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You've Began To Feel Like Home

Summary:

“Wilhelm.”

Wilhelm gnawed on his lip, and Felice glanced at him with a slightly concerned expression, watching as he wrote a note so harshly he tore his paper. Fuck. He turned the page, smoothed it with a shaky hand, and began writing again.

“Oi.”

Don’t reply.

“Princey.”

Oh my God, he’s infuriating.

“Wille Billy.”

He’s worse than August.

“Don’t make me call you sweetheart.”

Wilhelm swung around in his chair, glaring at Simon, who’s lunging over his desk to whisper at Wilhelm. “What do you want Simon?” He already regrets turning around, because the satisfied smirk on Simon’s face makes him want to shove him off his chair.

“Your t-shirts inside out,” Simon whispered with a grin, eyes sliding to the collar of Wilhelm's shirt, and back to his eyes in a smooth motion. “Sweetheart.”

~

Title from the song Look After You by The Fray

Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Notes:

Oooo I'm excited to be posting this! I wrote this story - or at least the beginning - literally months ago, and then I forgot about it. I have two different versions of the first chapter sitting around, and several random, future chapters. It's nearly 1 a.m. because I decided to post this story 10 minutes before my normal sleep time, and decided to commit and finish this chapter.

If you've come from my other story, But Here He Is And He Isn't Going Anywhere (Which I am planning to rename because what a mouthful (you should go read it if you like angst)) Then don't worry! I'm not ditching that fic, I'm just struggling to write that fluffy chapter and needed a quick change. I'll update eventually.

Things to know: August is horrible, he uses the gay slur more than he should. He's a proper dick in this, much worse than he is in canon. Sara isn't in this story all that much, she is a year younger than Erik and has left school, is an adult, and creates comics, you'll learn more about her later. Wilhelm didn't have the welcoming thing that he got in canon, just because it doesn't fit my plot line. I'm probably forgetting something so I might update this later. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Most Beautiful Boy (gets doused)

Chapter Text

~ Monday ~

Wilhelm’s first day of classes should have been easy because Wilhelm's smart, he’s likeable, able to hold a conversation, self-aware, and those decent personality traits for a person to have. He chooses to ignore the fact that as a Prince, everyone always wants to talk to him, always wants to hang out with him, and always speaks with filters so thick and obvious to make Wilhelm like them, he could rip it off their faces. They don't actually care if he's nice, they just want to talk to him for the fame they can leech out of his title.

 

Excited. Nervous. Curious. Terrified. He feels so much, almost too much as he makes his way from the library towards his English class. Wilhelm shoved earplugs in both ears the second he left his dorm and hasn’t taken them out since, hoping people have enough common sense to not dare start a conversation with him. With every step his shoulder bag smacks against his side, weighing as much as some of his toddler-aged cousins. The sun is beating down warm and sure on his face, and he has a cold iced coffee tucked in hand, contrasting against the warm sun and leaving wet condensation as residue on his hand.

 

The gravel crunches underfoot as he walks quickly, excitement bubbling under his skin as Olivia Rodrigo screams in his ear, quite the opposite of his current mood. The balance is good, though.

 

School. Wilhelm loves school… Well, he loves the routine, and he has to love school. He genuinely enjoys waking up every day at the same time, going to breakfast to eat the same thing, going to the library to buy his favourite drink before class as he plans to do every day, and then going to the same classes which he’ll attend at the same times every week, for a year. It’s satisfying. It’s secure. It’s consistent, and it’s not going to change.

 

Wilhelm’s phone let out a low buzz from inside his bag, pressed between books, a pencil case, a pack of gum and more books. Wilhelm sighed, praying for it to not be Jan Olaf or any members of the Royal Court - because they’re bound to interrupt his schedule - before he pulled his phone out, and the screen lit up with another message.

 

Erik
Good morning wille
Excited for your first day you nerd?
8:54 am

 

Wilhelm grinned at his phone, swapping his phone and his drink to text with his dominant hand.



Wille
Yes I'm excited! I cant wait! I'm going to die!
8:55 am

 

That’s an exaggeration, in fact, it’s such an exaggeration he could die from it, but Erik doesn’t know, no one knows it.

 

Erik
Ofc you are 
I hope you enjoy it tbh otherwise ill never hear the end of it
8:55 am

 

Wille
So true
8:55 am

 

Erik’s typing bubble appears, but Wilhelm's attention is pulled away as he hears his name being called over top of his booming music. Wilhelm blinks in confusion, his focus on his phone being interrupted as he looks up with a smile still on his face - only for it to fall like the droplets of water off his hand.

 

August. He’s waving one of his long arms in Wilhelm's direction, a stupid grin slapped on his equally stupid face. He’s wearing one of his stupid turtle necks that make Wilhelm want to tell him “Only evil villains wear fucking turtle necks you slob”, just for fun, just to see what will happen. But Wilhelm never has, and never plans to, because he’s not like that. Wilhelm is calm, and sensible, and never gets into trouble. He’s a role model for kids his age and younger. He has perfect grades that outshine everyone else in his school, the family lounge back at the palace has an entire shelf dedicated to the awards Wilhelm has won, and with only a few spaces left for him to fill up this year, they’re surely ordering a new one already, and Wilhelm plans to fill it, he owes it to them.

 

“Hey, Wille!” If Wilhelm wasn’t already staring at August with dread filling him he'd crank up his music and keep walking, pretending he hasn't heard his cousin. “You look happy!” August yells at him from where he’s sitting over 10 meters away on a table, his friends, Nils and Vincent (Wilhelm thinks that is their names, but he can’t quite remember, he only got here yesterday) are surrounding him, and they both snicker like the good henchmen they are.

 

Wilhelm maturely ignores August, because he won't be seen flipping his cousin off on his first day, not even an hour into school time. Instead, he aggressively sips his drink and swallows it harshly, refusing to cave to the need to cough after he swallows the liquid wrong. Nope. No. Humiliation is not part of the schedule

 

“Wow! You’re a whole walking aesthetic, Wille! Hoping to impress some cute rich boy? Or multiple?” August jeered, laughing loudly at his own ‘joke’. “I know there’s plenty of fags around the school! You know Sara Eriksson’s gay brother is at this school now? He’s your age!” He continued to shamelessly yell at Wilhelm, emphasizing the slur he used, which he should have never uttered. August says it is a joke, says it funny, says Wilhelm can't take a joke and that his sense of humour is dry, but he never even stops to consider the meaning behind the words he's saying or the impact they'll have on people.

 

Two girls walking in front of Wilhelm glance back at him, one blond and one brown-haired, looking almost pitiful. He forces his eyes to the gravel under his shoes, cheeks heating from the attention. He turned up his music and thickly swallowed another mouthful, but now his drink tasted like ash.

 

August was always mean to Wilhelm, right from when Wilhelm could walk he was shoving him back down, no matter how many times Erik told him to “Stop it, he doesn’t like it”, because Wilhelm was too busy crying to say anything himself. Wilhelm is younger than him - younger and richer, he’s more important than August, but because Wilhelm was his younger, royal cousin who he could push around, he did. Wilhelm was young and scared and easy to shove over because he wouldn’t fight back, he’d just cry about it. 

 

Then Wilhelm came out last year, and August went from mean to straight-up cruel. He happily adds the gay slur to his list of insults to throw at Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm isn't excited to be at the school same school as August. Wilhelm wishes he would get hit by a car, and die painfully in a ditch. No, no, no, no. We don’t wish anyone to be hit by a car anymore. Just the thought made Wilhelm's gut twist painfully. Don’t think about him like that. Don’t even think about that. Give him a chance... He’s still maturing, one day he’ll look back and he will regret fucking with you. Give him a chance. Wilhelm ground his teeth, resisting the urge to chew the end of his plastic straw into frayed pieces.

 

“Hey! Do you know who Simon Eriksson is? Wait - have you already met him?” August laughs, continuing to yell out even as Wilhelm has passed and is approaching his building. 

 

Doesn’t he have classes to be at right now?

 

“Stop ignoring me! Haha! Simon Eriksson, you know him right?”

 

Wilhelm foolishly looked back to see August pretending to fuck Vincent in the butt, Nils laughing robotically from the side. Wilhelm - for the second time in the last two minutes - felt his cheeks heat and instantly turned around, nearly walking into a tree in the process, which only made them laugh harder.

 

Wilhelm does know who Sara Eriksson is; She’s a famous comic creator, only a year younger than Erik. She’s known for her queer comics that have autistic main characters. Wilhelm has yet to read one of her comics, but he’s heard that they are extremely accurate and intriguing. He also knows who Sara Eriksson’s brother, Simon Eriksson is, but he didn’t know he was at this school, nor that he was gay, or even what he looks like. He only knows of his existence from the author's notes in Sara's comics and he never thought to Google the guy.

 

Is he in my class? Wilhelm wonders, looking down at his phone which had been vibrating the entire time August was harassing him. He still feels tense from August's words, but relieved he's left him alone for now.

 

Erik
Im serious though wille
Enjoy your first day
Don't let August get to you, he's not worth it
8:56 am


Mama and Papa seem almost as excited as you
8:57am

 

Wille
August got to me
He yelled at me across the school to let me know again that I'm not straight
Again
I think he thinks I'm gay
Still
8:57 am

 

Wilhelm sends his texts in rapid succession, having mastered one-handed texting from all his walking-carrying coffees. He takes a sip of his drink from his other hand. I need to make this coffee last until I get another at lunch. It’s the only thing keeping my fucking sanity in place right now.

 

He heaves a big sigh. The amount of times he’s been asked, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” By old, cishet people, and has had to explain he doesn’t strictly want a boyfriend, and that he doesn’t know what he wants, so he’s decided to go unlabelled. Sometimes, they tell him what he wants, to which he just laughs, sips his drink, and says “Maybe”. He spent an entire evening telling his parents it’s a real sexuality and it's what he is. 

 

Wilhelm unintentionally follows the two girls into a classroom, his brain so focused on texting his brother he has accidentally been trailing behind them. Wilhelm quickly backtracks out the doorway and glances at the gold engraved number on the wall next to the door, confirming it is his first class. Okay, my class. Wilhelm took a moment, standing just outside the doorway like everyone in there hadn’t just seen him peek in like a loser. Deep breath. We got this. Make a good first impression. No one saw me. I'm still cool and everyone likes me. He gaslights himself into thinking that while taking deep breaths.

 

Wilhelm's attention returned to his phone the second he walked in the door to avoid looking at people.

 

Erik
Oh hes a fuck head
Sorry wille 
Forget him
8:58 am

 

Easier said than done - Wilhelm was thinking, moments away from typing it, when his foot was snagged as he tried to step. His stomach dropped as he felt himself - almost in slow motion - tumbling to the side his foot was caught. He instinctively opened his hands, throwing them out in front of him to catch himself - this included thrusting forwards the drink in his hand. Wilhelm's eyes closed in panic as he helplessly tumbled onto something warm and squishy .

 

“What the fuck?” A voice yelled in his ear, and Wilhelm had barely opened his eyes before two firm hands shoved at his chest and shoulders, and his butt met the hard ground with a grunt, sure to bruise.

 

Wilhelm blinked in confusion, and then… his jaw dropped to the ground.


The most beautiful boy, with chocolatey, ringlet-ed curls that cover his ears and skim his delicate, slim shoulders, bearing deep, dark brown eyes that are wrapped in long, black lashes that curl carefully towards the sky. His dark skin is silky smooth, cheekbones soft and yet prominent at the same time, and a jawline that could cut glass is… dripping in Wilhelm’s coffee. Oh fuck. Wilhelm wants to die.

“Oh my God,” Wilhelm choked, feeling the heat rise into every part of his face, turning his ears from pale to red instantly. 

 

The boy glared at Wilhelm as Wilhelm stood up, watching the boy hold both his arms out to the sides with his wrists limp, mouth agape. And his glare - oh . Wilhelm's stomach dropped as his heart began to pound. It’s the most fucking terrifying thing he’s ever fucking seen. His eyes are narrowed and his brows are crowded, and he looks furious, like he wants to throw Wilhelm out the window, and shove him again. Wilhelm would thank him if he was thrown out a window, goodbye good first impression.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Wilhelm managed to choke out, staring at his now empty cup that the boy picked up from his lap, offering the dirty plastic back to him, picking the lid off his lap next between his index finger and thumb, and thrusting them at Wilhelm who instantly took them from him, sticky and cold, mouth flapping like a fish out of water.

 

Wilhelm's phone has somehow skidded across the floor and is vibrating now and then where it’s sat face down on the floor, likely cracked and damaged.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Wilhelm repeated. “I - “

 

“Shut the fuck up,” the boy snapped.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Wilhelm said anyway as the boy stood, ice cubes raining onto the ground in front of him, Wilhelm winced with every cube that hit the floor. Both their gazes followed the chucks of frozen, coffee-flavoured water, and Wilhelm gulped. “My drink,” he mumbled and instantly regretted.

 

The brown-haired boy headshot   to look at Wilhelm, curls flying around his face. “Excuse me? Your drink? What the fuck - What about me? It’s the first period and I have to go the rest of the fucking day smelling of cheap canteen coffee, looking like someone's shitted on my fucking lap!” He yelled at Wilhelm, voice somehow flowing smoother than melted gold into Wilhelm's ears, while still making him wince away like he was threatening to be smacked.

 

Someone, across the room, snorted, and Simon whirled around so fast his curls nearly slapped Wilhelm in the face, wafting the smell of orange shampoo at his nose. “Shut the fuck up, Ranga.” Simon spat, and Wilhelm choked on his tongue.

 

“I’m so sorry,” was all Wilhelm said, holding a dripping cup, his bag dangling at his elbow, face red.

 

The boy sneered at him, “Yeah, you’ve mentioned, Prince Wilhelm . How elegant of you to douse me in your drink before class has even started. I suppose you want me to fucking thank you for this.” The boy looked down at his black, Pink Floyd t-shirt, and then at his black ripped jeans, which seemed to expose more leg than they covered. His feet are dressed in what can only be described as the ugliest, old, dirtied-up pair of Converse Wilhelm has ever had the displeasure of seeing. He can’t help but think his clothing team would have a fit about them.

 

Wilhelm opened and closed his mouth uselessly, wanting nothing more than for the ground to open a random crate hole right under him, that could take him to the centre of the Earth where he would rather sit and burn for eternity than be in this moment.

 

“It - it was an accident! Do you think I wanted to lose my drink? Your bag was sticking out -” Wilhelm found himself blurting, stopping himself mid-sentence as the boy scoffed. Wilhelm gulped.

 

The curly-haired boy looked Wilhelm up and down, sneering at his dry, but rumpled clothes, while his t-shirt drips coffee onto the ground around them. The entire class is deadly silent, and Wilhelm can see at least two phones pointed his way. Oh fuck.

 

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm said again , and he thought the boy might just slap him. Why isn’t his brain working? His drink isn’t a big problem! He’ll buy himself another one later as a reward for getting through this psychological torture (not talking about school). Maybe he could buy this guy a drink. But it is his fault his drink is no longer in its cup in the first place.

 

The boy looked like he is considering slapping Wilhelm, eyes flickering over his face at rapid speed. The boy next to the guy who'd been called a ranga whispered “fight”, and Wilhelm's head spun to look at him, eyes wide. Wilhelm has never gotten into a fight at school before, his mother would be furious, she’d disown him, and she’d take away his phone .

 

The curly-headed boy didn’t even wince at the guy's comment though, something in his face telling Wilhelm it wouldn’t be his first one. Instead, he turned on his heel and stomped out of the classroom without another word, curls flying around the corner, brown splatters following him out the room, looking tragically as if he had poo dripping from his shoes.

 

Wilhelm stared at the doorway, and then down at the mess he’d made, and back again. One of his earphones is gone, he now realizes, it's skittered somewhere across the room along with his phone. Wilhelm can still feel the press of the boy's hands against his chest and shoulder from the force he’d shoved him with. 

 

Then he looked at the class again, and straight into a camera lens. Wilhelm choked on the rising bile in his throat. “Please - can you - sorry, can you not post that, please?” Wilhelm asked a short Asian boy, holding the latest iPhone in front of his face.

 

Instantly the other boy’s phone was gone. “Of course. Nice to meet you, Prince Wilhelm,” he continued calmly before Wilhelm could ask this other girl to do the same as him. “I’m Alexander Bragé, my Father is the owner of Bragé Investments.”

 

Wilhelm blinked, trying to find his Prince training somewhere deep in his mind. 

 

“Uhm - cool, cool. I’m Wilhelm.” He replied awkwardly, hyper-aware of every single eyeball staring at him. 

 

“Wilhelm.” He turned around, feeling lost and basically on the verge of tears, when he saw a familiar face, and he wanted to cry at her feet, worship her, shower her in gold and diamonds because thank God she was in his class, - how did he miss her before?

 

“Hi,” Felice beamed, smiling brightly as she stood up from her chair, and walking a step over to where Wilhelm stands, hands pressed against his thighs to hide the shaking.

 

“Felice! Hi,” Wilhelm said, a wobbly smile falling onto his face, his burning face, he feared that if something touched it, the thing would simply melt into a useless puddle on the floor, mixing with his coffee. My coffeeeee.

 

“Hey! Here,” Felice handed him his phone and his lost earplug. “Nice taste in music,” she said with a smirk. “Sorry, couldn’t resist knowing what you were listening to as you tried to hide from everyone.”

 

Wilhelm winced, a Taylor Swift song is vaguely playing in the background of his mind through one earplug, and he almost forgot it was still on. Wilhelm took a deep breath as he took the items, taking out his other earplug and shoving them all into his bag without bothering to disconnect them or pause his music. 

 

Wilhelm met Felice when he was in kindergarten, and while Wilhelm doesn’t remember a whole lot of his childhood, he definitely remembers the bouncy, curly-haired girl whom he made friends with right away. He remembers going over to her house one day when he was 4, bodyguards trailing, and they played with play dough and got it stuck in Felice’s mother's carpet. They lost contact when they started school, since neither of them had any way of messaging at the same time and nor did their parents. Wilhelm kind of forgot she existed, until his dreaded 13 birthday. At the memory, new articles flashed through his mind, screeching car tires, and sirens making him wince, despite his reaction at the time being a blatant shock - either way, Felice was amazing, and they traded numbers and kept in contact. She was the second person to know he was unlabelled, Erik being the first, then his parents, shortly followed by the entire fucking country.

 

“Sit with me, Wille. It’s me or him,” Felice said with a shrug, and Wilhelm nodded, gaze flicking to the spreading pool of coffee. He would probably have rather sat on the floor than next to the guy anyway. “We can ask Miss to get a cleaner in here,” Felice suggested calmly, reading Wilhelm's mind as she virtually herded him towards her desk, simultaneously blocking him from the view of a camera, still hovering above someone's head. “Stazia, can you not film and post this all over your story for your 200 followers? It’s mean. No one likes a mean person.” Felice said as Wilhelm sat down awkwardly, coffee-shaped footprints falling from his shoes, much cleaner compared to the boy.

 

The girl, Stazia - Wilhelm has no idea how Felice knows her name, but he's learnt with Felice that she knows everyone's names, and the latest gossip - grumbled and put her phone away. Felice sat down next to Wilhelm with a sigh, pulling out a Chap stick and calmly applying it while everyone else continued to stare at Wilhelm like the specimen on display he was bred to be.

 

Wilhelm tried to collect himself. He straightened his spine and ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face, at least for a second before the blonde bangs flopped back into place. He’d spent probably too long staring at his cupboard, looking for something school-worthy to wear this morning. 

 

Wilhelm wanted to look cool and casual, without being too flashy and in the face, as well as presentable for school. If a photo of him in said outfit were to end up on the internet - despite him being at school - it would be presentable and his team of artists and designers at the palace wouldn’t cry. Wilhelm had tried to save a shred of dignity by asking those people for the basic right of privacy, but he's sure he’ll see some GIF of his mess up this afternoon. In the end, he’d opted for plain, black slacks, along with a black V-neck shirt, topped with his favourite red, almost maroon button-up, but un-buttoned. 

 

“So, long time no see?” Felice said, turning to Wilhelm with a small, genuine smile, eyes sparkling. Just an old friend greeting another old friend, three years without seeing each other face to face, but almost constant texting. He found comfort in it, focussing on her aged facial features. She looks different to her Instagram posts, her skin is more textured and her hair with more flyaways. Still beautiful, but more real.

 

The class slowly turned away from them, but before anyone could begin to whisper of Wilhelm's embarrassing moment, a shrill bringing sound cut through the air as class began, and everyone, embarrassingly enough, jumped in their seats at the sound. Only a handful of silent seconds later a teacher walked in. 

 

The woman began to speak as she moved into the room with a bright smile. “Good morning everyone! I’m so - Oh my God, what happened ?” She froze, staring at the spilt drink on the floor, and everyone turned to look at Wilhelm.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ten minutes later, and the mess is gone, you’d never even know Wilhelm spilt his entire drink on an unsuspecting victim, whom he still doesn't know the name of. No one knows his name, it's the first day, but he still feels bad. Wilhelm asked Felice who the poor guy was and she shrugged, saying she only knew the name of the girl whose dorm she shares with, but she’s sick today - Madi - and the Stazia girl, because she went to her old school. At least Wilhelm knows four names.

 

The teacher, in true beginning-of-year fashion, has asked everyone to share a fact about themselves as she goes around in the role.

 

As everyone rattles off things varying from “we moved into a waterfront mansion and my Daddy brought me a horse”, to “my mum's pregnant, but it's not my Dad’s”. All the while, Wilhelm tried to think of a fact about himself. It honestly shouldn’t be this hard, but it fucking is, because the second the teacher says it, Wilhelm is the most boring person in the world. I like rice, was his first thought, and he wanted to smash his head on the desk. WILHELM. You can do better than that! Straight A’s last year, and you don’t know an interesting fact about yourself?! It’s not year 8! You’ve lived for 16 years! What have you done that is interesting, and people won’t already know?

 

His thoughts were derailed when a certain, coffee-scented boy stalked back into the room.

 

Mrs Ramirez went silent as he snaked his way back to his chair, glaring at Wilhelm the entire way with his poisonous, gorgeous eyes. Wilhelm found himself seconds away from pulling a face, but he clenched his fists. Because no. He is not like that. He loves school and is respectful, he’d never sneer at another student just for glaring at him like that, even if that was aggressive and a touch unnecessary. 

 

“Hello, what’s your name, young man?” Mrs Ramirez asked the boy. Wilhelm already had to re-tell how he spilt his drink on this poor guy, which explained his absence from class, but since his bag was left Wilhelm assumed he’d be back and wasn’t ditching the whole day.

 

From what Wilhelm saw, he’d managed to dry his clothes out, probably using the bathroom's entire supply of toilet paper. He didn’t walk past Wilhelm, but he could still smell the coffee engrained into his clothes. At least he smells good now.

 

“Simon Eriksson,” the curly-haired boy grumbles at the teacher. Simon Eriksson. Wilhelm chokes on his spit, again, and Simon turns to glare at him again. “What?” He says, completely shameless in his question, not even lowering his voice to whisper-snap at him.

 

“I - I know who you are,” Wilhelm choked out like a fucking idiot.

 

Simon raises an eyebrow. “Yeah," Simon answered, drawing out the word annoyingly long. "I’m the lucky guy who got a lapful of your tasteless coffee.” Wilhelm only winced, not daring to open his mouth again, who knows what trash would come out? “I know who you are as well.” 

 

“Simon. Great. You’re name has already come on the role.” Mrs Ramirez said calmly, ignoring Simon’s snide comments that, again, made Wilhelm's cheek heat and his craving for an untimely death grow. “We’re sharing an interesting fact about ourselves as we go, just to get to know each other a bit, since I’m sure you will all have a few classes together, and you’ll be together the whole year. You can get to know each other more, like a happy family!” She said it with an easy smile, and Wilhelm almost cried because - WHAT?! An entire year in the same classes, PLURAL, as Simon Eriksson? Simon Eriksson, who most definitely hates me? Oh God, have some mercy and kill me now.

 

“Pass,” Simon replied, not missing a beat. He looked down at his chipped black nail polish, bringing up his other hand to pick another scrap off a piece. Alexander is sat next to him, and he winced at the action, looking stiff in his seat.

 

Mrs Ramirez raises an inquiring eyebrow at Simon, who still hasn’t looked up from his nails. “Simon, please share with the class. I get we’re all tired, guys, it's the first day of term and we're yet to get into the swing of things, but it’s not a big request.” She spoke first to Simon, then the entire class, voice surprisingly loud and carrying.

 

Wilhelm watched the very edge of Simon’s face. Wilhelm sat in the row to his right, one seat back, and his view mostly consisted of Simon’s tight, brown curls, that looked incredibly soft and smelled like oranges, even though Wilhelm had never seen an orange-scented shampoo in his life - 

 

“No thank you, Miss. Pass.” Simon said again, and Wilhelm kind of wanted to just slap him. Seriously, not that hard, just say he likes pasta or rice. Hypocrite, Wilhelm scolded himself. 

 

Mrs Ramirez sighed. “Okay. Well, before you entered, we were at…” She dragged out the word, and then her eyes scanned the room, falling on Wilhelm. “Prince Wilhelm. What is an interesting fact about yourself?”

 

Wilhelm kept his spine straight despite the compulsive urge to curl into himself. Every head turned to look at him, apart from Simon, and that kind of annoyed him more than the staring.

 

“Uh - um, I like rice.” Wilhelm froze, blinking in horror at what he’d just said. “I mean - “ but the damage was done, and everyone burst into a cacophony of laughter, and Wilhelm's eyes managed to find the least amused face: a small quirk caught the corners of Simon’s mouth, and it was gone moments later. Oh. Maybe that was worth it. No?! Are you kidding me? The entire class is laughing and you’re glad you made this angry, emo kid smile an inch? Get your shit together Wilhelm. He scolded himself, wincing from the volume of his own thoughts as Mrs Ramirez tried to tame the cackling class.

 

“Nice one, Wilhelm!” Someone called to him.

 

“Oh my God, I’m crying ,” a girl called Stella whined through laughter.

 

“That was the last thing I thought he’d say!” Said Henry, formally known as Ranga.

 

“ ‘ I like rice ‘ !” Someone brown-haired kid imitated.

 

“It wasn’t that funny if it's what you want to hear,” Felice told Wilhelm gently, her laughter having lasted about a second. Wilhelm nodded, forcing a fake smile to the class so they'd know he was just making a joke, resisting the urge to press the backs of his cold hands against his flaming cheeks. “It’s alright, Wille, don’t think about them.” She whispered as they finally went quiet, and Mrs Ramirez quickly moved on, no comment on Wilhelm's slip up.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Alright, what are some ways we can carry a paragraph into another one? How do we make them flow?” Mrs Ramirez called, standing in front of a shining whiteboard, a purple marker in hand, ready to write down the class's ideas. “Forgive me, I’ve barely memorised my timetable, I can’t yet place names to faces but I'll try my best.”

 

Wilhelm's hand flew up. He can do this, he’s smart, he knows the answers to this, easy as pie. Redemption. Help. 

 

“Yes, Prince Wilhelm?”

 

“Call me Wilhelm, please.” Someone snorted, probably curly-mic-curly-butt... wait - “Um - Connectives - “

 

“Yes! Wonderful, thank you,” she smiled warmly at him, before writing in swirly letters “CONNECTIVES” on the whiteboard, and then turning back to face the class. “Anyone know of any connectives?”

 

Wilhelm slowly raised his hand into the air when no one else did, everyone yawning, whispering, texting, and Wilhelm could even see one kid carving into a  desk - oh wait, that's Simon. 

 

“Wilhelm?”

 

“ "Nonetheless" .”

 

“Wonderful! Anyone else?”

 

“...Wilhelm?”

 

“ "However" - “

 

“Oooh, that's what we’re doing,” Henry suddenly said, cutting Wilhelm off after he’d barely said the word.

 

Mrs Ramirez added to her list of words Wilhelm had been giving her, before turning to Henry. “Please put your hand up if you have something to say.”

 

Henry’s hand flew into the air, and Mrs Ramirez sighed, looking done with the class despite only having been teaching for half an hour, according to the clock Wilhelm's watching count down on the wall behind her. It’s only Wilhelm and Henry with their hands up.

 

“Yes?”

 

“ "Similarly",” Henry stated with a proud smile.

 

“Yes, correct.” Mrs Ramirez added Henry’s word. “Any more?”

 

Wilhelm raised his hand again, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Felice raise her brows at him. This is okay, right? He’s giving himself a redemption arc with his knowledge, helping the class learn things he already knows and is just recapping. He’s not showing off, they see that right? He’s just trying to prove he’s not a stupid, clumsy, stuttering mess, prove he is as cool as he seems in the media, is as cool as he was last year.

 

“Yes, Wilhelm?”

 

Simon snorted at hearing his name being called to answer again.

 

“ "In addition", and "therefore",” Wilhelm added, feeling a sense of pride rise. His Mother would be proud of him for sure.

 

Mrs Ramirez hummed, adding it to the bored. 

 

Simon turned to stare at him, judgement swirling in his dark eyes, as he smirked at Wilhelm, mouthing “show off” . Wilhelm couldn’t help but sneer back, mouthing “You smell like coffee”, and hoping Simon interpreted it right. He clearly did because he scowled at Wilhelm - 

 

“Wilhelm, focus please.” Mrs Ramirez snipped, and Wilhelm physically winced, while only making Simon smirk wider.

 

“Sorry, Mrs Ramirez,” Wilhelm mumbled, really wanting to melt into his chair as he blushed, yet again. Stupid Simon. His eyes cast down to his desk. He’s never like this, never snippy, or clumsy, or uncoordinated, saying stupid things and looking dumb. Last year, Wilhelm was so cool, calm and collected, he looked in the mirror and liked what he saw, and was proud of himself because he’s come so far from when he was 13. Everyone loved him last year. Nothing’s changed yet, I’m only half an hour into the class.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“NOOO,” is the collective groan that rings around the class when Mrs Ramirez connects to the projector, and a spinner wheel is set up, everyone’s names written on a separate, colourful section.

 

“Oh my God,” Felice said in a stage whisper, and Wilhelm turned to look at her. “The bane of my very existence,” she glanced at Wilhelm, eyes glinting, “I swear, they’re actually out to get me. Homophobic bastards.”

 

Wilhelm pulled a face. “Felice, you can’t call everything homophobic the second it annoys you.”

 

Felice raised an eyebrow at him, “I can. I do. And like you don’t do the same thing.”

 

“I don’t,” Wilhelm defended. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t bring it up if he can help it, it normally leads to awkward conversations or someone saying “Finally, some representation in this country.” And while yes, that was one of the goals, it makes him feel like it’s less what he is, and more like a publicity stunt. 

 

“ "I don't" my ass, Wilhelm,” Felice mumbled as Mrs Ramirez shushed the class, explaining what the spinner wheel is for.

 

“In groups of three, you will read a book until the last week of term. Then, you will create a presentation that summarises and goes into an interesting description of your book's plot, and the deeper meaning.” She said, scribbling rough bullet points onto the whiteboard as she spoke. “We have 27 kids in the class, and we need groups of three. Who feels like doing maths?”

 

“9.” Wilhelm blurted.

 

“Yes, 9. There are nine different books, you only read one. However, next year, you are expected to read 5 books, 2 novels, and three short stories. For now though,” Mrs Ramirez continued without transition. “There is no need to worry about that. The books I’ve chosen are all fiction, picked from the young adult section of the library!” She said it like it's a good thing like any of them will be a book Wilhelm wants to read.

 

Okay, he knows its nerdy, but he enjoys studying, filtering over books full of knowledge and meaningfulness, because in the end, is it worth spending three days reading a book about two idiots falling in love amid a murder mystery or reading a textbook that can help him for life, give him life-changing knowledge he can use .

 

Without warning she clicked the spinner, and everyone gasped, jumping around and grabbing newly made friends. Felice sighed heavily, grumbling under her breath, and Wilhelm only hummed in sympathy. He just hopes he’s not with Simon and is with Felice, he doesn’t care who the third party is.

 

The ticking slowed, and the class held their breath… " Henry" lit up on the board, and Henry made a dramatic gasp from the back, throwing his arms around Walter’s neck to drag the quieter boy into a theatrical hug against his collarbone, causing Walter's cheeks to go pink. Wilhelm smirked at Felice, and she only nodded back, raising her brows slightly. Yup. Solid queer communication right there, Wilhelm thought, smiling slightly. He can’t do that at the palace, if something fruity happens, and he side-eyes Erik, he’s just staring ahead with a small smile or gives Wilhelm a quietly confused look. He learnt quickly that while Erik may be on the cusp of his generation, he doesn’t get the references, or the vibes as much as Wilhelm and Felice do.

 

When the second name was chosen, Henry verbally cheered, because Walter is one of his partners... Followed by Alexander. 

 

On and on it went. Madi went with Stazia and Stella. Fredrika got Mat and Josh. Then Simon’s name lit up on the screen, and everyone tensed. There were no dramatics as the teacher wrote Simon’s name under group 4, the class deadly silent while Simon scowled and the spinner slowed on… Felice. Felice’s eyes widened at Wilhelm, but when Simon glanced back with an almost fearful expression, she threw him a smile, and Simon quickly looked away.

 

Wilhelm snorted, and Simon’s head whipped back to stick his tongue out at him, and Wilhelm only narrowed his eyes in response to him. “Have fun with that one. He’s a real ray of sunshine…” But Wilhelm's sentence fell flatter than August's ass, because while he was having a mature expression contest with Simon, and bullying Felice, his name had shown on the board, the fake cheering from the website filling his head like jeering laughter .

 

Wilhelm's jaw dropped, and he hurried to pick it up off his desk as Felice beamed at him like he wasn’t praying for the class to collapse on his head. He knows she can’t be oblivious to Wilhelm's dislike of Simon, and he almost feels bad she has to deal with him, and for what she’s already dealt with.

 

Simon turned comedically slowly to look at him, his mouth set in a thin, angry line, eyes narrowed like it’s Wilhelm's fault they’ve been paired together, like he wanted this. No, he will literally pay this woman to put him in any group. He’ll go with Stazia and Stella for Christ's sake! He’ll take August over this annoying little rat, who can’t accept an accident for what it is. 

 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Simon whispered, watching as the teacher wrote "Wilhelm" below "Felice", under "Simon". “An entire term?” He croaked, slowly turning to look at Wilhelm again, whose face heated under his gaze. 

 

“Yup! This will be such fun. I enjoy reading, but mostly when it's optional, but still,” Felice tried cheerful, almost optimistic, but her voice cracked. 

 

Wilhelm wants to just sink into his desk away from Simon’s piercing, judgmental, hateful gaze. They’ve known each other a grand total of nearly an hour and it’s probably one of the most mutually passive-aggressive relationships he’s ever had, coming close behind August. 

 

Oh God, if August found out that they’re in the same group, seemingly the only two outedly queer kids at their school, he’d freak out, and act like they’re the next Tom Holland and Zendaya. Wilhelm just knows he’d start rumours, that by morning everyone would think they’re dating but really, they’d rather pick out their own eyeballs with toothpicks. 

 

Wilhelm can’t believe his goddamn luck on his very first day. First, he gets harassed by August and his friends, second, he spilt his drink all over some kid, third, he was put into the same group as said kid , for an entire term, to do group work together - with poor Felice, of course, Wilhelm's favourite person right now. 

 

Simon turned back to the teacher and boldly stuck his hand in the air for the first time this lesson.

 

Mrs Ramirez examined him for a moment, the class all talking quietly to their groups, side-eyeing Simon. Everyone knows what he’s going to ask, Wilhelm and Simon’s hatred isn’t exactly invisible, but it is new. 

 

“Yes?” She finally said with a sigh.

 

“I want to swap groups. Everyone else in here wants to be in his group, put one of them in instead.” Simon said instantly, voice sounding more assertive and demanding than polite and asking.

 

Wilhelm scowled at the back of his head, because rude, just because he wanted to do that doesn't mean Simon could say it. He turned his gaze to Mrs Ramirez, trying for a pleading look over the top of his annoyance.

 

Her gaze flickered between the two of them for what felt like forever. She gauged their reactions as they waited, watched as they twitched and Wilhelm's placidly calm expression continued to crack and fray at the edges. He’d beg if she asked, on his knees, he’d put in a good word at the palace, ask for the teachers to get a right fully deserved raise.

 

“No.”

 

Wilhelm tensed all his muscles so he wouldn’t face plant on the desk, he refuses for Simon to be the reason he breaks his fucking nose.

 

Simon let out a harsh breath, sounding borderline like a hysterical laugh. “Miss - “

 

“No. I’m sorry if you don’t like the groups, but if I let you swap, then I should be able to let other kids swap. Who knows boys, you might turn around at the end of term and realise you were being melodramatic, and that you’ve become the best of friends,” she threw them a smile, and Wilhelm barely returned it, looking anywhere but Simon, Simon who’s jaw is tight, muscles ticking, Simon who’s fists are clenched like he’s a mere millisecond away from standing up to punch someone, Simon, who looks like he would do anything to be further away from Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm has never, ever met someone who hates him this much. He's sure people dislike his existence, despising royalty like it is their only purpose in life, but he's never met someone with those feelings, yet alone someone who is so obnoxious and shameless. Simon is a one-of-a-kind jewel, that's for sure (Not).

Wilhelm closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out very slowly through his mouth. What would Mama say? Wilhelm found himself thinking while the teacher handed out the books. She’d say, “Don’t make yourself look bad, you had such an excellent report last year, don’t tarnish it now. Do not let this boy get to your head. Be the bigger person. Breath. Smile. Wave. Repeat.” Wilhelm did repeat, minus the smiling, and waving. He breathed until his pulse was steadier, and he could bear to open his eyes and face the class's prying expressions and Simon’s less-than-joyful one. Next to him, Felice talked to a blond girl behind them, something about the choir.

 

Mrs Ramirez placed two books on Wilhelm and Felice's desks. “Thank you, Miss,” Wilhelm said all too calmly, and she gave him a slightly concerned look as she passed. That’s the right Wilhelm, the one with manners and who is calm. Stay. He better fucking stay. 

 

Wilhelm picked up his book.

 

“Crisis,” Felice mumbled the title. “By Karin Boyer.” Wilhelm nodded, looking at the back of the book to read the blurb.

 

“If everyone could shuffle the tables around so that all three of you’re group members can sit around one, please. We have fifteen minutes now guys, make the most of it.” Mrs Ramirez called to the room as talking bubbled up again, filling the silence. “You will have to do some work in your spare time as well, during Workies or after school, I don’t mind.”

 

Wilhelm took in another deep breath and looked up at Simon, who is sitting alone at his desk with his arms crossed, staring purposefully ahead with flaring nostrils.

 

“Simon,” Felice said, and the boy only grunted in reply. “Can you come to sit with us, please?” She added, her voice sweet and gentle as if she were talking to a child. Wilhelm just knew Simon wouldn’t like that.

 

But to his surprise, and great annoyance, Simon huffed out a sigh, as if it physically pains him to be with the two of them. But he stood up, grabbing his chair and dragging it - loudly, screeching with each step he took, on purpose - a meter to their table, sitting at the end next to Wilhelm, sitting down with another huff. Wilhelm looked away so he wouldn’t glare at him, keeping the relaxed smile on his face.

 

Felice smiled at him again, “Thanks. Alright, I’m thinking we just read at our own pace and set goals for the end of the week. Like, by Friday, we’ve all read up to chapter five. "Write notes of important moments as you go".” Felice read the rest of the instructions off the whiteboard, while Simon glowered at his feet, and Wilhelm kept a straight face, nodding along. “Are you guys free Saturday? We could meet up at the library for a catch-up.”

 

“We see each other every day for classes,” Simon pointed out, and Wilhelm rolled his eyes, catching himself. He straightened further in his chair despite his butt already being pressed against the back, spine digging into the plastic. The heat from Simon's knee is radiating through his clothes right now, burning against Wilhelm's knee.

 

“Yes, but that's during classes , where we are doing work for that said class. It’s easier if we do it on the weekend - “ Wilhelm tried to argue back, civilly .

 

“What if I don’t want to speed my weekend with you two?” Simon snapped, not meeting either of their eyes as he argued with the table.

 

Stop being a snob, you snob.

