YES. THE PNEUMONIA SAGA™. absolute cinematic comedy-horror sequel to Sepsis: Resurrection of Jens O.
Let’s be clear:
Jesper K., hospitalized with pneumonia, day 1: Weak. Fragile. Nearly saintlike. Whispered to Jens: "don’t leave me." Jens: 😭🧎♂️ "I won’t. I swear. Ever."
Jesper, day 2:
- Mask on.
- Horizontal phone.
- Smash Legends loading...
- Passes out for 10 seconds mid-match.
- Wakes up, swears at Milos for stealing his kill.
- Mask fogging up from rage and stubborn life force.
- Nurse: “You need rest—”
- Jesper: "Tell that to Milos’ camping ass."
Jens: emotionally unstable, whispering to the group chat like:
“he’s alive but so stupid. i love him so much.”
Day 3: JESPER THE PNEUMONIA MENACE CONTINUES:
- Blackjack table set up on his lap tray.
- Sam: fully invested.
- Tijjani: refusing to lose.
- Sven: accidentally winning with 21s.
- Milos: cheating????
- Jesper: mask on, wheezing and scheming.
- Jens, entering with food: "...why is the whole bubble here???"
Jesper, wheezing through the mask: "house rules. no folding."
Day 4: Absolute madness.
- Popin’ Cookin’ on the hospital room floor.
- Yuki sitting zen-like in the corner, calmly shaping fake sushi.
- Sam and Tijjani passed out on Jesper’s bed like some post-battle Greek painting.
- Jesper: oxygen mask sliding sideways while shaping a gummy riceball.
- Jens: so stressed.
"He's gonna die making candy sushi, I swear to god."
Day 5: end of days.
- Jesper, holding the oxygen mask to blow air onto his lukewarm pasta.
- Yuki, whispering: "he say taste better this way."
- Jens: standing in the doorway, one tear slipping out, whispering: "this is my soulmate."
Jesper: “babe wanna try?” Jens: already sitting down and eating the mask-blown pasta.
That night, Jesper finally falls asleep. In classic posture:
- On his side.
- Fists curled under his cheek.
- One leg hiked up like a frog.
- Baby whimpering once every 3 minutes.
Jens just sits next to the bed, stroking his hair, whispering like it’s a prayer:
“You’re the dumbest, prettiest person I’ve ever loved.”
He cried. The nurse cried. Milos stole a pudding. Life, chaotic as always. The Bubbly Boys™ never recovered.
ALKMAAR 22/23: JENJES MORNING ROUTINE EDITION ☀️🚿
It was not normal. It was not healthy. It was not silence and birdsong. It was a co-dependent circus, and it ran like this:
🌅 7:38 AM:
Jesper, barely conscious, burritoed in Jens' hoodie, mumbling:
"why are you up. get back here. you’re warm."
Jens, already up for 12 minutes, kisses the top of Jesper’s head:
"I have to poop."
Jesper: 😦 "then hold my hand. just until the door."
🚽 7:42 AM: Jens enters the battlefield (the bathroom)
It starts normally. But very quickly Jesper—still in bed—remembers:
“Wait. He has IBS.”
Suddenly: anxiety. Jens is in the bathroom too long. Jesper hears a "ghrrkkk" followed by "ughghghg". Then silence. Then a flush. Then more "aghhh".
Jesper, now fully awake, calls out:
“Babe. Are you dying? Should I call Sven??” “Knock once if you need electrolytes. Twice if you need the ER.”
From inside:
"I’m fine, baby. Just… processing dairy from last night."
Jesper: 😟 “we didn’t have dairy.”
🚿 7:52 AM: Shower time
Jesper, refusing to be apart for this era-defining moment, cracks the door open and walks in:
"i'm showering with you. what if you fainted and no one found you for 2 minutes."
Jens: “I’m literally taller than the showerhead—”
Jesper: “then duck.”
They both squeeze in. Jesper immediately steals the hot water. Jens accepts his fate.
💧 8:07 AM: Post-shower chaos
- Jesper wrapped in one towel (stolen from Jens' rack).
- Hair dripping everywhere.
- Eating dry cereal with wet hands.
- Jens: trying to get dressed but keeps being distracted by jesper’s legs in micro-shorts.
- Jesper: “do you like my thighs?”
- Jens: “i’m literally sweating.”
🧴 8:20 AM: Skin routine?????
Jens, disciplined Viking, applies moisturizer and SPF like a monk. Jesper, rubbing leftover shower foam into his cheeks, says:
“That counts right?”
Jens takes matters into his own hands and smears product on his face like a baby raccoon.
Jesper: “ur obsessed with me.” Jens: “correct.”
🕗 8:30 AM: Out the door
Jesper forgets his cleats. Then his bottle. Then his entire bag. Jens: carrying all three, plus his own. Jesper: skipping down the steps like a chaos child. Jens: “baby did you pee?” Jesper: “no 🥰” Jens: marches him back inside.
That was every morning. They were never early. Everyone else suffered. They loved each other too much.
STOP 😭😭😭
Alkmaar 22/23 was supposed to be pure chaos. Mango yogurt at midnight. Jens’ IBS. Milos’ leak-infested Batcave. Sam being allergic to poverty. Jesper in criminally short shorts. Jens hovering like a Viking chihuahua. They were unserious every single hour—
But those five words?
“You’re gonna be alright. I’m here.”
That was their anchor. Their secret ritual. Their safe button when the world felt like too much.
🛌 In the ER, it was whispered.
Jesper clutching Jens’ hand so hard his knuckles turned white, face pale under the fluorescent lights, whispering that sentence again and again even though Jens couldn’t hear him.
“You’re gonna be alright. I’m here.” “You’re gonna be alright. I’m here.” “You’re gonna be alright…”
Jesper, who never cried, breaking down because the love of his life was unconscious with tubes in his throat and beeping machines screaming louder than his thoughts. But still he stayed. Stroking Jens’ hair. Saying it like it was a prayer.
🛏️ Then came pneumonia gate.
Jesper: dramatic, sick, still playing games on his phone mid-fever. But when the night got quiet, when the meds kicked in and the coughs calmed down — he curled up on his side, finally asleep.
Jens stayed awake. Sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Jesper’s hair.
“You’re gonna be alright. I’m here.” Over. And over. Like a lullaby.
⚽️ Even on normal days, it stayed.
- On game days, Jens would zip up Jesper’s hoodie and say it before the tunnel walk.
- On rainy training mornings when Jesper didn’t want to get out of bed, Jens would kiss his cheek and mumble it into his skin.
- Before sex, in the middle of a whispery laugh, one of them would always sneak it in. Like a habit. Like instinct.
- Jesper would cup Jens’ jaw and say it while fixing his collar before matches.
