them. He thinks every person shows a little bit of who they are, a little bit of their soul, in everything they do.

He's always loved watching people, just sitting and listening, even though he is a bit of an extrovert. There's a certain beauty in witnessing existence that Jens doesn't think many people notice.

He's noticed it, the exposure of souls, in Robbe. The way Robbe has changed in just the last year, the way he carries himself a little taller, how his voice is a little stronger than it used to be. It's like he exists out loud.

Jens is jealous.

He pretends he's not, of course. He pretends that he lives out loud too, pretends that he knows what he's doing and that he's just fine all the time, even as he sends an enthusiastic, exaggerated text message before he tosses his phone away, across his bed, and stares at his ceiling blankly.

There's an itch in him, a desperate want to just do something, even though he doesn't really know what. He tries to think about it sometimes, makes lists in his head of all the things he would do right now if he could.

1) Go to a party. He misses the feeling of parties, the way the music felt like it was swimming into his veins, making him glow from the inside out, the way everyone moved simultaneously like they were all glowing together. (He misses being drunk, sometimes. He doesn't miss it desperately the way he misses the loud music and flashing lights, but he misses the carelessness that came with it.)

2) Go to school. It pains him to say, but he misses school. Specifically seeing his friends, making eye contact with them across a classroom and pressing his lips together to suppress laughter, seemingly prompted by absolutely nothing. (He hasn't laughed at nothing in a while.) He misses watching other students in the courtyard from a classroom window, seeing their smiles and just barely hearing their laughter through the distance and glass between them. He misses watching Aaron panic as he desperately and quickly tries to copy Moyo's answers from a worksheet as Moyo reprimands him and Robbe laughs. He misses jumping on Sander's back as Sander laughs into the soft kiss he shares with Robbe at the end of the day.

3) Take his mom to dinner. She deserves it. Maybe he'd take her to some fancy restaurant, one of those restaurants that have absurdly dim lighting with candles on the tables and velvety seats. (If he had enough money, that is.) Or maybe he'd treat her to some fast food and take her home to just relax. He thinks the only time she gets to chill is when she sleeps, and it's unfair, and it makes him angry, hearing her come home so late at night and not getting to even say good morning to her before she leaves.

4) Take Lotte to her friends' houses. It breaks his heart, how much she misses them. They video call, of course. (Lotte had even attended a birthday party over Zoom, complete with streamers Jens had hung around the room to make it feel more real for her.) But it's not the same, and Jens can see her deflate a little every time he has to tell her he can't take her anywhere but the grocery store and the park.

He adds another item to the list as he stares at the ceiling, analysing the beige and brown and off-white discolouration, thinking and thinking and thinking.

5) Take Lucas out to eat. Really he'd like to just take Lucas home to Utrecht, but he tries to keep his list as reasonable as possible. So he settles for wishing to take Lucas to get lunch, or to a skatepark, which became a wish after Lucas mentioned he used to skate with his friends. Or wishing to just watch a movie with him, just sit with him in person. Just talking on the phone to him makes Jens feel... peaceful, he supposes. Like he can say anything at all, anything he thinks, and Lucas will just say, "Yeah." Jens wonders if being in Lucas's actual, physical presence would (will) make him feel the same way. (Jens thinks he'd like to listen to Lucas talk in person. He bets his voice sounds different when it's closer.)

He thinks about it... often.

All the time.

Even in the middle of talking to Lucas on the phone and on Skype, as he explains a math problem to him half-heartedly (as Lucas really obviously has no real desire to understand it), as Lucas reads aloud to him and describes the themes and characters and "literary archetypes" (which Jens smiles at, his brows furrowing confusedly, though Lucas continues, unfazed), he continues wondering and wondering and wondering, his teeth worrying at his lip absentmindedly.

- - -

Jens's eyes take a second to adjust when he shuts the television off, the remains of bright flashes from the screen still lighting up his vision, and he pauses on the sofa, blinking blankly at the wall, before he finally stands and feels his way to his room.

He tosses his phone and earbuds onto the bed as he crosses the room to pull open his curtains, watching the night sky and city appear from behind the fabric. He starts to sigh when he sees how many lights are on outside, how many windows are glowing with other people who won't sleep, which isn't very many at all, but he stifles it when he hears his phone buzz on his bed.

He picks it up and squints as the screen lights up, almost winking at it as he struggles to make out the words on his screen.

He manages to read lmao maybe, a response to Jens asking Lucas if he's completed his maths homework, after lowering his brightness, and his brows furrow as he glances at the time.

why in the hell are you awake??, he types.

can't sleep is the response, and Jens rolls onto his side, taking a breath.

are you okay?

He waits for a response, watching as a bubble appears and pulses, then disappears and appears again. And he waits. And waits. He bites his lip, his foot gently bouncing on the mattress as worry grows in his chest.

Finally a message appears on his screen.

i don't know

Jens rolls onto his back, typing call me and forgetting to add a question mark before sending it. Lucas calls him much faster than he had responded.