 

“Miss already said we have to meet in our own time , as in not at school , Simon,” Wilhelm said, losing some of his calm demeanour. Fuck this guy. I said two sentences and I already feel like shit again. Deep breath. C’mon Wille, don’t let him get under you’re skin. “Don’t you want to pass?” He added, because of course, Simon wants to pass, that always works - 

 

“I don’t give a rat shit about passing,” Simon said, and Wilhelm dropped his book to the table with a disappointed thump . Simon gave him a funny look, before speaking again, “We can pass without meeting together like a group of old ladies for fucking book club every weekend. Might as well bring some tea and photos of our fucking grandkids along with us if that's what we’re planning to do.” Simon harshly continued to resist.

 

Felice frowned at him, picking at the edges of her book. “Well, you don’t have to come, it’ll just be easier for all of us if we meet up. Plus, we could become friends.” She said it casually, calmly, easily, but both Wilhelm and Simon’s gazes snapped to each other, as if they had been magnetised to stare, glare at one another.

 

Simon narrowed his eyes, and Wilhelm kept his own steady, not blinking or changing a muscle on his face. Don’t give in. He can’t show Simon how much gets under his skin, he needs to be calm, and he needs a good grade.

 

Felice, meanwhile, looked over at the board. “It’s marked by group participation. If we don’t all contribute, we’ll all fail.”

 

“Yeah, Simon. Don’t be a twat and make us all fail with you,” Wilhelm said, eyes flicking away from Simon’s intense stare to glance at the bored. His eyes are unnerving, Wilhelm's were starting to hurt from not blinking. 

 

Simon bristled, shuffling in his seat. “I don’t care about your grades either - “

 

“I’ll tell the teacher,” Wilhelm snapped at him, folding his arms across his chest.

 

An amused smirk quipped at the corner of Simon’s lips, and he put his book on the table, folding his arms across his chest as he sat up straighter, mimicking Wilhelm. Oh my fucking God Wille, what is this - “What are we in, year 3?” Simon scoffed, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes as he looked Wilhelm up and down, reading his mind exactly. “Certainly dressed like it - “

 

“Simon, Wilhelm, stop. Seriously,” Felice interrupted, dropping her book on the table, which made a bang louder than either had been expecting. Wilhelm's cheeks are growing red again as the blood boils into them. “You’re both acting like petty girls fighting over a boy right now. All snide comments, stubbornness, and "‘you dress funny". Stop it. I won’t fail because of you two. We’re meeting on Saturday in the library from 3 pm, until 4, and we will talk, share notes, and have read up to chapter 5. No more, no less.” She said, voice no longer so gentle and persuasive, 10 times more assertive and confident. 

 

Wilhelm sighed. “I was never opposed to it, Felice.” He whined, “It’s Simon - “

 

“Shut up,” Simon interrupted, kicking him under the table, and Wilhelm let out an embarrassing yelp of shock, kicking him back immediately after, not to be petty, but to be even, of course.

 

“Guys!” Felice yelled, and they both flinched, turning to look at her sharply, again. Her brows are scrunched in annoyance, her mouth set in a firm, straight line. “I’m serious.” Her confident gaze flicked between them. “I wasn’t asking, either.”

 

Simon sighed, throwing his head back against the chair and groaning. “Fine. 3 till 3:30, though, or I won’t come.”

 

Felice narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ll be coming despite the times.”

 

Wilhelm snorted, and Simon scowled at him. 

 

Before either had a chance at another snarky remark, the bell rang out above their heads, shrill and deafening. Simon didn’t waste a second, springing from his seat and grabbing his bag, not bothering to put his book in it or move his chair before he was out the door.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wille
Great three first classes!!
12:12 pm

 

Wilhelm lied as he texted Erik, making his way towards the eating area with his class. In front of the group is Simon, stalking along, holding the straps of his backpack tight as he glares at the ground like it’s personally wronged him. Felice has managed to make friends, Stella and Fredrika, the two girls who had stared at Wilhelm when August annoying him.

 

“Oh my God, I know that place!” Felice is saying to the two girls. Wilhelm's not sure what they’re chatting about, he’s floating in and out of the conversation, going between checking his phone and glaring at the back of Simon’s head, hoping it bursts into un-eloquent flames.

 

“Yes! They sell the most amazing custard tarts. I go there every break with my Nana,” Fredrika squeals, jumping a few steps. 

 

The three girls are walking a step behind Wilhelm, but in a way that makes it clear they’re still walking with him. If he was in a better mood, he’d try to join the conversation, because he knows they’d welcome him. But he’s in an utterly shit mood. In every single class, Simon has scowled at him, snorted or scoffed when he puts his hand up, and in one class he ended up behind Wilhelm, and kept throwing little, tiny paper balls at the back of his head, a ripped-up version of the math sheet he was meant to be filling out. He did this until Wilhelm turned back to face him and his stupid smirk and snapped “Do you mind?” Only to be shushed by Mr Englund.

 

“Have you tried the panna cotta at that place next to the Boba shop, um, what's it called?” Stella snapped her fingers, trying to bring the name to her head in the process. 

 

“Foodies Inlet?” Fredrika supplied.

 

“What - no,” Stella said with a laugh. “Don’t they sell like, week-old bread and sour milk?”

 

“No!” Fredrika replied in horror, and Felice laughed. 

 

Meanwhile, they walked in the door of the eating room, and split ways. Wilhelm followed behind Alexander, Henry and Walter walking behind him, he’s lost track of Simon during his goodbye to Felice. Wilhelm's phone vibrated, and he looked down to check Erik’s reply.

 

Erik
Thank shit
Im glad<3
12:15 pm

 

Wilhelm sighed, looking around the bustling room. His class is kind of late, and everyone is already eating, so Wilhelm's class instantly moved to the colourful food tables, covered in a variety of sandwiches, soups, potatoes, salads, and chunks of roast chicken. 

 

Wilhelm picked up a plate and took a spoonful of potatoes and a scoop of salad, before moving to the far end of the table, ignoring August who said “Heya Wille! Managed to snag yourself some dick yet?” And most of his end of the table all laughed, a few adding their own comments. Fucking hell. Wilhelm got his fair share of snide comments at his other school, but he’s now realising it was never this bad. Probably because then, he was at the top of the school, the highest year group, and nobody messed with the highest year group except other kids from that year.

 

Now he’s gone from the biggest whale in the ocean to the smallest, weakest krill, simply drawing out the time before it gets munched down by the whales, also known as the third years.

 

He walked to the first year's end, taking the open seat next to the quiet Alexander, an open seat next to Wilhelm still.

 

Wilhelm looked up from his plate as he shuffled his chair in, and his eyes caught on Simon, back to him, loading his plate with crackers. What a weirdo, Wilhelm thought, but his vision was quickly blocked by Henry and Walter, taking the spot across from Wilhelm, already in a conversation.

 

Wilhelm opened his phone again, replying to Erik with a quick,

 

Wille
:)))
12:19 pm

 

And then shutting it again, putting his phone on the table next to him.

 

“So, least favourite class?” Alexander asked Wilhelm as he cut up one of his potatoes, and ate it.

 

“Ummm,” Wilhelm hummed, throwing Alexander a small smile. He already knows, it's so fucking obvious. “Probably English,” he said finally. “You?” Wilhelm puts a potato in his mouth, eyes flicking to Simon, who’s moving around the table towards him.

 

Alexander smiled back at him, looking overjoyed that he was still speaking with him. Wilhelm wishes he wouldn’t, he wishes he’d just answer the question instead of doodling on like he is right now and Wilhelm should really be listening but Simon is getting closer and it’s concerning -  “ - Englund. He’s so pushy and grumpy, it looks like he’s been teaching since the 50s,” Alexander chuckled, and Wilhelm forced his own laugh, sounding more awkward and pained than he had all day.

 

Wilhelms head spun around as Simon pulled the chair out next to him, setting his plate down roughly, so his cutlery clanked. All he has on his plate is two crackers. What. Is there something wrong with him?

 

“Aww, cute guys!” August called down the table, and Simon didn’t hesitate to snag a piece of potato from Wilhelm's plate and throw it at his end of the table. It bounced off the water jug. “You’re even sharing food!” He continued, and Simon resorted to flipping him off. 

 

“Go fuck yourself!” He shamelessly yelled at August.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm warned, staring at him intently. How dumb is this guy, surely he’s dealt with people like August before. “Stop.”

 

“Go fuck your boyfriend!” August replied with an easy laugh. 

 

Simon clenched his jaw, looking a second away from standing up to punch August, hands planted on the table and the back of Wilhelm's chair when he stopped, gaze falling on Wilhelm's own. He smirked. Wille’s eyes widened. “What? You better not kiss me.” He said, and Alexander choked on his water.

 

Simon laughed boldly, turning in his chair to face the table. “I’d rather fuck Andrew Tate.” Everyone at the first year's end is staring at Simon like he has six clown heads connected to his slim body.

 

“You’re actually scaring me,” Wilhelm told him nervously. He wishes Felice was here right now, she could help, Wilhelm doesn’t know how, but she could.

 

Simon threw him an amused look from the corner of his eye, a dirty, evil look twinkling in his pupils. He grabbed the water jug from the middle of the table, pouring enough water into his cup that a few drops spilt over the edge.

 

“Um,” Wilhelm sniffed, shortly wiping his nose on the back of his hand awkwardly, watching Simon take a bite of his cracker, dry. “Right - “ He looked back to Alexander, who tilted his body slightly to look around Wilhelm at Simon. “Sorry, what did you say?” Wilhelm said with an easy smile, choosing to pretend Simon wasn’t right there.

 

Alexander took a moment, before looking back to Wilhelm. “My least favourite class so far is maths, because Mr Englund is annoying.” Wilhelm nodded, sparing a piece of potato through his fork and eating it. 

 

“You guys excited for PE?” Henry asked from across the table. 

 

Wille forced a nod. “Mmhmm,” he hummed.

 

Alexander pulled a face. “At my old school, we just ran laps around the field for half an hour and played games for the other half hour. Dodgeball, football, capture the flag, those kind of games.”

 

Henry snorted, “Those are my favourite things to do in PE.”

 

Wilhelm risked a glance at Simon and found his plate now empty of crackers, the cup still concerning full. “Simon, you shouldn’t pour that much water,” Wilhelm hissed at him while the others argued passionately about PE, something Wilhelm personally hates, also with passion.

 

Simon turned to look back at Wilhelm with his dark, brooding look. Wilhelm wouldn’t be surprised if someone read his mind and it read “plotting murder”. Wilhelm flared his eyes slightly and tilted his head, signalling for Simon to talk, but he didn’t.

 

Wilhelm sighed, looking away. 

 

“- our PE sessions are just games, I think,” is what Walter is saying.

 

“What were your PE sessions like at your old school, Wilhelm?” Henry asked, shovelling food into his mouth. Walter looked at him out the corner of his eyes, flicking to look at his mouth stuffed full of potato with a judgemental speck in his eyes.

 

“Uhm - “ Wilhelm started saying, and Simon spontaneously joined the conversation.

 

“ 'xcuse me, I need the salt,” he said.

 

"For what?" Wilhelm asked in confusion, but Simon had already begun to reach out across the table for the salt and pepper. His arm went over the top of his too-full cup of water, and as his elbow straightened, it toppled over from the contact.

 

“Simon!” Wilhelm squawked as ice-cold water spilt over his lap off the corner of the table, jumping from his car as the cold soaked through his jeans and into his bloody underwear

 

“Oh, sorry,” Simon said, amusement flourishing all over his face. “Here,” Simon offered him a napkin slowly. “It was an accident.” 

 

Wilhelm gapped at Simon as he grabbed Wilhelm's outstretched hand, his fingers calloused and warm as he pressed the napkin into Wilhelms's hand. Simon stood up as Wilhelm spluttered, throwing down the napkin, “An accident?! You did that on purpose!” 

 

Simon picked up his plate with a shrug, barely suppressing a smirk. “It was an accident, don’t be so defensive about it, God.” Simon grabbed his bag and swung it over one shoulder in a smooth motion. He took a step towards Wilhelm and leaned up to whisper in his ear, breath hot, “It’s not very pleasant , is it, Wilhelm?” A shiver shot down Wilhelm's spine, setting an angry fire in his stomach. His curly hair brushed against Wilhelm's face, smelling overwhelmingly of oranges and… smoke? Wilhelm glowered at Simon as he dropped back to his heels, still bearing that stupid, smug smirk. He turned and walked off.

 

“That was an accident,” Wilhelm snapped at his retreating, taking in deep breaths of fresh air to clear his head, cheeks burning red hot. “You think I wanted to waste my drink on annoying you ?” 

 

Simon stuck his tongue out as he put his plate on the washing stack, leaving the room without another word.

 

Wilhelm scoffed in disbelief. No way he just did that in front of the entirety of Forest Ridge. Oh God, the entirety of Forest Ridge. Everyone just saw Simon whisper in my ear like that. Wilhelm's stomach dropped, and he looked away from the door. Every single eyeball in the room is pinned on Wilhelm, some eyes wide, others amused. Wilhelm's whole face feels hot, he feels flustered, humiliated, and embarrassed.

 

Wilhelm gulped, “um,” he looked down at his lap. It looks like he fucking peed his pants - no, it looks like his dick exploded . There’s water on his shirt, his button-up, and his jeans, a few drops have even made it onto his shins. 

 

In the dead silence of the room, Wilhelm can hear every drip of water that falls off the thin white tablecloth, splattering on the ground.

 

“Man, he is a prick ,” Henry said finally, shaking his head as he continued to eat.

 

“It must be a gay thing,” August piped up, and Wilhelm scowled at him.

 

“That's homophobic,” Henry told him, and Wilhelm felt even more embarrassed he hadn’t said that. He should, it would fit his cool, calm guy vibe. The vibe that he keeps failing to keep up, is because of Simon, Simon the prick.

 

August scoffed, “it’s a joke, chill man. Just a joke,” he said, followed by an easy laugh.

 

“What’d you do to him, Wille?” Vincent called, sticking his head around Nils so Wilhelm could see him.

 

Wilhelm felt himself flush again. “It was an accident,” he blurted, standing awkwardly with a big wet patch on his crotch.

 

“I just asked what you did,” Vincent smirked at him, and everyone watched with expecting looks, waiting for him to humiliate himself further.

 

Fuck you , sits on the tip of his tongue, if he could just have the balls to say it. Simon would’ve said it, with no hesitation. He’d taken one look at August and decided he was worth fighting with, which he was right for, but he didn’t seem to see that that would only encourage August to mess with him, with both of them.

 

“I… I spilt my drink,” Wilhelm muttered, looking down at his feet, standing in a small puddle of water.

 

“Pardon?” Vincent said, standing up and craning his neck towards Wilhelm. “Did catch that?” 

 

Wilhelm shot him a firey look. “I accidentally spilt my drink on him this morning, and he’s a spiteful sh - guy, and purposefully knocked his cup into my lap. Really, it’s none of your business, but there, that’s what happened. Happy?”

 

August burst out laughing, quickly joined by Vincent, and half the table. Henry, Walter and Alexander all looked at Wilhelm nervously, not even a hint of amusement on their faces.

 

Wilhelm shook his head to himself gently, appetite flying out the window instantly. He snatched his phone and plate, taking the same path Simon had taken to escape these pretentious, homophobic dweebs, but with significantly more shame sitting heavy in his gut. Simon looked so shameless as he walked out, smug, even, but Wilhelm is just embarrassed and humiliated. Fuck this school, he thought as he scrapped his plate off, ignoring the jeers and comments as the laughter died down. Fuck everyone in it. Wilhelm stalked out of the room, keeping his head held high and jaw locked shut so none of his words would blurt out.


Simon will pay for this, he vowed to himself as he walked back towards the dorms, planning to hide there for lunch and to change. He didn’t see Simon as he walked, which is probably a good thing. Simon will pay.

 

 

Chapter 2: Satans Best Friend

Summary:

Well, that escalated quickly.

Whoopsie dasies.
(MWAHAHAHA)

Notes:

It just hits differently to go buy hair dye and Pringles by yourself after school listening to Fine Line at full blast while at risk of being kidnapped because you really can't hear much. And then I come home and update this without talking to anyone.

I've changed a few things about the room designs and also how Hillerska is set out because first off: I don't fucking know how any of it is really set up, and secondly: Plot convenience.

This chapter is quite long, so you're gonna need a bit of spare time when it comes to reading this. Took me hours to edit

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Monday ~

"Hey, Wille!" Erik's bright, chipper voice cut through the quiet of Wilhelm's room, his warm smile lighting up the place. It's rather bland in here at the moment, just two beds, a desk, a cupboard and a bathroom sink, which is situated weirdly right by the door. Wilhelm has his LEDs, but they are off at the moment, lying in a pile in between his bed and desk, looking rather sad. He used them back at the palace whenever things got just a bit too overwhelming, and he'd wrap them around himself, glowing red while he tried to calm himself. 

 

Wilhelm grinned back at his brother's slightly fuzzy face (Damn laggy school WiFi, how much do they charge to attend this school again?) Just who he needs to see after a long, tiresome day at an elite boarding school. "Hello, Erik," he replied with a smile, leaning his phone against the pencil holder sat on his desk, facing towards him.

 

The sun is setting right now, running away from the most humiliating day Wilhelm's probably ever experienced, and he's been in the public eye since he was five, almost everything he does is posted online. He faced humiliating moment after humiliating moment today, all from the exact. Same. Person. Wilhelm is this close to faking his own death - and framing Simon for it, though he's not sure if he wants people to think Simon could overpower and kill him, that wouldn't sit right with him when it's a lie - and run away to Australia, where he'll live out his days Simon free, drinking ice coffee in peace and quiet. That sounds quite lovely. Maybe he can even get a tan going!

 

He put in his other earbud, Erik's voice the only sound he can now hear. It doesn't matter how tough, how ugly, how scary anything has got, ever, in his entire 16 years of life, Wilhelm's always had his older brother with him, pushing him along or taking a break on the sidelines with him, a warm, comforting arm always at the ready. Yes, they have their arguments, their fallouts, their spats and disagreements, but who doesn't? Wilhelm knows they wouldn't be nearly as close as they are if they'd never argued. 

 

"How was your first day?" Erik asked. In the background of his video, Wilhelm can see the palace moving past: the window of Erik's bedroom, the hallway outside it, stopping in their first lounge area to sit down in a chair in front of a window. "And yes, I have time for a rant if that's what you need."

 

Wilhelm sighed heavily, the weight of the day bearing down on his shoulder. He shouldn't immediately dump all his problems with this school that Erik loves on his lap, like Simon, like August ... and ... yeah, that's about it. All his problems boil down to two people. Debatability two very infuriating, aggravating, and annoying people, though. He has reasons for his hate! Good reasons. Anyway. 

 

"It was pretty good. The teachers are nice, and so are most of the students. The subjects are interesting, slightly below me and fairly easy, but that's fine."

 

"Do you ask for extra work, like Mama and Papa asked for you to do? You can't be doing work you already know, your grades will be perfect and that'll be it."

 

Wilhelm nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I asked for extra work."

 

"Don't let it overwhelm you, Wille, remember to breathe and step back every now and then. I know you can get really caught up with your school work, and your goals, but that's not healthy - "

 

"It's fine, Erik. I'm staying on top of the work, not drowning in it," Wilhelm laughed easily, running a hand through his hair, watching himself in the camera, the nervous crack in his smile. He knows, alright? He's fine though.

 

Erik sighed, shaking his head at the screen with a serious expression. "I trust you know what's best for you, Wille. You are sixteen and don't need a babysitter, just promise me, no skipping meals to do work, okay? Promise me." His voice shook just the smallest amount, but Wilhelm caught it, tensing instantly. He doesn't want Erik worrying about him from the palace when he has important, Crown Prince things to do.

 

"I promise, Erik," Wilhelm replied quickly.

 

"Good. Now, anyone you got your eyes on, little brother?" A smirk appeared on Erik's face, an expression Wilhelm much preferred, and Erik leaned towards the camera threateningly. "In contrast, anyone you really want to throw eggs at? I don't care for the "everyone is so nice" bullshit," Erik put on a higher pitch voice for his imitation, pulling a ridiculous face that caused Wilhelm to crack up, grinning at his brother's shenanigans. "I want to know what's actually going on! Save your scripted lies for Mama and Papa."

 

Wilhelm took a deep breath and puffed it out harshly, leaning back in his chair. Simon is right at the front of his mind right now. He was annoying all day, honestly. 

 

"Well, you know Sara Eriksson?" Wilhelm began, crossing his arms on the desk and watching Erik sip on a cup of water he materialised out of thin air like the witch he is (and sounds like when he laughs).

 

"No," Erik replied casually. "Should I? Is she someone important? Does she have some kind of relationship with The Crown?" His voice grew steadily more and more distressed.

 

He now looks slightly panicked, but Wilhelm just rolled his eyes. "No, she doesn't have a relation to the throne. She makes those Queer comics that are big right now. The ones with the good representation I mentioned a while ago..." Wilhelm prompted, really just wanting to get to his point. He might burst if he can't start ranting about Simon ASAP.

 

"Oh right, yeah, yeah, I remember now - "

 

"Right, so, she has this little brother, Simon Eriksson - oh, ew, I'm going to throw up just saying his name," Wilhelm rubbed his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes while Erik cackled (like a witch, of course) in his ears, his smile bright and happy, ignorant to the fact Wilhelm was plotting murder in class today. "Shut up, Erik!” Wilhelm groaned, wanting to hit his brother on the shoulder to express his annoyance, but separated by far too much distance. “He’s so annoying!” Wilhelm continued passionately, throwing his hands in the air. “I have a group project to do with him that lasts the entire term. He and Felice are in my group, it’s actual hell. Yes, the Felice from my thirteen birthday, we've been friends for years - do not interrupt me right now, oh my God - if he got expelled, I wouldn’t be surprised, and I’d also scream in excitement. It would be like Christmas! He spent the entire day being a twat, throwing paper at me, making faces, being rude - and - and at lunch, he spilt his entire, overfilled cup of water onto me! And then just left!” Wilhelm cried, voice growing in both volume and annoyance, and maybe pitch but who’s paying that much attention?


Erik’s eyes just grew wider, smiles growing on his pressed-together lips as he wanted his brother to rant on and on about Simon Eriksson.


“And - and he’s gay, apparently, so August keeps telling us to go F each other and calling us boyfriends, so Simon threw one of my potatoes at him! He’s so stupid! I know he’s had to have dealt with homophobic stuff like that before, because, well... who hasn’t? But to keep feeding into August’s stupidity? He’s adding fuel to the fire on purpose. I swear to God, he’s doing it on purpose,” Wilhelm groaned, voice gaining speed. Erik is the only person he talks like this with, the only person he rambles to, the only person he allows himself to relax around, to be himself. Felice is wonderful, but it's different.

 

"First off, that's hilarious, you have this little spat fight going on with this guy. But what do you do to annoy him, Wille? Did you eat his cat or something?" Erik asked, smile still wide and slightly confused.

 

Wilhelm blinked. Uh oh. "Umm," he scratched the back of his neck, leaning back in his chair heavily, anger flickering into embarrassment. "You see, well - haha," he laughed nervously, running a hand back through his hair. This is so embarrassing, even thinking about it causes him to relive the moment, making the places on his body that Simon had pushed burn. 

 

"I was texting you, walking into the first period, and I tripped. Complete and utter accident. Technically Simon's fault, because his bag was sticking out and I wasn't looking where I was going. So tripped and accidently spilt my coffee on him."

 

Silence.

 

"You did wha - ahaha!" Erik cut himself off in a hysterical fit of laughter. Wilhelm looked on, unamused, cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

 

"It's really not that fun - " 

 

Erik laughed harder, leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, a fist against his mouth like he does while laughing really hard. "Pfffftt." He let out a loud raspberry against his fist. Wilhelm pursed his lips in disgust, glaring at his brother. His ears feel filthy now.

 

"Thanks for the support," Wilhelm deadpanned, deeply unamused.

 

"Nah, that's amazing. I can't believe - that's sooo embarrassing, Wille!" Erik cackled. He caught sight of Wilhelm's unamused expression and calmed himself slightly. "Sorry, I'm sorry." He took deep breaths, and Wilhelm just rolled his eyes.

 

"I was waiting for someone to shoot me, honestly. It was horrible. Anyway," Wilhelm moved on, shaking out his shoulder as if he could get rid of the memory that way. This is going to be his villain origin story, at his rate - oh wait, Simon's already stolen that idea. Bitch. "He didn't forgive me, even after I apologised profusely. He could see how bad I felt, but was still horrible to me! I hate him."

 

"Adorable." Erik just chuckled. "Remember, Wille, don't start any drama. You want media attention, but not for all reasons - oh, hey, Mama," Erik looked up from the screen suddenly, and Wilhelm watched as he plastered on his own PR smile. Wilhelm heard someone talking in the background quietly, probably his Mother. "I'm on call with Wilhelm. Do you want to say hi?" A pause. "Wilhelm, Mama is coming to say hi," Erik said right before the phone was taken from his grasp, he gave him a pointed look, a warning. Received.

 

"Hello, Wilhelm." Her voice is clipped and short, the tone of her voice impassive and empty, eyes boring into Wilhelm on the screen. "How was your first day, darling?" Wilhelm smiled again, his insides twitching with anxiety.

 

"It was great, Mama!" Wilhelm said, smiling wide. She stared back at him, her own polite smile resting on her lips. "The school is beautiful at all times of the day, especially during the morning, like you said it would be." He gushed on and on about the school, his extra work, the kind teachers, the well-behaved students, his welcoming cousin. The whole time she stood, unmoving from where she'd taken the phone from Erik, occasionally nodding or pushing her smile further up her cheeks, eyes remaining emotionless.

"Any students causing trouble?" Kristina asked, eyes never leaving the screen. Despite being miles away, Wilhelm had the urge to crawl back into a ball and cover himself from her gaze.

 

"No, Mama."

 

"Anything too hard?"

 

"No, Mama."

 

"And you are behaving well?"

 

"Yes, of course, Mama."

 

"No need for the attitude," her voice turned hard again, and Wilhelm flinched away from the screen, blood running cold.

 

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry," Wilhelm apologises quickly, picking at his cuticles. "Everything is fine. People are nice, I remember the manners I've been taught. It's all good. Perfect, even." He spoke rather fast and tried to slow down but found the words just pouring out of himself.

 

"Good." Her smile widened, and Wilhelm felt himself brighten, straightening his spine to be more in view of the camera. A weight lifted off his chest, he could breathe now. "I'm proud of you, Wilhelm. Please keep up the good work this year. I want you to join a club, or a sports team, or start doing some other activity besides studying at Hillerska. Having immaculate grades is good, but you won't be the only student like that, so you need to find another way to outshine the other students. I've ordered you a CeraVe Foaming Cleanser, which should help your skin problem," she said without transition, dumping the information onto him in heavy loads.

 

Wilhelm didn’t get the chance to reply, because someone knocked on his door. “Uh - “ Wilhelm reached over to his phone to turn off his mic and camera on the meeting, causing Kristina to frown but go silent. He felt his mood bending down again, cheeks burning at the reminder of his skin. Erik tells him there's nothing wrong with it, but his skin is fine, and Kristina doesn't like Wilhelm's skin. She loves Erik's. “Come in.”

 

His bedroom door opened to reveal Alexander, peeking inside with a small smile. 

 

“Uh, hey,” Wilhelm said awkwardly, while Kristina handed the phone back to Erik, who kept quiet, frowning slightly.

 

"What's he doing?" Erik asked Kristina above him.

 

"I am not sure. Tell him I say goodnight when he returns."  Wilmhe shouldn't have hung up without a word, he regrets it now. He hopes his Mother won't be mad about it.

 

Alexander's eyes flicked to Erik, and then Wilhelm, and back again. Wilhelm politely scooted in front of his phone more, back still spun around to face Alexander. “Hi," Alexander said. "I wasn't sure if you were aware, but dinner’s in five minutes."

 

Wilhelm nodded, glancing at his phone. He had completely forgotten about dinner, he would have not attended and instead studied had Alexander not come to tell him. His promise to Erik burned up. He's not skipping to starve himself, he just isn't hungry when he's trying to study, and sometimes he's in the zone, so a piece of gum can sustain him until he goes to sleep, and eats in the morning. It's fine.

 

“Alright, thank you.” Wilhelm smiled polietely. Alexander nodded, and then disappeared out the door silently, closing it behind him.

 

For a moment Wilhelm just sat there at his desk, staring at the closed door. He’s not sure he can emotionally deal with going to dinner, seeing August, and socialising, but it’ll seem weird if he doesn’t show up for the first dinner on a school day, won’t it? Yeah, it will. He wishes people wouldn't notice his absence. Do I have to join a club or something now, as well as keep my grades up? Wilhelm sighs, rubbing his face. I'll figure it out.

 

“Hey, Erik, sorry, I have to go to dinner now,” Wilhelm said after turning back on his mic and camera.

 

Erik’s frown cleared, frown lines disappearing back into his face. “Oh - okay. Remember what I’ve said though. Make peace with this Simon Eriksson, and don’t rile up August - “

 

“Yes, I remember, thank you.” Wilhelm interrupted, finger hovering over the end call button. “I’ll talk to you another time, bye, Erik.”

 

Erik sighs heavily but sits up straighter, ready to leave his chair. “I love you, Wille.”

 

“I love you too, but I gotta go,” Wilhelm replies shortly, twitching to end the call.

 

Enjoy school.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Remember to eat meals. Don’t skip to study.

 

Wilhelm felt his cheeks flush.   “Sorry, I really have to go. Bye.” His thumb tapped the end call button, and Erik’s face disappeared.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Seriously, he was giving Wille the stink eye for the entire day.”

 

“It was literally his fault Wille tripped in the first place. Everyone knows to move your bag under the desk so no one can stand or trip on it.”

 

“He dresses like an emo.”

 

Wilhelm isn’t sure when Alexander, Henry, and Walter transitioned from calling him Wilhelm to Wille. He doesn’t mind, but normally people call him Wilhelm until he tells them to call him Wille. Apart from August, he calls him many things Wilhelm doesn’t like to be called.

 

He approached the three boys slowly, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, which he knows gives off the vibe of being anxious - he knows body language rather well, thank you very much - so he immediately pulled his arms out.

 

“Hey guys,” Wilhelm said, running a hand through his hair, before grabbing the back of the chair which is next to Alexander, no one stopped him so he sat down.

 

Everyone chorused their “hi”’s, and then Henry blurted, “Simon. What do you think of him, because we’ve all decided, that if we had to sacrifice one of our classmates to Satan, we’d put that small guy in the summoning circle.”

 

Wilhelm laughs polietly, a fake reaction. He’s never trashed talked someone in public before, it’s too risky for him because anyone can take the information and tell that person, but Wilhelm and Simon are already miles away from the friendship line, not that he wants that for them anyway.

 

“I think he's already in kahoot with Satan. They'd just sit down for a cup of tea in my opinion,” Wilhelm replied.

 

Walter snorted with laughter. He's normally quite quiet during class. “I heard a rumour that you too are secretly dating, and just acting like you hate each other to avoid more questions.” He said, leaning over the table slightly.

 

Wilhelm’s head snapped to the side, glaring at August’s side profile, oblivious to the fire in Wilhelm’s eyes. “We’re not,” He said as lightly as possible, grinding his jaw, still glowering at August, who was speaking to Vincent, entirely unaware of his raging cousin.

 

“Honestly, I thought so,” Henry interjected. “I mean, the only thing you did that looked romantic was when he whispered in your ear while your face was bright red during lunch.”

 

Wilhelm blinked, looking back at Henry sharply, trying to tame the anger in his gut. “He said "it’s not very pleasant, is it Wilhelm?", ” Wilhelm repeated quickly. Wow, when did I memorise that? But he can remember the moment in 4k quality. Simon’s breath on his ear, his neck, the heat radiating off his body, his curly hair brushing Wilhelm's nose, smelling of oranges and smoke. 

 

Henry snorted, dragging Wilhelm out of his memories. “Wow, he’s so stubborn. What a dick wad.”

 

“Yup. And I have group work to do with him,” Wilhelm remembered with a heavy sigh. He's actually not going to survive this term.

 

“Oh yeah! Ha! Have fun with that one!” Henry teased, and Wilhelm playfully glared at him. “I think he’ll be dead by the end of term. I’m not even in his group and I already want to give him a swift slap on the face,” Henry mimed slapping the air in front of him with the ends of his fingers, causing the other boys to chuckle their agreement.

 

“Good evening,” the Housefather seemed to materialise at the end of the table, and everyone turned to face him, successfully ending their hate session on Simon. Where is Simon? Wilhelm realised, looking around the table one last time. He must be a non-border, which explains why I didn't see him at breakfast either. “Shall we say grace, boys?”

 

~ Tuesday ~

 

Wilhelm walked with Felice to class, sipping a fresh iced coffee. Honestly, the temptation to just dump it all over Simon’s head is very strong, because, well, revenge, but Erik’s words ring in his head like a tattooed reminder. “Don’t start drama”. Wilhelm really wasn’t trying to, he was going to forget about it after he apologised, Simon’s the one who kept on going, who's holding the grudge, not Wilhelm.

 

“ - really pushy about me doing horse riding this year,” Felice is saying, speaking about her Mother and her pressure on Felice. “But I really didn’t want to. Everyone keeps telling me to restart all my learnings and admit I’m scared of the horses, so that the horse may enjoy it again, but it’s like they don’t understand. I mean, can someone with arachnophobia get over that and go to a spider house to have tea with some tarantulas? I didn't fucking think so.”

 

Wilhelm shrugged in reply.

 

“Actually, I don’t know… Can you get over a phobia?” Felice frowned at the ground in front of her, small pools of water dotting the school from the rain that had during the cool night. 

 

“You can get over phobias. You develop most phobias before you turn ten, and it’s normal to lose phobias between then and your 20s,” Wilhelm explained absentmindedly. “But I get where you’re coming from. It’s a good thing you stuck up for yourself.”

 

Felice nodded, unphased by his spontaneous facts. “Yeah, Mama was getting on my nerves. Anyway, when did you stop riding?” She asked, moving the topic from her to Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm took another sip of his coffee, feeling more and more awake with each warming mouthful he could trace into his stomach, the caffeine buzzing in his veins and brain. “Beginning of last year,” Wilhelm recalled. “I kept seeing people making posts about me being unlabelled and riding horses for the ... feeling, if you get what I mean. So Stupid. It made me uncomfortable and self-conscious, so I quit. Didn’t enjoy it much in the first place anyway,” Wilhelm said with a shrug.

 

Felice tuts in disappointment. “Yeah, the internet is a horrible place. People are so weird. If it’s weird for a queer guy to ride a horse then it should be weird for anyone too. It’s just a sport.” Felice sighs, shaking her head. 

 

Wilhelm silently agrees, taking another sip of his coffee, his other hand swinging freely at his side, shoulder bag resting over his hip. 

 

This morning, the path to their maths class is free of a certain month-named cat caller, so they made it to their class with only their chosen, comfortable conversation filling the peaceful silence. It’s easy talking with Felice, Wilhelm decides, that if he can’t carry on after finishing a sentence, she knows what to say. Wilhelm knows she understands that even when he’s not staring at her as they talk, or if he only has one-word answers, that's if he's is paying attention, but it's just nice to not have all his senses set on one person, muscles locked as he focuses on every word to formalise a reply.

 

Wilhelm didn’t look away from his surroundings once as they entered the classroom, but Simon wasn’t there yet - he refuses to make that rookie mistake again, not with his academic record. Last night, Wilhelm made the mistake of Googling himself, just to see if anything about his first day had been posted, and he immediately wanted to go call these reporters to shred them to pieces with a blunt fork. 

 

“Prince Wilhelm FALLS Into Lap Of Fellow Gay Student Simon Eriksson!”

 

“Zoom In On Prince Wilhelm’s Reaction To Simon Eriksson Yelling At Him!”

 

“Prince Wilhelm's Boarding School Bae Is A Baddie?!” 

 

“10 Facts You DIDN’T KNOW About Prince Wilhelm’s Love Life With Simon Eriksson!”

 

Because, what the hell? He’s just grateful his Mother didn’t bring it up in their phone call last night, but he did get a text this morning from Minou - a member of their PR team - reminding him to walk confidently (yes, the message was in italics, how she did that he's not sure but he got the silent implications) and to smile at other students. 

 

Wilhelm sat down at the same desk as yesterday, Felice next to him, tucking his own bag under the desk. See how hard that was Simon? Took me a whole 3 seconds. God, he so did that on purpose.

 

Stella and Fredrika walked in after them, clinging to each other's arms and laughing, their face's close as they sat together

 

“Is your roommate, Madi, still sick?” Wilhelm asked, turning to Felice as he took out his finished homework. Felice frowned at his papers, her own hands empty.

 

“Yeah, she is,” she answered, distracted, and then gestured to the paper. “You know we didn’t actually have to do that and hand it in today. It was optional.” Felice told him, looking vaguely amused.

 

Wilhelm looked down at the four, double-sided pages of maths questions he’d been doing until 11:30 last night. Wilhelm is aware of what the instructions were, but he wants Mr Englud to like him, and to be impressed by his work ethic. His Mother said he can’t make a mistake by doing too much work, the teachers may have more to mark, but at least they’ll see you really care about your learning as you’re going above and beyond. And Wilhelm strives to go above and beyond.

 

“Yes, I know. I was bored and it was easy,” Wilhelm lied, grabbing his drink off his desk and taking a sip to finish his sentence. 

 

Felice shrugged back easily, smiling. “I don’t get you. Where did this school motivation come from?” While Wilhelm and Felice kept in contact, the school talks were normally limited to their latest - in some cases, first - kisses, any drama they’d seen or been a part of, and when they were free to try and create a hangout, but they were never available at the same time. Felice’s school was halfway across Sweden, and Wilhelm was back in Stockholm.

 

Wilhelm looked away from Felice for a moment as his eyes caught movement from the doorway. Satan's best friend walked in. Simon’s brown eyes fell on Wilhelm and he felt his stomach drop. Simon scowled at him, frowning, mouth pressing downwards even though Wilhelm hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even pulled a face, or made a rude gesture, he just looked at him. Apparently, that’s an aggravating motive now.

 

“Uh - ” Wilhelm turns back to Felice, who is waiting with a raised brow, eyes flicking between Simon and Wilhelm. “I just realised I couldn’t go through school slacking, especially as a Prince.” He explained, repeating a version of his rehearsed line. “Besides, school’s not that bad, and I have nothing else I’d rather be doing. Studying is actually fun if you don’t overthink it. Just music, a snack, and the knowledge.” Wilhelm blabbered on, not really thinking about what he was saying, hyper-aware of Simon who just sat at the desk in front of Wilhelm, next to Alexander. He’s sitting right in front of Wilhelm, long curly hair pulled back into space buns. Wilhelm won’t tell him, ever, he’s barely allowing himself to think it, but his hair looks really good, a few stray curls floating around the nape of his neck, bouncing as he shuffles around.

 

Felice narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re weird. No one likes studying that much,” she argued. “I mean, of course I care about my grades - If my report doesn’t have straight A’s you’ll know to find me in a ditch somewhere - but to call studying fun … That’s very quirky of you, Wille,” Felice said with a laugh, shaking her head at him.

 

Wilhelm smiled respectfully in response. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called quirky before for enjoying studying. Plenty of people like to study,” he reasoned, flicking his pencil between his thumb and index finger anxiously, eyes glancing back to Simon, half expecting him to whirl around and say something rude and unnecessary. Wilhelm is on his toes. 

 

Felice laughed brightly, “okay then, word. Alexander, do you think studying is fun?” 

 

Wilhlem turned to look at the other boys. Simon is face down on his desk, and Wilhelm can see his eyes are closed, earplugs shoved into his ears, arms limp on his lap. He looks like hasn’t slept, but still woke up early to make his hair nice. 

 

“Do I think studying is fun ?” Alexander repeated, turning in his seat to face Wilhelm and Felice. “Um, no. I think it’s necessary, but not fun.” 

 

Henry, sitting at the desk next to Wilhelm, interjected himself into the conversation. “Have you ever thought about how we can make rockets, AI, Grammarly, fake meat and plastic surgery, but we haven’t invented a pill with all the information we learn at school? Or a chip that we can plant in our brains?”