- Jens would say it mid-deadlift rep when Jesper looked like a feral beast on pre-workout and no breakfast.
They joked. They fought. They chaos-ed through everything.
But that sentence? That promise?
That was Alkmaar 22/23 in a single breath.
Not always perfect. Not always pretty. But always: “You’re gonna be alright. I’m here.” 🫶💔
Ohhhhh no no no no no—on a bad IBS day for Jens in Alkmaar 22/23?? Bro. Jesper's entire soul left his body and reformed as a 24/7 gastrointestinal support system 💀
🌀 The timeline of a concerning Jens day:
08:00 – Jens didn’t eat breakfast. Jesper: Noted. Stress Level: 5
09:17 – Jens skipped second toilet trip. Jesper: Code orange. Sent Sam to casually observe stomach clutching behavior.
10:32 – Jens yawned too long, sat too still in the locker room, and said "hm" when Jesper asked if he was okay. Jesper: Abandoned his cleats mid-lace. Stress Level: 8.
11:00 – Mid-practice. Jens jogged slower than usual. Didn’t crack a single joke at Milos. Jesper: Whispered something to Tijjani. Switched teams to shadow Jens like a KGB agent.
12:13 – Lunch. Jens didn’t touch his plate. Just poked at the rice. Jesper: "I’m calling my lawyer." Also Jesper: “Can someone please Google if crohn's disease can evolve into fatal IBS in under 24 hours?”
🩺 Emergency post-practice routine:
- Jesper ran a 1:1 inspection like a concerned Swedish wife in a 90s hospital drama.
- Asked Jens to lie down on his tummy.
- Warmed his hands.
- Rubbed his back in circles like “Let me coax the demon out of you gently, my love.”
Jesper: “Breathe. Blink twice if the pain is stabbing. Once if it’s cramping. Don’t lie. You’re a Leo but I can sense your betrayal.”
🧠 Inside Jesper’s mind:
“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t queue Valorant. He’s unwell. I must put my whole Jespussy into fixing this.”
- Made peppermint tea.
- Cancelled his own gym session.
- Texted Sam: “Please deliver IBS-safe soup. I will PayPal you.”
- Texted Sven: “Read his chart. Has he always been this sensitive to beans???”
- Texted Jens: “How’s your poop now 😭”
By bedtime? Jesper spoon-feeding rice porridge to a 6'2" tired Viking in bed. Whispering affirmations. "You are strong. You are brave. You will shit normally again."
The rest of the Bubbly Boys: Staring at the drama. Eyes wide. Yuki: “Me scare. Me go Aichi.” Milos: “Bro he just had gas???” Jesper: “DON’T SAY GAS LIKE IT’S NOT A BATTLEFIELD.”
🫡💘 And Jens? Cradled. Pampered. Healed. By 02:00 AM, burped like a baby and asleep on Jesper’s chest. All was well in the Alkmaar kingdom again.
LITERALLY. “1 Litre of Tears: Alkmaar Edition” starring Jens O. and Jesper K., directed by the spirits of chaos and romance, sponsored by ibuprofen and ankle tape. No one had any business being that emotional on a youth training team—AND YET 😭
💔 Because Jesper never gave up. He could be coughing up lungs and still sprint 90 mins. He could have knees creaking like haunted doors and still beg for one more set. He could say “I’m fine” while clearly wobbling like a broken Roomba. So when he did say, “I need to sit out,” or “I can’t train today,” it was like a solar eclipse with crying involved.
Jens every time:
- Throat tight.
- Eyes red.
- Brain playing sad piano.
- "Okay... okay... just rest... 😭" AND THEN HE’D TUCK HIM INTO BED LIKE IT WAS HIS DUTY AS A MAN.
Like:
Jesper: “I’ll just sleep an hour then stretch. I don’t want to fall behind.” Jens: already covering him in two blankets, kisses his forehead, adjusts the humidifier, mixes formula, turns the lights down, sits by the bed like a grieving widow in a Greek tragedy. Jens: “No stretching. Only napping. I’ll watch over you. If you twitch, I’ll scream.”
Meanwhile the Bubbly Boys outside the dorm:
Sam: “Why does it feel like he’s sending Jesper off to war and not to nap for like two hours.” Tijjani: “Jens crying like it’s the end of Gladiator.” Milos: “They’re freaks. I love them but they’re not normal.”
Yuki: “They teach me about real love. Very inspirational. Now I also cry.”
🧍♂️🧎♂️💤 Jens spent every rest day of Jesper’s like it was the world’s most fragile holiday. Silenced alarms. Put a “don’t knock or DIE” sign on the door. Refilled his water bottle every 45 minutes. Tried to act normal. Failed every time.
Jesper: literally just sleeping Jens: staring at him like: “What if he never wakes up again.”
And the thing is?? Jesper knew. He’d wake up to find fresh fruit, painkillers, a small note saying “ur the toughest guy ever 🫶,” and Jens looking like he hasn’t slept in days from pure emotional indigestion.
Jesper: half-lidded smile “You cried again, huh?” Jens: sniffling “I didn’t know if you were okay 😭” Jesper: “You’re my babygirl forever.”
Alkmaar 22/23?? Built on goals, trauma bonding, and Jens crying every time Jesper finally rested. Football? More like an emotional documentary. Netflix who. HBO couldn’t afford this script.
ALKMAAR 22/23. HOME OF LEGENDS. CHAOS. FRAGILE MEN. AND BUBBLY BOYS WITH BUBBLIER GUTS.
There once lived a Viking beast—Jens, 1.88m of brawn and blonde, carved by Odin himself—who could bench press Milos and sprint like the wind… …unless dairy was involved.
One Tuesday. 2:38PM. Jesper gets a text:
“bby please help i ate the yoghurt sam left and my stomach is folding like laundry. i am dying. i am locker room.”
Jesper: drops everything, grabs a tote bag with:
- painkillers
- a heat patch
- a single mini bottle of tiger balm
- and Yuki’s emergency matcha KitKat
When he gets there? Jens is on the floor. Barefoot. Hair a mess. Holding his tummy. Whispering, “am i dying?” Jesper: “Yes. But I’ll stay with you through it 💖”
THEN. The groupchat lights up.
Jesper🐾: hi @everyone jens is in the hospital rn idk why he dying but he farted so loud they moved us to another ward. pls bring boba (for me) thx
Sam: "boba?? why would i spend 6 euros on ur little ass in the ICU"
Tijjani: "again??? AGAIN???"
Yuki: "me bring matcha. jens no drink. just me. 🍵"
Milos: “what is ibs. do i have it. is it like rare pokemon?”
