A.N: Written this time with the prompt: colour: Blue, song: Stuck in the Middle from MIKA and Word: coincidence

Many million cheers to Leo who managed to give me those prompts and fit them so perfectly to what I already wanted to write. Stopreadingmymind Bl


His sister arrives two days later. It's still raining, but not nearly as heavily as it used to.

Margaret smiles sweetly and offers Willem some delicious home made waffles. They're consumed with such speed his sister jokes about how she must have added some 'special' ingredients by accident.

Willem frowns at her terrible humour, but he can't stay mad at her - especially when she's brought some home made chocolate with her as well.

"I'm glad you came..."

The words are soft, but every once of gratitude is present as he speaks them.

"Of course I'd come and visit...we're family" Margaret smiles brightly, and Willem feels a pang of guilt. Because he didn't listen to her before it was too late.

Because she did so much to help him, and all he could give her back was a promise he'd get clean.

Yet she never stops smiling – even when anger took over and he hurt her – Margaret could still look him in the eye afterwards and tell him she still loved him.

He didn't deserve such a perfect sister

Yet he depended so much on her kindness.

"Did..did you bring what I asked you to?" he finally asks, worried she might have found the request a little too strange.

"Duh!" she pokes the scar on his forehead and grins. "I never forget anything, unlike you," her sentence punctuated by another poke.

"Yeah yeah..stupid question I know..." Willem shakes his head and swats her hand away with the back of his hand.

Leaning down to grab her large bag, Margaret sifts through it, tongue sticking out in concentration as she pulls out the loose bits and pieces. "Dang it...they fell out,"

She sight and opts for emptying all the contents of her bag on the table between them.

Willem raises and eyebrow at some of the things she keeps in her bag. He doesn't want to make her use that pepper spray, but he's fairly sure it's not legal. Also: why does she need that many shades of lipstick?

After a few minutes of sorting everything out, Willem has what he wanted.

A few different brushes, some small stretched canvases and some paper. But most importantly, a miniature set of small tubes containing oil paint and watercolours.

"I'm glad you want to take up art again, but you've not touched this for several months, why start now?"

Margaret leans closer, studying the materials she brought with her. She doesn't know much about art, and only really followed Willem's instructions. On the other hand, she does know that Willem is good at painting and she really does miss her brother giving her little pictures of flowers or animals.

Willem does remember how long it's been since he gave up making art. Seven months, two weeks, one day and 45 minutes – roughly. He's lost count of that particular date to such detail – something that annoys him more than it should.

Once his problem got out of hand, any will to paint dwindled. And with that gone, all creativity he possessed quickly followed – it was then his family really did know he was too deep in it to get out on his own.

"I want to make something for a...friend,"

Willem thinks before correcting himself.

"No...friend is probably not the right word...'acquaintance' would be better." He trails of as he inspects the paint brushes.

"You've found a friend? In here?" the disbelief is apparent in his younger sister's voice. Despite how easily she can make someone happy – Margaret is and always will be the middle child and no one knows her better than her two brothers. Willem knows exactly what she's thinking and he's just as surprised as her.

Erik isn't the friendlies or most talkative of people – a stark contrast to his sister, but quite similar to himself. Yet the calm and quiet Nordic has so far made his life a little less monochrome.

"He's just someone I've spoken to...a 'friend' is a bit too strong of a word to use,"

"Nonsense! You're making him a painting! That's proof enough!" Margaret waves her arms excitedly as she's talking – a habit she seems to have gotten from her Italian friend.

Willem glares angrily at Margaret, but in reply all he gets is a big smile and his cheeks pinched.

"So cute Wim...you're blushing!" She laughs and ruffles his already messy hair.

"Stop that, stupid woman!" Willem swats her hands away and leans far back in his chair – as far back as he can to get away from her.

Margaret smiles knowingly, making Willem wish he never said anything at all.

However, when visiting hours are over, He still hugs her tightly and thanks her for coming to see him.

