"Whatever you want, sweetie. I want to look after you so no sharp things or bottles, ok? Just like I keep pill packets away from my brother. Even a slight crackle of them around him causes his anxiety to flare up."

Bjorn had been there when Hans had heard a pill packet from someone taking a throat pill and it had made the guitarist nervous until he locked himself in his bedroom all day. The PTSD---Ollie would have to deal with it somehow. Then again, all the Danes had some form of trauma. Poor boys.

"I----I want to live with you, babe. Us together like a real married couple. Husbands. Fuck, I want this! Yeah----maybe Sweden in the summer and here for winter. I still like snow though. I want to build a fucking grouchy snowman with you and call it you."

The Swede kissed Rekker's neck and sighed.