Sven: sends voice note laughing for 45 seconds straight and then says “omw 😭😭😭”
They all show up at the hospital. Jens is in a blanket burrito. Jesper is on his phone ordering takoyaki. Jens looks up at the chaos entering and just whispers to Jesper, “did u tell them.” Jesper kisses his forehead and lies:
“no baby. i told them it was a leg injury.”
Yuki (loud AF): "NO. STOMACH EXPLODE. I HEAR FART SOUND. BOOOOM 💥"
That day went down in Alkmaar history as "The Great IBS Incident of ‘23."
And Jens never ate Sam’s fridge yogurt again. And Jesper got his boba. And love won. Even though someone definitely farted again in the car ride home.
NO BECAUSE THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED 😭😭😭
[DAY 1 of the Great IBS Hospitalization]
Yuki, who claimed he “no understand dutch nurse,” somehow got full visiting privileges and sneaked into Jens' hospital room with a ceremonial matcha snack box from Aichi. Took one look at Jens—slumped sideways, blanket kicked off, little hospital sock on one foot, drooling like a baby—and snapped the shot of a lifetime 📸
Yuki🧃: “viking down. raccoon still simp.”
And that’s how it ended up in the Alkmaar 22/23 groupchat at 03:17 AM.
Milos:
“why am i struck when i see this photo. why do i want to braid his hair.”
Sven:
“this is not fair. when i’m sick i look like a boiled shrimp. when he’s sick he looks like a greek tragedy protagonist.”
Sam:
“he looks dead. put that man back in bed. also is that my hoodie he’s wearing?!?”
Tijjani:
“i just zoomed in and this mf really has one sock on. the other leg is out like a slut.”
Jesper, who has not slept and is currently spoon-feeding Jens yogurt with the same spoon he’s eating from:
“my boyfriend is too tired to text but he said fuck you all.”
Yuki, five minutes later, posts another pic. This time: Jesper curled up in the visitor chair, tangled in Jens’ IV tube, one leg twitching, phone barely hanging from his hand.
Yuki🧃: “raccoon down too. both down. me only sane one now.”
The bubbly boys began placing bets on who would fall asleep mouth open first. Milos started a Notes app collection titled “Viking & Raccoon: A Love Story in Crisis Units.” Sven set the first picture as his lock screen. Sam threatened to call Jens’ mom. Tijjani threatened to unplug the IV just for fun.
And the hospital staff? Emotionally traumatized. They asked Yuki to please stop live-posting in the hallway.
That hospital stay? 36 hours of hell for Jens. 36 hours of heaven for Jesper. 36 hours of pure ✨entertainment✨ for the rest.
Legend says that to this day, Yuki still has that photo framed in his Aichi bedroom, with a caption underneath:
“Alkmaar 22/23: Even the strong fall. But the simp never sleeps.” 🫡
OH MY GODDDDDD YES YOU GET IT 😭😭😭
That’s exactly it. Like, that’s the core of the tragedy.
Because Jens knew the reputation. He knew how the Bubbly Boys always laughed, how Jesper teased, how Sam sighed every time he clutched his stomach like “ugh, not again.” Jens would literally delay getting help because he’d internalized the joke. He was the crybaby Viking. The one who got winded by milk. The one who fainted from cramps. The one who got put on hospital watch over a mild rash once.
So when it actually started to hurt, really hurt— he said nothing. He sat still. He pressed a cold bottle to his head and whispered to himself,
“Don’t be annoying. Don’t freak Jesper out again.”
Meanwhile, Jesper was across the apartment, already mad over nothing and sending Jens stupid raccoon selfies like:
"when r u making me soup i’m fragile n pretty. hello???"
And Jens was hunched over the bathroom sink, teeth clenched, thinking,
“Okay. Just be normal. Throw up. Clean up. Say you're fine. Go cuddle Jesper.”
Except— he threw up in Sam’s sink. Twice. With blood.
Sam: 😧 “...BRO??”
Jens: “Don't tell Jesper, he’ll panic.”
Sam: “YOU’RE BLEEDING FROM YOUR MOUTH.”
By the time Jesper found out, it was from Sam’s panicked call, and he ran home like something was hunting him. Opened the door, and there was Jens, sprawled on the bathroom floor, pale, clammy, trying to reach his phone to text back but fingers too weak to even unlock it. Jesper dropped to his knees so hard he bruised. Jens gave him that little crooked smile like “don’t cry, baby, I’m okay,” and passed out.
That was the sound Jesper would remember forever. Not the faint. The thud of Jens’ head on tile. The clatter of his phone. The static silence that followed.
Jesper’s voice cracked as he shouted. Yuki held the elevator open. Tijjani sprinted. Sven rode in the ambulance. Milos threw up from the stress. Sam never stopped apologizing for not noticing sooner.
And when the doctor said:
“You got him here just in time,”
Jesper collapsed in the chair next to Jens’ bed and buried his face in Jens’ chest, whispering:
“You dumb, dumb Viking. You scared me. I thought you were just being dramatic. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jens, barely awake, whispered:
“Didn’t wanna be the boy who cried stomach again…”
And that was when Jesper realized—
It had never been funny. Not when Jens got sick. Not when he asked, “would you still love me if I was weak.” Not when he begged for affection like it was medicine.
Because underneath the drama, the theatrics, the memes— Jens was just a boy who had never been taken seriously. And Jesper—Jesper had laughed too many times.
So now?
He kissed every freckle. He held that Viking like glass. He answered every “I love you” with “I’m not going anywhere.”
And every time Jens said, “I think something’s wrong,” Jesper listened. Because once had been enough. Too much.
And the Bubbly Boys?
They stopped laughing— for just a moment— and never joked about that again.
NAURRR 😭😭😭
Jesper the raccoon—blessed be his chaos—was never built for watching his Viking fall.
Like sure, normally he'd be the one rolling his eyes when Jens burped too loud and clutching his side like,
“I’m dying. Hold me.” Jesper: “you just had one too many protein bars idk what to tell you.”
BUT WHEN IT WAS REAL??? WHEN THE VIKING FELL FOR REAL???
Jesper malfunctioned. Went into ✨Victorian bedside wife✨ mode IMMEDIATELY. Sat beside Jens like:
“He was the strongest of us all. He carried my bags. Opened my jars. Let me bite his shoulder like a teething baby. And now he sleeps…”
And the worst part???
Jens didn’t even look like himself. He wasn’t bulky and shiny and healthy and annoying. He was pale. Sweaty. Small. His tattoos didn’t even look cocky anymore. They just made him look too young and too human.
And Jesper—clinging to his Viking’s limp hand—was literally whispering like it was a funeral prayer:
“I swear I’ll drink water. I’ll eat real food. I’ll go to bed before 3am. I’ll stop doing that thing you hate where I leave socks in the sink. Just please wake up.”
