Hesitation perches in his expression — in his whole frame, as he twirls the stem of the poppy between his fingers. His thoughts pull back to Simon, whose orbit they haven't been able to fully escape since he got here. He's at an age where everything is a catastrophe, everything is the end of the world, because he hasn't lived long enough to know that it gets better. He thinks that he'll spend his whole life missing Simon. That every autumn will cut him because falling leaves remind him of falling in love.

Wilhelm opens his mouth, trying to come up with a casual way to say no thank you, the love of my life just dumped me, and I will literally never get over it. But then he's lanced by the realization that it doesn't matter that he only wants to kiss Simon. Simon will never kiss him again.

He stares down at the poppy, tracing its petals with his gaze. He loves me not, he loves me not, he loves me not. With absolutely zero certainty backing it, he nods.

"Okay." His eyes flick up to Matt. "Deal."