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

I'm to making shift for shaping a life

"When will we see him again?"

Jens doesn't know how to answer. He has no idea how long this will last, this lockdown, this confinement. Their father is only a few blocks away, is only a few streets down from where they are right now, probably sitting at his dining table with his laptop in front of him, working. Maybe he's wondering the same thing.

"Eventually."

She does fall asleep on him, still clutching her bear, but one of Jens's hands ends up between the soft fuzz and her small hand, her fingers wrapped around one of his. He feels her grip loosen when she drifts off, but he doesn't move.

---

He's always known that the apartment is small.

The kitchen is tiny, a counter around a small room, old cabinets that shut too loudly, a leaky faucet that drips into a metal sink, a circular dinner table pushed into the corner of the room. (Lotte likes to crawl under it and sit in the corner.) The door opens directly into the thin hallway, and just a step down it is the living room, with a small sofa and coffee table, usually covered in scattered paper and markers, pillows strewn across the floor. (When Jens hangs out with Lotte, he usually sits or kneels on one next to her.) All three bedrooms are the same size.

Jens often feels like he's trapped in a box lined with fairy lights. He has to squeeze between his bed and the closet in the wall to slide it open. He has to either slip between his bed and dresser or climb over his bed to make it to his window. He only has to take two steps to get from the door to bed. He's always wanted a desk, but there's never been enough space anywhere in the apartment to put one. (And barely enough spare money to get one.) Lotte's room feels bigger, but only because her bed is smaller. She has space to play on the floor, and when Jens sits with her, his back against the wall, there's just enough space to stretch his legs out in front of him.

This is where they sit while they draw together. Or rather, while Lotte draws and Jens makes a half attempt before giving up.

It's also where Lotte falls asleep a few days later, as she draws and Jens scrolls on his phone. It's early in the morning, and Jens suspects Lotte stayed up until their mom got home last night, smiling softly and shaking his head as her eyes flutter shut for a second before she opens them, blinking blearily and picking up the pencil that had slipped from her fingers.

"Tired?" he asks, and she shakes her head, contradicting herself by yawning.

"No," she says lightly, and leans down to the floor, looking closer at her drawing. Jens looks at his phone, checking the time.

"Do you want to take a nap?" Jens asks after a second. He has a few minutes before he needs to log in to a class. It's one of the only teachers that require him to join the video call. And his least favourite, because she also requires them to leave their cameras on.

Lotte pauses, looking up at him without lifting her head.

"Yes," she says finally, and drops the pencil, turning on the floor and climbing up onto the bed. Jens picks up the sketchbook and pencils as she snuggles into her pillow, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest and looking up at him. Her curtains are already pulled shut, the soft sunlight shining through them and washing the small room in pink. He pulls up her blankets and tucks them under her chin, making her giggle.

"I have a class," he says. "You know when to get me right?"

"Only if I'm hurt or if I'm scared."

"Good girl," he says, and bends down, brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her forehead lightly.

She already looks asleep by the time he shuts her door behind himself.

It's even quieter without the sound of her pencil on paper.