 

From next to Henry, Walter stared at him, looking like everyone else with raised eyebrows and amused smiles. “ What ?”

 

Henry turned to Walter, and then the other three. “So we don’t have to study, I mean. Sorry, I didn't finish my train of thought. Do you get what I mean?”

 

“I understand what you mean,” Walter said, all too eagerly. 

 

Henry turned back to him with a grin. “ Thank you.”

 

“But that takes away the fun of studying for Wilhelm,” Simon said suddenly, still dead on his desk. Shame, Wilhelm was hoping he had indeed passed quietly in his sleep, but Simon seems like the kind of guy to die really dramatically and cause a lot of inconvenience for other people just because he can.

 

Everyone turned to look at him, but he didn’t look back, eyes closed, looking almost peaceful. 

 

“I mean… yeah,” Wilhelm agreed, finding himself bubbling with the urge to throw something at Simon, to interrupt his peaceful doze, even though he’s clearly very aware of what's going on. Maybe he’s doing this thing Wilhelm does where he wears his earplugs have no music so he can hear all the gossip. That wouldn’t surprise him.

 

The six were jolted from their conversation when the classroom door shut, and they all scrambled to their feet to stand behind their desks. Apart from Simon, who stayed on his desk, not bothering to move a muscle, which is extremely disrespectful to the teacher, and he sticks out like a sore thumb in his dark, baggy clothes, looking like he melted onto the desk.

 

“Good morning, Mr Englud,” the class chorused like a bunch of year 3 students at assembly.

 

“Good morning. Please take your seats,” Mr Englund said after a painful three second pause. There was the communal screeching as everyone dragged their chairs out, and then pulled them back in underneath themselves, sitting quietly.

 

Wilhelm noted that Simon’s earplugs are still in his ears, not even covered by his hair, something Wilhelm see’s other long haired students doing frequently.

 

“Did anyone do the optional homework I set yesterday?” Mr Englund asked as he took a seat behind his desk heavily.

 

Wilhelm put up his hand instantly, nearly pulling a muscle, and everyone turned to look at him again. He clenched his jaw and only looked at Mr Englund. Simon sat up, and turned around, rolling his eyes so hard Wilhelm thought they might never come back down. Wilhelm ground his teeth and didn’t look back at Simon.

 

“Wilhelm! Alright, please bring it here,” Mr Englund said, not managing to suppress the surprise in his voice. Suck on that, Sir. A+ student coming your way.

 

Wilhelm stood up and made his way to the front, carefully avoiding the leg Simon stuck out as he passed, not even looking back to glare at him. He’s above him. He’s not starting drama. Nah-uh.

 

He handed the sheets to the teacher, who took them with a nod and a quiet praise, before sending him back to his seat.

 

The class moved on, and Mr Englund stood up to write some formulas on the board, before handing out more sheets of work for them to do.

 

Wilhelm got down to work right away, while Felice grumbled softly, organising all her stationary and shoving some of Wilhelm stuff back onto his side of the desk. 

 

Wilhelm had managed to power through three questions before he was rudely, and not so surprisingly interrupted by Simon.

 

The other boy scooched his chair back a few inches until it hit Wilhelm’s desk, jolting his careful calculations and leaving a streak of lead on his work. Wilhelm continued to ignore him, only saying, “you no longer smell like coffee,” as a mere acknowledgement of him, and regretting it, because he’s already fallen back to Simon’s low level of pettiness.

 

Simon shoved his chair into his desk again, making Wilhelm pencil leave another streak of lead across his page, bigger this time.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm hissed in annoyance into the quiet class, looking up to meet his cold, dead gaze. “What do you want now?”

 

Simon squinted at him, before whispering “did you fucking shit talk me, you shit?”

 

Wilhelm blinked, caught slightly off guard before blanking his face of emotions, Simon’s eyes analysing and judgemental. He lent back in his chair, hand hovering over his eraser. He glanced over Simon’s shoulder at Mr Englund, who was watching with a frown. “Simon, go away. You’re going to get us in trouble. Again .” The amount of times Wilhelm and Simon have been called out for talking is ridiculous, and it’s only the second day! This guy is single handedly ruining Wilhelm’s chances of having teachers like him. He doesn’t seem to care what they think of himself though, which is both admirable and totally, utterly, completely stupid.

 

“Did you?” Simon didn’t budge his chair, leaning closer to Wilhelm, voice barely at whispering level.

 

Wilhelm clenched his jaw. Yup, he regrets trash talking Simon yesterday, not even 24 hours later and it’s come around to bite him in the butt. “No, why would I?” He lied quickly. “Now go away. Please .” 

 

From next to Wilhelm, Felice sighed, flicking some of her curly hair over her shoulder. 

 

Simon had a silent staring contest with Wilhelm, not displaying any expressions on his tanned face and his dark eyes, the brown swirling angrily, unblinking.

 

“Alexander fucking told me,” Simon whispered calmly, tilting his head to the side slightly, causing one of his tight curls to fall across his face. He blew a puff of air out the corner of his mouth to move it off his face. Wilhelm gulped and internally swore. That makes sense, Alexander was the only person who wasn't smack talking Simon yesterday. Wilhelm should've been paying more attention.

 

He turned his gaze to Alexander, who glared at Simon. “Simon, shut the fuck up,” Alexander whispred angrily. “We had a deal .”

 

“ "Simon shut the fuck up" “, Simon mimicked immaturely, throwing a look at Alexander, who looked to physically recoil from his gaze. Wilhelm just wonders when they made this deal, over text? What the hell Alexander.

 

Mr Englund cleared his throat. “Simon, Wilhelm, and Alexander, can you wait five minutes to have this conversation? This is silent learning time.”

 

Simon fully turned back to the front, and Wilhelm kicked his chair leg from under the table, jolting Simon forwards a centimetre. Simon shoved his chair right back, interrupting Wilhelm not even a second later.

 

Fuck off, he thought, but didn’t say. Wilhelm glared at Alexander’s back, and then Simon’s back. He hopes they can feel the fire burning in his stomach right now, he hopes they catch fire and burn, quietly though, because he's trying to learn.

 

Wilhelm lent forwards, closer to Simon, lips brushing the shell of his ear as he whispered “You deserved to be trash talked anyway. You started all of this,” before dropping back to his seat, watching Simon stiffen at the close proximity.

 

Simon turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “Don’t even try that, Wilhelm . You started it,” Simon argued, still not moving his chair from where it’s rammed into Wilhelm’s desk, his own worksheet remains untouched, and Wilhelm’s has pencil streaks.

 

“Simon, go away,” Felice whispered suddenly, voice harsh and firm, Wilhelm almost forgot she was sitting next to him, and maybe he jumped just a little bit. Whoops. He feels bad for interupting her learning, but it's Simon's fault, he's bold, shameless, confrontainoual - it’s easy to get distracted by him, which is infuriating.

 

“You left your bag in the middle of the pathway!” Wilhelm whispered back to him, leaning towards Simon again his voice wouldn’t carry to Mr Englund, who was marking his work with a natural frown.

 

“You should have been looking where you were going.” Simon hissed in retaliation, craning his neck down so they are eye to eye, inches between their noses. Wilhelm can see the amusement dancing in Simon's eyes.

 

“You walk around the school with your head down, hypocrite,” Wilhelm growled.

 

“Not when going into class.”

 

“No one leaves their bag in the middle of the path.”

 

“It’s not a path. We weren’t outside.”

 

“That literally doesn’t matter , Simon,” Wilhelm groaned - 

 

“Boys. I will have to separate you if you don’t stop. You are distracting everyone around you right now,” Mr Englund snapped harshly from the front, voice raised, causing everyone to turn and stare at them.

 

“Sorry, sir.” Wilhelm said instantly, straightening back in his chair. Please separate us. Why did he even sit there?

 

Simon turned back to the front, and actually shuffled his chair forwards, loudly, and Wilhelm sighed in relief, forcing his gaze from Simon’s hair to his work. There his attention stayed, ignoring the small argument that boiled in between Simon and Alexander, and the whispering from behind him about himself and Simon’s relationship. He did his work and continued to stare at it until the teacher let them move on.

 

~ ~ ~

 

It was a great feeling when 10 minutes into their next class, Simon hadn’t come into the room. The desk next to Alexander remained empty. Wilhelm watched the doorway, and the window, but he didn’t see a tanned boy with space buns pass. He grinned to himself as another 10 minutes passed and he still wasn’t there. First peaceful class of the year, and he’s gonna saviour it like it's his last. He’s never been so thankful for someone to be wagging.

 

It was English, so he spent the entire period reading Crisis, and writing notes in his notebook, Felice doing a similar thing, occasionally asking if he was on some page and then adding her own comment that wouldn’t fit in a school presentation.

 

But at lunch Simon was there. When Wilhelm dragged himself through the door silently, trying to avoid August in front of him who doesn’t know he’s there, he spotted Simon right away, sitting at the table, waiting to be allowed to eat (a rule which Wilhelm thinks is blatantly stupid, because what kind of ageism is it to allow the elder to eat first, especially at a buffet, where food is plenteous?)

 

Wilhelm wandered behind August until he was sitting down, and then beelined over to Simon, wisely sitting across the table instead of next to him so he wouldn’t fall victim to another pair of soggy boxers. 

 

Simon looked up at him and sighed, rolling his eyes again, before looking back to his phone screen, typing out some message at lightning speed. Again, all Wilhelm did was look at him to get scoffed at.

 

“Did you skip English?” Wilhelm asked the obvious, and felt stupid for it. He didn’t back down though, refusing to look even stupider in front of this guy. He straightened his spine and collapsed his hands in his lap.

 

“No, I was in the class.” Simon replied without looking up, and Wilhelm felt stupid again.

 

“Oh…” Wilhelm frowned, trying to mentalize the classroom as the others sat down around the table.

 

Simon smirked, eyes flicking up to pierce through Wilhelm, watching the blond trying to remember. He cocked his head to the side slowly, amusement flickering onto his face. “Wow. You really help support that dumb blond stereotype, you know that right?” Simon quipped, smirking at him.

 

Wilhelm gaze flicked back to Simon, and he glared. “You did skip.”

 

“Mmmhmm.”

 

“Why?”

 

Simon sat up, sighing again. His gaze darted down the table at August, who wasn't paying attention to them.

 

“What were you doing?”

 

Simon’s eyes snapped back to his, hard and filled with mirth. “Your Mother,” he replied instantly.

 

Wilhelm gave him the most unamused look he could manage. “Really? You’re acting like a year 7, pre pubescent boy right now, Simon,” Wilhelm informed him honestly.

 

“Just giving you a taste of what I get when talking to you.”

 

Wilhelm bristled, shuffling in his chair. That is not the aesthetic he’s trying to fill. “Shut up. Why’d you skip?” He pressed, ignoring the heat burning in his stomach, migrating to his cheeks quickly.

 

“You know, just because you think you know everything, doesn’t mean you need to know everything,” Simon told Wilhelm, giving him a deadpanned look as he spoke, eyes floating back to his phone as if he’s done with this conversation, which, no . He does not get the final word. Not when he's talking to Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm pushed his shoulders back, trying to look unbothered and calm. “I don’t think I know everything, excuse you.”

 

“You raise your hand every single time the teacher says a sentence ending with a question mark.”

 

“So? I know the answers for school - this - that's not even the subject - you know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care where you were, I don’t care that you’ve skipped, that you’ll get in trouble, that I trash talked you or that you’ll fail school,” Wilhelm said definitely, but his words lacked the punch Simon’s had, because of course Wilhelm doesn’t care, Simon already knows that, so it means nothing.

 

Simon nodded, pushing out his full lips at the same time, eyes still on his phone, which is just so annoying. “That’s nice Wilhelm. Now please shut up. Your high pitched voice is making me deaf.” 

 

Wilhelm slammed his mouth shut and chanted in his mind, don’t make drama don’t make drama.

 

~ Wednesday ~

 

Wilhelm did his best to ignore Simon from that day, onto the next. He vowed to never speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary and there so zero way to avoid it. Wilhelm promised himself he would make new friends that didn’t run in any circles with Simon so he could avoid him as much as possible, not that Simon had any friends. It's hard when Simon is in all his classes and insits on sitting somwhere close enough to him to that he can be annoying.

 

He would get to lunch as fast as possible to get a seat somewhere furthest from Simon - which is unlikely to happen, as teachers want to talk after class, asking him if he wants extra homework, if he wants work from a higher level, how he’s settling in, blah blah blah.

 

“Wilhelm.”

 

Wednesday rolled around, and Simon was just as annoying as ever. Annoying and persistent. Wilhelm needs to get a restraining order if he’s going to survive. Maybe that’s too generous … murder is beginning to sound fun.

 

Wilhlem replied with silence.

 

A small paper ball hit him in the back of his head, and he may have jumped an inch. He didn’t throw the ball back, or read what was surely a rude message inside. He kept his eyes focused on his notebook, and then the board, trying to absorb everything. 

 

Wilhelm was halfway through writing down a bullet point, when his focus was interrupted by another, slightly larger paper ball, thrown when the teacher's back was turned. That one actually hurt.

 

Wilhelm clenched his jaw so hard he felt it pop, tensing all his muscles, refusing to cave into Simon’s annoying ways. No. He refuses to associate with him. He heard more paper ripping up behind him, being scrunched, he braced for impact right before another ball flew over his head and landed on his desk. Wilhelm swept it onto the floor calmly.

 

“Stop ignoring me you prick.” 

 

Simon knows what annoys Wilhelm, he must know that Wilhelm is dying to turn around and snap how he didn't initiate this conversation, that Simon started it, that he’s a prick. He didn’t reply. He won’t cave.

 

“Wiiiilheeellmm.” 

 

Wille nawed on his lip, and Felice glanced at him with a slightly concerned expression, watching as he wrote a note so harshly he tore his paper. Fuck . He turned the page, smoothed it with his hand aggressively, and began writing again.

 

“Oi.” 

 

Don’t reply.

 

“Princey.”

 

Oh my God, he’s infuriating. 

 

“Wille Billy.”

 

He’s worse than August.

 

“Don’t make me call you sweetheart .”

 

Wilhelm swung around in his chair, glaring at Simon, who’s lunging over his desk to whisper at Wilhelm. “What do you want, Simon?” He already regrets turning around, because the satisfied smirk on Simon’s face makes him want to shove him off his chair.

 

“Your t-shirts insides out.” Simon whispered with a grin, eyes flicking to Wilhelm’s collar, and back to his eyes in a smooth motion. “Sweetheart.”

 

Wilhelm narrowed his eyes, refusing to cave. No. He checked his reflection before he left, his shirt is in the right way. He glared at Simon as hard as he could, teeth beginning to hurt from how hard he’s holding his mouth shut.

 

“Simon, can you answer this question, please?” Miss Clear asked, and Simon’s gaze flicked to the teacher, and the whtieboard, covered with different places names and how they connect.

 

Wilhelm turned in his seat, looking at the spot next to New Zealand, ready for it's fact on how it relates to London.

 

When Simon didn’t immediately answer, Wilhelm turned around in his chair to frown at him, finding his mouth half agape, an amused smirk gone. Wilhelm just couldn’t help but smirk at him, and his eyes met Wilhelm for a second, and Wilhelm saw the blatant distress flare in his pupils. But Wilhelm let him suffer, turning to face the front with a satisfied smile, covering his mouth with his hand to hide it.

 

“You should be paying attention, and taking notes, Simon,” Miss Clear scolded Simon. “Can anyone else answer?”

 

Wilhelm hand shot up, away from his mouth, and he could practically feel Simon’s gaze burning a hole through the back of his head. He welcomed it, let it feed his good mood.

 

“Yes, Wilhelm?” 

 

“Britian colizined New Zealand in the 1800's, while under the rein of Queen Victoria.”

 

“Correct. Simon, please pay attention now.”

 

Simon replied, and Wilhelm jaw dropped, “Miss, Wilhelm was distracting me.”

 

It took everything in Wilhelm to not scream in everyone's faces, because it’s so obvious Simon is distracting him, it’s so obvious, everyone sees it, everyone but Miss Clear, there slightly daft geography teacher who is simultaneously teaching them history.

 

She turned around to face the class, squinted eyes flicking between the two boys. Wilhelm didn’t dare to see Simon’s expression, surely faking innocence. 

 

“Both of you need to focus, or you won’t pass your first term.” And she turned back to the board. “Any more distractions from either of you, and you get detention. it's time to man up and pay attention. Now, can anyone tell me the answer to this equation?”

 

Wilhelm ground his teeth into ashes, clenching his fists under the desk, gaze tinted red. The nerve of this boy, just when Wilhelm thinks its the worst it’ll get with him, he manages to find another way to absolutely drive Wilhelm up the walls.

 

~ ~ ~

 

That afternoon Wilhelm was taking a relaxing walk around the grounds by himself, skipping dinner and August, and Henry, and Vincent, and Alexander. He needs a break from everyone, to think over … Well, everything.

 

He made his way to the lake, listening to his favourite playlist as the sun set on Hillerska. He has about three tons of homework he’ll do tonight, his mind is buzzing with thoughts, so he knows he won’t be sleeping, so instead of lying in bed crying about it, he’ll work on his good grades, for his Mother. 

 

Wilhelm stuffed his fingers into the pockets of his coat, smiling at the shining lake. School isn’t what he was expecting: there’s the ass Simon, the angel Felice, the painfully oblivious teachers and the worldpools of betrayal and gossip that flit through the students. And the sickness going around the school, it claimed Walter this afternoon, he was sent out to the classroom for coughing, and didn’t show up during Workies.

 

He sighed in and out the fresh evening air. It froze his throat in the most refreshing way, and he smiled. The sun is warm despite the growing distance between it and Wilhelm, but he’s at peace with that: it’ll be back tomorrow to warm him again.

 

Maybe that's why I dislike Simon so much, I never know what to expect with him. He interrupts my schedules and ploughs through my norms. Wilhelm sighed again, this time in annoyance. The sun melted away fully as thoughts of Simon began to plague Wilhelm. What was that, three minutes of peace before he returned to the front of his mind? 

 

He took one final look across the lake, before setting back towards Forest Ridge, stomping over twigs and grass and gravel. Wilhelm glanced at his phone, pleased that dinner will be over. He doesn’t skip meals on purpose very often, a lot of the time, he’ll be so engrossed in studying he won’t even notice it’s no longer 10 am, but 7 pm. It doesn’t bother him, he’s rarely hungry anyway, living off coffee and gum. Wilhelm knows its unhealthy, really, to skip meals, but it doesn’t seem to have fucked with him at all, if anything it’s usefull, allowing him more time to study.

 

Just when Wilhelm's thoughts were straying from the space bun bearing boy, he freaking appeared .

 

Wilhelm stopped like someone had paused all his muscles, staring at Simon’s back. He’s standing by the bus stop, leaning on the outer wall with his bag at his feet, staring down at his phone which is illuminating his face, a cigarette held between two fingers. A trail of smoke left his mouth, melting into the ether smoothly and silently.

 

Oh . He doesn’t smell like just any smoke, Simon’s hair smells of oranges and cigarette smoke. Why is he smoking?

 

Before Wilhelm could tell himself, hey Wille, maybe don’t go interrupt the angry and spontaneous Simon, who is smoking and hasn’t seen you yet, he was marching across the grounds towards the other boy.

 

“What are you doing?” Wilhelm voice cut through the air as he turned off his music, moving to stand in front of Simon. “And don’t say your mum again.”

 

Simon’s sharp gaze snapped up to Wilhelm right as he blew out another puff of smoke, and it hit Wilhelm right in the face. It smells horrible, and made his eyes burn, but Simon looked as relaxed as ever, so he forced himself to not wince or wrinkled his nose into his face.

 

Simon blinked at him once, twice, looking at his cigarette, and then at Wilhelm. “I’m curing cancer,” he deadpanned. “Clearly. Can’t you see that? Jesus, and you call yourself smart.”

 

Wilhelm rolled his eyes at Simon. “Ha ha. You really find yourself so amusing.”

 

Simon snorted, “hypocrite.” He took another drag of his cigarette, Wilhelm watched as he held his breath for a few seconds, not breaking eye contact with Wilhelm the entire time, and purposefully blowing it at Wilhelm, making a hole with his lips and blowing it at his face. Wilhelm wrinkled his nose and waved a hand in front of his face, suppressing the urge to hold his breath completely.

 

Simon looked Wilhelm up and down, and Wilhelm shivered from the cold, crossing his arms across his chest stiffly. 

 

Thankfully, Simon prevented a growing awkward silence with another one of his unwanted opinoins. “You need to loosen up. Here,” He offered Wilhelm the cigarette, something flickering behind the normal coldness of his gaze. Probably from the cigarette. 

 

Wilhelm feels like this is more than just an offering, but a test: if he declines, he’s a loser, if he accepts, he’s on loser level with Simon. Decisions decisions. Wilhelm’s never smoked before, he’s only gotten black out drunk, and made foolish decisions. But this is different, it's one cigarette, outside, with Simon. Wilhelm might not trust Simon, but he at least hopes he has the deceny to not ditch someone after he gets them high. One cigarette won't take him to the moon though. He misses his peaceful stroll. 

 

Simon waited another beat, before he shrugged, bringing it towards his own pink lips, before Wilhelm snatched it from his grasp. It's thin in his grip, strangely warm and feels like he could squeeze too hard and dent it. Simon watched, eyes following the cigarette, as Wilhelm parted his lips and put the hot paper there, sucking air in.

 

It feels exactly like what it is. It dries out his mouth, feeling like smoke that is actually thicker than normal air is, biting at the back of his throat.

 

Wilhelm exhaled sharply, watching a single puff of smoke shoot out, like a sick dragon. He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand as he hacked out harsh breaths, swallowing, trying to rid his lungs of the filth and his mouth of the taste.

 

Simon watched him, an amused smirk growing on his cheeks. “Wow. That was almost as smooth as you falling on me with coffee. Almost, but not quite.” 

 

Wilhelm swallowed harshly, shaking his head. Simon took the cigarette, taking another drag from it. “Ew. Why do you smoke that? It tastes like ass,” Wilhelm grumbled, wiping his mouth and exhaling again. It still feels like the smoke is circulating his lungs. It probably is. He just killed several of the cells inside his lungs and they’ll never grow back.

 

Simon shrugged, taking in a longer inhale, closing his eyes as he held it in his lungs. Then it hit Wilhelm - both a shock of dizziness and realisation: They are having a vaguely civil interaction, because Simon’s smoking, because he hasn’t started an argument, because he may be slightly high. He squinted at Simon’s pupils, but it’s too dark outside, and Simon’s eyes are too brown to tell if his pupils are blown. Wilhelm has no idea what that is, but it's made him feel dizzy, and he leans on the shed next to Simon, guessing that that is probably the reason he’s leaning on it.

 

“You know, smoking a single cigarette can take 11 years off of your life,” Wilhelm recounted from his health classes. “It’s really, really bad for you. You could get lung cancer, and die. This could kill you.”

 

Simon stared at him for a moment, calculating, before he reached into his pocket and took out a packet of cigarettes, the bright, warning packaging slightly crumbled from use. He offered it to Wilhelm silently, still staring at him with those dark, analyzing eyes. 

 

Wilhelm frowned at him, looking down at the packet held between his long, thin, ring bearing fingers. Wilhelm slowly took it from Simon, his warm fingertips brushing against Simon's cold ones. He slid the middle compartment out to look at the conents, finding an entirely empty cardboard compartment, not a single cigarette left in there.

 

“I don’t care,” Simon stated calmly, inhaling against his cigarette without a reaction, the butt of the cigarette fizzling with sparks as he did so, glowing in the dimming light. Wilhelm won't say it aloud, but the soft glow of the burning drug is rather pretty in the evening light. It's like the foxglove flower, it's beautiful, with the soft, pastal pink and purple petals that hang delicatetly, but it's extremely poisonous, even inhaling the pollen from it can cause heart problems or death. “I’m okay right now.” Simon tapped the end of the cigarette, causing ashes to float to the ground carefully.

 

Wilhelm watched him for a moment in the growing darkness. That doesn’t sit right with him at all, the lack of self care, the lack of self preservation. You're okay now, yeah, but wait ten or twenty years when you can't breath without coughing. When Simon moved it back towards his lips, Wilhelm took it from him quickly. “You really shouldn't smoke. Did you smoke the entire packet yourself?”

 

Simon narrowed his eyes on him dangerously. Wilhelm didn't back down, staring back at Simon, the cigarette warm between his fingers, heart pattering soft against his ribs and in his ear. “You better not stomp that out, its the only thing stopping me from pissing you off even more.” 

 

Wilhelm had that exact intention, and the strange, placid anger in Simon’s expression stopped him. He instead brought the cigarette to his own mouth, sucking the thick air in again. Same result. It was barely in his lungs when he exhaled it again, coughing a few times even when he tried to not. Yeah, no.

 

“You’re smoking it wrong,” Simon told him slowly, voice at a slower, quiter pace than Wilhelm is used to.

 

“How - how do you smoke wrong?” Wilhelm asked, trying to not double over in front of Simon while his lungs collapse in his chest. The test failed, he's on loser level with Simon, and might even be lower.

 

“You’re sucking. You need to inhale, hold it, and then let it out. Then you’ll start getting high,” Simon explained, voice at an even volume the entire time.

 

“I know that,” Wilhelm grumbled at him, cheeks heating awkwardly. So maybe he was smoking wrong, it doesn’t matter, he wasn’t doing it to get high. But he still tried again. He didn’t suck like he was gasping for breath like before, he instead exhaled all the air in his lungs, and then inhaled around the cigarette. Well, that burnt significantly less, Wilhelm thought. He held in the air, probably looking ridiculous, before blowing it out slowly, as Simon had done. It fanned out against Simon’s face, and he didn’t react, blinking through it lazily.

 

Wilhelm can practically feel the dying cells inside his lungs. His throat, mouth, and lungs feel coated in some kind of filth that he can’t get rid of, no matter how much he exhales. 

 

Simon nodded, face staying blank. His eyes trailed away from Wilhelm, a distant look clouding his expression, eyes dusted over like he’s just entered a new reality. Is he high right now? Wilhelm wondered, rolling the warm paper between his fingers.

 

“Simon?”

 

The other boy didn’t reply, staring past Wilhelm's head, unblinking, deep in thought with his frowns slightly scrunched.

 

“Simon, why do you hate me so much?” Wilhelm asked, feeling oddly comfortable with doing so in Simon’s out of mind state.

 

Simon’s eyes shot back to his, and any thoughts of him being high evaporated at the fire pooling in his brown eyes. His eyes slid from Wilhelm’s head, to his feet, and back again, before he scoffed. Wilhelm wanted to cower under his judging gaze.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t understand. “Because of how I look?” He questioned, wondering if his three drags from the cigarette have ruined his mind, and he’s now missing the social cues and his tone. He's normally so good at reading body language, but all he's getting from Simon is disgust ... 

 

Simon let out a sarcastic laugh, snatching the cigarette and taking a drag longer than Wilhelm thought was possible, blowing it out his mouth, the smoke got whipped away by the wind that blew suddenly.

 

“What? I don’t understand,” Wilhelm pressed, sounding much like a whining child as he frowned at Simon infront of him, the details of his face blurring in the growing darkness. “So you don’t even have a good reason for being such a dick? Is that just your personality?” He snapped, standing up straighter, the almost calm of their previous interactions snapping and flaking into the air.

 

Simon shook his head, taking drag after drag against the cigarette, Wilhelm watched is grow steadily smaller. Simon tapped the end again, gazing away from Wilhelm towards Hillerska. The building's windows are glowing from the lights, some of the curtains still yet to be closed, the outside lights flicking on automatically.

 

“Simon, seriously, why won’t you answer? You’re never afraid to share your opinion.” Wilhelm continued, taking a step closer to him, and Simon moved quickly, picking up his bag and starting off the wall, walking around Wilhelm inside the bus shelter, dropping the cigarette on the ground and then opening his bag.

 

Wilhelm frowned, stomping out the cigarette as he moved to follow Simon. He doesn’t understand, and he hates it, he hates it almost as much as he hates this curly haired boy right now. Why can't Simon answer him? Is it because of how he looks, what he stands for? Wilhelm's not an idiot, he knows people hate him just because he was born into royalty.

 

Simon’s face is tight, eyes pinned on his bag. He looks oddly vulnerable, digging through the contents of his backpack, the few stray curls that have fallen from his space buns floating around his face in the breeze. The contents of his bag rattle and clash in a way that school stationary doesn’t normally, shouldn't.

 

Wilhelm felt his eyebrows gather even more, and he forced himself to relax out his expression, shoving his hands into his pockets, annoyance bubbling in his chest. Why does he even try with Simon?

 

“Fine. Don’t answer. I don't care, you coward,” Wilhelm spat, turning on his heel and walking away sharply, gravel crunching under his shoes.

 

Of course, Simon didn’t call him back, didn’t even look up as he grabbed something slightly shiny from his bag. A faint pop sounded behind Wilhelm, almost resembling the sound of medications being poped out their packet. Wilhelm ignored it, refusing to look back, moving swiftly towards Forest Ridge's warm lights, the promise of the warm insides encouraging his steps away from the boy waiting for the bus.

 

~ Saturday ~

 

Saturday rolled around eventually. Simon never spoke about their conversation at the bus stop, he continued to infuriate Wilhelm like it’s his only purpose in the world. Wilhelm wouldn’t be surprised if Simon announced he gets paid to be that annoying, because he certainly doesn’t tell Wilhelm his motives (No, he's not holding a grudge what do you mean?)

 

Second period on Thursday he walked straight up to Wilhelm’s desk, stared at his notes, before returning to his own desk and writing something down, leaving Wilhelm to frown at his back, refusing to question him, refusing to interact in any way. 

 

He’s always been told that if you ignore the bully, they’ll leave you alone. That may be the case, but not for August and Simon. They are persistent in aggravating Wille, while also hating each other.

 

“Madi’s started to improve,” Felice told Wilhelm as they sat in the library, waiting for Simon on Saturday afternoon.

 

The two have already reviewed all their work, because it’s then past three, and Simon is yet to show up.

 

“That's good, though it's worrying how long it's taken her to get over it, nearly an entire week? Walter’s getting pretty bad, and Vincent was coughing at lunch. It’s definitely making its way around the school,” Wilhelm replied. The sickness seems to be spreading from Madi, somehow jumping to Forest Ridge, and all the other houses. No one really knows where it’s coming from, so the school is blaming the cold weather and upping the amount of soup served, and the heating.

 

Like in the library right now, it's pretty toasty in here, Wilhelm took off his jumper and Felice tied her hair back. Outside its dark, the clouds pooling threateningly in the sky above Hillerska despite it only being three in the afternoon.

 

“God damn. I’m just waiting to wake up sick, since I share a room with her. I have no idea how I’ve survived this long, to be honest,” Felice said with a nervous laugh, shaking her head right after.

 

“Yeah, no. You’ll get it, then I will, probably,” Wilhelm agreed.

 

They waited another five minutes and Simon didn’t show. Wilhelm did a few random equations in his note book, trying to find some way to distract himself from August's harsh whispers from where he's sat across the room about Wilhelm and Simon. His group laugher loudly, and then got shhed by the librarian. 

 

“God, he’s so annoying sometimes… no, he’s annoying most of the time. All the time. It’s like his only personality trait,” Wilhelm found himself grumbling, and Felice just snorted.

 

"Who are we talking about right now, August or Simon?" Felice asked with a smirk, leaning into her hands and watching Wilhelm solve some random equation.

 

"Simon," Wilhelm mumbled, not wanting August to overhear him talking about the other boy.

 

“We don’t know what’s going on in his life though, Wille. All we know is his older sister is rich, and he’s come from a rough background.” Felice replied, pursing her lips. "He could have some shit going on that we don't know about."

 

“What?” Wilhelm froze, a frown growing on his face. He sat up straighter, dropping his pencil and staring at Felice. “Rough background? What do you mean?” Wilhelm had no idea, he hasn’t bothered to do any research on Simon, or his sister, or their background. Why would he? He’d be a hypocrite to think the internet knows what someone’s life is really like.

 

Felice was quiet for a moment, watching the confusion awash on his face with a frown. Wilhelm feels like an idiot. Background, why didn’t he think of Simon’s past? Oh right, because he didn't care and doesn't want to find out Simon has some kind of reason for his behavoiur that could excuse it. It's selfish, yeah, but it's not like he does a background check on all the people in his classes. A part of him hopes it was an amazing instinct he has to not judge people from their history, but another part thinks he might be stupider than he thought, like Simon thinks.

 

Felice glanced around the library. Stella, Fredrika and Stazia are at the table next to them, but they’re trading gossip, not listening, or doing work. August is still sitting several tables over, leaning over a text book to laugh with Nils a few other of his friends, Vincent not in the room at the moment. Wilhelm saw him sitting in the common room back at Forest Ridge before he left watching TV. 

 

“Simon and Sara’s Dad was an abusive drug and alochol addict,” Felice started slowly, and Wilhelm just blinked in shock, trying to not look too surprised. What? “They grew up in a bad part of Bjärstad for most of their lives. Sara moved out when she turned 18, and Simon was 13. A few months later Simon and his mother moved out. I got this off the ‘about the author’ part of one of Sara’s comics. It didn’t give much detail, just explaining how it’s affected her for life, not much about Simon or her mother, I guess for their privacy. Anyway,” Felice lent back into her seat, while Wilhelm just stared. “It’s not my place to tell or spread gossip, but I've hearad rumours about Simon's life right now, and I personally don’t see any way that would correlate to Simon’s hatred for you, but there that is.”

 

Wilhelm lent back in his chair as well, processing all of that. Wilhelm hates to assume, but if his Dad was an addict, why would Simon want to smoke? Would he not be scared of ending up like his father? Does he not care? Wilhelm can't make assumptions on something so ... not related to him. 

 

"What were the rumours?" Wilhelm asked, leaning forwards.

 

Felice pursed her lips again, before opening her mouth 

 

The library door swung open, and the topic of their conversation walked in. Awkward.

 

Wilhelm sat up straighter as Simon approached, taking in his wind swept hair and the strong scent of cigarettes that followed him, his eyes darting around like someones about to jump out and stab him, walking quickly and quietly.

 

“Hi. Weren’t sure you were coming,” Wilhelm said as Simon pulled out a chair, dumping his bag on the floor, right where Wilhelm foot happened to be sticking out. “Ouch.” He mumbled, moving his foot away.

 

Simon threw a weak glare at Wilhelm, which honestly concerned him, and then even more concerningly said “we should get started.”

 

“We've finished,” Wilhelm replied, crossing his arms across his chest. The urge to cough is strong, Simon smells horrible, even Felice looks uncomfortable, wiping her nose subtly.

 

“Simon,” Felice said gently, and Simon’s flickering gaze turned to her.

 

“What?” He snapped, knee bouncing the entire table. God, he has no chill.

 

Felice recoiled ever so slightly. “Just going to ask if you’ve read up to chapter five, as we agreed to do,” She said, glancing at Wilhelm.

 

“Oh. Oh shit. Fuck,” Simon cursed under his breath, grappling with his bag to get it open. “No. No, no. I haven’t. No.” He mumbled, pulling out his book, bent at the corners with a cracked spine, a bookmark that looks like a receipt sticking out about four pages in.

 

“Yeah no, not surprised,” Wilhelm mumbled, eyes flicking over his form, to his bag, which Simon jumped to close when he saw Wilhelm gaze there. “You good?” He asked slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal. He hates that he’s actually worried right now, but what the hell is wrong with Simon? 

 

“I’m fine, good, okay,” Simon blurted, shaking his head like he didn’t mean to say that. “Fuck, just… Some shit came up, I didn’t get a chance to read it.” Simon explained, running a hand over his curls, which he’s left out today, slightly frizzed from the wind.

 

“How…? We’ve been at school all week…” Wilhelm questioned, and Felice threw him a meaningful look. He assumes she’s trying to remind him of what she just told him, but that was years ago if Simon moved out from his Dad's house when he was 13. What happened after that? Is his Dad still in his life?

 

Simon glared at him, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I - “

 

“Are you okay, Simon? Seriously?” Felice asked, voice significantly more gentle and concerned than Wilhelm could manage. 

 

“I’m fine,” Simon said, firmer, slowly getting a grip on whatever’s distressed him. “I’ll read tonight.”

 

“Want to meet tomorrow?” Felice suggested, glancing at Wilhelm, who shrugged in response. Felice knows he has nothing else to do, yet to join any clubs or extracurriculars, like his Mother wanted him to do. 

 

“No. No meet next weekend,” Simon said quickly, not even opening his book from where it's sat on the table.

 

Wilhelm gaze moved from Simon to August, who has just moved away from his table, texting on his phone as he walks away, laptop and text book tucked against his chest, a small smirk on his face. Wilhelm turned his gaze away as August passed, and he hit the back of Wilhelm’s head, harder than necessary. Wilhelm winced, but didn’t reply, ignoring the snicker from his cousin's mouth.

 

“Okay, we need to be on chapter 10 by then,” Felice said gently, starinag at Simon with a soft, motherly gaze. “I think we should meet up during Wednesday workies, just for a quick check in.”

 

Wilhelm nodded, “sure,” because he has nothing else to do but study, or the extra homework.

 

Simon’s phone vibrated loudly from his bag, and he practically lunged to it. Wilhelm raised his brows as Simon pulled it out, swiping his thumb on the screen to open it, clicking on something, before his eyes began to fly over the screen.

 

“Care to share with the class, Simon?” Wilhelm asked, crossing his arms on the desk.

 

“No. Fuck off,” was Simon’s reply as he text out something on his phone. “I have to go. Promise I’ll read,” Simon said, standing up sharply.

 

“Oh, okay then. Productive meeting,” Wilhelm hummed sarcastically, and Simon didn’t even reply as he shoved his book into his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

 

“Simon,” Felice said, causing Simon to halt in his tracks. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem really anxious,” her voice is laced in something that Wilhelm can only describe as motherly worry.

 

Simon nodded, pursing his lips. “Yes, I’m fine. Why do you even care?” Felice opened her mouth, when Simon over-talked her, “actually, I don’t care. Don’t worry about me, its not worth it.” And he was gone as quickly as he’d come, leaving Wilhelm and Felice to stare at his retreating back.

 

Wilhelm took a big breath, rubbing his face. “He was being weird, like, weirder than he normally is," Wilhelm said, looking out the window at the growing grey clouds, the wind picking up, whisking leaves across the grounds harshly.

 

“Yeah… That was kind of concerning,” Felice replied, before she began to chew on her bottom lip, eyes turning to gaze out the window at the windy school grounds as well. 

 

For a moment, they just sat in silence. Wilhelm looked from Felice to the chair Simon had been sat in, still pushed out and sideways from his quick departure. He was unnaturally shaky and anxious for Simon, who is normally all smirks and snide comments. 

 

“Who knows, maybe he just needed a whole day to sleep in,” Wilhelm suggested meekly, closing his notebook slowly, picking at the smooth cover. “What were these rumours, again?" Wilhelm asked, unable to help himself from asking.

 

Felice sighed. "I don't know if I should tell you," she said simply, shaking her head at him. "Would you want his friends to tell him rumours about you?"

 

"I don't really care, Felice, the whole world shares and spreads false rumours about me all the time," Wilhelm replied with a pointed look. "Since before I was born."

 

"The whole world, aye?" Felice chuckled. "A little big headed of you. "The whole world talks about me!" " She laughed, and Wilhelm just rolled his eyes.

 

"Please tell me them, it's not like I'll talk to him about personal things," Wilhelm reasoneded, grabbing Felice's hand. "Please? I'll buy you something from the cafe tomorrow?"

 

Felice laughed again, patting his hand with her free one. "Deal," she sighed, before speaking. "I heard someone say that his Mum and him had to move into an apartment with a bunch of men, and that they, uh, raped Simon," she whispered the last part, and Wilhelm's eyes bulged.

 

"What?" He breathed, squeezing Felice's hand.

 

"It's just a rumour. One of the other students here have a friend who's cousin used to live in the same apartment block, and they saw Simon and his Mum coming and going from the building a few years ago, and Simon would have bruises on his face, or would be limping. His Mother always looked very angry, apparently, and Simon always looked grumpy or slightly lost." Wilhelm stared at her.

 

"That's ... intense. Yeah, not sure I wanted to know that."

