"Not a chance." He murmurs back. There's still a bit of discomfort, being touched, but Jesper is tired of it. He's tired of the distance, the rift, of keeping people he gives a damn about at arm's length. So he forgoes the song and dance and pulls Wylan close, face buried in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Fuck pretense and pretending he didn't want this.

"Kept staring at my ceiling. I got tired of doing it alone." He got tired of being alone.