"Hey," he says quietly when he picks up.

"Hi."

Lucas's voice is soft, and Jens can almost imagine him, laying on his bed in the dark, his eyes closed.

"What's wrong?"

Lucas lets out an "Uhm..." and Jens closes his eyes, listening to Lucas sigh softly.

"I'm just—" Lucas cuts himself off with a sharp breath and then a slow exhale. "I don't know."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Jens asks slowly, carefully.

"Not really," Lucas says, and Jens can hear his voice smile. "I just— I just miss my mom, I guess."

Jens bites his lip, humming quietly, and tilts his head on the bed to look outside at the sky. The stars are blurry.

"Where is she?" he asks before he can talk himself out of it, before the silence can stretch too long.

"Back home," Lucas says lightly. "She, uhm..."

It sounds like he's thinking, so Jens lets him.

"She's in a mental institution," Lucas says, the end of the sentence lifting up nervously. "She's— She's bipolar, and she had, uhm..." His voice cracks and Jenss heart cracks with it.

"Is she okay?" he whispers when Lucas doesn't continue.

"Yeah, she's better now. They're, like, making sure she's taking her meds, and she's in therapy, and... Yeah."

"Why..." Jens hesitates before closing his eyes and asking. "Why are you with your dad?"

Lucas scoffs lightly.

"Because he's a jackass, and said my mom can't be responsible for me."

"That's... bullshit."

"Yeah," Lucas says, and there's a soft noise that sounds like he's moving on his bed, shifting. "He's a fucking idiot. I mean— I'm almost fucking eighteen, and she's taken care of me since I was little, since— since he fucking left us, because of her diagnosis, because he couldn't deal with it, and now he wants to make her out to be some— some villain, or..."

Lucas huffs, and Jens furrows his eyebrows, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," Lucas says after a quiet second, his voice calmer, slower.

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Jens says gently.

"Still, I'm—"

"Lu, seriously." Jens opens his eyes, blinking in the faint streetlight. "I'm always here if you need to vent, or anything."

There's a silent pause, and then Lucas lets out a breathy, "Thank you."

It's quiet again, and Jens hears a car drive past his building, the rush of the tires over the pavement a quiet noise, like waves on the beach. And then it's gone. For a second, he wonders where the driver is going. Where they're coming from.

"If you could be anywhere in the world right now," he starts quietly, his voice almost breaking in the silence of the world, "where would you wanna be?"

Lucas hums, sighing softly, and there's another shifting noise. While he thinks, Jens gets up, moving to the edge of his bed before standing and sitting on his windowsill, on the pillows he set there weeks ago. He rests his head on the glass, feeling the gentle bite of the cold against his skin when Lucas speaks.

"Home. Utrecht. With my mom or... or my friends, maybe." He pauses. "Maybe a skate park."

"Mm." Jens watches streetling flicker briefly. "That sounds nice."

"What about you? Where would you be?"

Jens's mind flashes back to his list for a second, and for another second, as he says, "Uh...", he considers telling Lucas about the final item on the list, the newest addition to it. But he doesn't.

"A party," he says instead. (He doesn't know why he doesn't say it. It would be so easy. With you.) "You're laughing at me?" he says when he hears a scoff, trying to shake his mind of it.

"No, it's just..." Lucas's voice shakes even as he defends himself, and Jens's mouth spreads into a smile.

"You are."

"Anywhere in the world and you'd wanna be at a party?"

"Mm." He nods, even though he knows Lucas can't see him.

"What kind of party?"

"Like a house party." He looks up at the sky, at the stars. The moon is just a little glowing crescent, and he almost misses it. "Speakers on tables, plastic cups. All that."

"I haven't been to a party in so long," Lucas says softly, as if in realisation.

"Me either."

"Sounds fun," Lucas says lightly.

"I miss them." Jens sighs, and his breath fogs the window for a second. "I like people watching."

"Yeah, that's fun." It sounds like Lucas is whispering in his ear. Like he's right there. Jens closes his eyes.

"I wanna get drunk," Jens confesses, because he's too sleepy to filter himself properly.

"Mm, that's fun too."

"Not like drunk drunk, but like..."

"Tipsy."

"Yeah. Tipsy enough that the lights are a little brighter."

"Yeah, that's nice. I haven't gotten drunk in a while." Lucas's voice slurs sleepily, and Jens smiles.

"What are you doing?" Jens asks, leaning against the window. He feels the cold glass through his shirt.

"Talking to you?"

"No, like—" He laughs lightly. "You said you couldn't sleep. What are you doing?"

"Oh. I— I'm... sitting on the floor. Looking out my window."

Jens's eyes drift back open and he looks out at the city, at all the windows, wondering if Lucas's is one of them, if his light is on or off.

"Are you looking at the sky?" he whispers finally, and Lucas breathes a soft "Yeah," that sends a shiver down Jens's spine.