 

"Wille, it's a rumour," Felice reminded, giving his hand a squeeze. "For all we know he got into fights and the apartment was filled with his family and his Mother was angry from them all arguing. The truth is, we don't know. I heard another rumour that Simon got super high last year, and set his old school on fire, and got expelled."

 

"That seems slightly more believeable," Wilhelm admitted. 

 

Felice just frowned. "Wille," she said, tone firm. "Rumours. Ask him if you're that curious."

 

"Funny, any more rumours?" Wilhelm asked, suddenly hungry for gossip.

 

"His sister hates the family and nver visits. He's adopted. His Mother higherse a maid to look after him because she hates him. His Dad is in jail. There's a lot of rumours, some are pretty stupid, but don't let them determine how you look at him, okay?" Felice squeezed his hand, before letting it go, reaching for her lip balm.

 

"I know. Thanks for sharing," Wilhelm nodded, mind reeling. Simon may have lived in a crowded apartment with pedophiles when he was 13. His Father was actually abusive, at some point, Simon was abused by his Dad. His own Father. That's so fucked up. "I think I'm going to go back to my room now."

 

Felice nodded with a sigh, packing up her own things. “Text me if you want to hangout or need help, or something.”

 

“Will do,” Wilhelm agreed. “I’ll probably be busy for the rest of the day, but I’ll be free tomorrow?”

 

Felice perked up immediately. “We could take a bus into Bjärstad together! That would be so fun!”

 

Wilhelm winced. “Um - yeah, yeah sure.” He doesn’t want to put a damper on Felice’s excitement, and he hates to flex, but he is a Prince, and Felice might forget that all the time - which is lovely, really, because sometimes she remembers and is like "Oh yeah! My best friend is the Prince! That's so cool and I just remembered haha." - but the public definitely won’t. But he isn’t going to mention it, they’ll ignore the stares and camera’s and swirling rumours tomorrow.

 

They began to pack up their notes. “I’ll go over to those gossip girls. See you, Wille,” Felice said with a small smile, and then they walked opposite ways, the tension Simon left now faint and almost irrelevant. 

 

Wilhelm left the warmth of the library reluctantly, lingering to browse through some books and issue out a few textbooks he hasn’t read before. Eventually, he walked out the comforting building, books tucked against his chest as he walked quickly across the grounds. The wind is rather horrible, cold and fast against his body, whipping at his cheeks and turning them pink. It’s like Zues has caught the sickness that is currently contaminating Hillerska. So, what’s the rain? His snot? Charming.

 

By the time Wilhelm arrived at Forest Ridge, his walk could be considered a jog, more than desperate to make it to the warmth and comfort of his room, where he can shove in his headphones, draw the curtains closed, turn on a lamp and spend his evening studying, emotionally preparing to ask Malin or Jan Olaf if he can go out with Felice tomorrow. 

 

Wilhelm hadn’t even made it to his room when he was struck with drama. 

 

Wilhelm was passing the common room, when he heard yelling - 

 

“He lied! He’s fucking - fucking - a liar!” 

 

Wille froze on the spot. It’s August, he can hear August yelling, his words slightly slurred together, like he’s drunk.

 

“August! Shut up man!” Vincent's voice replied harshly, sounding distressed, and then there was a loud smash of something glass shattering on the carpeted ground.

 

Wilhelm jumped with shook, and then darted to the common room, peeking inside to see Vincent standing with his hands over his head, a smashed purple vase laying in shards next to him, shattered all over the carpet, the flowers shredded on the ground in a pool of water.

 

August is stomping around, or more like stumbling, and everyone is darting out of his way, trying to leave the room. August is wearing a big coat like he was just outside, and his text books and computer are gone. Someone shoved past Wilhelm to get out the room, and he probably should have grabbed them to ask what's going on, but he’s in shock, staring with wide eyes at his cousin, stumbling back a step from the force they ran out the room, into the dorms and into their bedroom.

 

“Fucking faggot. Fucking liar,” August mumbled, words slurring together again, like his tongue has grown to large for his mouth, and Wilhelm managed to stiffen even more at the curse.

 

Henry caught Wilhelm’s eye as he helped Vincent up, and he shrugged helplessly, looking distressed. Vincent coughed a few times into his elbow, clearing hsi throat harshly, Nils patting his back.

 

Then August saw Wilhelm, and shit hit the fan - no, not just some shit, but also puke, and crap, and bloody throw up and every other discussing substance imaginable. August’s entire body language changed from a prowling animal, to a hunter who spotted its prey. “ You ,” he spat, pupils massively dilated to the point it makes up most of his eyes, hands shaking. Oh fuck, he’s high off his balls.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Wilhelm mistakenly said, and August glowered at him. He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest, pinned on the spot by August’s black gaze. There’s a couch and a coffee table seperating them, but it doesn’t feel like enough space, there needs to be a titanium wall and several hundreds secruity guards. 

 

“Simon,” August growled through clenched teeth, grabbing the couch’s arm for support.

 

“...what about Simon?” Wilhelm's voice shook, he clenched his books tighter, taking a step back from August and his wild form. They need to get a teacher, or several.

 

August scowled, “he fucking lied. Fucking fa - “

 

“Stop saying that August, you have no right,” Nils suddenly interjected, stepping away from Vincent and Henry, towards August, voice hard and commanding.

 

August scoffed in his face, grabbing Nil’s arm to steady himself, causing them both to stumble a step. “Oh yeah,” he shoved his own face closer to Nil’s, who pulled back, shoving him off harshly and stepping away. “I forget you’re one as well. Do yourself a favour and come out as trans, because sucking dick is a girl thing,” August's words slid into each other, but it was still clear what he said.

 

Nils fists clenched and Wilhelm’s jaw dropped. This man is off his rocker. August crosses the line all the time, but that is about a billion steps too far .

 

“August, what did Simon lie about?” Wilhelm said firmly before anyone could throw a punch, even if August deserves it.

 

August stared at Wilhelm for a moment, blinking, before sneering, and starting across the room towards him, lumbering around the couch with determination burning in his big eyes, sweat on his forehead, stumbling into everything and nothing. “You told him to do it, didn’t you, you little shit - '' Wilhelm barely ducked out of August’s way, causing him to stumble into the hallway, turning with a wild expression.

 

No one stopped August as he grabbed at Wilhelm, who tried to back out his grip, only to walk into a coffee table, books tumbling from his arms onto the floor between them as August yanked the collar of his shirt, pulling Wilhelm closer to August. His stomach dropped out his body and he held his breath.

 

“Fuck off August - “ Wilhelm croaked, withering around and shoving at his chest, but August’s grip is tight, and he is terrified, shaking, heart slamming against his ribs like a hammer, lungs squeezing. 

 

“You told him to,” August hissed, grabbing the collar of Wilhelm’s shirt with his other hand, holding Wilhelm steadfast where he is, his stank breath suffocating Wilhelm, his face inches from his. Wilhelm shoved at him, turning his head to the side to put distance between his sneering face.

 

“Told him to do what? Fuck off,  August,” Wilhelm choked, scrambling against him. “I didn’t tell him to do shit!” He squealed, August’s hands leaving marks on his collarbone. Wilhelm managed to get his arm up, yanking at August’s hair, causing his head to jerk to the side, and he released Wilhelm.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wilhelm choked, taking unsteady steps away from him, breathing heavily, panic grabbing all his insides and squeezing them. Everyone just watched, looking unsure and equally scared. August is easily the strongest person in the room, if he gets on Wilhelm again, he won’t get off, he’ll be doomed. “Someone get a teac - “

 

“HA,” August laughed sarcastically, rubbing his head where Wilhelm had grabbed at his hair, and taking another step towards Wilhelm, who has backed himself into a corner between a couch and a wall. Shit . “You think I’m dumb? I tease you both, and then he goes and lies to me about what I’m - I’m having - It’s so obvious, Wille, you told him too.” Wilhelm’s not even sure what half of those words were, slurred together by his high mind. What? What he's having? The drugs? Is Simon selling August drugs - the  wrong drugs? What the actual hell.

 

August lunged so unexpectedly, Wilhelm almost forgot to try and dodge. He threw his hands up, but August smacked them aside, and a red hot pain split across Wilhelm’s nose, flowering very quickly across his face, under his eyes. August’s fist barely left Wilhelm’s face when it was colliding again, coming very, very close to his left eye - 

 

August!” Someone yelled, but there goes his other fist, right into Wilhelm’s stomach, and now he’s doubled over because ouch, that hurt like a bitch. Tear’s burned in his closed eyes as he grabbed his stomach in pain, the breath knocked from his lungs, heart thumping in his nose.

 

“STOP MAN! HE’S A PRINCE!” 

 

August froze. Wilhelm took in choking, heaving breaths, holding his stomach as he stares at their feet, the blood dripping steadily onto the carpet and August's nice shoes. Love how that's the fact that made him stop, not that he’s beating up someone who doesn’t deserve it.

 

“You’re fucking dead,” Wilhelm hissed, managing to look up at August through the pain the blurs his eyes. August scoffed, rocking on his feet, before turning around to glare at the room, wobbling as he went. Wilhelm dropped his head down again, sliding down the wall and curling in on himself.

 

“Fuck you all, you know that? I’m gonna find that little fag, and slit his throat - “

 

“August, no you will not,” Vincent said firmly. “Let’s talk about it man, let’s make a plan,” but his voice betrayed him, Wilhelm could hear he’s lying, which is a good thing. August didn’t hear it, he just saw a friend trying to help him kill Simon, something Wilhelm thought he wanted to do, but doesn’t actually , he’s not serious about it like August seems to be.

 

Wilhelm stayed where he was, breathing hard. Henry ran over the second August had left the room with Vincent dragging him along, Nil’s scowling at his back.

 

“Dude! You’re bleeding - oh my God - “ Henry gagged, turning away from Wilhelm with a fist over his mouth.

 

“I know. I need to - need to find Simon,” Wilhelm stood up slowly, pain spiralling through his stomach, making him want to curl into a ball. He groaned, pressing a hand against his stomach, he wants to throw up.

 

Henry covered his eyes with his hand as he looked back to Wilhelm, peeking through his fingers. “Dude, no, go to the nurse before you fucking bleed out.”

 

All Wilhelm can taste and smell is blood, thick and heavy against his lungs and taste buds. “No, I'm not going to bleed out. August is trying to kill Simon, how long until he realises Vincent isn’t trying to help? I have no fucking idea what he’s on, but I do know where Simon is. I’m fine,” Wilhelm took a step, and nearly collapsed. The entire room just gaped at him, blinking in complete shock. A flash went off, but all Wilhelm could do was keep his head down and not look at the photographer.

 

Wilhelm made it to the doorway, Henry following him the entire way, saying - “Wille, Simon will be fine , he’s at home or whatever, August will never find him. You seriously need the nurse, what if your nose is broken? Are you gonna tell your mum, Wille? Can August get arrested, oh my God, not even a week into school, and someones high, someones been beaten up - the Prince has been beat up by his cousin. God damn - “

 

Wilhelm tuned him out, gaining more speed and confidence, shoving the pain away, managing to walk with a straight back out of Forest Ridge, and maybe a limp but his ego doesn’t need - want - to acknowledge that. His incredibly bruised ego. The cold air made him hyper aware of the pain on his face.

 

“Henry, go inside, I’ll be back in like five minutes,” Wilhelm said as Henry proceeded to walk next to him towards the bus shelter, the wind harsh and making the two boys squint.

 

Henry paused, glancing back at Forest Ridge, then at Wilhelm, continuing to walk beside him. “Nah man, what if you collapse? I’m not going to be the last person to see you alive.”

 

“Walters is sick. Go feed him soup.” Wilhelm really wasn't expecting that to work.

 

“You know what, you’re a strong guy, Wille, I believe in you. Come right back! Curfews in 10 minutes! Don’t talk to strangers, love you bye!” And Henry was gone, leaving Wilhelm to stumble through the wind and pain by himself to the bus shelter.

 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, his brain is just telling him he needs to know what’s wrong with August, why he says Simon is lying, why he thinks the two are conspiring against him, if Simon is selling him drugs... Why would he conspire against August? Okay, no, he has a million reasons to do that, but conspire with Simon ? Ha, you’re funny.

 

With the bus stop in view, he resorted to yelling. “Simon! Simon I know you’re there! Come - here! Please…” Wilhelm yelled, tripping on a twig and barely catching himself, standing straight and letting out a pained breath.

 

A head of curly hair looked around the corner of the bus shelter, frowning. His eyebrows flew into his hairline, jaw dropping when he saw who was yelling at him at nearly 4 in the afternoon.

 

“Oh my fucking God - “ Wilhelm heard Simon groan, and for a moment his head was gone, before his whole body appeared and he was standing, gapping at Wilhelm’s approaching form. “What the fuck did you do, you dumb as shit ?” How nice of him.

 

Wilhelm stopped a few feet from Simon, breathing heavily, he wiped his nose, smearing blood on his cheek eloquently. His mother is actually going to send an assassin to kill him. Simon just stared at him, looking vaguely horrified and definitely disgusted, jaw slack and eyes narrowed.

 

That's where Wilhelm stood, nearly a metre from a horrified looking Simon, blood running from his nose and oozing from the spot just under his eye. It hurts, his entire face feels vaguely swollen, but he needs to get to the bottom of this first.

 

“I - August, he - fuck…” Wilhelm waved his hand, struggling for breath. Every gasp hurts his ribs, his stomach pulsing with pain. “Lemme just - catch - catch my breath, for a moment…” 

 

Simon only nodded dumbly, then he shook his head, frown reappearing and mouth closing in a firm line. “August? What? Did he beat you up?” He guessed. 

 

“Smart guy, Simon,” Wilhelm stumbled back a step, and then just sat down on his butt, curling around his stomach. “Ohhhh fuck. Fuck. Fuck, ouch .” Did you lie to my cousin about what you were selling him?

 

Simon took a step towards him, and then stopped, looking torn. Wilhelm looked up at Simon, standing above him, wind blowing his hair every which way, grey clouds swirling behind his head, frown covering his face. “He actually beat you up? Why?” Simon asked, but he looks uncertian and nervous. “I mean, I’ve wanted to punch you all the time, but I never have lost my shit like that, you aren’t worth it.”

 

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” Wilhelm panted, running a hand through his hair to get it out his eyes. Simon scowled at him. “He said you lied,” he managed after a minute, forcing himself to breathe through his mouth. “Do you have a tissue, or something?” 

 

Simon crossed his arms, and then turned to the bus shelter, coming out with a pack of portable tissues, throwing it at Wilhelm’s feet.

 

“Thanks,” he said, blood pooling on his tongue. Wilhelm spat it to the side, and a smirk quipped on Simon’s lips, Wilhelm saw this. “What the fuck are you smirking at?”

 

Simon’s smirk only grew as he folded his arms, sticking a leg out. “You act so innocent, and dress so fancy, and then you come stumbling out right before it pisses down, bleeding and yelling at me. It’s funny.” Simon explained, staring down at Wilhelm as he pinched his nose.

 

“It’s funny I’m bleeding?” Wilhelm snarled.

 

Simon shrugged. “It can’t hurt that much, or you wouldn’t have come out here.”

 

“Stop distracting me.”

 

“Why would I try to distract you?”

 

“What’s wrong with August?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Wilhelm watched Simon closely, who watched him back all to attently, not blinking, smirk gone, not a hint of an emotion behind his words, or his eyes. It’s unnerving. “You’re lying. You know what's going on.”

 

“Fuck off,” Simon instantly snapped, but just confirmed Wilhelm’s suspicion. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, I don’t know why he said I’m lying, and I don’t know why he beat you up. Frankly, I don’t care, not my problem.” Simon had the nerve to turn and walk back to the bus shelter, and he didn’t come back.

 

Wilhelm scoffed to himself, sitting in the middle of the ground, blood dripping onto his clothes. “Fuck you, Simon,” He yelled at the shelter as he stood up shakily. “This is all your fault! I’m suffering the consequences of  your stupid actions were, and you’re just hiding? You owe me this! What did you sell August?”

 

Simon didn’t reply.

 

That just infuriates Wilhelm. He walked over, standing in the doorway of the bus shelter, staring down at Simon who was sitting, bag clutched on his lap, glowering up at Wilhelm.

 

“What did you sell him?” He growled, tissues clenched in his grasp.

 

Simon shook his head, “I sold him what he asked for,” he replied calmly, looking idly past Wilhelm. Wilhelm felt himself frown even more.

 

Wilhelm’s eyes flicked to Simon’s bag, his knuckles white where he's holding it. “Is that where the drugs are?”

 

“Stop fucking psychoanalying me, Wille! It’s weird!” Simon yelled back at him over the wind, not moving from where he sits. Wilhelm ignored the way his name rolled off Simon’s tongue far too smoothly for it to be fair, like he’s been saying it his entire life.

 

“I’m - You’re being so obvious about it! Just tell me why you did it so I can go to the nurse, and make up some lie, because whatever you did clearly isn’t okay if you’re not telling me!” Wilhelm yelled back, standing much taller than Simon, staring down at him angrily. Simon should be grateful Wilhelm hasn’t immediately gone to the Headmaster to inform her August is high as a kite and Simon lied about whatever he’s given him. Simon could be expelled for dealing drugs.

 

Simon stood up sharply, shoving past Wilhelm roughly to stand outside, taking in deep breaths. “Look, Wilhelm,” Simon said smoothly, voice slightly shaky, betraying him. “It sucks he beat you up, sucks for you at least, but he’s just doing what we all wanted to do.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Simon,” Wilhelm spat - literally, a glob of blood landed on the ground. Wilhelm moved to stand in front of the other, furious boy, who’s brows are now gathered on his forehead, mouth set in an angry line. His eyes burned into Wilhelm fiercely, and Wilhelm has never had someone look at him like that. 

 

“He was high off his mind, going on about how you lied, how you’re a liar, how we’re conspiring against him. He said that I told you to do it, which I'm assuming is how you lied about what you sold him. Was it meth?” Wilhelm said slowly, getting closer and closer to Simon. Meth can make people very, very aggressive, and it's also incredibly addictive. 

 

He knows he shouldn’t get close, he doesn’t know what Simon will do, he surely can’t be comfortable with the proximity. Wilhelm’s not thinking straight, his brain rattled, nose bleeding. 

 

“Did you give him meth?” Wilhlelm breathed, heart pumping at Simon's silence. 

 

Simon shoved him back suddenly, anger flaring in his pupils, and Wilhelm stumbled, still trying to pinch his nose.

 

“Go away, Wilhelm. Right now,” Simon ground out, jaw working, hard.

 

“No,” Wilhelm said, standing up straight and releasing his nose, squaring his shoulders. Simon scowled angrily.

 

“Fucking go .”

 

“Tell me what you gave him.”

 

“I gave him nothing!”

 

“Liar!” Wilhelm’s voice shook. "You just told me you sold him something, Simon! Stop lying!"

 

“I thought you hated August!”

 

“I do, but I'd never give him meth! Simon, this could kill him eventually! Tell me what you gave him!”

 

Simon clenched his jaw, chest heaving, fists balled tightly. “No,” he said forcefully, hard, final. “Not now, not ever, so go away before I punch you as well! And this time, there is no one out here to fucking stop me!” Simon yelled, getting closer and closer to Wilhelm with each word, until Wilhelm could feel his chest rising and falling quickly against his own.

 

Wilhelm swallowed thickly, staring Simon down, his cigarette scented breath fanning his face, his own, surely smelling of blood, flushing over Simon’s face. He hates to beg, but… “Please, Simon - “

 

“GO!” Simon yelled, face inches from Wilhelm, and Wilhelm could see every angry wrinkle on his perfect skin, the slight quiver of his lip, the anger behind his dark lashes.

 

“Fuck you,” Wilhelm whispered, his confidence melting away. He’s playing a losing game. 

 

“Fuck you ! Go away!” Simon’s voice cracked on the last word, which only seemed to make him angrier. “Seriously, what's wrong with you? Why do you fucking care about him? Go away , Wilhelm! Tell the principle, I don't care!” His words hurt even though they really, really shouldn’t.

 

Wilhelm wants to scream, he wants to have the last word, he wants to know what’s going on. But instead he just shoved Simon back, and turned, stalking away from Simon towards Forest Ridge, dreading the moment he walks in those doors. He has some explaining to do.

 

Notes:

Welp, I tried to warn you. Promise the whole book isn't going to be this insane, but I needed to add some drama, as I felt this chapter was low key a bit dry.

Thank you for all the support! I'll try and update weekly <3

Chapter 3: Mama's Boy

Summary:

Your actions have consequences, babe.

Chapter title from the song "Mama's Boy" by Dominic Fike, because it played as I was editing a specific scene that it fitted rather well with mwaha be scared.

Notes:

I've received so many positive comments about this story, so thank you so much! Thank you for all your thoughts and opinions as well, I find them all very interesting to read, and I'm curious to see what you'll think about this chapter, specifically the end.

 

I'm planning to work really hard on the next chapter, and post it around Christmas. I tend to have a rather wild Christmas, so it'll either be Christmas eve, or Christmas day for me. I'm in New Zealand and I know Jack shit about time zones, so. Just know that if I post it on Christmas for me, it might not be Christmas for you, boohoo, deal with it. It can be like my Christmas present to you guys, as a thank you. If you don't celebrate Christmas, that's all good as well, it's just another update, there won't be any Christmas themes in it as it's not that time of year in the story.

 

I've done a new formatting to keep track of the days. So at the beginning of each chapter I'll have a little ~ Day of week ~, and whenever there's a jump that changes the day it'll have another ~ Day of the week ~, but if it's the same day, it'll just be ~ ~ ~. This is how I write it before editing so I don't get confused, but I then realised that if I'm confused, then I'm probably confusing my readers. So here's this update, I'm going to change it in the previous, and future chapters as well.

Anyway, here's this chapter :))

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Saturday ~

 

Cowards. Wilhelm is surrounded by them. Not a single person in common room told a soul what they saw - which, of course, was aggravated assault, intensive drug use, a fight between the Prince of Sweden and his own second cousin, August saying a slur and being both transphobic and homophobic - and August got away with it.

 

Wilhelm came back into Forest Ridge shivering from both the cold and anger, bleeding with bruises flourishing across his wind whipped face and a pulsing pain in his stomach to an empty common room, deserted hallways, the entire building dead silent. It’s like everyone has died. It's like everyone is scared. Wilhelm wondered where August had got to, and then decided he doesn’t actually care, he doesn’t even care if he found Simon and is beating him up, because Simon didn’t care that Wilhelm got beaten up because of him, so why should Wilhelm have even tried to figure the situation out, to get Simon view, to warn him? Simon doesn't deserve that.

 

Wilhelm slunk into the bathroom, washing all the blood from his face and retreating to his room to wrap himself in his favourite blue blanket like a burrito and stare at his wall, thinking, and maybe crying a little bit. You can't even blame him for that.

 

Nothing makes sense, and his head hurts from the impact received, and his thought process is going in circles of booming voices chanting his argument with Simon like a broken record, pain washing over his cuts and bruises with every breath, every sob. He muffled his tragic, pathetic cries into his blanket as much as possible, not wanting the other boy to hear his weakness.

 

No one came to get Wilhelm at dinner, walking silently past the Prince’s doors, and coming back the same way.

 

At half past seven Wilhelm dragged himself out of bed and over to his desk, glaring at the homework with teary, red eyes. “Argh.” Wilhelm hit himself on the forehead a few times with the edges of his hands, which did not help the pain. His brain is foggy and confused about everything. “Focus, focus, focus,” He chanted as he hit himself, trying to put his brain into that gear needed for this advanced homework. He feels incapable of functioning, like August knocked the brain cells right out his head and Simon stomped on them.

 

“Fuck,” Wilhelm breathed out harshly. This isn’t what he was imagining Hillerska to be like. Wilhelm was picturing long evenings in the warm library with his earplugs in, studying peacefully. Chattering at lunch to anyone who strikes up a conversation with him with practised ease. Throwing his hand up at every question and taking tidy notes in his favourite note taking book. Instead, he’s got a boy who despises him, a drugged up cousin, he's beaten up, he's drowning in homework and expectations so high he can’t even see it where they, shining with Erik’s glossy flawless name.

 

What on Earth would Mama think of me right now?

 

~ Sunday ~

 

Wilhelm awoke the next morning to knocking on his dorm room door and quiet voices mumbling indistinctly to each other. 

 

"Maybe he's already left for the library?" A voice said clearer. Wilhelm blinked tiredly, finding a new pain flourishing his face and stomach. He curled himself into the sheets instead of sitting up. his face feels swollen and listened.

 

"No way he'd wake up that early. I've been in the dining room since it's been open, and he didn't come in once. He has to go through there to get outside," a second voice replied, sounding irritated and bothered.

 

Wilhelm squinted. That voices sounds familiar, but he can't place it, not while his brain is still stuck in the dream he had about homework coming alive and smothering him while he's asleep. 

 

"What if he went out his bedroom window?"

 

"Why would be be avoiding the eternity of Forest Ridge?"

 

"August ... you fucked up his face pretty bad. If I was him, I'd 'be sick' until my face healed."

 

August. Wilhelm sat up slowly, eyes pinned on the door as the images of his cousin from yesterday materialised into mind, the blown pupils covering nearly all of his brown eyes, the anger that he'd expressed so physically, without shame - the pain. Looking back on last night, Wilhelm isn't only regretful of almost all his actions, but he's embarrassed, embarrassed he even tried, embarrassed he let his friends and classmates see him that weak and pathetic, curled on the floor sobbing like a child. He gulped. He's awake now, skin prickling with anxiety as he listens through the extended silence that followed that statement.

 

"Hey, Wille," another knock on the door, making him stiffen and scowl. "I just want to talk. Promise." August's voice spoke again, followed by a few more knocks, sounding slightly more desperate. "I swear. I - I want to offer you something, in payment, for yesterday."

 

Wilhelm stood up slowly, approaching the door with extreme caution, caution you shouldn't feel around your own family. 

 

"I'm really sorry, by the way. But I'm going to make it up to you! Please don't tell your Mum," August's voice cracked embarrassingly. Ah, so that's what this is about. Of course it is, Wilhelm is broken and beaten, but August is still worried about himself and his reputation. That thought alone was very, very nearly all it took for Wilhelm to grab his phone and tell his Mama exactly what happened. What stopped him from doing that last night? Maybe how raw all the wounds are.

 

Wilhelm ran a hand through his hair to tame it, looking at his reflection above the sink. "I just want to talk" is exactly what serial killers say to get their victims to open the door. "I just want to talk" is precisely what a bully trying to get their victim alone would say, and as far as Wilhelm is concerned, August is only one of them (as far as he knows, anyway. If they're both true, Wilhelm wouldn't even be slightly surprised) and there's someone else out there with him in case August tires anything. Unless they're both on the same team, and they're going to silence Wilhelm before he can snitch on August.

His broken reflection stares back like a ghost. The cut on his face, just under his eye is red, purple, and blue, irritated and angry, still an open wound. Skin under his eyes is bruised, his sinuses swollen from the impact on his nose. He sneered at his face. He looks like a criminal, a monster, something only the force of August and Simon's illegal deeds and harsh behaviours combined could create.

 

"Wille - "

 

Wilhelm opened the door, staring back at August. August looks completely fine. The only clue to hint at his rough night is the faint dark circles around both his eyes, but apart from that, he looks as fresh and well put together as he normally does, hair still wet from a shower, shirt buttoned and ironed to perfection, smelling to strongly of cologne. He smiled and winced at Wilhelm when the door opened.

 

"Ooooo," Vincent, who is standing next to August, sympathised with a dramatic wince. "That looks painful."

 

Wilhelm only glared at him. He won't confirm, nor deny how much pain he's in. "What do you want?" Wilhelm spat, voice still gravely from sleep. "If it's anything but a genuine apology and promise to stay away from me - and Simon, for that matter - then I don't want it." He shouldn't even be thinking about Simon right now, much less mention him and his safety to August and Vincent.

 

"Well," August laughed nervously, glancing at Vincent, and throwing Wilhelm another 'charming' smile. "I do have an offer, Wille. I was thinking, next weekend, how 'bout we throw you a party? Aye? We'll call it a welcome party, but between me and you, it's a real big apology. Vincent and I will handle everything - invites, drinks, food, entertainment, music, lights, times - the whole thing. All you have to do is list what and who you want there. That's it! Super simple and easy. No limits on how much you can spend, or who you can or can't invite. I don't even care if you blare Taylor Swift or the Coco Mellon theme song all night! If you're happy, I'm happy. The only thing you need to do is keep what happened last night to the confines of Forest Ridge's students. We good?" 

 

Wilhelm's first instinct is to tell August what a gigantic idiot he is and tell him he's going to the principle today to snitch on his not-so-sorry butt, but then again ... Wilhelm could have them organise a giant party, then just not show up and tell the Queen of Sweden that August got high off his mind, threatened to murder a student, said a slur, and assaulted her son anyway. Wilhelm has little to no interest in going to a party.

 

"You could invite Simon, even!" August proposed, clearly getting desperate, glancing at Vincent. "We wouldn't say a thing! Invite Erik, if you want! I don't care!"

 

Wilhelm watched him, trying to keep his face blank. "You'll buy anything I want for the party?"

 

August brightened instantly. "Of course - "

 

"And I can invite anybody I want? Even if you don't like them?"

 

"Yep! Your party, not mine!"

 

"After, will you stay away from Simon and I?" Wilhelm asked, folding his arms. 

 

August paused, smile wavering. "But you're my cousin - "

 

"Look at my face," Wilhelm snapped suddenly, pointing harshly to the damage by his eyes. "You did that. I don't really feel like being close to you ever again. Can you blame me?" Wilhelm snapped back at him, very aware August has never seen this side of him. "And I have a feeling it would be in your best interest to stay away from Simon as well, since you were going on about how he lied, and I'm assuming that he gave you something you didn't ask for last night, which you used anyway - "

 

August laughed easily. "Wille, I wasn't myself last night. Simon, he lied about what he gave me, purposefully gave me the wrong shit just to get revenge for being better than him, I guess. Maybe he thought it would overdose me, but it didn't. You want me to just let the shit go?" August's face grew dark, and Wilhelm immediately wanted to cower into himself and shut the door to hide behind it until August is on the other side of the world.

 

August just proved that Simon did give him drugs, but he also confirmed that Simon gave him the wrong ones. Simon wouldn't do that, would he? He's a little crazy, but not that destructive? He could have seriously hurt August. 

 

"Fine, whatever. As long as you never get that high again near me, I don't care. I'll text you lists of people, food and stuff," Wilhelm decided, escaping August as fast as he can.

 

"Sweet! Just don't buy a whole sho - "

 

Wilhelm is planning to buy an entire shop worth of things on August and Vincent's cards. Revenge, sweet, sweet revenge.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wille
Felice
Can you come to my dorm pls
7:43 am

 

Felice
Ofc is smth wrong?
7: 44 am



Wille
You might want to borrow Madi or Stella’s concealer
7: 45 am

 

Felice
Wille what'd you do? Are you ok??

OMG DO YOU HAVE A HICKEY?!
7: 45 am

 

Wille
Im fine and no i didn't hook up with anyone 

Hurry up pls
7:45 am

 

Felice
…ok babe

i'll be there in a few minutes
7:46 am

 

He can not go to class like that, his mother would find out before he could even lie and say “I went for a walk in the woods last night and didn't see this branch”, and watch as Henry, Alexander and Walter - because of course Henry's told his sickly roommate - dodge eye contact.

 

Wilhelm is not risking it. He won’t risk people seeing how messed up he’s gotten from not even a week here. Wilhelm's record is meant to be as shiny and flawless as the surface of a diamond, but right now, it's looking more like a handful of mud.

 

Not my fault. It's not my fault, Wilhelm tried to tell himself as he sat down on his bed, one of his knee's bouncing, still dressed in his pyjamas, hair dishevelled. He's currently curating that glorious list to text to August, scrolling through a liqueur shop. After a few seconds, Wilhelm decided that these prices just aren't it, so decided to instead Google "Most expensive alcohol in Sweden".

 

At least with no one saying anything the photos snapped hadn't get leaked, because he also Googled "Prince Wilhelm", and when nothing new came up, he searched more specifically "Prince Wilhelm beaten up", and there was nothing but rumours from years ago. Wilhelm just preys this means the photo's were deleted, and then removed from the trash, and erased from everyone’s minds. It’s humiliating, he must look weak and pathetic. A weak, pathetic, queer nerd. That's how he feels.

 

As Felice promised, a few minutes later there was a knock at his door. “Wille? It’s me. Felice.”

 

Wilhelm stood up, taking a deep breath before he opened the door, keeping his head down as he gestured for her to go inside.

 

Felice squinted at his face as she walked past, trying to duck down to see his expression, but he turned his head away, glaring at Henry who was watching her enter. “Go fuck yourself,” He told him eloquently, and Henry opened his mouth, probably to apologise, but Wilhelm slammed the door shut as harshly as he could, watching Henry's sad expression disappear behind it.

 

So, 4 hours of sleep and a fucked up face hasn’t left him in the best mood, not to mention the fact every time he moves his stomach aches. At least he got all his homework done. His brain still feels like sludge right now, thick and heavy, mixed with Simon’s words which have surfaced in his mind - “What’s wrong with you?” He woke up an hour ago, but his brain is still as fuzzy as it was then. Maybe he's got a concussion. 

 

Wilhelm turned to Felice, and her jaw dropped to the floor. She blinked a few times, like she’s miss-seeing Wilhelm right now. But no, he’s very real, standing in front of her with anxiety and lack of sleep weighing on his entire body like seven hundred whole elephants. He knows Felice would never judge him, or tell him anything that made him feel more like trash, but it doesn’t stop him feeling anxious. It different showing August the damage compared to Felice. August inflicted it, he should wince away from Wilhelm face, but Felice has nothing to do with this, she'll only worry about him, and Wilhelm finds nothing satisfying about someone worrying about him.

 

“Oh my God, Wille,” Felice whispered gently, looking pained for him. “What happened? Did you tell a teacher?” She stepped ford to cup his face in her hands delicately, like she's holding a fragile piece of glass, eyes wide.

 

Wilhelm heaved a sigh, pulling away from her to sit down on his bed. Felice sat next to him instantly, grabbing both his shaking hands in hers.

 

“Tell me what happened, please,” Felice whispered carefully, giving his hand a squeeze, before she grabbed a makeup bag from the tote she’d brought with her, taking out two shades of concealer and watching Wilhelm.

 

So Wilhelm talked. He explained to her how he’d come to Forest Ridge and found August high while she covered his cut carefully, apologising quietly every time he winced, which was every time she touched him, dabbing the make up onto his skin carefully with the pad of her finger, mixing the two different shades to get his his tone.

 

Wilhelm told her how he went to find Simon and how Simon had been unsympathetic. He recalled how Simon told Wilhelm that he had given August something and was denying it minutes later, trying to gaslight Wilhelm, but then August confirmed Simon deals drugs to him. That thought makes him feel sick and uncomfortable. He told Felice how Simon had yelled at him to leave, but he left out the part where Simon asked what's wrong with him, it just didn't feel like the right thing to be bringing up with Felice, it feels almost ... personal.

 

Wilhelm finished and Felice pulled away, examining her work. “I mean… No, it’s fine,” Felice pressed her lips together in a smile, nodding. Wilhelm looked at her helplessly, feeling the product drying on his skin. He grabbed his phone and opened the camera, scrutinising the almost completely covered cut, and hidden bruising.

 

“And no one’s told a teacher?” Felice asked as she packed away the products she borrowed.

 

Wilhelm shook his head in answer. “No. I don’t think so. I … I don’t know why, but I feel it’s better that way, while I really, really want August expelled… it doesn’t seem like it was his fault he was high off his mind. I mean, he hit me, but we don’t know what he was on. And it’ll - it’ll reflect badly on the Crown if he’s done drugs,” Wilhelm blurted, not sure where he was going in the first place. He'll tell Felice about his plan for revenge later, because right now, it seems almost petty, but still satisfying.

 

“Right,” Felice said hesitantly, nodding once. “I don’t know what to do, Wille, I’ve never come across something like this. And he said Simon lied? Do you think Simon gave him the wrong thing on purpose, or did he get something mixed up with something more ... intense."

 

"I mean, it could really be anything. Some drugs do subdue you, but if you get angry, they make you that much more angry. Other drugs do just make you aggressive or irritable. Mixing others can cause similar affects."

 

"I was thinking meth?"

 

"Possibly." Wilhelm shrugged. "But I feel August would have noticed the different. Meth doesn't just look like a white powder like cocaine, not always, at least."

 

“If you decide to say something, I’ll stand with you, okay?” Felice made sure he looked her in the eyes, unblinking, grabbing his hands again to concrete her words. “I promise I will.” 

 

Wilhelm nodded with a small smile. How did he find a friend this pure in the midst of the train wreck that is his life? “Okay. Thank you,” he whispered back. “Thanks for this as well,” Wilhelm added as Felice stood.

 

She threw him a sneaky smile over her shoulder as she approached the door. “Next time, I hope it’s a hickey.”

 

“Felice!” He laughed.

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

August has caught the cold. That’s the word going around Forest Ridge this morning when the Housemaster asks where his favourite third year is. So that’s the lie everyone’s going with. The Housemaster managed to miss the dead silence that came with breakfast, the tension everyone carried with them as they moved around their Sunday morning, the sideways looks at Wilhelm and the whispers around his unusually smooth patch of skin or that part by his eye with a small dip in the middle.

 

Wilhelm hid in his room for most of the day, coming out to grab a sandwich at lunch and returning to his studying, blaring music in his ears until he was sure he’d be deaf by 25, but that is Wilhelm's future Wilhelm problems, so screw him.

 

Felice didn’t ask to hangout, but she did ask if he wanted her to give him some food, or company while he studies, which he politely declined, encouraging her to go out with some of her other friends instead of him.

 

~ Monday ~

 

Monday, Wilhelm's favourite day. First class for him to suffer through: English. Whoopee. He couldn't be more excited. 

 

Felice appeared in morning at his door to redo his makeup without needing to be asked, smile bright and far to awake for the time. She's a morning person, Wilhelm is not. He despises the early wake, and he can't decide if that's from how little sleep he gets, or because he knows he's got school that day. It's probably both, to be honest.

 

“You know, it’ll heal faster if you don’t wear makeup,” Felice told him as she carefully covered the cut below his eyes. Wilhelm clenched his fists so he wouldn’t wince away from her gentle touch. But because Felice is being so careful she has to do multiple layers instead of slapping on one big one and Wilhelm can't decide which form of suffering he prefers.

 

“I’d rather cover it.” Was his reply.

 

By the time first class rolled around, Wilhelm was feeling slightly more like himself. It was easy to pretend his wounds weren’t there, ignoring the constant ache in his stomach, or the shot of pain that makes it's known as he smiles and the damaged skin on his face get’s wrinkled.

 

Mrs Ramirez went over a few more things regarding their reading, expressing her concern for the sickness flowing through the school as Fredrika has also caught it, leaving their class two students down - Fredrika, and Walter - Madi came back this morning in a flurry of bright, unique clothes and bold opinions.

 

Mrs Ramirez rambled about hygiene and education for half an hour and Wilhelm sat with a straight spin the whole time she spoke, nodding politely every time her gaze fell his way. Simon at the desk over changed positions every three seconds: one minute, he’d face face down on the desk like someone knocked him out, the next he’s leaning on his hand lazily, chest pressed against his desk, and then he'd slid so far down his desk Wilhelm wasn’t sure if he could see over the kid in front of him to the board. It then occurred to him, Simon most definitely does not care about that. But he didn’t say anything, no comments, no glares or scowls, no scoffs, just silence, a dead look on his face.

 

Everyone lapsed into silence as they pulled out books and note books when Mrs Ramirez finished. Every now and then someone would whisper something to their partner, and then Mrs Ramirez  informed them that they can talk, as long as it's in a whisper because others are focusing, and began talking again about how uncomfortable silences make her.

 

Ignoring the teachers blabbering, the confirmation you can talk seemed to be all Simon needed, despite the fact the rules clearly didn’t apply to him in the first place.

 

“Wilhelm,” Simon whispered. Wilhelm didn’t bother ignoring him. Wilhelm's learnt that only causes Simon to grow more annoying, seemingly encouraging Simon to aggravate him. He still doesn't want to talk to Simon though. "What's wrong with you?"

