A.N: This is the 'happier' end of this story and continues fro ch 8. Enjoy!
To be perfectly honest – Willem actually thought he preferred the asylum.
Not overall, but at times he almost wanted to go back – a thought he never thought he'd ever think.
Sure: the freedom he now had was much greater, but with it came a lot of unwanted stress.
He might be clean and sober – ready to start his life on a plank page – but no one else seemed willing to forget his past.
It annoyed him greatly.
He needed a job now that he was no longer fed and housed within the walls of the asylum – and expenses were quickly raking up. His sister was kind enough to house him for the time being.
But for how much longer?
Willem had his suspicions that she probably would be much happier once he got his own place to stay – even if her ever present smile remained steadfast and genuine.
At every job interview they regarded him as if he had murdered someone – or stolen their life savings.
(None of which was or would ever be true, yet it didn't stop people from shutting doors right in his face).
"Cheer up, you'll find somewhere soon." Margaret chirped happily as she served him breakfast, ruffing his hair playfully before jumping out of his reach. Willem grumbled angrily as he ran a hand through his hair, fixing the mess his little sister had made.
"No one trusts me..." he mumbled bitterly over his cup of coffee.
"Erik does," his sister gently interjected with a smile and a sympathetic squeeze to his shoulder as she started cleaning up their plates.
The very mention of Erik lifted Willem spirit ever so slightly, not that Erik could help him get a job or a place to stay, but it helped to think of him none the less.
For the past two weeks they had been exchanging letters – as promised.
Or more correctly: Willem had sent a letter every day while Erik had written a grand total of four in return so far. He suspected that the reason for Erik's lack of letters was that he either did not get mail every day – or was simply not allowed to post a letter every day.
Willem didn't really mind – at least the letters seemed to depict nothing bad. There wasn't much to say about day to day life, so Erik's letters where short and rather to the point.
No surprise there for Willem.
Yet even with the positive though in his mind telling him he'd soon have the time to see Erik again – interview after interview was no different from the rest.
Again he was regarded as some psychopathic murderer no matter how friendly he tried to present himself as. It was tempting to find something to take the edge off it all and calm himself down beyond cigarettes, but Willem knew he couldn't do that.
He barely dared have a beer with his dinner some evenings – scared it would be the final straw to break his back.
Grumbling and cursing on his way down the street after the umpteenth interview going down the drain – Willem walked straight into a young tanned girl.
"Oh, sorry about that, Miss," he mumbled apologetically as he bent down to retrieve her handbag. The young girl eyed him up and down before taking the bag back with a large grin.
"Thank you very much Monsieur," she replied with a small curtsy.
He was about to side step and let her pass when he noticed she was looking at him with a puzzled expression.
"Uh... have I got something on my face?" he turned to look at a shop window, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"No no, you just look troubled," the girl smiled sweetly.
"Do I?" Willem wasn't sure he really liked how easily she read him.
"Yes. It's written very clearly all over you."
"Well it's been a long...week...month? Or life. Whatever," he shrugged.
"Job hunting?"
Willem stared at her in shock.
"Okay now you're officially creeping me out..." he admitted, looking a little concerned.
The girl laughed and extended her hand out towards him. "You've got a CV in your hands and dark circles under your eyes... Not very hard to guess what you've been up to today," she winked at him. "I'm Angelique, my father owns and antique shop down the road and we're looking for someone to help with it. Perhaps you'd be interested?"
Willem stared.
"You joking?" he asked.
"Nope," Angelique replied with a smile.
Willem thought about it for a split second before slowly shaking her hand and nodding.
This seemed too easy.
But he was desperate to try anything now.
"Great! Come by the store tomorrow for an interview!" she laughed and pressed a business-card into his hand before skipping away down the street.
Unsure of what had just happened, Willem stood there and watched her disappear down the road; her blue dress swaying back and forth till he lost sight of her in the crowd of people.
Slowly he made his way home; flipping the business-card back and forth in his hands as if he hoped to maybe unlock some secrets about the strange girl and the supposed shop.
For all he knew it could be a hide out for some shady business.
Risky? Perhaps.
Yet Willem didn't think it could be worse than going back to the asylum.
Then again, Erik saw strange creatures everyday, so maybe his madness had rubbed off onto him and he was simply imagining this tanned girl offering him a job?
He wouldn't be too surprised.
Willem shook his head.