He smiles again (againagainagain), and says, "Me too."

"You're on the floor?" Lucas asks, mumbling slightly, and Jens can hear his smile.

"Mm-mm, my windowsill."

"Oh." Lucas takes a breath. "I don't have a windowsill," he says, sounding thoughtful.

"You can borrow mine."

Lucas laughs, a childish, raw laugh, with a few mumbled words that Jens doesn't catch, but that make his nose scrunch as he beams at the window, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Lu," he says after a few quiet minutes, after listening to Lucas's breaths and distant cars.

"Mm."

"You need to go to sleep."

Lucas is quiet, and Jens almost thinks he's asleep as he takes a short breath, but then—

"You need to go to sleep."

He scoffs, cracking his eyes open and blinking blearily at the sky. He can't tell if it's getting lighter or if it's just his eyes.

"We both need to go to sleep."

"Yeah," Lucas sighs.

"Can we call tomorrow?" Jens asks.

"Yes please."

Jens is still smiling when they hang up, leaning against the glass. He drifts off, the lights blurring until they disappear into the dark.

- - -

"Why are you sleeping on your window?"

Jens startles awake, his shoulders jerking and his head bumping the glass as he inhales deeply. His eyes blink open, squinting in the bright sunlight that's peering over the city, and he looks over his shoulder as he stretches his arm out to find Lotte sitting cross legged on his bed, looking at him.

"Lotte..." He looks forward again, arching his back, hearing it pop quietly as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can still feel her eyes on him as he rubs his face, feeling something shift on his lap as he lifts his hand, and he looks down, smiling softly when he sees his phone.

And he remembers.

He groans quietly as he stretches his legs out, and he presses the home button on his phone to open it, but the time is too blurry for him to read it.

"Hand me my glasses?" he mumbles, turning and gesturing vaguely with the wave of his hand to his bedside table.

"Why are you sleeping on your window?" Lotte asks again as she crawls across his bed to get them.

"Don't touch the lenses," he reminds her as she reaches for them, and she says, "I know."

"I don't know, Lotte," he says, putting the glasses on and blinking at her before she can ask again. "I just fell asleep here."

"Was it comfortable?" she asks, making a face at him, and he sets his phone back in his lap after checking the time again (7:23), twisting his back.

"Not really."

But it was worth it, he thinks. To know that he was looking at the sky with Lucas. Almost like they were sitting together under the moon and stars.

- - -

"Je-ens!" Moyo sings loudly, as soon as Jens answers the Zoom call.

Jens stares blankly at Moyo's box, hearing Aaron and Robbe snicker. (He suspects Moyo was planning on attacking him like this.)

"You have way too much energy right now," he says flatly, trying not to laugh.

"Bro, it's like six," Robbe says, and Jen looks at him, seeing him with some of his hair tied in a messy ponytail that sticks straight up from the top of his head. "How late were you up last night?"

"Let me answer your question with a question," he says, shifting so he's leaning against the wall with one of his legs bent in front of himself. "What in the hell is going on with your hair?"

"I..." Robbe shrugs, his eyes flicking across his own screen as Aaron cackles. "I got bored waiting for you."

"What..." Jens shakes his head, making a confused face.

"You didn't answer my question!" Robbe interrupts.

"Oh my god, not that late mom."

"How late?" Robbe asks sassily, raising his eyebrows and attempting to look stern, but Jens can't possibly take him seriously when he looks like this.

"I don't know, like... four...ish?"

"Four??" Moyo exclaims before Robbe can say anything, though his jaw drops and his brow furrows.

"Why the fuck were up at four?" Aaron asks him aggressively, and Jens raises his hands in surrender.

"Why the hell am I being interrogated right now?"

"Why were you up at four?" Moyo asks loudly.

"Jesus, I was playing a game, and then I was... talking to someone." He glances away from the screen, his face heating up.

All three of them let out a high-pitched "Oooohhhh...."

"Someone?" Moyo says, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Aaron asks, quirking his eyebrows up and down, and Jens rolls his eyes, holding back an irritated huff.

"It's not a lady, dumbass, it's the new kid."

"Who?" Robbe asks.

Jens takes a deep breath (it would have been a deep cleansing breath, but it doesn't do much for him).

"Lucas. He's in my literature class."

"I have literally no idea who you're talking about," Moyo says.

"Actually I was wondering if you guys would be down for him to, like, join our Zoom call sometime. I think you'd like him."

"I am so down for any form of human interaction, man," Aaron says. "I want all the friends I can possibly have."

"Is he available right now?" Robbe asks.

"I can text him," Jens says, reaching for his phone. "It's cool with you guys?"

"Yeah, dude," Moyo says, shrugging. "I got nowhere to be."

"Shut up, Moyo," Aaron says as Jens snickers and grabs his phone, tugging it off the charger. "You're not as funny as you think you are."

"I thought it was funny, Moyo," Jens says nicely, opening his phone and glancing up with a grin as