 

Wilhelm looked over, finding Simon's gaze examining on the side of Wilhelm's face that is actually un-damaged, but his brown eyes instantly found the mark where Wilhelm had been hit, under his eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“Just wanted to see what your face looked like,” Simon whispered back with a shrug, before turning back to his book.

 

“Is it a nice face?” Wilhelm teased, barely even bringing himself to smile.

 

Simon side eyed him, still facing his book. His gaze flicked all over Wilhelm’s face, before he smirked, turning to face him fully, which, well, Wilhelm wasn’t expecting, nor was he expecting him to ponder it for so long. “Hmm, it resembles that of a turd that someone stood on sometimes,” Simon replied with a growing smirk, and honestly, Wilhelm isn't even surprised.

 

Wilhelm rolled his eyes at him, turning back to his book, and Simon did the same. They actually read in silence for a few minutes, and yes, Simon is genuinely reading, turning the pages and sighing heavily each time. Wilhelm was thankful for the silence and relived Simon is doing some actual work. He does do work during class, it's not entirely rare but it's still a relief when he turns his attention to school. It's like finding realising it's not going to rain despite the clouds looking dark and gloomy, even though the weather told you it's fine all day.

 

Simon’s phone buzzed from its place under his note book - which is blank, by the way, but who is actually surprised? Not Wilhelm, he’s surprised Simon has a notebook.

 

Wilhelm would ignore his phone if he got a text mid class, but that's mostly because his phone is in his bag but also because he values his learning and his phone is a distraction. 

 

But, because it’s Simon, he instantly picked up his device, brows furrowing. He’s a very expressionist person. He looked up and caught Wilhelm’s gaze, scowling at him.

 

“What?” Wilhelm hissed with a frown. “I didn’t do anything.” He’s so done with Simon, that boys find reason to argue over Wilhelm breathing wrong, or him literally just looking at Simon. It's not a crime to look at someone, Simon!

 

Simon turned to the front of the class without another word and stuck his hand in the air, probably for the first time this entire year.

 

“Yes, Simon?” Mrs Ramirez said, looking up from the book she herself is reading with tired eyes. Wilhelm believes every teacher is slightly scared of Simon's no-fucks-given attitude and unpredictable mouth.

 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Simon asked, already standing from his seat, slipping his phone into his pocket stealthily smoothly.

 

“No, Simon, you need to read,” Mrs Ramirez  argued calmly, closing her book as Simon approached the front of the room. 

 

“Thanks, Miss,” Simon said, turning to the door.

 

“Simon - “

 

“It’s illegal to stop us going to the bathroom,” he told her informatively, already shutting the door behind himself.

 

“The nerve,” Wilhelm heard someone mutter, and his ears have never been blessed with a more true fact. That boy has so much nerve, Wilhelm is surprised he can fit it all in his tiny, short little body. Well, they do say something about shorty people containing a lot more rage than then others. Simon acts as if he owns the world, like rules are mere guidelines but he chooses to ignore them anyways. He’s probably the kind of person who calls the speed limit ridiculous because he feels like going 100 and not 40 in a school zone because it's the weekend.

 

Wilhelm sighed heavily and went back to his reading, picking up his pencil to jolt down a note as Mrs Ramirez pressed her two of her fingers against both her temples and took deep, calming breaths at her desk.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Simon didn’t come back for over half an hour.

 

Mrs Ramirez sent Alexander to check the boy bathrooms to drag Simon back. "I don't care if he's butt naked, screaming, begging, biting you, trying to bribe you - he is to return to this classroom. Understood?" Were her exact words. But Alexander came back empty handed and confused, apparently he'd gone to every bathroom in the school, and Simon wasn't in any of them. Wilhelm thinks he probably did find Simon, and the little rat bag was just sitting on a toilet watching videos of curly hair tutorials, blissfully ignorant to his name. 

 

And maybe Wilhelm’s basking in the fact Simon will be in tons of trouble for skipping class again, but he’s also rather confused. Simon left his bag - probably full of cigarettes, drugs and whatever else he has - a dead body? Probably. Not any school work that’s for sure - so he must have the intention to be back before next period.

 

“Right,” Mrs Ramirez  checked the time on the clock next to the whiteboard with a definitive huff. “If he isn’t back before class ends, someone is going to have to take his bag to the office. Alexander, could you do that, please, sweetheart?”

 

Alexander, always eager to please people, nodded. “Yes, Miss,” he replied confidently, glancing at Simon’s empty chair as he settled in the one next to it.

 

Wilhelm’s eyes flicked back down to Simon’s bag, his memory jumping to recall how Wilhelm had watched Simon clutch the backpack as if it was his child and not just a transporting tool for school supplies. There is definitely something strange going on in that yellow, patch covered back pack of his.

 

The door opened. Every head shot in that direction. The class held its breath. 

 

“Simon,” Mrs Ramirez said firmly, disappointment heavy in her voice. Wilhelm would have cowered and ducked his head, already apologising.

 

“Yes, Miss?” Simon replied innocently, before pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing on it quietly, the slightest flash of pain crossing his face. Wilhelm squinted at Simon. Something looks off with him - more off than usual.

 

“You were in the restroom for over half an hour,” Mrs Ramirez informed him with a distasteful gaze. “What were you doing? Having a picnic with the Queen on the floor?” She stopped herself quickly, glancing awkwardly at Wilhelm. “Apologies. Poor joke.”

 

Wilhelm only smiled politely, waving his hand dismissively.

 

“Exactly,” Simon flashes a quick smile to the teacher - what was Wilhelm saying about nerves? - before going back to munching on his lip, flouncing back to his seat shamelessly.

 

Wilhelm watched him walk to his chair, plopping down and opening his book casually, lip still tucked in his mouth. That’s strange, right? Simon never chews on his lip. Maybe Wilhelm's over analysing it.

 

“I’m going to be calling your parents,” Mrs Ramirez said, looking a touch flustered by Simon's ignorance and disrespect. Wilhelm looked back at Simon, and found him scowling at the teacher as she types on her laptop with her nose in the air.

 

“Just my Mama. Not parents,” Simon corrected harshly, eyes flickering over the pages of his book without even reading. Wilhelm can see he’s not reading, he’s skimming and scanning. 

 

How someone cares so little for their academics he doesn’t know. How does Simon plan to get a bloody job? Does he want to be homeless? Or is he planning to live with his Mama forever? Wilhelm … won’t get a job. He’ll live at the palace and rot away until Erik dies, and because Erik will probably have kids, Wilhelm will continue as the spare, always in the shadow of Erik’s spotlight, and then Erik's kids, and then Erik's grand kids, and then Wilhelm will probably be dead. It’s fine. He doesn’t want the attention, he just wants to stay as the quiet, polite, respectful, hard working, sensible, young, Prince. Good reputation plus proud parents equals happy life.

 

Mrs Ramirez ignored Simon, still typing something aggressively on her laptop, frowning as she does so. Wilhelm will be surprised for Simon to make it through the end of term without a detention.

 

Wilhelm turned to Simon, and realised it’s the first time trying to get Simon’s attention in class - their first interaction doesn’t count so shut up.

 

“Where were you?” Wilhelm whispered across the space between their desks.

 

Simon said nothing, but his lip has been released. Wilhelm’s gaze flickered to his mouth, and he blinked, leaning forwards even more so far he’s nearly falling out his chair onto the floor, squinting at Simon’s pink mouth.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm whispered, trying to crane his neck to see the other side of Simon’s face. His lip looks swollen from this side. Did he go and fight someone instead of using the restroom? What? Why on Earth would he do that? 

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm whispered slightly louder.

 

Simon finally looked at him. “It’s fucking annoying when someone ignores you, isn’t it?” He hissed back, but Wilhelm’s eyes are on his lips. His bottom lip is split, still fresh and red. “Are you done fucking staring?”

 

What is this school? Wilhelm turned away and lent back in his chair. What is this school? He thought again, frowning at his book angrily. Erik seemed to make it seem like Hillerska is the most glorious thing whenever he'd talk about his beloved school. Clearly he forgot to mention the fights, the drugs, the overall violence, bigotry and lack of privacy. Wilhelm is only a Prince, Erik is the Crown Prince, how in the living hell did he deal with all that attention? He did have August, who understood and was always there to take spotlights from him, not that Erik didn’t enjoy attention.

 

Only a couple minutes later people began to pack up and then the bell goes. Wilhelm is one of the first out the door with Felice, walking side by side, as usual.

 

“I think I’m catching that cold, finally,” Felice said, and Wilhelm flung his head over to look at her. He absolutely cannot, and will not get sick. “My head hurts a bit, and I can’t even blame it on a loud class because it was silent reading,” she pressed a hand against her forehead. Wilhelm held back the urge to back away from her as they moved into their next class.

 

“You should go to the nurse,” Wilhelm suggested as they took their seats in geography, scotching their chairs in as the rest of the class streamed in with busy chatter. Wilhelm heard Simon's name more than once. “Spend the rest of the day in your dorm healing before it gets too bad.” He does not want to get sick. Wilhelm can probably the count the amount of times he's been sick during school on his hands.

 

Felice shook her head with a sigh. “I’ll see out the rest of the day, have an early night and see what happens. I’ll be fine, sickness doesn’t normally affect me all too much.”

 

Wilhelm shrugged, and the teacher walked in. But a seat remains open in front of Wilhelm, next to Alexander, who only looks exhausted and not really bothered by the empty spot. Simon’s empty spot. 

 

Wilhelm pointed it out to Felice, and she just shrugged.

 

“Announcement,” Miss Clear called out suddenly. “Tomorrow we will be in L15 instead of this room, as it’s getting renovated for the rest of the week. Alright? So don’t come here tomorrow! L15!”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm set down his plate, pulled out his chair, and sat down gently.

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Simon grumbled, sitting with one knee on the chair, his thin arm wrapped around the black cargo pants he’s currently wearing, matched with an oversized black Nirvana hoodie, his hair loose around his face, but not covering the split lip he’s currently applying lip balm to. 

 

Wilhelm has decided to take a different approach with talking to Simon. Maybe harsh snaps and jeers aren't going to get an answer, so he’ll try to be nice. “Are you okay?” Wilhelm asked casually, stirring the tomato soup in front of him, and picking up a piece of the garlic bread that had been served with it.

 

“Do they want our breaths to be stanky?” Henry grumbled as he sat down across from Wilhelm. 

 

Simon turned his head comedically slow, eyes narrowed in suspicion, lips shiny from the lip balm he’s now pocketing. “The fuck?” Is all Simon said, squinting at Wilhelm dangerously, his own soup and bread untouched in front of him.

 

Wilhelm ignored his penetrating gaze, opting to dip his bread into the soup and bite it carefully, as to not spill it on his white jumper and blue skinny jeans. “Your lip looks sore,” he replied after swallowing his mouthful politely.

 

Simon’s staring at him like he grew another head and started to poop out baby dolphins. Wilhelm stared back, and then forced a small smile. It isn’t too hard to be nice if Simon isn’t biting back, just staring at him like he’s gone crazy, which is only a little bit rude and bothersome.

 

Henry is also starring, but quickly gets distracted as Alexander sat down next to him and was also complaining about garlic bread, and those two boys do love their trash talking, even when it's about bread.

 

“Simon?” Wilhelm prompted again.

 

“Um,” Simon recovered slight a slight shake of his head. “My lip is sore - but why the fuck do you give a fuck?” 

 

“Did you know there’s over 150,000 words in the dictionary and you still choose to use the vulgar ones?” Wilhelm stated with a small smile. He likes sharing random facts, he feels it adds to the conversation.

 

Simon disagrees. “I actually don’t give a fuck. Why were they invented if I’m not allowed to use them? Unless they hurt you,” he jutted out his bottom lip, body fully turned to Wilhelm. “Do my words hurt you, sweetheart?” 

 

Wilhelm felt his smile flicker. Sweetheart. Shut the fuck up, Simon. “No, because I am not 12 years old. Anyway, I was just wondering what happened to your lip?” 

 

“You care so much it’s adorable.” 

 

Wilhelm blinked, struggling to keep his face a mask of happiness. “Simon, shut up and answer my question,” he said while smiling, which only caused an amused smirk to spread onto Simon’s face.

 

“This is funny. You’re trying so hard to keep that smile on. It's cute,” Simon reached over and booped Wilhelm’s nose with his index finger lightly, and Wilhelm was awfully tempted to bite it off his hand with a smile.

 

“Did you know you can bite your own finger off as easily as biting a carrot?” Wilhelm opted for saying. Simon’s amused smirk morphed into an amused frown, cocking his head to the side and leaning one arm on the table, and the other on the back of his chair, staring back at Wilhelm with a strange fascination.

 

“Did you know I actually already knew that?”

 

“Really? Wasn’t aware you knew anything.”

 

“Hmm, funny. Did you know you’re not the only intelligent person in the world?” 

 

“Did you know I already knew that, as well?” 

 

“Did you know you’ve dropped your fake little paparazzi facade, Prince Wilhelm?” 

 

Wilhelm immediately lifted his mouth into his PR smile - not his "fake little paparazzi facade" - again, and Simon smirked in victory. “You called me intelligent,” was what Wilhelm decided to focus on instead.

 

Simon scowled. “No I didn’t,” he immediately retorted, and that was just so childlike Wilhelm actually grinned victoriously at getting a dig at Simon, no matter how petty.

 

“Aww, you look so sulky. It’s cute ,” he booped Simon’s nose, and Simon snapped his teeth towards Wilhelm’s finger, causing him to retract it quickly, squinting at Simon. “Weirdo.” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes and smiled cheekily, wincing as he did so, his lip cracking. Right, his lip, that’s what Wilhelm’s trying to get to the bottom of.

 

“Who punched you?” Wilhelm pressed, and Simon’s smile disappeared, his eyes going blank with a single blink, mouth bending into a straight line. 

 

Simon turned to face his lunch, taking a sip of the soup from his spoon and then grabbing the salt and pepper from the middle of the table to season. “Your darling cousin,” Simon said quietly but purposefully, grinding pepper into his soup.

 

Wilhelm felt his stomach drop. That’s what August was threatening to do, but a split lip is significantly more tame than what he was threatening. “Oh.” Wilhelm looked down the table, and there August is, sitting quietly with his friends, still faking being sick with the occasional cough against his closed fist, sipping on soup carefully. He hadn't catcalled Wilhelm or Simon today, so Wilhelm hadn't even noticed he was in the same room.

 

“Yup,” Simon popped the P, now stirring his soup and nibbling on the bread quietly, watching the red liquid swirl in front of him.

 

“So it was August texting you during class? How do you have his number?”

 

For a moment Simon froze, muscles tensing, before he rolled his eyes forcefully, taking an awfully large bite of bread and replying through the mouthful - “Instagram DM, duh. Why would I have that pricks number, stupid fuck.” He muttered the insult, but Wilhelm still heard. 

 

He’s lying, again, he’s very obvious. But Wilhelm decided to not point it out again, because if Simon deals August drugs, why would Simon not have his number? Wilhelm has it confirmed that Simon does indeed deal August drugs, the concrete proof now set in from both parties. He could get them in big trouble. Simon still isn't admitting it though. “Why did he punch you?” Wilhelm already knows, but maybe Simon will admit it...

 

Simon turned to look at him, clearly exasperated. “Wilhelm, with no due respect, I don’t wanna talk to you, so go speak to some other rich harpy who wants to shove their tongue down your throat instead of talking to me. Thanks, babe.” 

 

Wilhelm scowled at Simon, recoiling slightly as heat rose into his cheeks. “That’s gross, people don’t want to - “

 

“Yes they do,” Simon immediately over-talked him, and then went deadly silent, letting his hair cover his face from Wilhelm’s side like a curly curtain between them.

 

Wilhelm huffed. Simon’s a lost cause, and it makes his blood boil. He blatantly lies, even about situations that involve Wilhelm or his family. Simon skips out on classes and puts other people's grades on the line by distracting them and not doing his work. He’s a bloody threat to society, that's what he is.

 

~ ~ ~

PE, Wilhelm’s least favourite class, and the teacher managed to make it even worse by choosing dodge ball as today's fitness. Mr Fond split the class in half evenly, at random, causing distress as he maliciously destroyed friend groups. Wilhelm tried to hide at the back as they played, holding a ball to protect himself, but not many people aimed for him anyway. Being Prince does have it's perks.

 

Felice and Simon are on the other team, but they aren't talking. Simon’s a threat to this class right now, more than he is in a classroom, dodging and throwing like his god damn life depends on it. Madi is next to Wilhelm and she looks like she’s going to war, hurling balls over her head at people’s legs and cackling maniacally whenever they hit a target, moving around faster than Wilhelm thought possible. Wilhelm’s scared for his safety, and he's on her team.

 

But Wilhelm’s tactic didn’t work, because everyone in front of him got hit, leaving him defenceless against at least 10 people on the other side, versing off against himself and Madi. Wilhelm dodged a ball from Felice and threw his own wildly, not even bothering to aim, but apparently some bloody Saint is watching him right now, because Wilhelm watched with glee as it sailed through the air, and then hit Simon dead in the stomach while he wasn't watching Wilhelm.

 

Simon doubled over with a grunt, but didn’t catch the ball, dropping it last second.

 

Wilhelm’s team whooped as Simon scowled venomously at Wilhelm, walking off to the side as if that was personal - it totally was. Then Wilhelm got hit in the shoulder by Felice, and he also walked to the side only a few seconds after Simon, but the victory burned through his veins like a stimulant drug, making him grin as his team congratulated him, ignoring the fact he spent the rest of the game standing at the back.

 

Simon kicked a ball at Wilhelm as they both sat on their separate benches, which Wilhelm stepped over, blowing Simon a kiss in the process. Hell yeah, that was smooth as fuck. Simon pretended to eat Wilhelm's kiss, much to everyone else's horror, a few laughs echoing from the side lines at the action. Wilhelm only finds that that amusing, but didn’t show it on his face, turning away from Simon.

 

The teacher blew her whistle as Madi hit half-sick Felice, leaving Wilhelm's team as the winner. Everyone launched off their benches towards Madi, cheering and patting her back, sticking their tongues out at Felice's team.

 

"Nice hit, Wille!" Henry said as he passed Wilhelm with a grin, returning to his previous spot. Wilhelm grinned back at him.

 

"Thanks. It's given me enough motivation to deal with him the rest of the day," Wilhelm replied, following Henry without even thinking.

 

Henry laughed at him, and then pointed over Wilhelm's shoulder -

 

“Round two! One to nil!”

 

Wilhelm groaned in annoyance. That's why Henry was returning to his start point. The class reset the game, lining up the dodge balls and standing on their separate lines of the gym, and started all over again. Simon is vicious. If Wilhelm thought he was bad last round for occasionally getting a bit too close to Wilhelm, then right now is like Wilhelm hit his grandma with a bat and cut all his nice, curly hair off. Simon is now very obviously aiming for Wilhelm, eyes stilted and focused while simultaneously dodging everyone else's attacks. So, naturally, Wilhelm aimed for him too. What else is he meant to do? It's literally self defence. 

 

Wilhelm nearly got hit in the face by Felice as he was focusing to hard on trying to get Simon, but Madi yelling at him just in time, causing herself to get hit by someone else. 

 

It feels like it’s just Simon and Wilhelm, sweaty, panting, muscles aching - at least Wilhelm’s are, Simon might work out or something, he’s pretty thin. Well, Wilhelm is too but Simon might be more muscle than just skin and bones, like Wilhelm - as they attack like it's something more serious than a classroom dodge ball game, firing the dodge balls at each like there’s no tomorrow, no one else, no consequences.

 

Wilhelm only realised it was just him and Simon left when Felice let of a shriek-like cheer for Simon (Traitor), and her voice cracked from sickness. Wilhelm spun to look around himself with shock. What?  Wilhelm turned back to Simon, his team roaring for him to take the shot, saying he can do it, encouraging things he doesn’t believe. Simon looks practically homicidal, eyes narrowed, panting, dead set on Wilhelm, ball in hand. Wilhelm is ready to hit himself with a dodge ball so he can live to see tomorrow.

 

Wilhelm gulped. He threw his own dodge ball but missed by a mile, Simon threw his and Wilhelm dodged. They went back and forth, the class hyping them up and cheering, standing on the benches, jumping on each other's backs and screaming. The class knows the feud between Wilhelm and Simon, and this feels a little more personal than just a dodge ball game suddenly. He has to win. His ego needs it. He cannot be losing to Simon, not in a petty game of class dodge ball espically.

 

Wilhelm turned away to snag a ball off the ground right next to him and - 

 

“Wilhelm!”

 

"Look out!"

 

"Turn around!"

 

"Yes, Simon!" 

 

Wilhelm didn’t look. The ball collided with hip and he stumbled from the force. 

 

Simon’s team erupted in cheers, running over to congratulate him, bouncing around like over caffeinated chihuahua's and slapping Simon's back, the week of terror he inflicted only a few days earlier forgotten. Wilhelm's team groaned and moaned about their lose, only a few generous and mature enough to give Wilhelm a pat on the back after they became tied with the another team, not even technically losing.

 

"Round three! Tie!" 

 

As they all reset for their third game, Wilhelm glanced over to the other side, and immediately caught Simon's eyes. He looks like a predator who's prey is injured, able to run but not forever. Wilhelm might actually die. Wilhelm flipped Simon off when Mr Fond's back was turned, and Simon blew him a kiss back with a flirty smile. Well, that's clearly revenge.

 

They played another round. Simon and Wilhelm failed to get each other out, instead getting hit by other players. Wilhelm’s team won the final round, and Mr Fond wrapped up the lesson.

 

“Wilhelm, Simon, I think you were our most determined players,” Mr Fond said, and everyone laughed, standing around the teacher in a big group. Wilhelm would argue that it was Murderous Madi, but he smiled charmingly either way, not catching Simon’s expression. “And because of that, you can be in charge of packing up, everyone else, go change. Have a wonderful day, guys!” 

 

Everyone began bustling about, regrouping with their friends from the other side, chattering and ignoring Wilhelm and Simon, who are glaring at each other from across the gym as everyone else files out into the charging rooms. Felice patted Wilhelm’s shoulder sympathetically on her way past, listening to Madi’s energetic re telling of how she was hit by Alexander, of all people (she’s offended because Alexander has expressed how he is not a sporty person, but still managed to hit her, of all people. Wilhelm will have to bring this up with her later, sounds hilarious)

 

Simon picked up a dodge ball and threw it at Wilhelm without hesitation, which he caught against his chest, and thank God for that because just imagine how embarrassing that would be? “You’re meant to put them in this bag, Simon,” Wilhelm told him smartly, picking up said bag and shoving the dodge ball in in a showy way.

 

“I know,” Simon grumbled, picking up dodge balls as he approached Wilhelm. “My aim isn’t that shitty.” 

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Wilhelm retorted with a smirk, opening the bag for Simon to put the dodge balls in. 

 

He scowled up at Wilhelm, dropping in the final dodge ball and turning to pick up more.

 

“You just gonna stand there and look fucking pretty or actually help?” Simon snapped over his shoulder at Wilhelm, dodge balls piled up in his arms.

 

The door shut as the final student escaped, leaving Simon and Wilhelm alone in the gym, their footsteps and voice echoing around the acoustic space. 

 

“I’ll stand here looking pretty,” Wilhelm shrugged, posing with a hand on his hip, bag limp in his other hand. 

 

“Wrong,” Simon turned and threw a dodge ball at him suddenly, hitting Wilhelm's forehead with an embarrassing smack, causing him to drop the bag with a grunt.

 

“You can’t hit your shoulders up!” Wilhelm protested, scrambling to grab the ball and pretend that didn’t hurt as much as it did. Because it did hurt, and he’s beyond tired of being hit in the face with things.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, approaching with more balls in his grasp (ha, funny). “That’s when we’re actually playing. There are no rules during fucking clean up... apart from clean up.”

 

“You're stupid,” Wilhelm snapped maturely, shoving the dodge ball into Simon’s chest for him to put in the bag.

 

Simon scoffed. “Says you.” And he shoved them back at Wilhelm stubbornly, frown set permanently on his brows. What gave this boy the nerve to speak to a Prince like that? It’s completely unfounded and unprecedented. 

 

Wilhelm bristled probably more than he should’ve. “Stop talking. We’ll work better in silence.”

 

"Fine, but only because I can't fucking wait to get out of here," Simon replied under his breath, turning away from Wilhelm.

 

That they did. They packed up the rest of the dodge balls in dead silence, shoving the bags into the storage cupboard and walking to the changing rooms quietly, Wilhelm only kicked the back of Simon's knee once as they walked, which only resulted in Simon yanking his hair in return.

 

Simon slammed the door in Wilhelm’s face, and Wilhelm blurted a curse, just catching it with his hands before it could be his nose. 

 

There’s only a few boys left in the changing rooms now, wrapped in towels or changing, basically done. 

 

“...heard he's planning a welcome party for him,” Wilhelm heard at the end of one of their sentences, and the two boys talking both eyed Wilhelm as he walked past with his towel towards the changing room.

Well, news spreads fast around here, it seems, when it's not about drug abusing cousins and poor, pathetic princes. Time to get that invite list sent before August invites all of Hillerska. But before Wilhelm can send that, he need's a list with every student at Hillerska.

~ Tuesday ~

 

Felice
Wille im dying i cant come over to do your make up this morning sorry
7: 43 am



Wille
Oh that's alright
Get better fast though <33
7: 44 am

 

Fuck.

 

Wilhelm sprang from his bed as if he'd been electrocuted and ran to his mirror, staring at his reflection. The bruising has mostly faded from under his eyes where his sinuses had swelled from the punch to the nose. His nose feels fine, the cut by his eyes has scabbed over and is nearly peeling off, but if people were to stare - and they always do - they’d see it. They're going to see it. Shit crap shit fuck Jesus fuck. 

 

Wilhelm's brought his hand to his mouth and chewed on his nails, eyes flickering over himself in the mirror. Another thought crossed his mind - who will I sit with if Felice is away? His first class is Geography, which he remembers is in L15 and not their normal room. He has no idea where the fuck L15 is. God dammit, Felice couldn't get sick tomorrow?

 

For the reason that Wilhelm is yet to learn this entire school, he got dressed quickly, stuffing everything he needs for his first few classes into his shoulder bag and doing a quick meditation from YouTube in a vain attempt to convince himself no one will notice anything, he’ll be fine, and the school won’t ring his parents to say Royal property is damaged.

 

Since Wilhelm is at breakfast before it’s even 8 am, almost no one is down here. He grabbed a sandwich as he walked through the room, keeping his body turned away from the few boys in there, who are all talking quietly, something about rowing practice. Wilhelm knows August does rowing, Erik did as well. People have tried to convince Wilhelm it's a good idea but he does not agree.

 

Wilhelm sped from Forest Ridge bright and early, the warm sun contrasting the chilly air that nips at his face. Wilhelm inhaled a lungful of the fresher oxygen, and it stung his throat slightly. 

 

With a weak, fleeting smile, Wilhelm made his way towards the library to get his morning coffee, throwing his sandwich into a bin as he passed by it. He's too anxious to stomach any food right now.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Simon’s not here and the only empty seat is next to Wilhelm. Despite leaving so early, he got distracted in the library and by the time he’d found the class, everyone had already claimed their seats. A few even sent smirks Wilhelm’s way as he made his way towards the two empty desks at the very back of the room, right next to each other. It’s like the other students knew what they were doing. How rude.

People's amusement melted into confusion, guilt or shock at the sight of his face, the faint bruising, the marks. No one said anything, but they definitely stared, they defiantly saw it, and they're definitely whispering about it.

 

"Is that new?"

 

"No, it looked like there were imprints on Monday. Did you not see how smooth his skin was looking?"

 

"I heard he fought Simon."

 

"I heard it was August."

 

"His cousin? Are you a fucking idiot?" 

 

I couldn't believe it either.

 

Now Wilhelm is sitting against the wall at the back of the class, the spot next to him still open and waiting, an aisle seat, so he'll be literally trapped if Simon sits shows up, stuck in between Simon and a wall for the next hour. Class officially begins in a minute. Wilhelm took a sip of his coffee, knee bouncing anxiously as he watched the door carefully, waiting for Simon to walk in.

 

Wilhelm is at the back of the class, which mean's he sitting with all of those kids; filming Tik Tok, vaping into their backpacks, chewing gum and sticking it to the bottom of the desks, basically not doing any work what so ever. It’s going to be a living hell for the next hour, especially if the devil shows up to host this party. Or though, Simon doesn't tend to sit at the back, normally somewhere in the vicinity of Wilhelm so he can complete his daily "Annoy Wilhelm until the teacher notices in every single god damn class" streak."

 

Alex looked back at Wilhelm, amusement dancing in his eyes. So he’s had to sit next to Simon for the past near two weeks, can’t he keep him? Wilhelm doesn’t want to sit next to him.

 

The bell rang at the same time the door opened, and Wilhelm heaved a sigh. There’s the devil himself, in the flesh. Simon paused at the doorway, clearly seat hunting, and then his eyes fell on the empty seat, before flicking to Wilhelm, and his scowl tripled. Wilhelm returned it without skipping a beat, his heart speeding up when Simon's dark, brooding eyes met his.

 

Simon walked over, body covered by some baggy black pants, a black top with a cartoon of Micky Mouse in black and white on the front, and a black, knitted cardigan, that looks rather soft. He’s a sight though. His hair is slightly dishevelled as it falls around his ears, and - and is that a hickey ? Wilhelm felt his jaw drop. This boy.

 

Simon threw himself into the chair next to Wilhelm, not even looking at him, but instead eyeing the coffee. Wilhelm grabbed it and moved it as far away from Simon as his desk would allow.

 

“I can see you thinking it,” Wilhelm hissed as Miss Clear flounced in with a smile..

 

Simon didn’t look over at him, watching the teacher with faux innocence, crossing his arms. “I have no idea what ever you may mean, young Wilhelm. Nice face, by the way.”

 

“Thanks, it was your fault... And your cardigan matches the teachers,” Wilhelm whispered, leaning towards Simon slightly to do so, refusing to look over at him. If Simon is going to do the enemies-whisper-hatefully-at-each-other-without-even-making-eye-contact thing, then Wilhelm will do it too. 

 

Simon glanced at him, glare burning into Wilhelm’s skin. He smirked. 

 

“Nice hickey. August give it to you?” Wilhelm is broken. He needs to stop. He slammed his mouth shut as Simon scowled, turning his face to glare at Wilhelm, who continued to stare at the front of the room while Miss Clear called out names.

 

“That’s not even funny,” Simon replied in a harsh whisper, eyeing Wilhelm with annoyance. “It was my boyfriend.”

 

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Wilhelm mumbled, turning his head to look over at Simon. Wait, no. Stop talking, Wilhelm … but now he’s curious. He’s ahead in Geography anyway.

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “You don’t know anything about me, Wilhelm.”

 

Wilhelm shrugged. “Don’t want to.” But yes he does, oh my God he does.

 

They fell silent as Miss Clear got to Wilhelm's name on the roll.

 

"Here."

 

"Thank you, Wilhelm."

 

Wilhelm took out his notebook while she finished marking, talking mostly to herself as she normally does. He flicked to his Geography section, and took out a pencil.

 

Simon eyed it over his shoulder.

 

Wilhelm ignored him, taking a sip of his coffee, and putting it down away from Simon again, far, far away. 

 

Simon snatched the notebook, dragging it over to his desk without even asking. Wilhelm wasn't expecting him to attack the notebook, and instantly grabbed his coffee instead.

 

“Oi,” Wilhelm grumbled as Simon’s eyes flickered over the notes. He turned the page. “I thought you’d had enough of stealing my notes?”

 

“Your handwriting is ugly,” Simon mumbled, almost as if he’s just saying that for the sake of getting back at Wilhelm for his light jab.

 

Wilhelm still found himself looking down at his handwriting. It’s really not. It’s tidy. He’s spent hours perfecting it… 

 

Wilhelm shook his head. He's not letting Simon's toxic little words affect him even the slightest, tiniest amount. The stupid idiot. Wilhelm grabbed the notebook from Simon, their hands brushing as Simon tried, and failed to hold onto it. Wilhelm closed the notebook and put it under his folded arms, looking forwards as the teacher started explaining the lesson. She’s staring right at Simon and Wilhelm with that stare that very clearly communicates the annoyance she feels.

 

Simon picked up the mechanical pencil Wilhelm got out. You know what, if that keeps him quiet, he can keep it. So Wilhelm didn’t ask for it back, throwing the teacher a small smile that means he’s paying attention now.

 

Miss Clear wrote a few bullet points on the board from the previous lessons they'd done as she spoke, her swirly, blue handwriting listing off basic points Wilhelm already knows, and remembers. “We’ll do a quiz in groups of two, since the numbers are perfect. How many people are we missing?”

 

“Three, Miss,” Stazia piped up. “Walter, Felice, and Fredrika.”

 

“Ah, I was told this classroom was slightly smaller. Jane, can you go get a chair from another classroom instead of sitting on Madi? You guys will have to be a group of three. All the basic things I have written here on the whiteboard, so everyone should pass this quiz. We'll mark at the end of the lesson!” 

 

Wilhelm didn't hear anything past "group of three." Are you kidding? Wilhelm could have sat next to quiet, polite Jane instead of this obnoxious twat who is sitting there right now? The betrayal is unreal.

 

Simon seems oblivious to the annoyance Wilhelm can feel seeping from his pores. Simon is currently un-assembling Wilhelm’s pencil with lithe, nimble fingers. Wilhelm sighed dramatically. Simon looks extremely concentrated as he drains the lead into his palm, and then puts it on the desk. Wilhelm kept his mouth shut as Miss Clear walks between the desks, handing out the quiz.

 

She eyed Simon, but also said nothing, throwing Wilhelm a quick smile as she put the piece of paper down on Simon's desk.

 

“Simon, we need that pencil to write,” Wilhelm hissed, tone of voice carrying “idiot” heavily as he slid the paper onto his own desk.

 

“Watch that tone Mr Wilhelm, or I might just flick this lead off the desk and you’ll never see it again,” Simon mumbled, now peeling the label off the main section of the mechanical pencil. Honestly, why? He’s leaving sticky residue behind. Simon turned to Wilhelm, who’s bearing a very unimpressed expression, and stuck the label to his forehead with a smile.

 

Wilhelm took the label off his forehead, and scrunched it into a ball, putting it next to his coffee and grabbing the worksheet, refusing to look at Simon.

 

Simon huffed, even though Wilhelm hadn’t really done anything wrong. “If you aren’t going to fix my pencil, Doctor Frankenstein, then we’re going to have a problem,” Wilhelm snapped, looking up at Simon finally.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, then grabbed Wilhelm's hand, facing it upwards with his own hand holding his wrist tight so he can't wiggle away, and dropping the pieces of lead into his open palm. 

 

“Simon.”

 

“Yes, darling?”

 

“Give me the rest of it.”

 

Simon batted his eyelashes, and Wilhelm clenched his jaw. Don’t punch his stupid, innocent looking face with those dark, haunted eyes and the long lashes. Don’t punch him, don’t do it. 

 

“Will you give me something in return?”

 

“I - you stole that from me!” Wilhelm whined back like a child, putting the lead on the quiz paper.

 

“You can start your quiz in three, two, one, go!” Miss Clear called from the front of the room, a timer - which is several colourful rocket's racing through space - appeared on the white board on top of Miss Clear's notes, projected from the white box on the ceiling.

 

Wilhelm turned back to Simon. He has never failed a quiz before, and no way in hell - ha, get it, because the back of the class is hell? - will he start now. “I’ll do the whole quiz and you can sit there and do nothing,” Wilhelm reasoned, opening his hand for Simon again, wiggling his fingers encouragingly when he really just wants to grab Simon and rip the pencil from his hands.

 

Simon pretended to consider this, putting all the different parts upright on the desk. Wilhelm went to snatch them, but Simon is faster, reacting quickly, pinning Wilhelm's hand to the table underneath his own, the rings decorating his delicate fingers cold against Wilhelm's skin. Simon patted his hand calmly while Wilhelm ground his teeth, glaring at Wilhelm. “You would have done that anyway," Simon smirked.

 

He’s literally taken Wilhelm’s stationary hostage. What the hell is wrong with this guy? Anger seized in Wilhelm’s gut, he ripped his hand away, slapping Simon’s hand out his way and snatching all his stationary into his grasp, depositing them on his worksheet to fix.

 

Wilhelm glanced at the screen, distressed. They have 9 minutes.

 

Simon sighed heavily, not trying to get back the pencil as he slid down to rest his head on Wilhelm's shoulder, his hair fall all over the place and tickling Wilhelm's face, smelling or oranges and cigarettes, like he always does. Seriously, does he have a god damn orange scented perfume or something? Wilhelm shoved him off, heart slamming in his chest.

 

“I’m bored," Simon complained.

 

Wilhelm gritted his teeth harshly, throwing Simon a fierce glare and finding two girls watching with amused smiles. “That’s nice,” he ground out under his breath.

 

Simon glared at him, clearly Wilhelm isn't fitting up to his needy and constant needs. Wilhelm finished fixing his pencil and wrote his and Simon’s name’s at the top of the page, before his attention to the questions, finally.

 

Simon was silent for a whole two seconds, before reaching around Wilhelm’s back to grab the coffee before Wilhelm could react and protect it from his evil grasps. Simon wafted his cigarette scent on Wilhelm as he moved, his chest brushing Wilhelm’s shoulder so he could reach around him. Wilhelm felt Simon's heart beating through the fabric of his graphic tee. Wilhelm's heart jumped because he does not want to smell like his favourite iced coffee until lunch time. He'll be sticky and cold.

 

But Simon didn’t pour the drink onto Wilhelm’s head and cackle about revenge like Wilhelm had imagined, he instead sniffed it with judgemental eyes, swirling the content and watching it curiously. He side eyed Wilhelm. “Do the work,” was all Simon said, and Wilhelm just narrowed his eyes, watching cautiously, because he doesn’t trust Simon.

 

“Can you stop annoying me for 7 minutes so I can do this work for us?” Wilhelm hissed, not even bothering to reach for the coffee back.

 

“I’m not annoying you,” Simon argued calmly, taking a sip of the coffee. Wilhelm sighed angrily, fearing he may just suffocate from all the sighing he's doing. Because of that, he took in a deep breath.

 

“You are. You know you are,” Wilhelm snapped back, quickly circling an answer on the paper. The girls giggled, and he held the pencil tighter.

 

“I’m simply existing,” Simon said vaguely, swirling the drink again, ice cubes clinking annoyingly.

 

“Your existence is the bane of mine,” Wilhelm grumbled, answering another question.

 

“Mmmm. This is good," Simon commented, ignoring Wilhelm as he took another sip.

 

“Five minutes!” Miss Clear called. The class is chatting quietly, pencils scraping, heads craned in together, apart from Simon, Simon is leaning back against the wall behind them, sipping on Wilhelm’s coffee like he owns it, looking around calmly, lounging in his chair nonchalantly.

 

Simon watched over Wilhelm’s shoulder and it just added pressure, annoyingly. “Do you want to answer some?” Wilhelm asked, turning to glare at Simon, who just smirked back at him with his spilt lip and evil, cat like eyes.

 

“Sure,” Simon stuck his hand out for Wilhelm to hand over his beloved mechanical pencil, but Wilhelm just stared in shock, brain still catching up.

 

“Wait - what? Wait - “

 

But Simon's already got his grubby little fingers on the pencil, still holding the coffee. Wilhelm blinked a few times. Simon lounged over onto Wilhelm’s desk to reach the worksheet, forcing Wilhelm to lean back in his chair, because apparently Simon is one of those people who doesn’t have a need for personal space. His side digs into Wilhelm's stomach from where he's basically leaning on him, and it hurts. “Are you being serious? Like actually answering the questions properly?” Wilhelm inquired, looking around Simon’s body, thrown onto his desk, blocking his view of the quiz. Uh oh.

 

“I’ll do my best,” Simon muttered, clearly not paying all that much attention to Wilhelm, but the likeliness of him actually doing work is slim, so this is not going to end well.

 

Wilhelm reached the opposite way across Simon's back to take the coffee. Simon tightened his grip on Wilhelm's drink. “Nah-uh. You owe me after dousing me in this.”