What a stupid idea.
Some people were simply just really kind – like his sister.
It perhaps wasn't such a stretch to imagine someone else would give him a chance at a job.
That night he wrote another letter to Erik.
Because why not?
If Erik couldn't get out of the asylum then the least Willem could do was describe life outside the walls to him – even if a lot of it was mundane and dull.
Most letters weren't much more than a small diary entry.
However, Erik had seemed very pleased in his letters – glad to hear about mundane things that to anyone else would simply be a chore to listen to.
Willem was thankful for that.
It felt nice to share things without fear of judgement.
And for every little note about what new chocolate concoction Margaret made, he promised Erik he'd bring him some samples.
Next time.
Next time he could see him.
Willem wasn't sure who he was trying to make the promise to.
Erik or himself.
The next morning he was up at the crack of dawn; showered, dressed and ready to go well before his sister had even gotten out of bed.
Wringing his hands in his lap as he watched his coffee go cold; Willem hoped they'd give him a chance.
He hadn't been a bad guy really. All he had really ruined was his own life and body.
He wasn't going to lash out at anyone, or cause someone harm.
He just needed a second chance.
Needed to prove that he had changed and that he'd never go down that road again.
With a deep sigh he really hoped this was a place willing to let him show just that.
He'd take any job he could if they'd let him try.
Yet Willem couldn't help but feel nervous.
So little stood between his chance of proving he'd be a good asset and being told firmly 'no'.
He shouldn't be afraid. It was really silly to be so if he thought about it, but he still felt his hands shake a little as he stood outside the antique shop.
The shop was in one word 'cute'. At least from the outside.
Flowers adorned the outside making it look like a quaint café rather than an antique store at first glance. There was even a little table and set of chairs in cast iron in front of one of the windows.
It looked inviting, and that made Willem relax a little bit.
The sign on the door read 'open' in neat black cursive letters and taking a deep breath; Willem entered.
"Good morning!" a chirpy and happy voice greeted him that he recognised from the day before.
"So glad you came!"
"Eh, well thank you for giving me a chance..." he smiled slightly at Angelique as she came into view from behind a pair of large Chinese vases.
"Father is in the back," she pointed at a door frame covered by curtains and before Willem had an opportunity to ask any more questions she was pulling at his sleeve and urging him to follow her.
"Go on, he's not scary," she giggled as she managed to push him into the back room.
Trying not to sweat or panic too much; Willem looked around the back room.
"Hello?" he tried gently, looking for any sign of life in-between the numerous antiquities.
"Over here!" a man's voice greeted him and he caught a glimpse of a hand waving.
The owner of the voice was a middle aged man with long hair, stubble and a French accent Willem knew was genuine.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr..." Willem paused, feeling a little silly for not having actually checked what the man's name was. "Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not sure what to call you," he admitted with a twinge of embarrassment.
"Francis, please. Anything else is far too formal. Come on, have a seat," the man gestured to a chair and Willem obliged.
"I hope I'm not late..."
"We didn't even expect you to be this early so don't you worry," Francis waved his worries off. "Angelique didn't specify a time to you, so you're not late for anything."
"Ah right... well," Willem scratched the back of his head before opening his briefcase, handing Francis a folder. "Here are my qualifications and such... CV, doctors note, the whole works..."
Francis took the papers, flipped thought them quickly and then handed them back promptly without seemingly having read a word.
"Unimportant the lot of them," he said and smiled.
"What? But you really should read the doctor's note because I'm legally obliged to inform-"
"Are you going to kill anyone?" Francis interjected with a grin.
"No! Never!" Willem looked disgusted at the mere idea.
"Then I don't care. If you can lift heavy stuff, be willing to learn about historical artefacts and help this shop's business then what you've done in your past is irrelevant to me." Francis smiled and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You might have to put up with a lot of dust, just as a warning," he added with a chuckle.
Baffled and stunned, Willem stared at Francis as if he'd grown another head.
This kindness came so unexpected he was just waiting for the man to pull out a beaker and demand a urine sample or something.
"Shall I take your silence as a confirmation that you want the job?"
Willem nodded.
"Wonderful! Welcome to the Angelical Antique Shop!" Francis shook his hand and grinned.
"Th-thank you," Willem stammered forward "I'll do my best,"
"I'm sure you will," Francis laughed "Now, come along, I'll show you around."