When it's just him alone in his room again, the place seems so much more grey and empty. His sister always did have the ability to make a room brighter.

~~~~x~~~~

A whole week passes since Margaret's visit.

Willem spends nearly all his time in his room, working out compositions on scrap pieces of paper and testing out colours.

He wants it to be perfect.

But his chosen subject to paint isn't exactly something easy as a flower or an animal. No, he's chosen to paint something that unless seen in real life or on film; it's near impossible to capture it's beauty and power.

Cursing as he manages to once again get oil paint on his trousers, Willem well and truly hopes Erik will appreciate this.

Because painting the sea is a challenge and a half.

~~~~x~~~~

He's not quite sure what to do. All he knows is that Erik is on Level 3.

The nurse he grabs a hold of in the stairs gives him a look of utter confusion (and possibly fear) when he asks if it's possible to visit another patient on a floor above.

Sure, suspicion is kind of expected. The further up in the asylum you go, the more insane and dangerous the patients get. Level five is a mystery to anyone not a patient there, and no one ever comes down once they've been transferred up there.

Willem doesn't even know what to expect from Level 3.

However, after much persuasion and promises that: no, he's just going up there to see another patient and no, he's not going to give the man any strange drugs, nor is he going to attempt to take the other man's medication. The nurse finally agrees to let him come upstairs.

What strikes him first is that this is clearly a ward aimed for people who definitively are not quite well in the head. All the rooms have a little sliding cover, just in case the patient needs to be kept an eye on when the door is closed.

The nurse leads him down the hallway, and what he's fairly sure is the northern part of the ward. Some doors are open, but Willem barely dares to look at anyone else but the nurse in front of him. Just visiting up here is uncomfortable, he can't imagine the hell Erik must go through having to live here.

"and for so many years" he bitterly adds to himself.

One of the last rooms in the corridor seem to be their destination. The door is closed, but the nurse gives a quiet knock before opening it. Willem can't see anything from where he's standing, but he can hear the nurse speak.

"Mr. Soransen, you have a visitor"

His last name makes Willem flinch. He's never heard Erik pronounce it – but is sure as hell can't be pronounced like that. A glance at the small hand scrawled name tag on the door confirm his suspicion.

"Erik A. Sørensen"

He can't hear any reply, but the nurse does step out of the doorway and smiles sweetly at him. "Just go on ahead William."

Willem gives a quiet nod in thanks – not really wanting to point out she mispronounced his name too.

Erik is sitting on his bed, looking out of the window with his knees drawn up to his chin, however; when Willem closes the door, the noise rings out through the quiet room and he turns to face the taller man.

Confusion is etched into his pale features, and he looks even worse for wear than he did ten days ago.

"Hello..." He offers, no longer quite sure what to say now that he's finally here.

Erik must share his thoughts, because he seems completely taken aback by his sudden visit.

Erik opens his mouth, but quickly closes it again. With shaky hands he uncurls his frail frame and edges closer to the edge of his bed.

"You...why...why are you here?"

Willem rolls his eyes.

"Gee...nice to see you too..."

Erik blinks in confusion then his expression is unreadable again. Willem can almost see the gears turning inside the other mans's head. He's obviously not expected anyone else to come to his room – save the nurses.

"I...that's not...quite what I meant...sorry,"

Now it's Willem's turn to be confused. Erik apologised. That certainly seems a little odd.

"Um...don't worry...it's okay," He scratches the back of his head – his right hand still holding the small painting, wrapped up in some newspaper Margaret brought for him to read a few weeks ago.

"I know your birthday was...a while ago," four months to be accurate – he's not sure about the date yet. "But I...well..." Willem coughs awkwardly before handing Erik the small package.

Erik looks at him with his eyebrow raised in confusion, but he does extend his hand and accept Willem's gift.

Long and thin fingers carefully unwrap the layers of old newspaper until the little canvas is revealed.