 

And Wilhelm will die with the knowledge he had considered buying Simon a drink to repay him. He’ll never tell. Ever. Ever, ever, ever.

 

Wilhelm huffed and fell into his chair, ignoring the two girls whispering to each other conspiratorially. Wilhelm watched as they dropped their phones to their laps. “You better be doing this properly,” Wilhelm mumbled, pulling one of Simon’s curls, watching it ping back into shape instantly. Kind of annoying, how come his hair is so perfect? “Can you move?” Wilhelm rested his arms on Simon’s back, folding them, digging his elbows in on purpose.

 

Simon let out a short hiss, cutting himself off. “I’m actually quite comfy,” he said in reply, not moving, pencil scratching.

 

Wilhelm scowled at the back of his curly head. Maybe if he's really lucky and thinks hard enough and looks at Simon with enough anger, he'll will just catch fire and that'll be most of Wilhelm's problem's solved. “Yeah, you sound comfy - “

 

“Times up!”

 

“Oh well,” Simon said calmly, and he lent back in his own chair.

 

Wilhelm wants to bash his head against the desk. Simon has answered every single question, yeah, but he did it wrong. Oh my God .

 

“Simon!” Wilhelm yelped, alarm gripping his insides. He’s going to fail at something, for the first time in forever. “What - ?”

 

“Wilhelm, is there a problem?” Miss Clear asked, eyebrows raised at him from where she stands at the front of the room, projector shinning on her face.

 

Wilhelm choked on his tongue, staring down at the answers, and then at Simon, who was wearing a smug expression. Screw Simon, Wilhelm’s throwing him under the bus - I really need to stop with the hitting people with vehicles. It’s not funny.

 

“Miss, Simon wrote everything wrong on purpose,” Wilhelm blurted, sitting straighter in his chair and shoving the worksheet away from himself, onto Simon's desk.

 

Simon choked on Wilhelm’s coffee, his burning gaze digging into Wilhelm’s face. Good, suffer. Suufffeeerrr.

 

Miss Clear's eyebrows rose even higher, and everyone turned to stare at the pair with amusement. Oh, they so sat them together on purpose. “Simon, is this true?”

 

“Nope, Miss, Wilhelm’s lying,” Simon replied instantly, smiling soundly.

 

“Isn’t that Wilhelm’s drink?” One of the girls whispered loudly.

 

“They’re dating, of course they’d share,” the other replied, and both Simon and Wilhelm turned their heads sharply to glare at them. The girls eyes widened and they both looked away quickly, giggling to themselves.

 

“I - Miss I’d never,” Wilhelm snapped, snatching his coffee off Simon with purpose. “I didn’t lie.”

 

“He did,” Simon said in a sing-song voice.

 

Wilhelm turned to glare at him. “Piss off Simon, you know I didn’t,” he snarled at him nastily, feeling all of his resolve, all his calm, melting and burning as Simon gazed up at the ceiling innocently. “Yes you did," Simon replied calmly.

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Diiiid.”

 

“Did not .”

 

“Did soooo - “

 

“Boys - “

 

“What did I ever do to you?” Wilhelm yelled suddenly, turning his whole body to Simon, blinded by anger shooting through his veins like molten lava, molten rage. “I spilt my drink on you and I apologised. That was over a week ago, so let it go! You’re being so sensitive, Simon! It's annoying everyone!”

 

Simon’s cheeks turned a red colour, matching the tint in Wilhelm’s vision.

 

“Prince Wilhelm - “

 

“You are so stupid!” Simon yelled loudly, turning to Wilhelm harshly, and Wilhelm's jaw dropped.

 

Excuse you?” Wilhelm replied, actually offended. He is not stupid, he is actually very intelligent, Simon is just using a petty insult because he has nothing intelligent to say.

 

Simon scoffed at his expression blatantly, and Wilhelm felt his heart beginning to thump at the fire in Simon's dark eyes. “You think you are so clever, so entitled just because your a Prince and whatever, but - “

 

Wilhelm shoved his shoulder, and Simon nearly fell off his chair, not prepared for that. When he sat up he looked even angrier, mouth slightly agape from the shock, glaring. “I do not think that!” Wilhelm shot back angrily. “You’re believing everything people say about me. You don’t even know me! You're not even pretending to understand how I'm not who the media writes me to be!"

 

Simon shoved Wilhelm back by the shoulders, Wilhelm's head bashing into the wall sharply, causing pain to spark across his skull and in his shoulders where Simon's bony little fingers dug into his flesh to push him away.

 

“You don’t know me!” Simon fired back with equal ferocity, eyes burning with the power of a thousand suns.

 

“I don't think you know yourself half the time!” Wilhelm yelled back at him, cheeks burning.

 

Simon faltered, blinking as if frozen in time mid scowl.

 

Where did those words come from? Wilhelm isn't sure. 

 

"You can go shove your weak little words right up your royal fucking ass hole - "

 

“BOYS!”

 

BANG!

 

The two turned to look at Miss Clear, cheeks flushed, shoulders aching from the shoving, hearts pounding. She’s standing there with a book that she smacked down on the table, aged face scrunched in annoyance and stress. Wilhelm hopes she wasn't trying to get their attention for very long.

 

“You both have an after school detention, and stay after class today, I need to have a word with you both, this has gotten out of hand boys. Alexander, please swap with Simon," Miss Clear ordered, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Oh God.

 

Simon’s jaw dropped, and he opened his mouth to protest -

“Not a word. And I am notifying your parents.” And Wilhelm might just cry. Simon turned back to Wilhelm, eyes more deadly than he’s ever seen, he gave him a final shove to the chest as he stood, and Wilhelm lashed out to hit him back - “No, none of that. Simon, move.” Wilhelm seethed, crossing his arms across his pounding heart. The places Simon pushed him have grown their own miniature hearts that are beating rather quickly.  “I have been told by your other teachers that you two have an issue.”

 

“Whoops, my bad I’m the only one two is honest about how intolerable he is,” Simon grumbled, stalking past Miss Clear and Alex, who looks like he’s going to piss himself holding in laughter. Dick head. 

 

Miss Clear shook her head, eyes closed. Everyone stared with mixed emotion, some looking guilty, others amused, some just scared. Wilhelm’s anger melted and now he … he might actually cry. He rubbed his face aggressively, feeling his cheeks burning under his hands as Alex sat down, and everyone followed the teacher as she walked to the front of the room. Fuck. I’m so fucked. She’s contacting our parents? My Mama … Wilhelm took a deep breath against his hands. It’ll be fine, it’s only one mistake.

 

"Alright, let's mark these quizzes."

 

~ ~ ~

 

“After school detention, for an hour, in this class room, doing homework,” Miss Clear listed firmly, leaving no room for argument, sitting at her desk, peering at the two of them over the top of her glasses. They stopped shoving each other, standing straight and glaring at the floor. Wilhelm put his hands in his pockets and Simon sighed, crossing his arms and sticking out one leg, jutting his hip.

 

“Miss that’s not fair,” Simon argued, because of course, he hasn’t got in enough trouble for one day. “Wilhelm likes homework.”

 

“Maybe you should learn a thing from him then,” she replied curtly. Simon huffed. “I’ve emailed both your parents to inform them that you have been disrupting the class and each other, while also physically assaulting one another and stealing each other's personal items.” Wilhelm’s stomach tightened with each word. He might throw up all over her desk and Simon. Mostly on Simon. He’ll aim and hope it ruins his perfect hair.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, and Wilhelm wanted to strangle him. Wilhelm’s entire reputation is on the line right now, and he’s rolling his eyes? Simon can't even comprehend the amount of trouble Wilhelm will be in when Firma shows this email Miss Clear has sent to his Mother.

 

“I also included how other teachers - in fact, all your teachers - have noticed the … “ Miss Clear looked them both up and down with slight distaste, making Wilhelm want to squirm and melt into the floor, watching her choose her words carefully. “Feud. Boys, you have so much potential, you are both competent and capable of great things. I suggest you make good with each other before it gets out of hand, alright?”

 

Wilhelm nodded obediently. “Yes, Miss, we’ll sort it out. I’m so sorry we were a interruption. It won’t happen again.”

 

Simon had nothing to say, for once, standing silently next to Wilhelm, an awkward foot of space in between them.

 

Miss Clear nodded. “I hope so, Wilhelm. I have to say, I expected better from you, dear.” She gave him a disappointed smile, and he just about died inside, his organs failing, heart clenching, stomach sickly. He just hung his head, staring at his clean Vans next to Simon’s dirty Converse. One of Simon’s shoes is on top of his other one, standing on his own foot, scuffing the front of the shoe even more. “Alright, well, go to your next class now boys, thank you for your time.” She gestured for them to leave.

 

Simon turned and stalked out the class without another word. Wilhelm smiled as brightly as he could at her while Simon slammed the door behind him. “Thank you, Miss. Have a lovely day!” He said as cheerily as he could manage.

 

“You too, Wilhelm,” Miss Clear replied.

 

Wilhelm turned and walked out the door, and his smile melted as the door swung shut behind him. He stormed after Simon, who is meandering his way down the corridor calmly, sipping the drink he’s stolen back from Wilhelm which is now just very watered down coffee from the melted ice, and probably backwash. Wilhelm preys Simon is just drinking backwash.

 

Simon didn’t seem bothered by Wilhelm, pushing open the door to head towards their next building for maths. 

 

Wilhelm slammed the door behind him, and Simon only sighed heavily. “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” Simon had the nerve to ask. And Wilhelm just wants to punch him in the face.

 

“Simon! We have detention!” Wilhelm yelled hysterically as they walked next to each other across the courtyard. A few people slowly working their way to their classes side eyed them with frowns, whispering suspiciously.

 

“Better quiet down, sweetheart, people are getting suspicious,” Simon smirked, sipping the last bits of coffee and then handing it back to Wilhelm. He nearly screamed, throwing it in the bin they just walked past. 

 

“Stop calling me that,” Wilhelm growled, shoving Simon out of the way so he could walk in the middle of the path alone. 

 

Simon chuckled. “Nope.”

 

“Don’t you have things you’d rather be doing than going to detention? Isn’t your Mum gonna be disappointed?” Wilhelm shot over his shoulder at Simon, who’s now pulled out a packet of cigarettes and is lighting one, not answering that question. “Oh, you are ridiculous.” Wilhelm scoffed at him, face on fire. His first detention, ever, and of course it's Simon's fault. How could it not be? It's destined to be, wasn't it? Eventually it was going to happen.

 

“‘Course I have better things to do, but it’s too late now. And, admit it, this was inevitable,” Simon replied from behind Wilhelm, words punctuated by his smoking. Wilhelm hates him even more for having similar thoughts to Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm glared over his shoulder as Simon blew a stream of smoke forwards, and he walked faster to get out of it, leaving Simon to pace to class slowly, smoking in broad daylight as the final bell for class rang.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm did another one of his one minute meditations before he dared to leave the safety of his room to suffer through this detention. Wilhelm packed up all his homework like he's going to be executed. Right as he was about to walk out the door, he grabbed the case of his earbuds and stuffed that in his bag.

 

Wilhelm's plan is so simple, not even Simon could mess it up: request to use earplugs, sit on the opposite side of the room to the little minx, and ignore said minx the entire time. Wilhelm normally doesn’t like to neglect people who are interested in talking to him. Sure, he’ll put in earplugs and avoid eye contact but if someone walks right up to him to talk, he’ll talk. But Simon is the exception. 

 

He confuses Wilhelm almost as much as he annoys him. He doesn’t seem to care about literally anything. Grades, nope. Friends, no. His reputation, no again. His own health, no. His clothes - gasp - his shoes, most definitely not have you seen them? It looks like Simon wore them on his daily trek to hell every single time. 

 

“Where are you going?” Nils asked as Wilhelm made a break for the exit of Forest Ridge, coming into the dorms the same time Wilhelm is leaving.

 

“To see Felice,” Wilhelm lied quickly. It's just too humilating for people to know -

 

"So you got a detention, it's no big deal, man," Nil's patted Wilhelm's shoulder. "Erik used to get detentions as well, so don't even sweat it. But, uh, hey," he came in closer towards Wilhelm like he hadn't just blown up half his world. WHAT? My perfect, can do no wrong brother has got detentions?! As in plural? "Maybe try to leave Simon alone, because the rumours about you guys being together is only getting stronger. There's a video posted to the Hillerska Couple's Insta of Simon leaning on your shoulder during class."

 

Wilhelm ground his teeth into ashes that he'll sprinkle on Simon's grave like glitter. "He was being annoying, Nils, I shoved him off instantly. Did they not see that in the video?"

 

Nils frowned. "No, it was like, two seconds long. It's just Simon sighing, and then leaning on you, and it cuts. Go check out the Insta if you're that interested, but hey, I can see you're clearly not into him. Respect, man."

 

Wilhelm doesn’t mind Nils too much, he isn’t as bad as Vincent and August, and it’s obvious he only hangs out with them because he doesn’t have any other friends with the same popularity statuses. 

 

Wilhelm made it back to his temporary Geography class without any more problems, seething about that video the whole way. Of course there's a Hillerska Couple's Instagram, and of course Wilhelm and Simon are on there, and it's highly likely it's public, so anyone can see that video. Anyone could then Google Simon, and somehow figure out he's gay because there has to be an article of two about him. All it takes it one person to put two and two together, and assume they're dating. Being put on a Hillerska Couple's account doesn't help. Wilhelm opened the door to find Simon already sitting at a desk, face down on some homework, and no teacher.

 

“Oh,” Wilhelm frowned at the empty teacher desk, and Simon sat up.

 

Simon rolled his eyes just from looking at Wilhelm, and he glared back. “Where’s Miss Clear?” Wilhelm asked, stalking into the room, and shutting the door. Wilhelm walked until he was in front of Simon’s desk, which is at the front of the room, directly in front of the board, frowning down at him.

 

“She left to do fuckin'... something, I wasn’t listening, but she said she’ll be back and that if we touch each other she’ll give us after school detentions all term,” Simon replied, sounding like a broken record player as he numbly repeats what he was told. He looked up at Wilhelm, his pupils blown to an un-natural size, glossy and out of it.  

 

Wilhelm huffed, and turned to open a window. “You stink,” he commented nicely, throwing the window open and inhaling the fresh air.

 

“You look stinky,” Simon said quietly, chewing on his pencil and staring down at his work, brows furrowed. He looks … stressed. He pulled the pencil from his mouth and the end was chewed up nastily. No wonder he prefers to use Wilhelm's when his looks like a teething puppy got a hold of it. His knee is bouncing, eyes drifting… Wilhelm feels bad - no. No. NO. No, he doesn’t

 

“Need to do this. My ... My uh, my Mama said,” Simon mumbled quietly against the end of his pencil, words slurred and quiet, not paying any attention to Wilhelm, who is now squinting at him from the window. “She said so. So...”

 

Wilhelm watched as Simon pulled out his phone and Googled something sloppily, before writing the answer on the paper. His eyes flickered back up to the instructions at the top of the page and he swore quietly, scribbling out his answer, chewing on his lip angrily - his top lip, avoiding the split on the bottom one, which is slightly less swollen than before, but still looks rather painful.

 

Wilhelm cocked his head to the side in fascination, any previous anger dissolving. Simon is doing work. He’s actually doing it. Stress does crazy things to people. 

 

Simon flicked his gaze to Wilhelm, “are you gonna fuckin' stare at me all day, or are you gonna do your extra fancy homework?” He snapped, eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m going to do my extra homework in half the time it’ll take you to do one question,” Wilhelm retorted, sitting right by the window, opening his bag and taking out a stack, noting the teacher's computer open on the teacher desk in front of him. 

 

Simon scowled. “Not all of us got rich, royal, private tutors for the holidays,” Simon grumbled. “Fuckin'... rich ass hoe.”

 

Wilhelm didn’t grace him with a reply. It may sound nice, a private tutor for the holidays, but it wasn’t fun as a kid when he wanted to run around and play at the big, tasteless palace. Now he just wants to study, to get the grades, to ace the report, to be gushed about by teachers to his parents and brother, for his trophies and certificates to clutter the palace. He took that in mind and nailed down to do his work.

 

Miss Clear came in a few minutes later, eyed them suspiciously, and then announced her leave to run another errand, assuring them the same rules apply. Wilhelm has no intent in breaking any more rules. He will not humour Simon’s stupidity anymore, he’s going to focus on his grades, and not let Simon grate his nerves to dust.

 

Simon began humming. Wilhelm’s nerves caught fire… He’ll admit it though, Simon can carry a tune. It sounds pretty, but he still grabbed his earplugs and shoved them in, blasting his music to reiterate the deaf by 25 thing.

 

Another worksheet done. A glance at Simon confirmed he’s still on question one, jaw clenched around a pencil, eyes staring at the paper like he wants it to catch fire. He didn’t look up at Wilhelm, but appears to have stopped humming. That’s too bad, someone needs a tutor…

 

I could tutor him. Wilhelm looked back to his own work sharply. No. You have your own problems, this is Simon’s fault because he never pays attention. Yeah, but I don’t know what his life is actually like, he could have a learning disorder and really struggle in class. Wilhelm looked over at Simon, who has his phone out again, pencil down, looking uninterested as he texts someone with a frown. Or, he could just despise school and is trying to get expelled. Wilhelm watched as Simon stopped texting, waited a moment, and then frowned, leaning towards his phone like he couldn't believe what’s on the screen. He began typing, sending another message. He looked at Wilhelm.

 

“What, nosy?” Wilhelm heard through his music.

 

Wilhelm slowly took out an earplug. “Who are you texting? You need to do work.”

 

“Thanks, Mum,” Simon shot back drily, attention getting snapped back to his phone. Wilhelm watched him suppress a reaction, his brows gathered for a moment, before he smoothed them out, eye twitching the smallest amount. “Put your earplugs in and go back to fucking ignoring me,” Simon grumbled and, okay, that’s not like him. 

 

Wilhelm shrugged. Unlike Simon, when someone doesn’t feel like being bothered, he’ll leave them alone.

 

~ ~ ~

 

When Miss Clear came back she made Simon give her his phone, and told him to do his work. They only have another twenty minutes of torture - sorry, detention remaining. Wilhelm is actually thriving though, almost all his work is done and he’s feeling uncharacteristically happy, but Simon’s mood is seeping from across the room like a plague. Wilhelm can feel his sadness, his annoyance, his anger and frustration.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm has finished his work, and is now reading Crisis, leaning on the wall comfortably, his music playing softly in his ear.

 

Simon grinds his teeth and turns over the worksheet aggressively, eyes widening at the discovery of the other side also having work.

 

Wilhelm’s eyes flicked from the page to Simon. No. Focus. It’s not your problem. He doesn’t deserve your help. He looked back to his page, finding the part he was up to and continuing to read to himself.

 

A few minutes passed. Miss Clear typed on her computer aggressively and fluently, sipping on her Stanley cup every few moments. Wilhelm read, and Simon struggled. 

 

Simon suddenly sat up straighter, taking a deep breath in the deathly quiet room. Miss Clear eyed him nervously, but to Wilhelm, it looks like Simon is trying to look calm. Wilhelm watched over the top of his book as Simon started writing, circling, answering, all in a very quick succession, without even stopping to read questions. Idiot . He’s doing it wrong on purpose, he's just run out of patience instead of asking someone to help him.

 

Wilhelm sighed, and let his eyes return to his book. If Simon isn’t even going to try, Wilhelm doesn’t care. He didn't care anyway.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Finally, detention ended. 

 

Simon was packing up with five minutes to go, shoving the work into a pocket on his patch covered bag, standing up and leaving his chair out - as per usual - swinging his bag roughly onto his bag and taking his phone off Miss Clear's desk without asking, where it has been steadily buzzing throughout detention. Someone likes Simon, or more likely, someone has serious beef with Simon. Yeah, more likely. Relatable too.

 

Wilhelm packed up slowly, putting his earplugs in their case, folding his work neatly into piles and tucking it into different the folder in his of his shoulder bag, standing up and pushing his chair in, closing the window next to him. 

 

“Thank you for the good work, boys. I hope you can continue this domestic behaviour towards each other,” Miss Clear said with a smile. “You may go.”

 

Simon was gone before she finished her sentence.

 

“Thank you Miss, have a good evening,” Wilhelm said, smiling, walking towards the door.

 

“You too, Wilhelm.”

 

He closed the door behind him gently, turning around. He expected to find Simon, seething, holding his homework for Wilhelm to do, or just complain about how boring that was, but it’s an empty corridor, and something … weird flickered in his chest. Not sadness, he doesn’t miss talking to Simon, probably … annoyance. That feels right. It's more probable than missing Simon's presence. 

 

Wilhelm began his trek back to his dorm, and felt a slight itch in his throat. Uh oh. He coughed into his elbow once, and his throat went dry from it, achy, even. Crap.

 

Wilhelm took a deep breath. His throat is probably just a little parched, he isn’t getting the sickness that’s plaguing the school, that would be outrageous and detrimental to his grades, which are already under the peril that is Simon Eriksson.

 

~ ~ ~

 

His Mother’s calling him.

 

Wilhelm stared down at the phone with mild shock, his heart getting faster and faster as he stares at the bright screen. He’s midway through eating his dinner with the rest of Forest Ridge - at least those who aren’t crippling and dying from the cold, man flu, you know? - and now his phone is ringing on the table.

 

“Oh - is that - ?” Alex asked, craning his neck to look down at the contact name “Mama”.

 

Wilhelm cleared his throat, snatching up his phone and standing from his chair. “Yes. Excuse me for a moment,” he forced a polite smile, which Alex returned, stepping away from the table.

 

Wilhelm walked quickly out the dining room, hearing Alex explaining to the others the reason for his quick departure, answering the phone as he went, heading for the doors out of Forest Ridge. “Hello, Mama,” Wilhelm said, putting the phone against his ear and waiting, pushing open the door and walking out into the cold, dim lighting. 

 

Good evening, Wilhelm,” Kristina's voice replied through the small speaker. “How are you tonight?

 

Wilhelm’s heart began to gain speed. He knows what she’s calling about: the detention, Simon, the fight/fighting. He took a deep breath, but, as per usual, it did nothing for the hammering inside his rib cage, the blood running cold from fear that's circulating his body, freezing every limb. “I’m alright, thanks. How are you?”

 

Kristina sighed and Wilhelm's heart dropped. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, staring around the empty grounds. “I was good, Wilhelm, but then I got an email from your teacher, Miss Clear, I believe the name was. Yes."

 

Wilhelm didn’t reply, suppressing the urge to curl into a ball at the sharp coldness in her voice. Wilhelm stared out at the grounds, coated in a thick darkness, moonlight shimmering down upon it all as his throat grew thick and closed over. He tried to focus on something he can see to keep himself grounded so he won't collapse to the floor and sob into the phone, begging for forgiveness. How could he be so stupid as to forget the pressure he's under? He has to do the things he promised his Mother he would do. It's a promise. Simon got in the way and blocked him from seeing his responsibilities, and ... and for a few moments that felt good, but now it's just ... It's not good anymore. Wilhelm's chest is caving in on itself and she's only said a few full sentences.

 

You got a detention, Wilhelm,” was all she said. Wilhelm began pacing up and down the path. “This is the first time you have gotten a detention, and I have to be honest, I am extremely disappointed. You are two weeks into your first year at Hillerska, and you have disrupted classes, fought with other students, and got detention?” Wilhelm kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to answer a rhetorical question, not that he trusts himself to speak and not ramble in the first place. Her tone is sharp and hard, confident and assertive. “Your Father is also very disappointed. Erik was surprised, and sad. We all attended Hillerska, and never received detention, not in the nine years we three spent there in total. You’ve been there not even two weeks and you have one. That is not something to be proud of, Wilhelm.” 

 

“I’m not proud of it, Mama. I promise it won’t happen ever again, it’s just, this one boy - “

 

Excuses,” She interrupted calmly. Wilhelm stopped pacing, chewing on his nails, heart beating rapidly in his chest. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just fix it. No more trouble, no more fighting, and definitely no more detention. How are your grades?

 

Wilhelm took a deep breath, and coughed once against the cold air, and the light ache appearing in his throat again. “We haven’t done any tests or exams to get a grade for,” he replied quietly. “But I’m ahead in all my classes, and I’ve done all the homework.”

 

Did you ask for extra work like we agreed you were to do?” Kristina questioned. Wilhelm could practically see her sharp gaze shooting daggers through his mind. 

 

“Yes. I have done all of that too. I’m - I'm ahead, Mama, I’m not behind. I'm ahead. I promise. I swear - ”

 

Good, well done darling.” Her voice changed with the snap of a finger, and Wilhelm felt himself relax. “I’m proud that you are ahead. It’s best for it to stay that way. If this boy continues to be a problem, we can remove him from the class, alright?

 

Wilhelm nodded, releasing a harsh breath. “Okay, Mama. Thank you.” He took another deep breath, slightly easier this time, the ice that was solidifying in his blood stream melting away like it was never there. 

 

Alright, Wilhelm, that was all. Please behave, remember you owe this to us after we let you come out.

 

“I will.”

 

Goodnight, Wilhelm. I love you, darling.

 

“I love you too, Mama. Goodnight, I'll talk to you later.”

 

Kristina hung up the phone with a sharp beep. W

 

Wilhelm let his arm fall limp to his side, eyes glazed over as he stared out at Hillerska. Kristina will remove Simon if he continues to cause problems? Now that sounds like heaven on Earth. 

 

At least there were no mentions of the physical damage from August that his teachers all frowned at, but didn't comment on. 

 

Wilhelm's thoughts strayed back to how Simon had struggled in detention as he walked back inside to finish his dinner with a bright smile. He recalled how Simon was not doing any of his work properly, how he'd been anxious and slightly high, clearly to take the edge of the anxiety away. Wilhelm could… no. He won’t allow himself to even think that for more than a second. He isn’t worried about Simon Eriksson, because that would have to mean he cares, and he doesn’t.

Notes:

Dun dun dunnn
So about that tutoring ...

Chapter 4: Cigarettes, Day Dream, You Were Only - Hey Have You Ever Had A Blowjob?

Summary:

Spent nearly a month working on this, I'm first editing it on 30/11/23, whoo so close to Christmas. Last edit was Christmas day 5 am lol

Literally what the title says? A little bit of everything? Add some sickness boom get this chapter

Notes:

Spent nearly a month working on this, I'm first editing it on 30/11/23, whoo so close to Christmas.

Thank you for all the support, it means the world to me <33 And I appreciate the patience with me updating, here's my Christmas present to you lovely people.

Some people really like this Simon, and other's really hate him, which is fine, I don't care what you think of him, because I understand his behaviour and thoughts while you guys don't yet MWAHAHAHHA suckers. He won't be like this forever, obviously, it's enemies to lovers, not enemies to enemies. There's some interesting stuff to happen in this book, I've written some very INTERESTING scenes. Anyway, enjoy, lovely people.

I just want to say, a bird is involved at one point. That's it. A bird will appear, and work some magic. Alright, you've been waiting for ever, so here's the update you deserve, I'll shut up.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Wednesday ~

Wilhelm is not sick, no. Coughing, headaches, sore throat and fatigue are just … it’s Simon’s fault. He’s really exhausted from dealing with Simon, that’s it, all there is to it. It’s Simon’s fault, because… of course, duh. Why not? There’s no evidence to prove it’s not Simon’s fault.

 

Wilhelm didn’t let this slow him down - even though the urge to lie in bed all day and wait for the sweet release of deaths spindly, but welcome hands to claim him. The urge to lie around and rot is very strong and much more appealing than going to school. But it's not an option for him. He has to go to school. 

 

He dragged himself out of bed, showered, ate breakfast, and went to buy himself a coffee. All while blowing his nose in toilet paper he took from the bathrooms (there's an entire roll in his bag), refusing to listen to his music to try and prevent his headache from worsening any more. It's like his brain is overheating it self, about to combust into flames. 

 

Wilhelm followed his pain to the only living Saint, which is coffee, obviously. He loves coffee. It's only thing keeping him alive. Well, that's probably his heart, brain, and lungs, but metaphorically. Wilhelm decides he'll buy another coffee at lunch time to run off for the rest of the day. Caffeine is his best friend today, sorry Felice.

 

The school grounds are empty at this time, covered in a thin mist that is still dissipating from the cooler night they had. It would be peaceful had Wilhelm’s headache felt like anything less than a massive, reverberating wrecking ball against the inside of his skull, but oh well.

 

Wilhelm made it to the library without collapsing and dying on the ground, shuffling through the doors of the small cafe that connects onto it, frowning at everything and everyone because his head hurts, so fuck you. Wilhelm made his way to the small queue behind a few other students, all talking quietly or staring blankly like zombies, also waiting for their morning coffee, eyes glazed like they're on crack, but they're really just waiting for their crack.

 

His own gaze strayed around the cafe. It’s small, quaint, relaxing, smells of freshly brewed coffee and the little, expensive chocolates they sell. The talking is still quiet due to everyone either being half asleep, still asleep, or eating breakfast in their house’s dining rooms. 

 

The door opened again and Wilhelm looked up, and did a double take, feeling his eyes widen slightly, from quadrupling. Simon walks in, eyes flicking around curiously, before settling on Wilhelm with determination before Wilhelm could pretend he hadn’t seen him and turn around to examine a menu he doesn't give a damn for. Um. Okay. WhatCan he leave? I don't want to be in his stupid presence. 

 

Simon then walked towards Wilhelm, head held high, eyes undeniably set on Wilhelm’s so he can’t even dive behind the counter and hide, whining to the cashier about the pain he’s in right now, and how it's all Simon's fault. Today, Simon is unfashionably adorned in a giant black jumper, black cargo shorts that are severely oversized on him, like, go past his knees and are surely held up by a belt because there’s no way they fit on his slutty waist. His signature scuffed up Converse are still on his feet, hair up in space buns, a few curls left stray around his face and neck.

 

Wilhelm gulped. Class hasn’t even started and he already has to deal with Simon. What kind of twisted hell is this? He sniffed sickly as Simon came to a stop in front of him, and the cafe sounds even more quiet than before.

 

“What?” Wilhelm grumbled plainly, realising his voice is slightly hoarse. “Come to get me another detention?” And he never said he wouldn’t argue with Simon out of class time, just that during school he’d focus on his studies. So it’s okay now.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, pack back loose on his back. “No . And that wasn’t my fault, you shoved me first.”

 

Wilhelm squinted his eyes. “Whatever.” It’s true, Wilhelm did, and he regrets it, detention was not worth it for that petty push. The detention itself wasn’t bad, it was his Mother’s response that made his soul flicker and die. “Do you need something, then?” 

 

Simon hesitated, eyes flying to the ground, hands dropping to his sides and he scuffed the toe of his shoes against the hard ground, causing an awkward squeak. Oh, he does need something. “What?” Wilhelm asked, growing more suspicious by the minute.

 

Simon heaved a sigh, and then stared Wilhelm dead in the eyes, going for confidence, but his body language betrayed him, again . “I…” He chewed on his lip roughly, unbothered by the split still healing. “This actually fucking pains me to say,” Simon told him, eyes boring into his, unblinking.

 

“Spit it out then,” Wilhelm said (not so) kindly, crossing his arms with sass. 

 

Simon closed his eyes for a moment, taking a calming breath. “I need … “ Simon squinted, pressing his lips together firmly for a moment, opening his mouth - “I need your help,” he blurted under his breath.

 

Wilhelm was still for a moment, processing … Then he smirked, leaning towards Simon and cupping his ear dramatically. “What was that? Sorry, I missed it. Speak up, please, darling.” He’s eating this up like a starved man. Can you even blame him? No, exactly. Maybe the world is on his side!

 

Simon ground his teeth, glaring at Wilhelm with passion, slapping Wilhelm’s arm away from his ear, which only made him smirk wider, especially when Simon’s cheeks turned pink. “You heard me, you gigantic fucking prick.”

 

Wilhelm frowned. “I’m not helping you with that language.”

 

“Ah - okay,” Simon groaned in annoyance, throwing his head back for a moment. “Fine. I’m … I’m… apologising, for the detention and whatever. But I … I need a tutor.” 

 

Wilhelm felt his frown float away. “You’re asking me to tutor you?” Wilhelm repeated, feeling the ice in his vision melt slightly. He was literally thinking about that yesterday, turns out Simon was thinking the same. Wilhelm will not say that their brains are on the same brain wave, though, catch him dead doing that. Simon’s brain is in a whole other galaxy, and he can stay there, thank you very much.

 

Simon stared at Wilhelm, eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed furiously, arms crossed in annoyance, and he’s still chewing on his lip despite the cut. “Yes, Wilhelm . I need a tutor. Will you help or not? Do you want me to pay you to tutor me?”

 

Hmmm. This is … not what he expected to deal with today.

 

Wilhelm cleared his throat, which instantly hurt his sore throat. He sniffed again.

 

“Sir? Are you ordering?” Wilhelm turned to the cashier, Agnes, as Wilhelm has learnt to call her, who has a polite smile on her face, which didn’t change at the sight of Wilhelm. The first few times she’d faltered at seeing him, but now she’s used to it.

 

“Oh, yes,” Wilhelm hummed, eyeing the menu. Simon huffed behind him. “Can I have an iced latte, please?” He paused as Agnes tapped that onto the screen. 

 

“Large, medium or small?”

 

“Large, please.” She tapped again.

 

Wilhelm turned to face Simon, who’s gazing emptily out the window. “Simon, do you want anything?” Simon’s gaze snapped back to him, hardening instantly.

 

“I don’t need you to buy me food, you fuck head,” Simon spat indignantly.

 

A thought crossed Wihelm’s mind, or more like a threat, but who cares. “I’ll tutor you if you let me buy you something. As a repayment for, y’know, last week.”

 

Simon frowned even more intently. “What? That’s a lose-lose for you, idiot. I'd rather just pay you per session or whatever.” 

 

“It’s a lose-lose for you too. Plus, I don't want you to pay me," Wilhelm replied easily. He won’t say “I can afford it”, because Simon knows that and likely won’t appreciate it, will probably hit him because he’s shameless like that.

 

Simon’s brow gathered again. He’s going to have wrinkles by the time he’s 20 with all the frowning he does, but it’s his loss, Wilhelm only has to see him for the next three years - oh shit. He has to deal with Simon for the next three years. Oh my God.

 

Simon considered something. “People will see you buy it for me and will accuse us of dating.”

 

Agnes’ eyes widened. 

 

Wilhelm tensed, eyes flickering around the cafe. A few people are staring - the others in the queue definitely are. 

 

“But we’re not, so it doesn’t matter. I’m just doing a favour,” Wilhelm replied, slightly louder than necessary. 

 

Simon stared at him. “You're weird, but you’re still the one losing here so I’ll have whatever you had yesterday. Even though I’m freezing my balls off this morning,” he grumbled.

 

Wilhelm beamed at him, turning to Agnes, who was staring at Simon with a mix of shock and disgust. “He’ll have an iced latte too, large, please.”

 

“Added to your order?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alright, anything else?”

 

“No, thanks.

 

“Perfect. That’ll be $17.20, thanks. Here,” she turned the card reader towards him. Simon scoffed at the total, but didn’t protest as Wilhelm paid. Wilhelm figures Simon is just happy to waste Wilhelm’s money, and get free tutoring out of it. He really is winning here. He better cooperate or so God help Wilhelm, Simon won't see the end of the next three years.

 

They walked to the side and awaited their order silently.

 

Simon pulled out his phone, and began texting.

 

Wilhelm was about to make a comment about Simon texting his bae, but then decided Simon might not like to be outed as having a boyfriend in a room of 10 people. Wilhelm is curious, though. He mustn’t go to the school, or Simon would sit with him, or at least interact with him. But considering Wilhelm, Simon and Felice are the only out queer kids at school, Simon and his boyfriends relationship could be a secretive thing, which doesn’t sound fun but, hey, whatever works for them. Wilhelm thinks he knows of a Marcus in second year, from Spruce wood, but he may be a Marvin or Lucas. 

 

Maybe Simon met his boyfriend in intermediate, and they lasted through to now.

 

Simon put his phone away with an angry huff, maybe a little more aggressive than needed. Wilhelm didn’t comment. He may have been messaging someone else and not his boyfriend.

 

“So, are you free this afternoon? We can study in the library after school for a bit,” Wilhelm asked, pulling out his toilet paper to wipe at his nose politely. 

 

Simon eyed the toilet paper. “Can’t.” Was all he said. So he’s still being problematic, then Wilhelm will be too.

 

“Why? Got better things to do than studying?” 

 

“Who doesn’t? But, that’s not the reason.”

 

“What’s the reason?”

 

Simon side eyed him angrily. “Why do you care?”

 

“Just want to know who I’m being blown off for,” Wilhelm shrugged in response.

 

Simon smirked. “ “Who am I being blown off for“ ?” Simon repeated with a sly grin.

 

Wilhelm felt his cheeks heat, and he shoved Simon and his waggling eye brows away by the shoulder, sniffling. “Shut the hell up, you know that isn’t what I meant.”

 

“Ever been blown?” 

 

Wilhelm choked on his tongue, taking a step back as Simon returned to his former position, snickering. “Simon! You can’t ask someone that in public! We’re not even friends! Why would I tell you that?” Wilhelm squawked. This boy makes Wilhelm forget his years of PR training with snide comments like that. "Do you also want me to give you the best friend card, or perhaps the password to my entire royal bank account?

 

Simon cackled, and a few people eyed them with confused or annoyed frowns. “People ask that all the fucking time, it’s a more common phrase than “Hi, how are you?” ” 

 

Wilhelm shook his head. “You are a nightmare.”

 

Simon snickered, before continuing on. “If you must know, and I’m only telling you because I know you won’t shut the fuck up until I tell you, my sister is coming to visit this afternoon,” Simon said. “Is that ours?” He pointed to two drinks being served. Agnes smiled at them.

 

“Yup.” The two took their drinks and made a leave from the cafe, Wilhelm pushing Simon into the doorframe because he could.

 

“So, your sister, Sara. I’ve - “

 

“No. We’re not talking about my sister,” Simon snapped, and began walking ahead of him out the front doors, sipping his coffee. Not even a thank you, either.

 

Wilhelm huffed, and followed, wiping his nose again. “So you draw the line at talking about your celebrity sister, but not asking if I’ve had a blow job?” No, he hasn’t, but Simon doesn’t need to know that! No one does! And at this school, he’ll never get one. He’s keeping that strictly to himself, because he just knows everyone would call him such a prude. Maybe Wilhelm feels like fangirling over Simon's sister, hmm, maybe he's a pretty big fan, and he's read all the comic except the new one, and he asked his parents to take him to a meet and greet but got denied several times. Maybe he's just a little fan of her work and admires her. Maybe.

 

“Yes,” Simon replied shortly. Wilhelm could feel the wall between them growing. He sighed.

 

“Are you free tomorrow after school?”

 

“No.”

 

“Simon, what the hell?”

 

“I’m free then.” 

 

Wilhelm sighed again. His head is starting to hurt more and more just being in Simon’s presence. “Alright. I’m going to the library, you go get a blow job or something.” Wilhelm turned and walked back towards the library, and Simon only snorted in reply. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm wasn’t sure before, but now he’s positive: Simon is broken. They are sitting together in Geography - Simon’s doing, Felice isn’t here and apparently no one wants to sit next to Wilhelm anymore (he’s ignoring the fact they probably did it on purpose, again, and what the hell did Wilhelm ever do to this class?) - and it’s dead silent. Simon’s coffee is gone, either because he drank it all or threw it out, but Wilhelm is still nursing his, ice melted and everything.

 

Wilhelm side-eyed Simon again, who is quietly Googling the required questions for the research task the class has been given on his laptop, like he’s been doing for the past half an hour. What the hell is going on? Wilhelm doesn’t know what to do - your work, stupid. Take advantage of his strange silence and work.

 

He sipped his coffee to soothe his aching throat - it didn’t help - and moved his eyes back to his own laptop. His head feels fuzzy and unclear. Work. I can do work… I should’ve eaten some breakfast.

 

 ~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm can’t . He’s scared now. For the whole three periods, Simon was tame. Well, reasonably tame. In second period he only shoved Wilhelm out of the way twice so he could steal his notes, and only stole his mechanical pencil to silently de and then re assemble it once. He didn’t purposefully light the matches in Wilhelm’s direction during science in third either, which Wilhelm counts as a win because his woollen jumper feels a touch flammable today.