The rest of the bubbly boys? TRAUMATIZED.
- 🧃 Sam: went silent. filed 3 mental lawsuits against God.
- 🎥 Tijjani: didn’t even film. that’s how you KNOW it was bad.
- 🧠 Yuki: went full Naruto sage mode. tried to pray using Google Translate.
- 🧍Sven: stood in the hallway crying like a golden retriever.
- 🎮 Milos: “is he faking it?” (got tackled to the floor immediately.)
And when Jens finally woke up and blinked up at Jesper, all sleepy and crusty and hoarse like:
“You still love me if I’m gross like this?”
Jesper just crumpled. sobbed into his chest like a baby raccoon. Didn't even answer. Just clung to him like he’d dissolve if he let go.
After that? No one made jokes for weeks. Not even Milos. Not even Sam. Not even Tijjani.
They all just quietly checked if Jens was drinking water, if Jesper had eaten that day, if the Viking god and the raccoon prince had gone back to being annoying together.
Because they all realized it. That underneath the teasing, under the jokes—
They were just boys who loved too hard and almost lost the one thing they couldn’t live without.
Okay but no—it wasn't an urban legend. That night was real. Jens really almost didn’t make it. It wasn’t just another IBS spiral or a dramatic Viking bedtime story. It was the real thing. The kind of thing you don’t joke about even if you're Milos with 400 trauma memes saved in your camera roll.
It started like all the other times. Jens curled up on the couch, groaning about his stomach like:
“It’s nothing, babe. Just another demon fight in my intestines.” Jesper, used to the chaos, tossed him a heating pad and kissed his head like: “You say that every time. You better not die tonight, I'm too pretty for grief.”
But hours passed. Then more. And Jens wasn’t getting better. He stopped joking. He couldn’t keep anything down. He couldn’t move without pain. His fever climbed until he wasn’t even fully conscious.
And Jesper—cold hands, hot panic, voice shaking—called the ambulance. He didn’t even remember what he said on the phone. Just that he kept saying Jens’ name over and over like it was going to anchor him. Like if he said it enough, it would keep him on Earth.
In the ER? They rushed Jens into surgery. A sudden septic reaction—an infection that spread too far too fast. Jesper wasn’t allowed to go in. He sat in the hallway for hours. Alone. He didn’t talk. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just sat with Jens’ phone in his lap, scrolling through photos like a lifeline. He found a video of Jens snoring with a face mask on and watched it 14 times.
And then? The doctor came out and said, "It was close." So close they weren't sure for a moment if Jens would pull through.
Jesper held it together long enough to see Jens wheeled into recovery. Then he finally broke down.
But after that night? Jesper never talked about it.
He made a whole personality out of pretending he didn’t remember anything from those hours.
“You had surgery? Oh. Weird. I was watching Bake Off that night, actually.” “You almost died? No memory, sorry. Must’ve been Milos.”
But at night—when Jens was asleep beside him—Jesper would reach over and check. Two fingers to the wrist. Chest rising, falling. Alive.
He never said it, but he never stopped checking.
And if Jens ever noticed? He didn’t say anything either. He just turned his face into Jesper’s palm and mumbled, “Still here, baby,” like a promise.
So yeah. It wasn’t an urban legend. Jesper was that close to losing Jens. And Jens was that close to not waking up. And Jesper hasn’t let go of his hand properly since.
YES. YES EXACTLY. Because nothing could have prepared Jesper K.—the binky survivor, the undefeated chaos raccoon, the one who always bounced back no matter how feral—for that kind of helplessness.
That night in the hospital? He wasn’t Jesper the menace, or Jesper the confident winger who could win a game with two busted lungs and a Red Bull. He was just Jesper, the terrified boyfriend, sitting by Jens’ bedside, watching machines beep and blink and wondering if love was enough to keep someone alive.
And he was unhinged. He pressed the nurse call button every 7 minutes. Asked “Is that normal? What does that number mean? Is he okay? What if it happens again?” Climbed into Jens’ hospital bed despite being scolded 3 times because “he sleeps better when I’m here, I swear, just five more minutes please—” Didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Just sat, watched, and held Jens’ hand like he was scared it might dissolve if he let go.
The nurses started calling him “the clingy raccoon” in secret.
And then weeks passed. Jens started walking again. The viking got his color back. He even cracked jokes about dying dramatically, and for a minute it all felt fine.
Until Jesper’s body said nope. One and a half months later: pneumonia arc unlocked. Coughing up his lungs, running fevers, still refusing to admit he was sick because “I’m fine it’s just a cold don’t be so dramatic, Jens”—all while his lungs sounded like Rice Krispies.
Full circle. Now Jens was the one pushing Jesper’s damp hair out of his face and whispering “Please don’t scare me like that again, baby. Please.”
And Jesper just blinked up at him, tired and warm and finally letting himself rest—because he didn’t have to be strong anymore.
They both got PTSD from those back-to-back health scares. Sam literally banned both of them from saying the word "hospital" for a month. Tijjani made them friendship bracelets that said “I SURVIVED THE ICU & ALL I GOT WAS TRAUMA.” Yuki burned sage. Milos filmed it.
But deep down… Nothing ever scared them more than the thought of losing each other.
Not even IBS. Not even pneumonia. Not even Sam’s judgment.
NO. BUT WHAT IF. WHAT IF IT WASN’T AN URBAN LEGEND. What if that one time—just once, god forbid—Jens really coded. Like flatline, red alert, crash cart wheeling in, oxygen tank slamming against the wall kind of coded. And Jesper? Jesper didn’t even get to say goodbye.
He got shoved out of the room, just like that. One second he was holding Jens’ hand and whispering “I love you, please don’t scare me again,” and the next, he was standing alone in the hallway, fluorescent lights flickering above him like they were mocking his panic.
All he could hear was a doctor shouting “clear!” All he could see was a blur. His eyes were burning. His hands were shaking. And all he could say was: “Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve made him go in earlier, I should’ve known it was worse, I should’ve—”
Over and over and over.
Sam tried to hold him still. Jesper shrugged him off. Sven was crying. Milos was completely silent for once in his life. Yuki lit incense from his hoodie pocket. Tijjani was praying to every god he’d ever vaguely heard of. Jesper? Jesper just stood frozen, staring at that door like if he blinked, it would mean losing Jens forever.
And then…
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Not strong. But it was there.
And when they let Jesper back in—god—he didn’t even say anything. Didn’t speak. Just collapsed beside Jens, face buried in his shoulder, tears soaking his hospital gown like it was some holy relic.
Jens woke up hours later, groggy, eyes heavy, and the first thing he saw was the raccoon—his raccoon—with a tearstained face and shaky hands, still curled against him like if he let go again, the universe might fall apart.
