It's a terribly fucking romantic thing to say. Or it would be, in different circumstances. What they've built together isn't some great romance, but it's a lot of other things: fun, warm, comfortable, safe. A kind of love, even if it's not love. Wilhelm isn't sure how to react, biting his smile, eyes pushed to the road. His heart pulls in opposite directions, half touched by Jesper's words, and half lonely because he misses that other kind of love.

"You deserve it," he reassures. "You're a good person, Jes. I keep forgetting you're supposed to be a bad boy."

This last part tilts into teasing, but he's fully sincere.

"Actually...you used to remind me of someone too. Simon. Just your smile, I think, and how confident you are about, like, who you are."

It doesn't hurt so much anymore to talk about Simon. The thing is, Wilhelm can still pinpoint the moment he fell in love with him, but not the moment he fell out of love. The moment it finally let him go. Moving on was sad in its own way, like shutting the door of the house you grew up in for the last time. The ache of it, though, was quieter than that of loving someone you were maybe never meant to be with.

"But there's nobody else like you. Period."