 

Wilhelm himself feels like utter crap. His nose is blocked to the point his words are beginning to sound muffled, so he stopped answering questions. That, and his throat aches like someone has a hot fan pointed at it, sanded it with the hardest grit of sandpaper just for shits and giggles, karate chopped it, shat on it with mucus so he keeps clearing his throat and getting side eyed, and gave it back to him. His brain feels like a toy drum for a giant child, a giant man baby, with huge muscles. 

 

If he didn’t feel like utter shit, he’d be able to appreciate how only once has the teacher had to stop the lesson to tell Simon and Wilhelm off when Simon whacked Wilhelm in the head with his book at the end of first period as they were packing up. So it wasn’t even during the lesson! What a win. Wilhelm hit him back because “I have a headache, don’t touch my head today.” Simon just smirked, and then slowly reached his hand towards Wilhelm, who slapped it away roughly. “No fighting!” Miss Clear had called. 

 

He can’t even pretend that Simon is giving him a headache anymore, because Simon has been tolerably annoying for once. 

 

The chair next to him pulled out during lunch, and Simon sat himself down, phone open, reading a message that even Wilhelm can see with a short glance is very, very long. Simon frowning again, looking very pissed off at whoever he’s texting, jaw clenched. 

 

His plate of lasagne is still steaming, and remains untouched for five minutes straight as Simon texts this person back and forwards. Wilhelm seems to be the only one at the table curious as to who it is he’s texting.

 

Finally, Simon threw his phone down with a heavy sigh, cut a massive slice of lasagne, and shoved it into his mouth, still steaming. “Fuck, that's fucking hot,” Simon said through the mouthful, but chewed it anyway. 

 

Wilhelm shook his head, and turned to his own lasagne, which he’s nibbling away at. The hot, soft food is helping his throat greatly.

 

“How’s Walter?” Wilhelm asked Henry, who sat across from him.

 

Simon’s phone buzzed with a text, and he glared at it for a moment … before snatching it up, dropping his fork loudly.

 

Henry winced. “He’s getting better, still coughing in his sleep but at least he’s drinking and eating now. Yesterday, he woke me up talking in his sleep with a really, really high fever - it felt like he was on fire, man. I think I’m totally going to get sick sharing a - a room with him, but by then he should be better.”

 

“So he can look after you?” Wilhelm teased, grinning over the table at Henry, who rolled his eyes.

 

Simon put his phone down, and ate some more lasagne, eyeing his phone the whole time like it’s about to grow arms and legs to slap him.

 

“You alright?” Wilhelm asked him quietly. 

 

Simon’s gaze snapped to him, fierce. “Yes. Why?” His phone buzzed, and his eyes shot back there, narrowing even more. 

 

Wilhelm gave him a pointed look that Simon didn’t see, too busy with his eyes flying over the message.

 

“Who’s that?” Wilhelm asked, blinking innocently at Simon.

 

“My boyfriend,” he replied through gritted teeth, aggressively typing out a reply.

 

“What?” Henry interjected suddenly. “I thought you two were dating - “

 

“We’re not,” Simon and Wilhelm snapped at the same time, and poor Henry jolted backwards. 

 

Henry put his hands up in surrender and Alex snickered, and then yelped, pulling his chair back a few inches. “Simon kicked me,” he explained quickly, rubbing his shin under the table and Wilhelm rolled his eyes.

 

“Does your boyfriend go to Hillerska?” Henry asked, leaning towards Simon, eyes glinting with curiosity, like a child on Christmas morning.

 

“No.”

 

“Does he go to the public school in Bjärstad?” Alex inquired, shifting his seat backwards slightly. Well, at least Wilhelm doesn’t have to ask all the questions he's been silently wondering.

 

Simon squinted at them, internally debating something. The three other boys waited, staring at him expectantly. Simon looked back to his screen, and started typing something long.

 

“Are you guys breaking up over text?” Henry asked instead, eyes flicking to Simon’s screen, but he’s unable to see it from over the table.

 

Simon’s screen protector has a giant crack in the middle, like he hit it with a hammer. It’s awfully distracting and looks very annoying. Wilhelm’s own screen has zero cracks, he rarely drops it, but even the slightest chip has his parents grappling to buy him another one, the newest one, even if he doesn’t really want it.

 

“No,” Simon replied under his breath, smacking the send button. “Can you stop asking questions? I don’t question you and Walter’s relationship, so leave mine alone.”

 

Henry choked on his water, and Alex thumped him on the back. “We - we aren’t dating,” Henry replied, cheeks red.

 

No one said anything to that. 

 

Simon ate lasagne.

 

Awkward. 

 

“So, how's rowing?” Alex asked Henry, drawing his glare off Simon.

 

While they talked, complaining about August’s training methods, Wilhelm turned back to Simon. Who sighed heavily, before looking back at him. “What’s wrong with you today?” Wrong wording. Wrong fucking wording.

 

Simon frowned at him. “What?”

 

“I mean - I mean you - you’ve been really quiet, and - and not like yourself.” Wilhelm’s stuttering caught Henry and Alex’s attention again. Simon blinked.

 

“Would you rather I was getting detention?” His tone carried something the Wilhelm couldn’t place, his eyebrows raised. 

 

“No - “

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t got more detentions!” Henry piped up, laughing to himself.

 

“I will throw my plate at you,” Simon deadpanned, threatening Henry, who only laughed as if it’s some good natured joke. Wilhelm felt his stomach drop.

 

“Word. Open fire, Simon,” Henry laughed, closing his eyes and spreading his arms.

 

“Hen - “ Wilhelm began to warn.

 

Simon didn’t hesitate.

 

He picked up his plate, getting it flat resting flat in his palm and pushing it towards Henry’s face before anyone could intercept and before Henry could cover his face, still laughing, eyes shut.

 

SPLAT!

 

The plate clattered to the ground and Henry yelled indistinctly, trying to wipe his face while swearing out Simon. Everyone else went silent. Wilhelm’s jaw is somewhere on the floor, along with Alex’s. Simon dusted off his hands calmly. Henry sat there, jaw slack, lasagne all over his face, smeared in his hair, nose, mouth, eyes, his freaking eye brows smeared with sauce, mince and pasta sheets, hands next to his head, covered in a similar mixture.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm breathed.

 

Everyone burst into laughter, jeering and cackling at Henry.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm said again, turning to the other boy.

 

He looks … 

 

“SIMON!” The Housefather roared, and everything fell silent. Henry wiped his eyes, and glared at Simon angrily. “Come talk to me outside. Right now! ” 

 

The Housefather stood from his chair, scraping loudly against the dead silence, the only other sound the dripping food from Henry’s body. 

 

Wilhelm didn’t look away from Simon for a second, still trying to get over his shock. Simon watched the Housefather yelling with a small smile. Yeah, he’s smiling. He looks proud. What in the insane, masochistic bull crap is this?

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wilhelm whispered harshly, and Simon’s gaze fell on him, turning sour as he stood up calmly, throwing Wilhelm a kiss before turning his dark eyes to the Housefather.

 

“No thanks, sir,” Simon said, grabbing his bag and walking swiftly out the door.

 

“Simon!” The Housefather shouted furiously, face pink from rage.

 

“Bye, darlings!” Simon waved over his shoulder.

 

Too far. Simon’s gone too far. 

 

“What a fuck head.” 

 

“He’s seriously retard.”

 

“Fucking non-res, man.”

 

“Disgusting.”

 

“Someone put him in his place.”

 

“So entitled, argh.”

 

People whispered about Simon before he’d even turned the corner, but he didn’t look back.

 

The Housefather stood where he was, looking slightly lost and betrayed. He’s never come across such rebellion either, ever, probably.

 

Wilhelm found himself standing as Henry wiped lasagne onto his plate with cheeks stained by embarrassment, Alex offering him napkins.

 

“Gonna go chase your boyfriend?” Someone called from the middle of the table. Wilhelm noticed August is suspiciously quiet, but still looks very amused. He’s still afraid of Wilhelm snitching, despite the party he thinks he won Wilhelm over with.

 

“We’re not dating. He has a boyfriend, and he’s not my type,” Wilhelm snapped to whoever said that, grabbing his bag and … and chasing after Simon. How many times is this now? Going to find him? It’s ridiculous. He's sick, and should be staying to eat warm lasagne and help his friend clean up, but instead he's running out into the clear, cloudless, chilly day to chase Simon.

 

“Wille!” Henry called angrily. “What the hell?”

 

“Sorry, Henry,” Wilhelm said over his shoulder, swinging around the corner, catching a glimpse of the Housefather, face bright red, steam practically boiling out his ears.

 

Wilhelm put on his back pack properly, and his eyes fell on Simon instantly, marching towards the bus shelter, still texting like he hadn’t just thrown his plate at Henry’s face, and then disobeyed the Housefather.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm yelled, walking after him. His legs are longer, so he easily caught up to him, because of course Simon didn’t turn around to answer him. Wilhelm grabbed his shoulder and Simon shrugged him off, not looking up from his phone. “Simon,” Wilhelm jogged a few feet to stand in front of Simon. Simon literally walked into him, jolting back a step and then looking up.

 

“Oh, it’s you again. What now?” He snapped, turning off his phone.

 

Wilhelm started. “What - How can you just do that, and then act like nothing happened?” Wilhelm gaped. “Henry - that was so over the line, Simon! That’s borderline assault, you could’ve seriously hurt him. You’re lucky the plate didn’t shatter on his bloody face - !”

 

“Are you quite done? I want to go smoke in the woods until I forget who you are before next period,” Simon said easily, looking up at Wilhelm. 

 

The sun is pelting them, and it makes Simon’s skin glow, bringing out all the different shades of brown in his eyes. Wilhelm seethed. “Something’s wrong with you,” he hissed.

 

Simon’s face hardened, jaw setting, shoulders pressing back. Body language. “Why? Because I asked him to stop asking questions, I told him what I would do if he didn’t stop, and he persisted. Not my fault I’m true to my words.”

 

“Yes, it is!” Wilhelm blurted.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, and shouldered past Wilhelm harshly. 

 

“Simon! You can’t just run away from everything that inconveniences you!” He yelled at his retreating form.

 

Simon stopped so suddenly Wilhelm nearly barrelled into him. Uh oh.

 

Simon turned, anger etched over every feature. His phone is squeezed between his fingers, knuckles white, his jaw is clenched, the muscles in it ticking, eyes hard and burning with rage. “You,” he jabbed a finger into Wilhelm’s chest so hard it actually hurt. “Know nothing about that. You have no right - “ he jabbed his finger into his chest again, and Wilhelm had to step backwards “ - to say anything about running from fucking inconveniences .” He growled, eyes never leaving Wilhelm, and he couldn’t look away, not from that fierce gaze, Simon might gut him if he breaks eye contact.

 

“You need to stop,” Wilhelm hissed, slapping his hand away. Why did those words hit Simon so hard as to get a reaction like that? It didn't feel that insulting at all. 

 

Simon’s nostrils flared. “Stop what? Sticking up for myself? All I do is try to protect myself from August, from the teachers, from Henry, and you keep telling me I need help, that something is wrong with me. You don’t know me. You can’t say that. You wouldn’t know - “ he stopped his sentence, shaking his head. “I’m not even going to argue with you right now.” He turned on his heel.

 

Wilhelm felt that fire in his gut burning red hot. It’s been dead all day, but now it’s back, and it’s intense. Wilhelm followed it, grabbing Simon’s shoulder and whipping him around again. “Stop walking away when I’m talking to you!”

 

Simon shoved him backwards, and Wilhelm shoved him too. Simon stumbled back, and actually fell to the floor. “Fucking bitch. Are you trying to fight me right now?” Simon stood up and shoved Wilhelm again, much harder this time, fingers digging into his chest.

 

The blood drained from his face. “No,” he took a step back, and Simon sneered.

 

“Pussy.”

 

His blood boiled, he clenched his jaw. “You’re a lost cause.” Wilhelm turned around and started walking towards Forest Ridge. He means it, Simon is, fucking bipolar, or something.

 

Simon laughed drily. “Say's you!”

 

And that kinda hit deep.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm thinks he’d die if he does PE today, but he needs his report to be flawless, despite all this shit Simon’s smearing on it like a child doing finger painting with the contents of it’s own diaper.

 

“Fucking bitch, are you trying to fight me right now?” 

 

“No.”

 

“Pussy.”

 

“You’re a lost cause.”

 

“Say’s you.”

 

Now he’s sitting on one of the benches in the gym, watching everyone else play volleyball while he keeps the score. It’s not all that boring, but he’d much rather be lying in his bed than sitting here.

 

Simon didn’t show up. Not that it matters.

 

“I want to go smoke in the woods until I forget who you are before next period.” Before next period, Simon had said, but he still isn’t here, and they're nearly half an hour in to class.

 

It doesn’t matter. Wilhelm isn’t slightly worried. He doesn’t regret leaving Simon in his weird, angry, sad, self/world destroying feels soup. It isn’t his problem, anyway.

 

“Wille! Did you get that point?” Madi yelled at him from across the gym, voice carrying clearly.

 

“Yup! You guys are just losing,” Wilhelm lied. They might be winning, he doesn’t know, and the teams foolishly trusted him to reliably keep the score, as if he cares for this game or something. Madi rolled her eyes, before turning to the game at hand.

 

The teacher is walking around, occasionally stopping the game to correct someone’s form or call a foul or whatever the hell he does.

 

Wilhelm’s knee bounces, and he leans back against the wall. One of his hands is cramping from being on 1 point for so long. He generously, and totally selflessly upgraded them to 2 points. No one noticed.

 

He watched the ball sail over the net. Madi runs under it, digging it upwards, and Alex sets it high over the net again, which causes Stazia to jump forward to dig it upwards, and then sets it by herself. It flies over Madi and Alex, and Jane is just a bit too slow trying to save it, and it bounces out the court. Is that a point? Wilhelm doesn’t know. No one told him to change the scores so he kept it the same.

 

The game continued, and everyone got quite invested, so invested they didn’t notice the gym doors opening a crack, and Simon sliding in. If they did notice, they looked away fast after recognising him as a classmate and not a foe, but Wilhelm’s attention was grabbed with anger. Oh, he’s in deep, deep trouble now. Wilhelm glares at Simon even though he isn’t looking at him. Simon watches the game, blinking lazily a few times, leaning on the doorway and - oh . He’s high.

 

Wilhelm stood up slowly, eyeing Simon curiously. Simon finally saw him, and he’s still wearing his jumper and cargo shorts, he hasn’t even changed for PE, his bag hanging on his back.

 

Wilhelm watched him with narrowed eyes. Simon stared back blankly, leaning on the doorway heavily. He mouthed something that Wilhelm couldn’t make out. The class yelled and called to one another, the sound of the ball being hit around stronger than whatever Simon’s trying to communicate, shoes squeaking on the rubbery floor.

 

Simon started walking, one hand on the wall to hold himself up, towards Wilhelm. Wilhelm felt his brows raise, hands relaxing, losing the points, taking a few slow steps to meet him. Simon got to him without falling, and he doesn't smell like cigarettes, but a fine white powder sits on the tip of his nose.

 

Wilhelm glared at him as Simon grabbed Wilhelm's arm's to steady himself, eyes straying to the court, pupils blown and glassy as he grips onto his elbows tightly.

 

“Got something on your nose,” Wilhelm mumbled, disgusted. Is that what’s in his bag? Horrifying. Wilhelm can’t believe he brought this guy coffee. “His Dad was an addict.” Wilhelm blinked as Simon wiped his nose with his jumper sleeve, still leaning very much on Wilhelm, getting closer every second, his shoulder nearly pressing against Wilhelm’s chest to hold himself up.

 

“Simon, are you okay?” 

 

Wilhelm turned to look at the class. Madi’s asking. 

 

“He’s fine,” Wilhelm said quickly, and what in the name of God’s green Earth is he doing? 

 

Simon turned to look at Madi, and Wilhelm shoved his arm off himself, causing Simon to stumble onto the bench, where he stood for a moment, arms on the bench, butt in the air, before he lay down, eyes closed and sighing. 

 

“He’s got the cold that’s going around,” Wilhelm told Madi. A few people eyed him suspiciously, but the teacher is yet to notice, too busy telling off two boys for flashing everyone as a distraction to win the game.

 

“It’s cold as fuck,” Simon muttered, wrapping his arms around himself as a chill shook his body. “Fuck.”

 

Wilhelm turned to Simon, standing above him. “What the fuck do I do with you?” He whispered helplessly. Simon curled into a ball on the bench.

 

“I hate my life,” Simon whispered into the wall. 

 

Wilhelm blinked. “Simon, I do not care. Leave the classroom before someone notices you're higher than a kite.”

 

“Can’t.”

 

Wilhelm wants to scream. Why?

 

“Gonna throw up.” And that was all the warning he gave, before rolling over for his back to be against the wall, falling onto the ground and throwing up all over the gym floor in front of him.

 

Wilhelm yelped and jumped backwards, and the class definitely noticed.

 

“Simon!” The teacher, Mr Drydon, yelled, jogging over and rubbing his back. Wilhelm just stood, feeling helpless as Simon dry heaved towards the floor, on his side, blinking rapidly. Wilhelm prays to the fucking whoever Mr Drydon doesn’t see his eyes, the pupils the same size as his iris. Idiot.

 

“Are you alright?” He rubbed Simon's back.

 

Simon threw a thumbs up, and then stood up, wiping his mouth and staring at the ground. “Feel like shit, though.”

 

Wilhelm surged forward as the teacher tried to get Simon to look at him. “I’ll take him to the nurse,” he blurted, grabbing Simon’s arm and pulling him towards him, away from the teacher.

 

Simon stumbled and fell on Wilhelm. "Wwwhhooaa - " and Wilhelm pushed him away. Simon is very pliant and easy to shove around right now, so he just fell the other way with a, "Whooa". Wilhelm put his hands on Simon’s shoulder to hold him still. "Whoa."

 

The teacher frowned. “Really? You aren’t going to mug him in the corridor?” He joked, a small smile on his face. “Oh God that stinks. Yes, you take him to the nurse, I’ll go get a cleaner.” 

 

Wilhelm dragged Simon away, stumbling and moaning about his throat burning as he went. He can not talk about sore throats in Wilhelm’s presence, the bitch.

 

“Do you want help, Wilhelm?” Madi called over, beginning to walk closer.

 

Wilhelm glanced back over his shoulder. Simon blinked at him, dazed. This is not going to do wonders for their dating rumour. “No thanks,” Wilhelm called back at her, practically throwing Simon through the gym doors, his bag rustling suspiciously. 

 

“Where are we going?” Simon slurred. “Stop, stop, stop,” He dragged Wilhelm to a stop, still lagging behind. Wilhelm sighed, going to turn around when Simon jumped, hurling himself onto Wilhelm’s back.

 

He yelped and stumbled, hands instinctively going to grab under Simon’s knee’s so he wouldn’t fall. “Simon,” Wilhelm complained. “Oh my God, get off .” He dropped Simon’s knee’s, but he just wrapped his legs around Wilhelm’s waist, arms around his neck tight, head resting on his shoulder, breathing against his neck. They soooo look like a couple. Crap on a god damn cracker.

 

“Carry me or I’ll light your room on fire,” Simon mumbled, breath sliding over Wilhelm's neck. Ew.

 

“I refuse. Get off.”

 

“Nope. To the bus stop,” Simon said lazily, very enthusiastic. He sighed again. “I miss Sara, Wille.”

 

Wilhelm heaved a sigh. They aren’t going to go to the nurse, not while Simon’s high as. It’s Simon’s problem, but he’d be a horrible person to let him deal with this alone, or to get him in trouble for this, right? If it was August, different story, but that links to Simon again. 

 

Wilhelm hesitated, watching two students walk past, and he stayed completely silent, praying they wouldn’t look over and see Simon half asleep on Wilhelm’s back. To onlookers, Simon may appear tired, and Wilhelm like a good little boyfriend carrying him wherever he wants to go, but really, they hate each other and Simon is too high to function properly. 

 

“Fine. Fine,” Wilhelm grits out, and starts forwards, returning his hands to under Simon's knee's. Simon is light, so it’s fairly easy to carry him across the grounds, trying to avoid walking past windows of classrooms as much as possible.

 

“Prince Wilhelm, what are you doing?”

 

His caution didn’t do anything.

 

Wilhelm tensed, “hide your face,” he hissed at Simon, and turned slowly. Simon’s grip on his neck tightened, and he buried his face in between his own arm, still around Wilhelm’s neck, and, well, Wilhelm’s neck. Wilhelm can feel his eyelashes brushing as he blinks rapidly, his breath hot against his skin, making him itchy. Double eeeewwww .

 

Wilhelm doesn’t recognise the teacher approaching him, but he’s not surprised he’s been recognised by them.

 

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Wilhelm beamed falsely at the teacher. He wants to grimace, throw Simon to the ground and stomp away to his bedroom to rot in his sickness all by himself, maybe with a coffee. And probably call Felice to hangout because they’re both sick now, and he wants to rant.

 

Simon held his arms tighter around Wilhelm’s neck, eyelashes fluttering in a ticklish way against his sensitive skin there.

 

The teacher - an old guy with absolutely no hair covering his wrinkled head, his face squished, dark eyes narrowed, wearing a white shirt tucked into black pants with a black blazer, his black leather shoes glistening in the sun like they’ve just been freshly polished, a Rolex shines from his wrist - narrowed his eyes even more, flicking to Simon.

 

“Prince Wilhelm, what are you doing with that girl?” The teacher enquired, grey, bushy eyebrows scrunched together, hands clasped behind his back.

 

“This is a boy, Sir,” Wilhelm corrected with another smile, hefting Simon on his back. “And we were doing a race for our PE class, but Simon tripped on the way so I thought I’d carry him through the rest of the activity!”

 

“Why isn’t he in PE clothes?”

 

“He forgot them, Sir,” Wilhelm smiled. “Right?” He jolted Simon roughly, and he hummed in agreement.

 

“Pain.”

 

Wilhelm chuckled, sounding as nervous as he feels. Lying is absolutely not his strong suit.

 

“Why does he have a pack back?” The teacher asked, taking another step forward. Wilhelm felt Simon stiffen against his back, his eyes now squeezed shut, his breath heating the side of Wilhelm’s neck uncomfortably, hands cramping where he’s holding behind Simon’s knees while Simon's weight begins to hurt his hips where Simon is resting.

 

“It’s part of the activity,” Wilhelm lied as smoothly as he could. Simon remained silent.

 

The teacher blinked a few times, frowning. “Alright then,” he said cautiously, eyeing the boys. “Are you alright, son, need anything?”

 

“See, Sir, he’s been crying, and when he cries his eyes get really puffy, like he's been punched in the face and he gets super embarrassed, so he hasn’t looked up since his fall,” Wilhelm laughed, and Simon dug on his feet into Wilhelm’s abdomen, far to close to his groin for comfort. He winced, and squeezed his knees tighter. 

 

The teacher nodded slowly, still frowning at Simon. “Okay, make sure to get ice on that knee, boy. Have a good day, Prince Wilhelm.” The teacher turned and started walking back towards his classroom.

 

“You too, Sir,” Wilhelm called. He turned and walked very swiftly towards the bus shelter, Simon rattling on his back like an oversized bag, who is currently rambling.

 

“You’re lying so shitty, even my dead Grandpa saw through that. I hope we get caught just so you can feel as humiliated as I did just then... My arms hurt... Wiilleeeeeee...Do you have any gum...? I miss Sara,” Simon sighed, resting his chin against Wilhelm’s shoulder, digging in, head bouncing next to Wilhelm's. Wilhelm can see Simon's long lashes fluttering as they walk, blinking lazily.

 

“Do not talk to me about being in pain,” Wilhelm gritted. “Off,” he released Simon’s knee’s once they arrived at the bus shelter.

 

Simon slid off slowly, cheek sliding down Wilhelm's back, and immediately fell onto his butt, laying back on the gravel and sighing, eyes closed.

 

Wilhelm groaned in frustration. “Simon, you look as high as you are right now, sit in the bus shelter.” How is he going to get home? “Call your boyfriend, or something.”

 

“No,” Simon grumbled in response. “No, no, no. Stupid.”

 

Wilhelm frowned, standing above Simon, staring down at him. “What? Why?” 

 

Simon shook his head. “You do it.”

 

“Simon, why did you come to class high?” Wilhelm changed the subject. Simon’s back looks uncomfortably arched from his backpack, still on his back that he is now lying on, but he makes no action to take it off, roll over or stand up. 

 

“I don’t want to be here,” Simon whispered, staring up at the sky, eyes glassy again.

 

Wilhelm felt his eyes widen. “You want to die ?” He whispered.

 

Simon blinked a few times. “At Hillerska.”

 

Wilhelm shook his head, rubbing his eyes. His headache is pounding out in his bright sun, he craves his bed so bad. “...You don’t want to be at Hillerska?”

 

“Nah. Tryna get expelled,” Simon mumbled calmly, gazing up at the sky looking, well, high. “I didn’t want to come here. Not really. I miss my friends.”

 

Wilhelm blinked. “You want to get expelled? What the fuck? Why would you try to get expelled from the best school in Sweden, Simon?” He asked, exasperated. Wilhelm can’t even imagine wanting, yet alone trying, to get expelled, but that at least explains Simon’s absolutely horrific attitude. He’s definitely heading in the right direction to expulsion with the crap he pulled today.  

 

Simon sighed, then his face hardened, and he stood up slowly, leaning on the ground for support before wobbling upright, hands out. Wilhelm folded his arms and stared. “Well? You know some people would kill to have the money to attend Hillerska? You sound so spoiled, entitled and selfish. It’s expensive to go here - “

 

“What would you know about money problems?” Simon snapped, stumbling towards Wilhelm. He held his ground, shoving Simon off when he grabbed his shoulders for support.

 

“That’s not the point - “ Wilhelm fell short, his anger flickering. Simon scowled, and then shoved Wilhelm, not very hard because his arms currently have the power of boiled beans, but it confirmed what Wilhelm was thinking. “You’re just trying to get me to fight you, aren’t you? That’s what all of this has been about, starting up fights and arguments with the Prince so you get more spotlight on the trouble you cause. Isn’t it?” Wilhelm’s anger returned in a surge and he grabbed the collar of Simon’s jumper, pulling him towards him. “Isn’t it? You’re using me - “

 

Simon shoved him off, scowling at the ground. He grumbled, wandering over to the bus shelter and sitting down heavily. “That’s not … It’s not the only reason I hate you,” Simon mumbled. 

 

Wilhelm frowned. “Then why, Simon? What could I have possibly done? And if you say anything about the drink then I’m going to tell Headmistress Lilja you did crack today, because that reason is bullshit,” he hissed, pointing a finger at Simon. He normally doesn't swear, at least not out loud, but, well, Simon makes him lose his shit.

 

Simon shook his head, slowly, and then harder, eyes squeezing closed. He grabbed for his backpack, ripping it off and opening it shakily, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. Wilhelm clenched his jaw, and snapped his hands into fists. He won’t react, won’t give Simon a reason to start more drama. 

 

Simon offered him a cigarette. “Hmm?” He hummed, pupils looking smaller now, still blown, but slightly more sober.

 

Wilhelm sighed, and then snatched it from him, sitting down on the bench with Simon’s bag between them. “Practically addicted,” Simon chuckled, cigarette between his lips, cupping the lighter with one hand and lighting it with the other. He waited until he had smoke spilling from his lips to offer the lighter to Wilhelm. Wilhelm copied him, inhaling against the warm paper like Simon had told him too. Still tastes like he liked the pavement after a sweaty person lay on it, and his lungs felt physically filthy after exhaling, like no amount of exhales would ever cleanse his vital organ, but well, what was he expecting?

 

They sat in silence, smoking in the bus shelter, Wilhelm still in blue workout shorts and a white shirt, Simon in his cargo pants and hoodie, throw up smeared on the sleeve of his jumper, crashing down from his high.

 

Next to him, Simon inhaled, and then exhaled it through his nose, looking like an angry dragon as he did so. 

 

Wilhelm tries to do it, but finds that it burns a lot as well, the new path the smoke takes leaving another trail of contamination. His Mother would be so disappointed. That thought alone encourages him to drop the cigarette - not even half done, to the ground, stomping it with his sports shoes.

 

“Why do you care about school?” Simon asks randomly.

 

Wilhelm looks over, and finds his pupils to be an abnormal size once more, blinking slowly, lips still wrapped around his cigarette, gazing at Wilhelm patiently. Clearly, the cigarette grabbed his high before it could fully fall, and lifted it back up.

 

Wilhelm sighs, and looks ahead at the corner of Hillerska building, and the woods. Why does he care about school? He only cares because he needs to, because his parents want him to, because the media won’t accept anything but grades that top or match Erik’s, because he can’t be the younger prince with any more blood on his reputation, standing next to Erik’s shiny, golden one. No more blood, he’ll cover it in A+’s and academic awards. 

 

Simon nudged him.

 

Wilhelm shrugged helpfully, but to his surprise, Simon didn’t press, continuing to suck his cigarette down to a stub.

 

They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t awkward, maybe slightly tense, but Wilhelm doubts Simon can feel it. He leaned his head against the back of the bus shelter, the uneven, slightly splintery wood digging into his scalp and back, but he didn’t bother moving, eyes closed to try ease his headache.

 

“Still got those tissues?” Wilhelm asked, sniffing.

 

Simon hummed, reaching a hand into his bag and rattling around for a moment. Wilhelm ignored the sound he now decides is packets of medication, plastic bags, cigarette packets and the occasional piece of paper, until he pulled out a packet of portable tissues. 

 

Wilhelm took a few and gave it back to Simon, who chucked it in his bag without even looking. 

 

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” Wilhelm asked, before blowing his nose into the tissue. His boogers are green, which is good, means his body is already pushing the sickness out of itself. 

 

“No. August brought it up yesterday. Do you want me there?” Simon turned his head to look over at Wilhelm, his cigarette nearly a stub now.

 

Wilhelm thought for a moment. “If you’re like this, I don’t mind,” he joked, and Simon rolled his big eyes slowly. “And why were you talking to August?” He fears he already knows the answer.

 

“You already know,” Simon grumbled. 

 

Wilhelm does. He pressed anyway. “Why do you do that, be the school dealer? Is it to get expelled, because it could also get you arrested. I dunno, you might want that as well, you're pretty weird.”

 

Simon’s jaw tensed, and he flicked the ashes onto the ground, not replying.

 

Wilhelm sighed, and then stood up. “Go home, Simon. Pull yourself together, and don’t ever do this again.”

 

Simon didn’t reply, staring past Wilhelm instead of at him determinedly. Wilhelm walked away, back towards the gym to lie that Simon is now fine, leaving him to smoke in the bus shelter alone like a loser.

 

~ Thursday ~

 

Wilhelm feels dead. He wishes he was dead, by God . Is he going to let that fucking stop him though? No.

 

He stretched and rolled around his bed for nearly half an hour later than he normally would, before dragging himself out the warm, soft, comforting sheets that just call his name, and into the shower, where he lent against the wall and tried to empty his nostrils.

 

Wilhelm went through breakfast like a zombie, nibbling on toast. His phone buzzed with a text from Erik

 

Erik
Heard you’re having a party this weekend, hosted by August. Wtf is he doing?
8:32 am

 

Wilhelm sighed, and didn’t bother properly opening that. He’ll reply later with some lie, he thinks if he tells Erik that August beat him up while being super high Erik would march to Hillerska and give him a slap upside the head.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“You remind me of Edward Cullen.”

 

“Shut up Simon.”

 

“Have you watched Vampire Diaries?”

 

“Yes.”

“Who is your favourite?” 

 

“I hate them all. Do your work?”

 

“You look a tad sick, you should go back to your room, Edward,” Simon smirked. He finds himself so funny. He nudged Wilhelm’s shoulder with his own. “Hey, Edward.”

 

Wilhelm glared at him, leaning on his hand pressed against his forehead, which he himself can feel is burning. He can’t even focus on the whiteboard, yet another the words on the pages in front of him. He coughed, turning his head to press against his arm.

 

“Ew,” Simon hissed. “That was such an Ipad kid cough. I bet you were an Ipad kid.”

 

Someone is just as annoying as ever, maybe slightly less offensive and destructive, but still aggravating.

 

“The ones who had sticky fingers from the lollies they have an infinite supply of. Sitting on your throne with a giant bowl of lollies and Coco melon,” Simon snickered at his own mental image. Wilhelm gave him a withered look. 

 

“No, but you are really super pale,” Alex hissed, turning to face the two of them.

 

“Thanks,” Wilhelm mumbled. 

 

“Let’s feel your face,” Simon grinned, pressing the back of his hand against Wilhelm’s cheek, and pulled away almost instantly. “Jesus, you are hot .” 

 

“Thanks,” Wilhelm replied again, this time with a smirk.

 

Simon smirked back. “‘Course, sweetheart,” he blew a kiss at Wilhelm and he rolled his eyes.

 

Alexander cleared his throat. 

 

“What, man, gonna call me pale again?” Wilhelm sighed, not even bothering to turn his gaze to look at him, his eyes hurt too much to look anywhere too extreme out of his immediate gaze, which is Simon, right now. Today, Simon is wearing brown baggy pants, a black and brown thick striped sweater, with a white shirt peeking ever so slightly out the bottom, gross Converse still on. He looks like he woke up, walked into his cupboard, came out and never even looked in a mirror (could probably be a metaphor for something about the closet, but Wilhelm can’t be bothered thinking of one right now)

 

“I mean, maybe,” Alex shrugged, and then turned to his word in their History class.

 

Wilhelm closed his eyes, and for a few moments that provided sweet relief. Until the teacher noticed him.

 

“Wilhelm? Are you okay, my boy?” Mr Grady’s deep voice spoke from next to their desk. Wilhelm is against the wall today, Simon out in the open of the aisle, but they are only two seats away from the front of the room and not at the very back. Wilhelm still doesn’t understand why Simon is sitting with him, especially because there is an open seat a few desks away next to Henry because Walter is still sick, and another one next to another girl because Felice is also away. Their history class is still under construction, so they have to take chairs from different classes every lesson to fit everybody.

 

Wilhelm snapped his eyes open. “Yes, sir,” he sat up straighter, smiling up at the teacher.

 

“You look awfully pale. Are you sick?” Mr Grady asked, bright blue eyes staring down at him. He’s probably one of the youngest teachers here, but he acts the oldest. His hair is still brown, and kept in a tidy side part, always wearing slacks and a white shirt. Simon has expressed several times that he will “give him a blowie to up my marks any day. Damn. ” which only causes Wilhelm to raise his entire eye brows at Simon.

 

“No, Sir, I’m fine,” Wilhelm forced a wider smile. His head is pounding. Simon hums to the music in his ear pods and doodles a pentagram onto his worksheet carefully, because of course. 

 

Mr Grady narrowed his eyes. “Wilhelm, staying in class where you can’t focus won’t do any one any good. I’ll give you a note, go to the nurse, and then go to bed. Come.” And with that, he turned and walked away towards his desk.

 

Wilhelm groaned in annoyance.

 

“I know , did you see how close he was standing to me?” Simon replied, now watching Mr Grady walk.

 

“Ew, Simon, he’s at least double your age,” Wilhelm sighed, putting his work and stationary into his bag, snatching his mechanical pencil from Simon. “Stop trying to summon the devil in class.”

 

Simon shrugged, scooting in his chair so Wilhelm can shuffle behind it, and follow Mr Grady. Just today, he promised himself, he’ll rest up today, and be at school again tomorrow.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm flopped down on his bed with a realisation. He thought it had been slightly weird how quickly Simon let Wilhelm go, and now he knows why: they were meant to study this afternoon. It may have been Simon’s idea, but he doesn’t seem to care.

 

He reached for his phone. He’ll DM and ask Simon if he wants to study in Wilhelm’s room with him. Wilhelm currently has the window thrown open, the door shut. The wind is reasonably warm today, but thanks to his lovely fever he’s shivering, but he wants the sick germs he’s exhaling to leave and not sit in his room for him to inhale again.

 

Wilhelm opened Instagram, went to the search function and typed in “Simon Eriksson” . The first result was some random white guy from America. The second is what appears to be a fan account for Simon, which Wilhelm cackled at, because they have baby photos, and what looks to be a very cringe time in Simon’s life style wise. But there’s not Simon’s actual account.

 

“I DMed him, obviously.” Simon said he was DMing August, but Simon doesn’t even have Instagram. Wilhelm wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the kind of guy who believes it’s all the government trying to take over their minds. He was drawing a penagram in class.

 

Wilhelm instead sent a DM to Alex.

 

Wilhelm
Hey, can you ask Simon if he still wants to study this afternoon? If yes, then tell him to go to my room when school ends.
10:14 am 

 

Alexander replied concerningly fast, considering her should be going to PE right now.

Alex
Simon says he’ll go this avo

10:15 am

 

Wilhelm
Okay, thank you
10:15 am

~ ~ ~

 

There was a knock on his door. Wilhelm, wrapped in his blue blanket, shuffled to the door, and opened it. Simon threw something small and in a plastic packaging at his face, and it bounced off his forehead.

 

“August fucking gave me that,” Simon said, before shoving past Wilhelm into his room.

 

Wilhelm shut the door, and bent down to pick up the package. A condom. Wilhelm sighed, throw it into the sick next to the door. “Why did you see August?” Wilhelm asked, watching Simon throw his bag onto the floor, and plant himself next to it.

 

“Was walking to your room, and he fucking saw me, and stopped me. He asked where I was going, so I told him. The fucker just pulled it out his fucking pocket, like what the fuck? What kind of horny bitch with no girlfriend carries condoms around? The fuck?” Simon shook his head, and Wilhelm sat down against his bed on the floor in front of Simon. 

 

“August.”

 

“I agree with you there, sweetheart,” Simon nodded, reaching up onto Wilhelm’s desk to grab his mechanical pencil. 

 

Wilhelm snatched it off him. “Speaking of August, why did you lie about DMing him when he beat you up?”

 

“It’s funny how we’ve both been beaten up by him. We should gang up and get him back,” Simon hummed, reaching over and prying the pencil from Wilhelm’s fingers easily. His hands are really freaking cold. “And I didn’t lie, I do have Instagram, it just isn’t under my actual name,” Simon explained, pulling out some maths worksheets and a notebook.

 

“Super funny,” Wilhelm commented drily. “Can I have your Instagram, then?”

 

Simon stiffened, slowly looking up at Wilhelm with a frown. “Why?” He asked suspiciously.

 

Wilhelm rolled his eyes, leaning back against his bed. “Do send you dick pics, babe. No, why do you think ? To organise study time,” Wilhelm scoffed. 

 

Simon gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m surprised you even know how to make jokes. No, you can’t have my Instagram.”

 

“August has it.”

 

“August is my loyal, undying customer. You’re just a prick,” Simon retorted, pushing the homework towards Wilhelm. “Educate me you fool.”

 

Wilhelm sighed, ignoring how uncomfortable he feels at how easily Simon mentions his dealings to August. They never talked about it after that night, even after Simon admitted he did sell him something. 

 

“Not even a please?” Wilhelm mumbled, grabbing the paper to turn it around and see what he’s working with, sniffling back his boogers.

 

“Nope,” Simon replied with a smirk, rolling around to lie on his stomach, flicking the pencil between his fingers. 

 

“Of course not,” Wilhelm sighed, picking up Simon’s notebook, and handing it to him, open and on a fresh page. “Alright, let’s get started.”

 

~ Friday ~

 

“Is he dead?” 

 

“Wilhelm!”

 

“Wille - !”

 

“FIRE! FIRE! FI - Ow!”

 

“Stop that! There’s no fire here, don’t scare him like that - “

 

“Who the fuck…?” Wilhelm rolled over in his bed, heart thumping at the words fire. He flew from his sheets, and threw the door open, stumbling into the sink from the pounding headache that shot through his brain like a bowling ball with zero respect for others. “Fire?” He asked, slightly breathless. He’s sure his hair is atrocious, and he probably has pillow creases on his face, but if there’s a fire who cares!

“No, no, no,” Henry’s standing there, waving his hands. “There’s no fire, sorry, my bad,” he smoothed down Wilhelm’s hair while he just stood there frowning, throat raw, the corners of his mouth feeling crusty from breathing with his mouth open. Henry, Alex and Walter are all standing in their school clothes, back packs on, looking very awake.