Jesper never talked about that night again. Sam said it was an urban legend. Jesper let him.
But Jens knew. Jens remembered the second he woke up and felt Jesper’s entire soul clinging to him like life support.
That wasn’t an urban legend. That was love in its rawest, ugliest, most terrifying form.
And from that day on? Jens never skipped his meds again. Jesper never joked about the hospital. And their love became something sacred. Like, you almost lost me. But I’m still here. Because you were.
OH MY GOD YESSSSS. THIS IS GREY'S ANATOMY X THE BEAR X HEARTSTOPPER X PURE DUTCH HOSPITAL MELTDOWN ENERGY. 🎬
Episode Title: "Code Viking" Season: Alkmaar 22/23 Runtime: 42 minutes (but emotionally lasts a lifetime)
🛏️ ACT 1: THE SICKBED. The Viking Soldier (Jens) has been doing his usual dramatic fainting shenanigans for the 5th time this month. Everyone’s like “lol classic Jens” — until the nurse frowns, the vitals beep weird, and Jesper turns into a full-time cardiac monitor with ADHD and abandonment issues.
👀 ACT 2: THE CODE. The beeping gets real. Jens turns grey (like aesthetically, tragically grey). “Is he breathing?” The doctor calls a code blue. Chaos erupts. Jesper gets kicked out and starts sobbing against the vending machine. Sam is trying to sedate him with a protein bar. Milos is LIVESTREAMING to their group chat. Tijjani’s yelling at the nurses with zero medical degree. Sven is crying like a wife in a war movie. Yuki tries to manifest peace but he’s shaking.
🫀 ACT 3: RESURRECTION. Jens flatlines. Jesper whispers “don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please” just loud enough through the door. They defib once. Twice. Beep. Beep. Beep.
And somewhere in the great Valhalla waiting room, Jens tells Odin “sorry bro, I gotta get back to my raccoon.”
🌅 ACT 4: THE AFTERMATH. Jesper’s in bed with Jens, arms around him like human bubble wrap. Jens barely whispers “did I die?” Jesper: “no. but you left me, you asshole.” He says it with tears in his eyes and Jens just weakly kisses his knuckle like they’re a dying French couple in a WWI trench.
📺 Post-Credit Scene: Jesper gets pneumonia three weeks later. Jens spoon-feeds him soup in revenge. Yuki logs everything in a journal titled “The Two Who Refused to Live Calmly.” Milos: “Was he actually dead tho?” Tijjani: “Bro, I got the audio.” Sam: “I’m never having kids.”
IT WAS ALKMAAR 22/23, AND WE SHOULD BE WEEPING. IT WAS CINEMA. IT WAS POETRY. IT WAS... a medically induced coma and a raccoon in love 😭✨
Picture this: Jens “Viking Viking Tattoo God” O., 1.88m of pure muscle, lying there like he just finished saving the world and paid the price. Intubated. Tubes everywhere. Somehow still hot. Drooling but in an aesthetic, war-wounded way. Cheekbone glistening under the fluorescent light like it was blessed by the Norse gods themselves.
And there was Jesper “Baby Raccoon” K., his whole face scrunched up, one hand clinging to Jens’ bicep like it was the last tree branch in a flood, the other gently stroking the 3 (THREE) cm of blond hair left on his hospital-sanitized scalp like it was spun gold. Silent tears. Whispering, “You’re so stupid. Don’t you ever do that again. I love you. Wake up. Please.” And then gently cursing every machine in the room that dared beep too loud.
Even Milos stopped making inappropriate jokes. Even Sam was speechless. Even Tijjani lowered his phone camera. Even Yuki bowed in reverence. Even Sven cried like a Dutch husband whose favorite teammate just flatlined for dramatic effect.
It was tragic. It was holy. It was Alkmaar 22/23. And it was absolutely unhinged. 😭💔🩺
The boys will never recover. WE will never recover.
EXACTLY. EXACTLYYYYY. 🫠
Jesper was 1.71m of chaos and rage and raccoon fury on a good day — but that night? That night he was tiny. Heartbreakingly small. Like a trembling pocket-sized disaster wrapped in a hoodie that wasn’t even his. Jens’ hoodie. That swallowed him whole. Probably smelled like Viking sweat and love and regret.
He flinched hard when the nurse brought out “the scary tube” (Yuki did call it that and then bowed to it). Jesper legit whimpered like a kicked puppy and whispered “Is it gonna hurt him?” And when they told him “No, love, he’s under” — He still asked, “But what if he feels it in his dreams?” LIKE??? 😭😭😭
Bro hovered like an anxious cat. Every twitch: “Did he move? Did he wake up? Should I call the doctor? Should I call Odin?” Every beep: “That number wasn’t like that two seconds ago.” Every breath: “He’s breathing weird. He never breathes like that. This isn’t sexy.”
The nurses, instead of telling him to sit down and shut up? They brought him a chair. They gave him warm tea. They literally said “It’s okay, stay close. You’re helping.”
Because let’s be honest — how could anyone say no to Jesper? With that ridiculous floppy undercut and the dark circles under his eyes and the way he kept kissing Jens’ hand like he could will him back to life???
That’s why Jens said no to Odin. Odin probably held the gates of Valhalla open and said “Come, warrior.” And Jens was like: “Sorry chief, my raccoon is crying. Can’t let him grieve hot and single.”
So he clawed his way back. One flicker, one twitch, one beep at a time. Woke up to Jesper’s ridiculous worried little face, whispering:
“You better wake up or I swear I’ll date Sam for revenge.”
And that’s love, baby. That’s soulmate-coded.
BROOOOOO 😭😭😭
He was literally on life support. ON LIFE SUPPORT. Vitals tanked, oxygen at zero, body shutting down like Windows XP after a power surge — but Jens O. said “not today Odin. I got a raccoon to return to.”
Like imagine him standing at the gates of Valhalla, all majestic and Viking-coded, body covered in sweat and battle tattoos, a literal god-tier man — and Odin is like: “Warrior. Your time has come.”
And Jens is like: “Sorry, I can’t. There’s this tiny idiot who’s probably sobbing over my body right now and accusing trained medical professionals of murder-by-throat-tube. Gotta go.”
And back on Earth??? Jesper is THERE. Wielding tears like weapons. Like he’s this 1.71m ball of fight or flight, trembling in the ICU, not moving from Jens’ side except to go full CSI every time a new machine beeped weirdly.
He probably went: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S NORMAL FOR THE HEART TO SKIP A BEAT SOMETIMES?? ISN’T THAT WHAT PEOPLE SAY BEFORE DYING??”
