by Ulrik Andersen WrongTog/Unsplash On the rare moments Ola sat still, you’d catch how handsome he was. His eyes would slip closed long enough for you to take in his long brown eyelashes that would curtsy down his cheeks, pointing daintily to his high-cut cheekbones, the straight crest of his nose and the bright blush of his lips, too red for a boy’s. In those moments Ola looked peaceful. Serene even. But then, a twitch would bubble up from below the surface, tugging a corner