Erik makes a hitched sound that might be a sharp intake of breath – but Willem isn't quite sure.

Erik is staring at the picture, his fingers lingering over the paint – he's too scared to touch it, in fear he'll ruin it, but on the other hand: Erik really can't get over how real it all seems.

The painting is of the sea, to the left is a small wooden and weather worn doc, a small red rowing boat a contrast to the rest of the picture: endless blue sea.

Water is hard to capture, but Willem deems he's done an all right job. However; as he shifts nervously from one foot to another, he really wishes Erik would say something – anything really.

Dragging the only chair in the room over to the bed, Willem sits down and tries to get a better look at Erik's expression.

He can't really hep but notice that there isn't a single sharp corner in the room. Everything is also bolted to the floor – and the chair he's sitting on is incredibly lightweight and made of white plastic.

It's far from comfortable. The bed doesn't look much better.

It's sparsely decorated – there's a bookshelf with a lot of old books, the only indication of anything personal.

White walls, white shelves, white wardrobe, white sheets.

Everything is white. The only colour is Erik's clothes. Dark blue like the sea set against a white as snow background.

If this is Level 3, Willem shudders to think what Level 4 and 5 are like.

Padded walls and straight jackets come to mind – and he's not too far off either if this is how people who are no danger to themselves or others are treated.

His focus slides over the room till it lingers on Erik again.

He's still ghosting over the painted water and it makes Willem smile. The picture seems to have at least made an impression.

Then he notices Erik's expression.

His blonde hair is hanging over his forehead, but it can't cover his eyes entirely.

He's crying, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, never getting further than his chin before the Norwegian wipes them away. Terrified he'll ruin the painting should they fall.

"Erik...?" Willem gives him a concerned look, he hadn't expected the man to show such emotion. He's also not sure if Erik is upset or happy – its impossible to tell from where he's sitting.

"Takk...tusen takk,"

Erik seems to not notice he's slipped back to his mother tongue for 45 seconds, then he suddenly lifts his head and smiles.

It's a genuine smile. Willem has never seen it before, but he can tell it's real.

"Thank you...thank you so much," he repeats in English.

Willem smiles back, glad to have made his 'friend' smile.

"But you didn't have to...really..." Erik's gaze once again falls down to the painting, in his mind it's as if he can hear the waves crashing against the shore, the smell of salt-water and cold wind whipping though his hair is as clear as day right now. Memories that make him want to smile, laugh and cry all at once.

"Well...saw you got dragged back inside...When suddenly you were nowhere to be seen...so I...wondered" and worried he wants to add, but that would be embarrassing.

"Oh...Sorry about that...They've kept me up here...They think I'm suicidal."

Willem straightens up slightly.

"Are you?"

"No. I just liked standing in the rain. It's like it washes everything away. Nature's shower ya know," Erik glances up from the painting with a playful smile, and Willem just knows he's cheered him up – even just by a little bit.

"Guess that's right..."

Suddenly he remembers the other thing his sister brought with him. Rummaging through his pocket she pulls out a clear plastic bag filled with pralines and chocolate truffles.

"My sister came to visit...brought me these. I figured you might want one,"

Erik's eyes light up even more, and all Willem can do is chuckle at his reaction.

"I love chocolate," comes the hurried and far to excited reply, Willem can almost see a child version of Erik– the guy must really love sweets.

Shaking his head in disbelief at the strange friend he seems to have gotten himself, Willem open the bag and tells Erik to help himself.

23 minutes later, every piece of chocolate is gone and any trace of sadness on Erik's face is washed away. The painting carefully placed on the white bed side table with so much care and love that even the though makes Willem blush slightly.

Maybe Margaret was right – Erik really is a good friend.


A.N: I pray I can keep this up for a few more chapters, it's so much fun and I'm glad it's been such a hit with a few people already. Such lovely reviews you've all given me. I really appreciate it.