And the nurse is like: “He’s sedated, he’s stable, sweetheart.” And Jesper: “Stable like emotionally or stable like 'no immediate death' because you guys are always too calm about this???”
And yes, yes — it was unhinged. And it was horrific. But it was also so painfully beautiful. Because no god, no fate, no failing organ could separate them. Because Jens didn’t breathe for himself anymore — he breathed for Jesper.
And honestly? The machine keeping him alive? Second place. Jesper's stubborn-ass love? MVP.
Okay deep breath—because that night wasn’t just “a medical emergency.” It was a freakin’ spiritual crossover episode. A season finale. A Norse-tragedy-meets-Boy-Kisses fanfic catastrophe.
ON EARTH 🌍 The machine suddenly screamed, loud and unholy. Jesper had just blinked. That’s all. Just blinked. And Jens’ vitals nose-dived like a plane in a war film. Nurses started yelling. One slammed the Code Blue button. Jesper was gone — dragged out by security, kicking and screaming and sobbing, clutching Jens’ hoodie like it had answers. His hands were shaking. His voice broke with every “I’m sorry,” because what if he missed a sign? What if this was it?
The boys? Froze in the hallway. Milos went silent. Sam looked like he might puke. Yuki crossed himself, and he’s not even Catholic. Tijjani was crying but saying he wasn’t. Sven was holding Jesper so tight because no one else could.
It was hell.
AT THE GATES OF VALHALLA ⚔️ Jens stood there, barefoot and shirtless, abs still glistening because even death respected the aesthetic. Odin stood tall. The gates creaked open. A horn blew somewhere in the sky. Valkyries circled overhead like it was over for our boy.
Odin: “You’ve fought well. Come.”
Jens, bruised but glowing in that weird Valhalla light: “…is the raccoon crying?”
Odin: “You mean the small human with the pacifier trauma?”
Jens: “Yeah. Him.”
Odin nodded. Looked past Jens. “He’s not just crying. He’s sobbing. Collapsed in a hallway. Muttering how he’d do anything to take your place.”
Jens looked back at the gate.
And then—he turned around. Just turned. Refused to take a single godly step forward.
“Nah. Sorry. Tell the Valkyries to wait. I have a stupid boyfriend and he’s gonna forget to eat if I don’t come back.”
And just like that, the vision shattered—
BACK ON EARTH 💉 Jens gasped. Chest heaved. The monitor beeped back to life. Jesper was in the room before anyone even cleared him. Fell to his knees like Jens had just come back from the war.
Jens looked confused. Barely awake. Muttered, hoarse: “…you look like you cried. Did I miss something?”
Jesper: ugly sobbing intensifies
And that’s how the Viking came back. Not because of medicine. Not because of defibrillators.
Because somewhere, in a realm even Odin couldn’t touch, he heard a raccoon crying and realized he wasn’t done yet.
NOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭
THE ROMANCE. THE GUT-WRENCHING COMEDY. THE SOULMATE ENERGY. this man had just returned from Valhalla, still halfway between “don’t know where I am” and “can’t swallow air,” and his very first raspy, post-tube, sandpaper-throat words were—
"…why are you crying?"
and Jesper just froze. Because WHAT DO YOU EVEN SAY TO THAT?? bro, I’ve been crying since you died for 7 seconds, and you’re asking me what’s wrong???
He probably croaked it like:
“Why... u cryin... raccoon…” and Jesper just LOST it. Slapped him (gently!!) on his feverish Viking cheek. Then cupped it and kissed him like he was back from war. Which—he was??
Jesper, voice breaking:
“You’re the one who coded! You DIED! I saw it! They kicked me out!” “And you’re asking me why I’m crying? YOU HAD A TUBE IN YOUR THROAT—”
And Jens, blinking slow like a confused sexy golden retriever:
“Yeah but... who made u cry???”
WHO. MADE. U. CRY. bro was ready to throw hands. Still intubated. Still dying. Heart probably doing the salsa. Didn’t care.
Sam outside the room like:
“I swear to god, this man just returned from actual death and his first instinct is jealousy.”
Tijjani:
“Real.”
Yuki, nodding slowly:
“Love story.”
Milos:
“Is he even allowed to be sexy right now??”
Anyway, Jesper refused to tell him for like 5 days that it was him who made him cry. Because Jens was still recovering. But eventually he broke and Jens just teared up and whispered,
“…I’m sorry. But you’re still hot when you cry.”
AND THAT’S WHY THE NURSES SHIPPED THEM TOO.
No because the Alkmaar ICU staff had meetings about them. Emergency briefings. Protocol updates. Posters on the breakroom wall like: “IN CASE OF: KNUDSEN-OSTERGAARD INCIDENT — CALL FOR BACKUP.”
Jesper was a menace. The moment the monitors flatlined and the staff swarmed in to save Jens, Jesper went feral raccoon mode level 5000.
Nurse: “Sir we need to intubate or he’ll—” Jesper: “WHAT IF YOU HURT HIM? WHAT IF HE FEELS IT? WHAT IF HIS THROAT GETS SCRATCHED FOREVER AND HE NEVER SPEAKS AGAIN? WHAT IF HE HATES ME WHEN HE WAKES UP???”
Doctor: “Sir—" Jesper: “I bit my dentist once, I’ll do it again!!”
It took Sam, with tears in his eyes and a mortified face, to wrestle Jesper off the poor anesthesiologist while yelling,
“He’s not dying, he’s not dying, they’re helping him, PLEASE STOP MAKING A SCENE—”
And Jens?? A month later?? Bro had a clipboard, a list of 46 questions, and zero shame.
Nurse: “He just fainted for a second, he’s fine.” Jens: “Okay but why did the oxygen dip to 91?” “Does he need a different mask?” “Can I sleep in the same bed?” “Can I feed him soup through the side of the mask?” “Is Smash Legends cardiotoxic?” “Do you have a different kind of oxygen? Like premium grade??”
By question #15 the head nurse was begging the heavens for transfer papers.
The Alkmaar healthcare system barely survived that month. ICU staff saw them walk into the hospital again and went, “God, not these two.” But they’d all quietly whisper later, “They love each other too much. It’s kind of beautiful.”
Jeopardized, yes. Emotionally destroyed? Also yes. But it was an honor to witness this Viking-Raccoon soulbond live and raw.
And what’s even worse? He remembered every goddamn second. Jesper wasn’t even in the room when it happened—but it didn’t matter. The moment the monitor started beeping weird and the nurse’s face dropped and they said “We need to intubate. Get the crash cart.” —he knew.
Jens was there. But not there.
The love of his life, that ridiculously buff Viking who always grumbled about his IBS like it was Ragnarok, whose hands always stayed too warm when Jesper's got cold — he was just gone for five minutes. Just five. But to Jesper?
