While the World Ends Around Us (Make Believe With Me)

I'm to making shift for shaping a life

Sorry 'bout my head, it's in space
I'm still learning how to pace
I'm too atheist to pray for my life
About my head, it's on straight
But I'm all over the place
I'm to making shift for shaping a life
- First Aid // Gus Dapperton

It's like it's the same day all over again when he wakes up. The same gentle whir of his fan, the same blankets covering his body, the same cracks in the ceiling above his bed that look like shitty, knockoff constellations. The same cup next to his bed, half-empty, as always, the same guitar, in the same position, in the same spot in its stand against next to his bed. The same four walls, staring down at him as if in judgement.

What's different today is the quiet patter of rain, tapping against his window, asking to be invited in.

It's a welcome noise.

Peaceful.

He almost wants to open the window, let the rain in, let it wash over him, let it wet his hair and get caught in his eyelashes, let it run down his face like tears. But he doesn't. He sits up, looking across the small room, and watches drops race down the glass. It's a little bit dark out, the sun blocked by clouds, and he expects to see bright reflections of light in the drops, but he doesn't. He almost wants to close his eyes, lay his head against the wall behind him, and just listen to the rain, but he doesn't get the chance.

There's a knock at his door, and he calls out a gentle "Come in," as he tugs at the blanket, moving it on the bed so the end of it is pulled up in front of him.

The door opens and Lotte walks in, wearing pink pyjamas, cradling a stuffed bear to her chest, and the door swings shut behind her, thudding loudly, but she doesn't react to it. She just looks at Jens, holding her bear, the bottom of her oversized pyjama pants pooled around her feet, the ends of her sleeves bunched around her hands. She looks smaller than she usually does. Her eyes are soft, gazing at him across the room, until he cocks his head, beckoning.

As she climbs onto the bed, he pulls the blanket off his lap, shifting and lifting his back from the wall enough to swing the blanket around his shoulders, gripping in his fists and wrapping it around himself as Lotte crawls into his lap, her back against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder and she lays her head on his, sighing.

Jens moves down on the wall slightly, tightening his arms around her, and she turns so she's sitting sideways in his lap, laying against his chest. Her arms are wrapped around the bear, her chin nestled on the top of its fuzzy head, and Jens runs one of his hands through her hair, gently combing through tangles and knots.

"I miss Daddy," she says softly after a few quiet minutes.

Jens sighs, removing his hand from her hair, and leans down, kissing the top of her head gently. He sees that her eyes are closed, and a part of him hopes she'll fall asleep like this.

"Me too."

"Why can't we go see him?" Her voice is small, like she's hoping she'll get a different answer than she got last time.

"People are getting sick, Lotte." He runs a hand over her hair and lays his head against the wall, his eyes on the window. "We have to stay home so fewer people get sick."

"I haven't gotten sick."

"I know. But some people get sick easier than other people. We just have to try to keep them safe."

He watches the rain race down the window, listens to it against the glass and the roof, and he listens to Lotte breathing, her soft, quiet breaths that form a rhythm that he follows without thinking about it.