#lymi

August leads the three of them to a small booth away from the door and Felice pulls a coloring book and a small pouch of pencils from her bag. If Wille wasn’t so overwhelmed they would have felt their heart melt a bit at the care their friends were putting into making sure he felt okay. No pressure to speak, no pressure to make decisions. Just love and patience and understanding.

Wille picked up a blue pencil and started on the picture with Felice as August went to order their drinks; their phone buzzing insistently in his pocket. Every second a new notification. Calls from his mother, messages from the court. Tweets. DMs. Texts. Articles and @ mentions. With each buzz Wilhelm felt his resolve slip a bit. The soft blue on the page turning dark as he pressed his pencil harder against the paper.

“Give me your phone?” Felice whispered, turning her head to look at Wille who slipped his hand in his pocket and handed it to her. She looked at the screen, typing and sending something - a message to his mother Wille would later find out. Before turning off the phone entirely and putting it in her bag.

“There! All done with that.” A smile formed on Wille’s lips and they leaned their head against Felice’s shoulder.

Soon enough, August was back at the table, placing a drink and a croissant in front of Wille and grabbing a green pencil. And for a few hours, in a little café in Bjärstad, life was calm.