It was five eternities.
He saw the medics rush in. He saw Jens go limp. He saw the monitor flatline and the red numbers scream. He saw the paddles. The shocks. The panicked voices.
And he saw himself—standing there in the hall, fists clenched in Sam’s hoodie, trying not to scream. Trying not to fall. Trying not to shatter.
That five minutes? It crawled into his bones. Lived there rent-free. Made a nest in his chest and whispered: “You almost lost him.” “You weren’t there when he left.” “You couldn’t stop it.”
He didn’t care that Jens came back. He didn’t care that Jens woke up and mumbled something like “Did I miss dinner?” in the raspiest Viking zombie voice known to man. He didn’t care that Jens called him a raccoon and told him to stop crying with a tube still hanging from his chest.
Because Jesper had already seen the end.
And it looked like a blue-lipped Viking lying too still. It sounded like silence after alarms. It felt like all the air in the world had been stolen and pumped into someone else’s lungs — and not fast enough.
So yeah. Jesper aged 10 years. Shrank 10cm. Lost 17 braincells (minimum).
And when Jens tried to joke about it weeks later? Jesper didn’t laugh.
He just pressed his forehead to Jens’ chest—right where the heart had stopped—and whispered, “Don’t you ever dare.”
oh god no. he would never unsee it. 599 seconds. not even 10 minutes. but for Jesper? that wasn’t time. that was a lifetime cracking open and bleeding out in front of him.
Jesper—who laughs in the face of chaos, who curses through pneumonia, who can trash talk while mid-collapse—stood there absolutely helpless. that wasn't Jens on that bed. that was the love of his life, his stupid Viking who tells him to pee and kisses his forehead when he thinks he’s asleep— and he was blue. and limp. and lifeless. hooked up to machines that screamed louder than Jesper ever could.
and you’re right— 599 seconds in Valorant? he wouldn’t even flinch. in a football match? he’d be thinking about what to eat after. but those 599 seconds in real life? that was Jesper aging ten years, shrinking under the weight of grief that wasn’t even official yet. it was watching the nurses punch the life back into someone who once said “you’re home” with a smile.
and he wasn’t even allowed in the room. he just saw glimpses. he saw Jens’ chest jolt from the shock. he saw someone drop a bag of saline. he saw the flatline before they pulled the curtain. and all Jesper had were those stupid thoughts, like: “did i tell him i loved him this morning?” “did he eat enough last night?” “was i the last thing he saw before he left?”
he'll never unsee it. not in a year. not in ten. not even when they’re old and grey and fighting over soup brands.
it became a permanent photo album in his head. and yeah, he still makes jokes. he still flirts. he still plays Valorant.
but he never jokes about Jens not waking up again. not anymore. because Jesper remembers exactly what it looked like when he didn’t.
oh god. oh baby raccoon. oh Mitski cue hard cut into despair. 😭 you just ripped the soul out of this story and stomped on it with cleats huh.
because yes. yes it was scary, and it wasn’t even just fear—it was existential collapse. because Jens always answered Jesper. always.
barefoot steps at 3am? Jens noticed. a sniffle from the other end of a Discord call? Jens clocked it. a “can u come here 🥺” text with no context? Jens came running.
so when Jesper squeezed that limp hand and there was nothing— no twitch. no breath. no squeeze back. he knew. he knew something was wrong on a biblical level.
because Jens always answered. always.
and for those 599 seconds, Jesper was alone. he had always believed he could survive anything as long as he had Jens' heartbeat anchoring him somewhere in the world. but the monitors were flat. the hand was cold. and Jesper was talking to someone who wasn’t there anymore.
and yeah, maybe up in Valhalla, Jens was swinging axes and swearing at Odin like “okay I get the aesthetic but I got a raccoon crying over me and that’s more important than your godspeak right now.” and the cries didn’t echo in that realm fast enough. maybe it took a while to travel through time-space divine channels. but when they did— when they did hit Jens like a brick wall of pure heartbreak— he came back. he ripped himself out of Odin’s grip with a “wait. he’s alone.”
but cruel doesn’t even begin to cover what Jesper went through. 36 hours of no movement. 36 hours of replaying the squeeze that never came. 36 hours of listening to people say “wait and see” when Jesper had already seen enough to break him. and during all that? he still held that hand. just in case Jens came back and needed to know where home was.
tell me that isn’t soulmate-coded at a cosmic level. tell me that isn’t the definition of betting on losing dogs— but this time, winning anyway. because the stupid Viking came back. and when his eyes finally opened?
Jesper’s voice cracked like he was seven again in Falkenberg, but this time— somebody answered. 🥹🖤
YES. YES EXACTLY.
he squeezed the hand that had always held his. the same hand that used to brush his cheek after games, tuck hair behind his ears when Jesper pretended he wasn’t crying, tap-tap-tap his knee during dumb team meetings just to say “i’m here.” that hand. that lifeline.
and he squeezed it like it would wake Jens up— like this was still their world, still their stupid bond where no matter how bad it got, one squeeze meant “don’t leave.”
but it didn’t squeeze back.
and then came the worst part: Jesper looked up. and saw them roll his Viking over— like luggage. like a corpse. like Jens wasn’t Jens anymore. his head lolled, his mouth hung open around a tube, his chest no longer moved on its own.
they said things like "we're stabilizing" and "he's still here", but Jesper knew. because Jens wasn’t answering. not his name. not his touch. not even a dreamlike flicker behind his eyes.
599 seconds. just under 10 minutes. less time than a warmup stretch. but it was enough to shatter Jesper on a level no one ever came back from. he stood by the door like a child and watched his whole world look dead.
and then came the 36 hours.
thirty. six. hours.
he sat by that bed. he begged. “just blink. just twitch. just do something. please. you’re not allowed to leave me, Jens. you’re not.” and nothing. not even a shift in heart rate for 12 of those hours. like even Jens was unsure if he was really allowed to come back.
Jesper aged a decade in that time. his spine curled, his voice cracked, his world imploded. because no one had told him what to do if Jens ever stopped being Jens.
and even when the beeps eventually stabilized and the eyes cracked open and the hand finally twitched back— Jesper never fully uncurled again. not really. because a part of him stayed standing by that door, watching the man he loved die.
and bro still held his hand. even when it went cold. because raccoons don’t give up. especially not on their viking.
no one ever came close. no one ever will. 🥹💔
OH GOD YES HE DID 😭😭
Jesper was sitting there in that godforsaken hospital chair—the one that squeaks too loud, the one made of plastic and torture—and he’d been brushing Jens’ hair back for the hundredth time. Stroking, smoothing, begging. Whispering things like “you promised we’d grow old, you dick,” and “I swear I’ll never let Sam touch your shampoo bottle again, just wake up.”
And then he heard it.
He wasn’t supposed to hear it. But the door was cracked open. And the nurses didn’t see him there, curled up like a ghost next to the bed.
One said—quietly, softly, not soft enough:
"His brain was starved of oxygen too long. Even if he wakes up… there might be damage."
And Jesper froze. Not like “shocked,” not like “stunned.” He turned to stone. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Hand still tangled in Jens’ hair.
Because WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN DAMAGE. WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN. HE WAS ALREADY STUPID BUT BEAUTIFULLY STUPID DON’T TAKE THAT AWAY TOO.
And Jesper—our stupid little raccoon boy—he started spiraling so hard. He whispered faster. Held tighter. His voice broke like a glass in a sink:
“You’re still in there, right? Like, you’re you. Not someone else. Not blank. You’re gonna wake up and call me ‘rat boy’ and complain about the soup, right? Right?”
But Jens didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.
And the worst part? Jesper didn’t cry this time. He just went quiet. The spiral was silent. Because now he wasn’t even sure what would come back—if anything at all. And he’d never felt so alone. Not even in Falkenberg. Not even after.
Because this was Jens. His Jens. The one person who saw every broken part of him and still said “I love you more.” The one who was supposed to always come back. No matter what. Even from Odin’s guest room.
Jesper overheard just enough to lose what little hope he had left that night.
But still… he stayed. Hand in hair. Eyes on that face. Whispering like it mattered.
Because even if Jens forgot the world— Jesper would remember for him. He would carry them both. Until the Viking came home. 🥹💔🛌⚔️
OKAY STRAP IN. IT’S 4PM IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM. THE SUN’S COMING IN REAL NICE THROUGH THOSE DUSTY DUTCH WINDOWS. JENS HAS A CANNULA IN HIS NOSE, AN IV IN HIS ARM, AND JESPER’S HAND IN HIS. THE BUBBLY BOYS JUST LEFT TO RAID THE VENDING MACHINE.
and it’s quiet. too quiet.
Jesper is finally breathing normally again. Jens had scared the soul out of him this morning when he collapsed, but now he’s sitting up in bed, teasing Jesper softly, squeezing his hand every so often, mumbling through pain meds. Jesper lets himself believe it’s over. He’s smiling a little. Maybe for the first time that day.
And then—
Jens turns his head, barely. Looks him in the eye. Whispers: “…I’m just sleepy.”
And Jesper—he thinks it’s fine. Jens is tired. He deserves to rest. Of course he does.
So he smiles. He says, “Okay, baby. Close your eyes.” But then—
The monitor beeps. Slows. Stutters.
Jesper: “Jens?” Jens: silent. still. head lolls.
The heart rate dips. Jesper squeezes his hand. Hard.
“Jens—wake up. Hey. HEY.”
No answer.
The monitor SCREAMS. Flatline.
The door SLAMS open. A dozen nurses rush in. Jesper is screaming. Pushed back. Clinging to the wall. “WHAT’S HAPPENING? WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM???”
They shout orders—“Code blue. Intubate. Charge the paddles.” He watches them crack Jens’ mouth open and shove a tube in. He watches them defibrillate him once. Twice. His Viking’s chest JOLTS. His body FLAILS.
Jesper’s still shouting—“He said he was just sleepy!!”
And for 599 seconds, Jens is gone. GONE.
But then—
Beep. Beep. Beep.
And he breathes. Because he remembered Jesper hadn’t peed. And he can’t rest if the raccoon is cranky.
THAT is what happened. That is what Jesper lives with. That is the moment that will haunt him forever.
And Jens? Jens woke up 36 hours later and said: “…Did I miss dinner?” Because he’s the love of Jesper’s life and the most STUPID beautiful Viking on this cursed planet.
YES. YES HE DID. 😭💔
Jesper sat there like the raccoon version of Florence Nightingale with ADHD and a heart full of terror. The nurses said "he's stable now," but Jesper didn't trust anyone after watching Jens literally code from “I’m just sleepy 😴” to flatline. So he took over.
Every five minutes? Re-tucked the blanket. Adjusted the stupid hospital pillow. Gently lifted Jens’ head and re-placed it like he was tucking in a baby animal. Ran his fingers through that dumb Viking hair. Tried to smooth it back. Got annoyed when it flopped wrong. Fixed it again. Talked to him non-stop. Told him dumb things. Scary things. Nice things. “Please come back” things.
Meanwhile Jens in Valhalla: 🪓 “Wow this axe has lightning damage 😮” Odin: “This way, son.” Jesper’s voice: “You said you’d always listen to me. You don’t get to stop now.” Jens: 😦 “BRB I left my emotional support raccoon unsupervised.”
And so he turned back.
Back on earth, Jesper was whispering something about peeing before bed and arguing softly with an unconscious man about how ugly those socks were—because he needed to fill the silence. Because the silence was too much like goodbye.
He didn’t care that Jens couldn’t hear him. He hoped he could.
And eventually… He did. Because raccoon love breaks time barriers and yells loud enough for gods to get humbled. 🥹🫶
EXACTLY THAT. THE RACCOON NEVER RESTS 😭
Jesper K., chaos incarnate, finally sitting upright post-pneumonia, hospital gown slipping off one shoulder like it was couture. Oxygen mask on face. But instead of letting it help him breathe, bro was leaned over his tray, casually tilting the mask forward to aim the airflow directly onto his bowl of hot soup like some medieval sorcerer.
Milos, standing there with a juice box and zero respect:
📸 snap Instagram story: “strongest patient in the respiratory department 💪🫁🧄 #maskOnSoupOff”
Nurse:
“Sir that is not what it’s for.”
Jesper:
wheezes through the mask “but the soup was BURNING, girl, help me out.”
Meanwhile Jens, freshly traumatized from nearly losing Jesper to pneumonia not even 48 hours prior, is gripping the hospital curtain like it wronged him:
“You were literally DEAD for 3 minutes, Jesper. THREE. MINUTES.”
Jesper:
“and now I’m living harder than ever 💅”
Jens:
“if you die again because you steam-cooked yourself with hospital broth I swear to Valhalla I’m gonna—”
Yuki, from the doorway, sipping green tea:
“he already ascended once. now he do what he want.”
Jesper posted the soup video with:
“even pneumonia can’t kill a real one 😤 #soupsurvivor #oxygencheffy”
And the bubbly boys unanimously voted he was banned from adjusting medical equipment. Did he listen? No. Did he look cute with foggy mask cheeks and soup-stained lips? Yes. Did Jens feed him anyway? Also yes.
💀 THE MOST UNHINGED STRONGEST PATIENT TO EVER BREATHE (and misuse) OXYGEN.