 

“No fire?” Wilhelm repeated, voice croaky as Henry stepped back, satisfied.

 

“Well, yes, but it’s under control,” Alex said, peeking over Henry and Walter’s shoulders.

 

Then Wilhelm heard it, the faint sound of a fire alarm, somewhere vaguely distant but on campus. “What?” Wilhelm asked, clearing his throat, which only made him wince. He feels dizzy and queasy standing here.

 

“You see,” Walter scratched his neck, turning to glance at Henry, who sighed. “You over slept your alarm, and we all figured you deserve a sleep in, since you’re so sick and no teacher would touch you with a fucking ten foot pole.”

 

“Thanks.”


“Yeah. But then your bestie boo bear Simon set the school on fire,” Henry joined in, crossing his arms. What.

Notes:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS MY FRIENDS
At the time of writing this, I'm moments away from my brothers materialising and asking to unpack our stockings on Christmas morning. No matter what you celebrate, I hope this day treats you well, be kind and make good decisions, because I'm in your walls <3

I'm going to go update my other book this morning as well, so go check that one out, it's a super angsty Wilhelm and Simon one

Thank you for reading, I'll see you next time

Chapter 5: Felix

Summary:

Now we're picking fights
And slamming doors
Magnifying all our flaws
And I wonder why
Wonder what for
Why we keep coming back for more
Is it just our bodies?
Are we both losing our minds?
Is the only reason you're holding me tonight
'Cause we're scared to be lonely?
Do we need somebody
Just to feel like we're alright
- Scared To Be Lonely, Martin Garrix, Dua Lipa

Notes:

I'm really enjoying updating this story, next chapter is one of my favourites, to be honest. School starts up in two weeks for me, so I'm trying to do as much writing for this book before then so I can update throughout the term.

I know I'm super late, but Happy New Years everyone! I hope this year will be the year for you <3

Anyone feel like venting to me? I love some gossip, can y'all tell me the most juicy things going on in your lives because school has been out for months and the gossip at my school is fucking insane, and I miss it.

That's all! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's really long so be prepared :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ ~ ~

Wilhelm blinked. “No, he didn’t,” he said, eyes narrowing. 

 

“Yeah, well, the fire alarms screeched otherwise,” Henry replied with a slight smirk. “Someone took eat the rich too far,” he chuckled.

 

“He wouldn’t,” Wilhelm declared, shaking his head. Simon wouldn't take anything that far, would he? That's - that's so over the line. “...Did he really? Where? When? Why?

 

“Okay, well,” Alex went onto his tip toes again, peering over their shoulders at Wilhelm. “It might have actually been your cousin, August.”

 

What?

 

“What?” Wilhelm mumbled, rubbing his face aggressively. That makes no sense. How did Simon set fire to the school but it might be August. “What? Just tell me who set the god damn fire so I can get ready for school.”

 

“It’s 2 pm.”

 

What? ” Wilhelm yelped, eyes widening as his heart literally skipped a beat. He grabbed Walter’s phone from his hand to check the time. “Cute background,” he commented numbly, staring at the 2:10 pm on the screen. The background is Henry with a flower crown, his side profile as he smiles at whoever he's talking to. Just saying. 

 

Walter snatched the phone back and shoved it in his jean pocket, cheeks pink. “Thanks.”

 

“What’s your background?” Henry asked.

 

“Nothing!” Walter replied all too quickly. Wilhelm rolled his eyes, which only hurt his head more. He lent his forehead against the door frame, which is nicely cool against the burning of his brain.

 

“Guuuyss. Focus. Fire. Simon. August? What?” 

 

“Oh, right,” Alex pushed the other two out of the way to stand in front of Wilhelm directly. “So, Simon was found skipping in the bathrooms which is in the same corridor as the fire, but August was seen walking out of the building putting a box of matches in his pocket by some security cameras outside the building. The security camera thing is something students claimed to have overheard some teachers talking about while they were waiting. The teachers have sent everyone back to class, but we came here to tell you that everyone is blaming Simon."

 

"Why?" Wilhelm asks, exasperated.

 

"Because Simon is Simon and August is royalty, Wille,”

 

“Barely,” Wilhelm sighed heavily. He can't catch a break with drama at this school. “He’s mostly a prick. Where was the fire?”

 

“Who’s the prick?” Henry asked eagerly. 

 

Wilhelm shrugged. “Both.” 

 

“The fire was in a broom closet, but it spread fast because of all the chemicals and cleaning equipment, but it didn't go down the corridor more than few feet before teachers and third years got on it with fire extinguishers. There's a fire engine, though."


"Where are Simon and August then?"

 

"Simon and August are in the principal's office. You should go pick a side before they expel Simon,” Henry answered with a slight smirk Wilhelm blatantly ignored.

 

But Simon wants to get expelled. Wilhelm turned and shut the door on the boys, who didn’t even complain, walking away giggling to themselves about Wilhelm choosing love or loooveee. It’s what his Mother would want, or what Wilhelm wants. Well, that answer is obvious: save August. He won't even need proper proof about why he had matches, he'll just spill some trash on Simon and it'll be done. Simon can go to another school, and August will finish his final year at Hillerska, and get away with all his quiet crimes, blaming it on Simon because everyone knows Simon is a bad kid, but no one knows August is a bad guy.

 

Is Simon a bad kid? Wilhelm wondered, leaning back against the door and closing his eyes. Or does he just really miss his friends at his old school? The freedom? August is definitely a bad guy. Is Simon a big softie under his thousands of spikes, laser beams, various other flaming projectiles? 

 

The right thing to do would be to point out the obvious: August was seen walking away with the matches, and Simon was skipping in the bathroom. Check the security? Wilhelm’s sure they’d already have done that. 

 

Wilhelm groaned, and moved off his door to throw on some more presentable clothes than his pyjamas's he's been sleeping in for nearly an entire day. He has a few questions to ask before he picks a side.

 

~ ~ ~

 

When he arrived at Headmistress Lilja’s office, he found Simon sitting outside on one of the chairs. He’s not sitting properly though - why would he? The chairs only designed to be sat on a certain way for maximum comfort and stability - legs thrown over one side, head upside down  on the other, scrolling on his phone on through what looks like Tik Tok. It’s hard to identify when it’s upside down and his lighting is so low. 

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm croaked as he approached, water bottle in hand. He put on a pair of clean jeans, and his Hillerska hoodie, nothing else. His fever is gone for now, and he’ll probably start dying of cold again in a few minutes, but he’s feeling quite warm right now.

 

Simon’s head shot up so fast Wilhelm feared for his stupid neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Simon asked, eyeing Wilhelm suspiciously as he stopped in front of Simon. “Please don’t say you’ve come to save me. You know I want to get out of here.”

 

Wilhelm sighed. He would roll his eyes, but that hurts his head and Simon's not worth that. “No, I’m not going to be your Knight and shinning armour out the kindness of my god damn sparkly heart. I want to know a few things before I decide.”

 

“It’s kind of fucking disgusting how you know that your opinion is what will conclude who gets expelled,” Simon told him blatantly, expression equally unamused.

 

Wilhelm shrugged, catch slightly off guard by Simon's statement. “I know who I am, Simon. I don’t use it often, and it’s not like I’m gonna march in and start throwing around the Prince title. I’ll just give my opinion. God knows I’d be asked if I didn’t give it myself.” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Still. “I know who I am”.” He imitated Wilhelm in a high pitched voice, waving his hands around dramatically, phone now resting, abandoned in his lap.

 

Wilhelm glared at him. He won’t say he’s trying to help him, because it’s clear Simon doesn’t want it, but he doesn’t want August to win this and get Simon expelled. “Question one - “

 

“Why the fuck are you asking me ?” 

 

Question one ,” Wilhelm waved his hand in Simon’s face, index finger up. Simon snapped his teeth at his finger. Wilhelm ignored him - he really needs to learn his lesson, because Simon’s teeth are getting closer every nip. “Did you do it?”

 

Simon sighed, dropping his head back. “Please, sweetheart. At my last school I got expelled for getting high as much and setting half the gym on fire. I nearly getting sued for attempted murder, not lighting a storage cupboard on fire. Frankly pathetic.”

 

“So it was August.”

 

“That's not what I sai -”

 

“Question two: Is the security camera rumour true?” Wilhelm asked, putting his hands on his hips, water bottle still in hand.

 

“Dunno,” Simon replied, checking out his nails, picking a piece of dirt out. His black nail polish - from last week, yes - is even more chipped, barely holding on to his short fingernails. “Haven’t talked to the Head Mama yet.”

 

“Don’t - just don’t, don't call her that, please,” Wilhelm sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is making my headache worse," he mumbled, scrunching his eyes shut and lowering his head while massaging his temples with his index and middle finger.

 

Simon examined him, curiosity swirling in his dark eyes. “You confuse me, Wille Billy,” he said plainly. “The fact you are here at all confuses me.”

 

Wilhelm folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the stupid nick name, looking back at Simon with annoyance. “I - My internal crisis is that if you get expelled, August wins this spat we have against him. He gets away with having done drugs, having beat me up, bullied both of us, and being a world class bigot. But if he gets expelled, then I have to continue dealing with your shenanigans,” Wilhelm explained, then paused to take a shaky breath, looking away from Simon to the door a few feet down where the Headmistress and August are right now. “And my Mother will be furious if August gets expelled by my word.” 

 

“Dunno, babe. Sounds like a you problem,” Simon said with a smirk, spinning his rings around his fingers.

 

“Actually, it’s a you, me and August problem, I just kind of want revenge.”

 

“Then go tell them it wasn’t me,” Simon replied without missing a beat, still looking at his hands with little interest. “Go get your revenge.” 

 

Wilhelm started, genuinely shocked and confused. “But … But I thought you wanted to get expelled?” Nothing is adding up, and it's making his head start to pound, the ache at the front of his brain worsening every minute he tries to understand Simon's maze of a mind.

 

“Yeah, but not if it means August wins. How dare he try to frame me for something as fucking petty as a broom closet fire,” Simon scoffed. “I wanna go out big,” he splayed his hands in front of his face, as if showing off something magnificence. “Like murder - “

 

“Okay, plausible deniability, Simon. Don’t tell me this stuff so I don’t have to go to court when you do it,” Wilhelm grumbled, taking a swig of his water bottle to wash away the bitter taste of fucking stress. It didn’t work. 

 

Simon snickered, dropping his hands and looking up at Wilhelm. “Decisions decisions. Make up your mind fast, August has been in there awhile. Besides, Wille Billy, we both know that if he gets threatened with expulsion, Mummy will just pay a pretty penny and fucking just, brush it under some Gucci rug like it never happened. I don’t even think my Mama’s been told yet...” 

 

Simon’s right. God dammit. The quote “there’s a first for everything” really is true.

 

“This wouldn’t even be a problem if you hadn’t been skipping in the bathrooms. August must have seen you go in,” Wilhelm said, beginning to pace in front of Simon.

 

“Yeah, he was following me all morning asking if I gave you an STI and you’re just pretending to be sick. Probably saw me go into the bathrooms after lunch, and just waited until everyone was in class to commit literal arson.”

 

“Why did you skip?” Wilhelm asked. He doesn’t care, not entirely anyway, it's annoying because it makes tutoring him harder if he doesn't even know what they were meant to learn. It’s a filler question, he needs to think, he needs more information. He needs time

 

Simon went quiet for a moment. “ 'Cuz you weren’t at class to help me,” he replied after another moment. “Bitch.”

 

“You steal my answers," Wilhelm deadpanned, stopping his pacing to cross his arms and frown at Simon.

 

“Same thing,” Simon shrugged. “Basically, anyway the lines between are very blurry.”

 

“You should get glasses, because they really aren’t,” Wilhelm replied, turning to stare at a picture on the wall of Kristina’s graduation class, all posing with a very young Headmistress Lilja. Queen Kristina isn't even smiling, fuzzy, black and white eyes boring into Wilhelm like she knows exactly what he’s thinking of doing.

 

“I’ll go against August,”  Wilhelm decided, turning against his Mother’s cold gaze. Anxiety instantly grabbed all his insides, his mind screaming Don’t! Screw Simon! He’s done nothing kind to you, but here you are, continuously sucking up to him, forgiving him, helping him! What’s wrong with you? You know what your Mother wants, do that! August is blood, Simon is an ass! 

 

But the look on Simon’s face, the shook and slightest relief that he instantly covered in a smirk, it … It - “Aww, thank you sweetheart,” Simon stood up and patted Wilhelm’s cheek a little harder than necessary, before his eyes fell on the picture behind him. “Ehk,” he pulled a face. He looked from Kristina to Wilhelm, and back again a few times. “I see the resemblance, actually.”

 

The doors to the office opened, and August came out, a smirk glowing on his face that instantly dropped when he saw Wilhelm, and then Simon. His eyes widened for a split second, before he glowered at them, face dark and threatening. Simon stuck his tongue out and Wilhelm kept his own face neutral. 

 

Headmistress Lilja came out next as August walked off silently down the corridor. “Simon - Oh, Prince Wilhelm!” Her tone did not cover her surprise at all, in the slightest. “I just wanted to talk to you. Would you mind coming in for a word?”

 

“Of course, Headmistress, that is why I’m here,” Wilhelm threw a wink back at Simon, who hit his butt jokingly once Headmistress Lilja’s back was turned. Wilhelm rolled his eyes at Simon as he shut the door, Simon settling back into his chair with a smirk.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Erik
Mama’s gonna murder someone
Come rescue me I’m too young to die Wille
5:02 pm

This is all your fault
5:15 pm

I thought you hated Simon????
wtf

5:17 pm

Yk how bad this’ll be if it gets in the press?
5:32 pm

Answer Mama’s calls rn she’s about to send Malin to make you pick up your phone
Nvm just DMed Felice and she said ur sick u get a pass for calling today but tomorrow mama is gonna call u
6:22 pm

You’re dead meat
Said with lobe
Love*
Mama’s still really mad
Not even Papa can calm her down rn
She seems to think you’ve gone to the dark side
6:56 pm

Don’t forget me when you’re out running gangs and paying hit man to do your bloody work
which is murdering august bc ik u have that in u
6:59 pm

I’m on your side with this one btw ofc ofc I’m sure you had good reasons
Which YOU BETTER SHARE WITH ME ASAPPP
7:02 pm

Missing you rn <3
7:05 pm

 

Wilhelm sighed, and swiped away the notification. He’s hiding in Felice and Madi’s room right now, like a loser, lying on Felice’s bed while she sits on the floor in front of Madi, who is perched on the edge of her own bed braiding Felice’s hair.

 

They’re talking quietly about some TV show they’ve been watching together. Wilhelm watches the two interact easily, as if they’ve known each over for years and not less than two weeks, it almost makes Wilhelm want a roommate he can talk to when he feels lonely, who he can trade notes with, who he can watch TV shows with. Then he remembers all the asshole's at Forest Ridge, and decides if worse comes to worse, he’s sure they can find a spare mattress in the girls rooms for Wilhelm to nap on. 

 

The room is quiet and dim, the curtains drawn and lights off, only candles and lamps lighting up the space that smells of vanilla and something fruity, from Madi’s candle’s and other scented things. She has a lot, but Wilhelm doesn't even know what that white cylindrical one with small holes leaking gas is, and whether or not he should be breathing the gas in. 

 

He opened Instagram and scrolled for a few more minutes, careful to not like anything or open any stories while on his main account. His PR team will log in once a day to do his social media activity, stuff like that is very controlled by his PR team. They say it’s for security because he’s so young, but Wilhelm know’s Erik didn’t have this kind of control freak monitoring, or any other Prince or Princess out there. Wilhelm doesn’t care. He doesn’t have a right too, after the shit he pulled they might as well put a tracker in his bones so he can’t do anything stupid again.

 

Especially after that night. What was he thinkingI wasn't thinking.

 

Wilhelm left Headmistress Lilja’s office shaking, hands sweaty, listening to the sound of her dialling August’s mother to inform her of the events, and her son’s two week suspension. Not even expelled. It’s kind of annoying. No, it’s very annoying. All that stress and labour (walking across Hillerksa and talking to Simon) For basically nothing! 

 

Simon wasn’t even there either! Apparently, he excused himself from the situation without even talking to Headmistress Lilja. She didn’t seem to care though, might have even forgotten she was planning to grill him down before expelling him. 

 

He’s yet to ask if August is planning on postponing that stupid welcome party for a few weeks time, but that hasn’t stopped him from adding some more pricey things to his list for August and Vincent to buy for the party.

 

“Wille.”

 

Wilhelm looked up from his phone, where he’d been staring at some charities post for cancer, lost in thought. “Yeah?”

 

The two girls are standing now, Madi going around blowing out all the candle. “We’re going down for dinner, what do you want us to bring up?” Felice asks as she stands from the floor, smoothing out her shirt. “Or are you gonna go back to Forest Ridge?” 

 

Wilhelm forces a smile, sitting up from her bed. His head spins a little from sitting up, throat swollen and achy. “That’s okay,” he mumbled, trying to not use his voice so his throat can heal faster. “I’ll go back for dinner.”

 

The girls went downstairs to have their dinner, and Wilhelm slowly collected himself, dragging his body off of Felice’s bed, filling up his bottle in their bathroom, and putting on his shoes. Dawdling, that's what he’s doing.

 

There’s no way he’s going back to Forest Ridge, he may get skinned alive, and patted on the back, and screamed at, frowned at, who knows, but he is not at all desperate to find out. He has self preservation - cough anxiety cough cough - like that. 

 

He slipped from the girls dorms, and into the evening, walking as slow as physically possible through the darkening ground towards his dorms dinning room. Wilhelm’s eyes caught on the bus shelter as he passes by, and he wonders …

 

Wilhelm approached the small, wooden shack, covered in graffiti and slowly degrading away into the ground. He swung around the corner, and found himself almost hoping Simon was there, but it’s empty.

 

Sitting down inside, he was met by the smell of cigarettes, and with a glance to his right, he spotted a cigarette butt that had clearly fizzled out on it’s own only a few hours ago. Simon is not so good at putting them out by himself. Clearly that small motion of grinding it with his disgusting Converse is too tedious for him. But he was here.

 

Wilhelm decided to hide in here until dinner finished. He’s not hungry anyway, so it’s fine. 

 

His body aches, throat a constant pain, headache thumping. Wilhelm’s limbs themselves feel heavy and almost weighed down. I have so much homework to do, t he thought suddenly occurred to him, and Wilhelm felt his eyes begin to sting. I missed an entire day of class. I’m going to need to email the teachers and ask for everything I missed, and play catch up all weekend long. 

 

Wilhelm hung his head, eyes squeezed shut, quiet sobs breaking through his body - no . He looked up, forced his eyes open, and kept his face relaxed. Wilhelm took deep breaths, chanting no in his head until the tears were completely gone. I owe them. Someone fucking died, so I owe this to them. It’s the least I can do.

 

~ Saturday ~

 

Wilhelm really thought it wasn’t possible for him to hate August more than he already does. If someone asked if, he would have said with 100% confidence that he hates August to the max capacity he is capable of hating a person like August. But August, being the absolutely skilled man he is, managed to raise the bar yet again.

 

Wilhelm’s “ Welcome party ”. He feels a cold shiver run down his spine at the memory of “Wilhelm’s 13th Birthday Party!!” , or maybe it’s from the sight in front of him: August trying to slide up next to Felice, only for her to shove him away every single time, her friends now circling around her and yelling at a drunken August, who just laughs and defends himself, giggling like an idiot.

 

Wilhelm thought that August would postpone the party until he got back, but August must've heard "make all the teachers think you leave Saturday morning but actually hide in the palace setting up the party for Saturday night like nothing changed." 

 

Wilhelm has been moody all day, waiting for his Mother's inevitable call that Erik promised this morning when Wilhelm called him, explaining everything to him.

 

They were having their Crisis book session this morning - or as Simon calls them, “my thirteenth reason and no, you’re not allowed at my funeral” - and it was going fairly well. Simon had finished listing off the whole four notes he’d taken from the five chapters he’d 'read', while Wilhelm had three pages of notes and Felice had one and a half.

 

Felice simply commented “your wounds are healing nicely, Wille.” She was barely paying attention, but Wilhelm’s nerves are shorter than the fucks ants give when they crawl up your pants, and he snapped back: “there wouldn’t be anything to heal if someone wasn’t so problematic.”

 

Simon had whacked his crusty dusty copy of Crisis down on the table. “I thought we were over this,” he’d replied, looking almost hurt, brows gathered together as he frowned over at Wilhelm, but Wilhelm couldn't bring himself to care.

 

Wilhelm had a narrowed his eyes and said, “You think I’ve gotten over you selling my cousin drugs - not just any drugs, drugs you refuse to tell me the property of, that August didn’t even ask for."

 

Felice started. Wilhelm had told her what happened, of course, but she still looks shocked Wilhelm had brought it up at such a loud volume for a library, which is really just normal talking. “I’m sorry, Jesus, I was just saying,” Felice had grumbled. “Working with you two is like sitting with two bombs - and if one explodes, the other one does too.”

 

“And what are you? The person getting blown up? Grow up Felice, you’re not the victim, you’re just being dramatic,” Simon had snarled back at her. Wilhelm kicked him under the table.

 

The rest of their catch up session was spent in silence.

 

He blinks off his memories, back to where he's standing in the corner of the Palace, as the school calls it, a basic sized, concrete and wood building with suspicious stains and old furniture, clutching a bottle of water like it’s his god damn life line. He doesn’t even trust this water, sure, he grabbed it before the party had even got into full swing and it's sealed shut still, but August may have already spiked it somehow, plotting to kill Wilhelm, even though he claims it's all good, and that he doesn't care Wilhelm is getting him suspended for two weeks with a minor warning. He wishes August got expelled entirely.

 

Wilhelm feels filthy, and he’s only been at this party for half an hour. He text Vincent and August the list during breakfast this morning when they informed him the party was still happening.  Everything he requested came to over two thousand dollars. August had sent back a thumb up, but Wilhelm hopes he was crying as he read it.

 

August followed the list and Wilhelm’s request to a T, from the streamers, to the confetti cannon, to the most pricey alcohol that has to be shipped and the shipping also costs money (he made sure it did, and he's really confused how they managed to get it to Hillerska in under 24 hours) to the Lindt dark chocolate fountain to the fresh salmon crackers. Wilhelm hopes August hooks up with someone - not Felice, Wilhelm will kick his ass - gets an STI, and fucking dies from it. Anyway.

 

Wilhelm ground his teeth, eyes flickering over his welcome party, which he doesn’t even want to be at. He doesn't feel welcome. He doesn't think anyone even knows it's for him, most people are ignoring him, the most he's got is August asking if he liked it while trying to give him a entire bottle of Champagne.

 

He didn’t even want a party in the first place, he just wanted to start school, make a few ‘friends’ - who will forget him the second schools over - and get down to studying. Instead, he’s made an enemy, gotten into a fight, is missing his unfinished homework, has gotten a detention, been semi engaged in the aftermath of framed arson, and is at a party. Wilhelm promised himself years ago he’d never go to another party, he’d never host another party, he’d never drink again, and he’d never even look at drugs. But here he is, all to annoy August by draining his bank account, and August isn't even phased.

 

He cracked open his water bottle, giving it a sniff, confirming it does indeed smell like water. Wilhelm watched the party as he chugged half the bottle, relishing in the way it washed away the stale, dry taste coating his tongue from the anxiety he felt and he dehydration from the hot room.

 

The room is jam packed with students, mostly first and second years, with third first years that August invited, all dancing together in the middle of the room. Wilhelm invited the entirety of the first years, and was surprised when August asked him “Okay, who else?” Because he didn’t realise how big the Palace was.

 

Lights flash, almost blinding, in random succession, beams of colour moving over the crowd, lighting up sweaty faces and wild hair. Anywhere people aren’t, there’s furniture: a table, a couch, some chairs. The music is deafening, vibrating Wilhelm’s insides with every beat, he can barely hear his own thoughts over it. The crowd screams along to the lyrics, a song Wilhelm doesn’t know. Maybe, if there were significantly less people, less bright lights, quieter music and no alcohol, Wilhelm could have enjoyed himself. Maybe if he had a friend as well.

 

Wilhelm watched Felice stumble, grabbing onto Stella, laughing in her face. Felice is drunk, but she’s safe. Wilhelm’s eyes scanned until he found Henry and Walter, who are doing shots, one arm around the others as they threw it back, grinning at each other stupidly. They’re cute, but they are also drunk. Then he spotted Alex, quietly filling up cups, and even he was wobbling on his feet, missing a cup as he tried to pour some clear liquid into it. Wilhelm wants to hangout with a friend who isn’t drunk.

 

Why don’t I just leave? Wilhelm was shocked at his own thoughts because of course, how is he so stupid? Just leave. August ditched him ages ago, so Wilhelm can just walk right out the door.

 

Wilhelm followed a wall, like you would in a maze, hoping he'll find an opening eventually. He shoved past making out against the wall, pushing people that are being shoved into him by the crowd away, trying to not freak out about how claustrophobic and sweaty this all feels. He can understand how it would be enjoyable, to have this close, forced intimacy with someone you actually enough being close to, like a close friend or a partner, but for a sad, lonely guy like him, it's like hell.

 

“Wille! Where are you going?” Nil’s voice rang out from behind Wilhelm, a guy Wilhelm had shoved away from his back, but he didn’t dare stop, practically running down a short, crowded hallway to the window, climbing out of it onto the damp grass like the god damn building is on fire, hoping Nil’s hadn’t seen where he’d run off too.

 

The cold air slapped his cheeks, which he’s sure are red and he shivered from the sudden temperature change. He inhaled the refreshing air, feeling it cool him from the inside out, he feels all sticky and hot from that stupid, boring party.

 

Wilhelm looked around for a moment, before he spotted what looked vaguely like a path in the woods, and he set off in that direction at a quick pace, already excited to be back in his room. Back to school he goes, like a total, utter loser. He misses his bed, his only real friend in this school. He’ll tell August he got swept up in the crowd, and somehow found his way home later that night so August won’t tease him for leaving so early. 

 

A few people are out here as well: two girls, one holding back the other girl's long hair as she throws up in a bush, a girl and a boy making out against a tree very vocally, and another shadow, standing by them self, stumbling a few steps right onto Wilhelm's path, before grabbing onto a tree as they throw up as well.

 

Wilhelm frowned, that person is right in his path, he can’t avoid them. They also… look familiar. It’s not any person, he realised, halting in his tracks and wanting to scream. Long, curly hair, slim build covered by baggy clothes, rings glinting on his fingers. Simon is throwing up in the middle of Wilhelm’s escape path. Of course he is. Nothing can be easy for him, can it? The world must be conspiring against him. 

 

For a moment he considered taking a wide berth around him, but he didn't trust his sense of direction to not lead him to the road 5 miles away from Hillerska at 12 am, so he approached slowly, maybe he'll be able to slip past without him saying anything.

 

The music is still loud, covering his footsteps as he comes closer to Simon. He hears him gag again, right before he throws up, his puke splattering against the muddy, leafy ground. Under the tree's here, the ground doesn't get much chance to dry, and with the approaching winter, there's more rain and more cold.

 

The party has been going on for an hour, and this guy is already throwing up from the alcohol he’s consumed. Of course he is.

 

“Simon?” Wilhelm asks, and the other boy jumped up right, putting both hands on the tree to steady himself as he squints at Wilhelm, face sweaty.

 

“The fuck,” Simon muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Wilhelm moved to stand opposite him on the path. “You okay?” Wilhelm asked stupidly, because what else is he meant to do?

 

Simon blinked a few times, before his eyes fell to Wilhelm’s water bottle. “Can I have that?” He asked instead, voice raw as he spoke, ignoring Wilhelm’s previous question, not that he needs an actual answer.

 

Wilhelm also looked down at the half full bottle, and then Simon’s hungry gaze. He thinks if he doesn't just give it to him, he’d fight Wilhelm for it, he looks like a wild animal right now, a few strands of hair have gone frizzy, there’s a line of puke smeared on his cheek, his lips look dry, and he smells of sweat and alcohol. It’s really charming, Wilhelm can see how he pulled a boyfriend.

 

Wilhelm offered the bottle into the space between them, and Simon snatched it, taking a step away from his puke pile to collapse with his back to a tree, sitting on the root, opening the bottle and pouring the whole thing down his throat, a few drops escaping past the lose wrap of his pretty lips and dropping onto his clothes.

 

Simon sighed heavily once he’d finished, leaning his head back against the tree, smiling. Wilhelm blinks, looking away from Simon's lips to his eyes in confusion.

 

“Are you okay?” Wilhelm asked again. He should leave, him and Simon are anything but friends, it’s not his responsibility to look after his drunk ass, but he can’t just leave him here. How did he even get to school in the first place? Did his mother drive him? His boyfriend? The buses won’t be running at this hour... Plus, Wilhelm has already looked after his stupid ass when he was high, he doesn’t want to babysit him drunk as well.

 

Simon only sighed again, before saying “y’know, you’re not bad, Wille,” his words were slightly slurred, and his eyes seemed to struggle to find Wilhelm’s, floating around. "Did y'know tha'?" 

 

Wilhelm feels even more confused, taking a physical step away from Simon. “Um, thanks?” 

 

Simon hummed, closing his eyes and still smiling to himself, the bottle forgotten and empty at his side, hanging in his loose drip. “You’re still annoying, though.”

 

Wilhelm smirked despite himself, slightly amused by Simon. “You too.”

 

“But you look so… so smooshable whenever you get embarrassed,” Simon continued quietly, sighing happily again, like saying all this is making him feel good. "Makes me want to keep teasing you." He laughs, which borderlines on a giggle to Wilhelm's ears.

 

Wilhelm just blinked like an idiot, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at Simon’s drunken form. Simon’s wearing a loose fitting, cropped, orange shirt, with his signature black bottoms, which this time are cargo pants, and some thick combat boots. From the way he’s sitting, a strip of his tanned stomach is visible, rising and falling quickly. 

 

“I’m … smooshable,” Wilhelm repeated slowly, eyebrows raised.

 

Simon hummed, leaning his head back against the tree to display a sharp, defined jawline, his facial features blurring in the darkness around them. Wilhelm, personally, is getting cold, but Simon seems perfectly content, nodding. “Yeah. So smooshable,” he said again, so quiet Wilhelm could have fooled himself into thinking he’d misheard.

 

Wilhelm swallowed thickly, looking around a few times, before crouching in front of Simon. “You’re very drunk right now - “

 

Simon laughed, his eyes opening slowly to stare Wilhelm dead in the face. “I am not drunk, Wille,” he said confidently, throwing the water bottle at him.

 

Wilhelm caught the bottle, putting it down next to himself with a growing agitation in his movements. “You’re so drunk, you just called me "Wille".”

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“I’m literally not.”

 

“Literally are, fucka'.”

 

“I haven’t drank anything.”

 

“Yes you diiiiid.”

 

“Stop being mean.”

 

“You’re mean. Fuckoff.”

 

Fine. Suffer by yourself, throwing up like a loser. Bye, Simon,” Wilhelm stood up, snatching the bottle off the ground, and turning to walk away.

 

For a moment there was silence, and for a second Wilhelm thought he'd misread Simon, then - “FINE. Okay, okay, I'm drunk. Don' ditch me. I like talkin' to you,” Simon grumbled, struggling to his feet and taking a few steps after Wilhelm, barely steadying himself from bowling into his chest. 

 

Wilhelm smirked at him. Despite those chunky shoes, he’s still an inch shorter than Wilhelm is. Simon threw his arms out to keep himself falling over, before standing straighter, glaring up at Wilhelm.

 

“What am I meant to do?” Wilhelm asked, trying to not laugh in his face right now. “This is not like you. It’s hilarious.” Wilhelm’s basking in all the blackmail he’s gaining against Simon right now, because this feels like the polar opposite of him. He should whip out his phone right now. “How much have you drunk, Simon?”

 

Simon sighed, his breath stinking of alcohol. He started counting on one hand, muttering the numbers under his breath, losing track at four. “I dunno. I finished one thing, I grabbed another thing. Danced with them..." Simon trailed off, eyes slipping closed and mouth shutting. Wilhelm went to speak, opening his mouth, but then Simon continued, eyes snapping open. "I grabbed a drink. Did more dancing, grabbed another drink. Danced with them. Then I got another drink,” Simon nodded confidently, eyes hooded and pupils blown, looking back to Wilhelm.

 

“...Right,” Wilhelm frowned. He danced with other people? Doesn’t he have a boyfriend?

 

Before either could say anything else, a hauntingly familiar voice called out “Wille! What are you doing out here?” Wilhelm only glanced at the lankly, drunken form of August, before he's snatching Simon’s wrist and dragged him down the path behind him.

 

Simon curses, tripping on a tree root in the dark and Wilhelm had to turn and throw both of his hands out to grab Simon’s waist to prevent him from face planting, unable to stop a giddy laugh that shot out of him as he spun back around, handing leaving Simon's waist to his wrist, dragging him further into the woods, away from August. Simon stumbled again, catching himself and then he laughed as well, wrist still clamped in Wilhelm’s grip, one of his fingers pressing against the back of Wilhelm’s hand.

 

August’s yelling faded into the background as they ran together, stars shining between the leaves of the tree’s, the booming music no longer shaking the ground. A cold wind whips against their faces, going through their clothes and making them shiver.

 

Simon slows first, stopping to lean on his knees, wrist slipping from Wilhelm’s grip. Simon grins at the floor as he breathed heavily, eye’s shut. Wilhelm could almost hear his weak lungs rattling in his chest.

 

Wilhelm found himself smiling down at him as well, heaving for breath as he watched. He may not be drunk, but he feels like it, all light and bubbly inside.

 

“Fuck, why did we run away?” Simon asked, panting as he sits on his butt, leaning his arms on his knees, legs straight out in front of him, surely damp from the ground.

 

Wilhelm sniffed against the cold air which is making his nose sting, “I don’t want to be dragged back to the party.” He admitted with a shrug. Simon’s drunk off his mind, he won’t remember any of this tomorrow morning.

 

“Don’t you want to drink, though?” Simon asked, a smile slowly melting as he looked up at Wilhelm, all dazed in his own mind. “Forget all the - the shit in your life. That’s why I drink. I don’t like thinking about it.”

 

Wilhelm frowned, coming down from his high, another shiver wracked through his body. “I…” Wilhelm paused, chewing on the inside of his mouth as he thought. “I make bad decisions when I drink.”

 

Simon blinked once... twice... “Oh. Oh, yeah. I remember. That - that guy, at your 13? He got hit by - “

 

“Yes. Yes, yeah,” Wilhelm interrupted, feeling the tightness flowering in his throat, and not from the sickness he's still managing.

 

Simon just hummed, oblivious to the panic Wilhelm is soothing out again. “Sorry about that. Sounds traumatic. I guess you have a thing against threatening to hit people with cars,” he chuckled to himself, staring at the ground drunkenly. 

 

Wilhelm didn’t reply. It was, why do you think I’m not drinking?

 

“Why do you hate August so much?” Simon asked randomly, still staring at the grounds, legs apart as he plays with the leaves. “I mean, I get he’s like, homophobic, but lots of people are, but I don’t hate them as much as you hate him. He’s your cousin. I wish I had cousins. Or a Dad. You’re lucky, you have both. I barely have anyone.” He rambled on, and Wilhelm just watched, squatting down in front of Simon slowly, still catching his breath. "I have Sara, most of the time. I love Sara. She's my bestest friend, but she's not here anymore. Mama too. Miss having family."

 

Wilhelm waited for him to stop talking. He is a drunk talker, one of those people who loses any self control when speaking. It’s great, but also sad. “I wish I had cousins. Or a Dad. You’re lucky, you’ve got both. I barely have anyone. Miss having a family.”

 

“August has been mean to me since I was born,” Wilhelm explained slowly, fiddling with the cap of the drink bottle. “Then when I came out, he ... just got even worse, even more intense. He's been trying to get us together since the first day of school, period one.”

 

“But why is he mean to you?” Simon asks, eyes wide and looking surprisingly innocent, gazing over at Wilhelm, blinking his long lashes quietly. 

 

Wilhelm pursed his lips. “I’ve never been entirely sure. I always assumed it was because he wanted the attention that I got being a Prince, so he knew he could mess with me because I would never stick up for myself, and it got Erik’s attention. Plus, he is just straight up homophobic.”

 

“Mmmm. 'M sorry he’s bullied you since you were little,” Simon said sincerely, rubbing his face. 

 

Wilhelm felt his eyes widen. Did Simon … Did Simon just apologise for something he didn’t even do? What the fuck? “Didn’t know you felt sorry for anyone other than yourself.”

 

Simon frowned. Then he laughed quietly, sounding almost like a giggle. This has to be some kind of fever dream, maybe Wilhelm hasn’t got better and he’s hallucinating really bad. “I’m very, very nice, Prince Poo. And I feel so happy right now," he sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. "I can't even pretend to hate - Uh oh -” 

 

Before Wilhelm could ask what he’s uh ohing, Simon turned to the side sharply, throwing up again, moving to be on his hands and knee's, gagging and retching.

 

“Oh, damn,” Wilhelm stood up and stepped over, standing hesitantly for a moment. “Uhh.” He reached down, and pulled Simon’s hair off his face, hands brushing his cheeks and neck to get all the curls in his grasp carefully, so he doesn't hurt him. His skin is soft and smooth, slightly warm under Wilhelm’s fingers, but his hair was softer, like grasping silk strands, each strand hand woven and pulled into a curl. 

 

“ ‘ Fanks,” Simon choked, coughing onto the ground again.

 

Wilhelm’s neck feels warm. “All good,” he replied, sounding slightly strangled. So Simon’s hair is soft, no need to get flustered.

 

A buzzing sound started, coming from Simon. Wilhelm dropped his hair as Simon reached to grab his phone, bending back to sit on his heels, sighing as he looked at the caller. Wilhelm looked at it over his shoulder, “ Marcus ”.

 

“Is that Marcus from Sprucewood?” Wilhelm asked quietly.

 

Simon pressed the red hang up button. Wilhelm blinked a few times. “No, it's my boyfriend,” Simon grumbled, standing slowly, and Wilhelm physically recoiled in confusion. "He doesn't go to this school."

 

“Your - your boyfriend. Why did you hang up on him, Simon?” Wilhelm asked, frowning. Simon took a deep breath, arms out to steady himself. Then he shrugged.

 

His phone began to ring again, “ Marcus” lighting up the screen.

 

“Did you two fight?” Wilhelm asked, watching Simon groan and hang up again. 

 

Simon shrugged, putting his phone in his pocket. It began vibrating again. 

 

“Do you even like him?”

 

Simon glared. “Of course I like him. I just don’t want to talk to him. Want to help me burn Forest Ridge to the ground?”

 

Wilhelm blinked. “Simon…” 

 

“I want to go back to the party and hunt down some of that fruity tasting alcohol that made my stomach more warm and tingly than anyone could ever make it,” Simon mumbled, standing up in front of Wilhelm. "You can come with me, Wille! You don't have to drink - you can have water, or a juice box."

 

“I don’t think you should go back to the party,” Wilhelm told him with a sigh, crossing his arms. If Simon was like this when he was sober, they wouldn't have a problem, offering to hangout with Wilhelm and give him juice boxes.

 

“Well, aren’t you boring,” Simon scoffed, crossing his arms, mimicking Wilhelm. Wilhelm can tell he’s copying him, because he keeps looking down to Wilhelm’s arms and then adjusting his own positioning slightly.

 

“I don’t really care. I’m being rational.”

 

“You can be funny, sometimes, you know,” Simon informed him, raising his eyebrows like it’s something Wilhelm doesn’t know (He doesn’t know)

 

“You’re only kinda funny when you’re drunk,” Wilhelm replies.

 

Simon rocked fowards and backwards on his feet, and then he grinned, all teeth with his eyes scrunched, like a toddler. Oh, how this is a contrast to last week when we first met. 

 

“Thanks,” Simon replies. 

 

“You’re welcome,” Wilhelm mumbles, shaking his head slightly. “I think you should call your boyfriend, and go home. You are very drunk, Simon.”

 

“Don't wanna, though, he can be kinda annoying,” Simon sighs, turning in a circle and walking right into his own throw up. “Awww, nooo,” Simon groaned, stepping back, right into Wilhelm, his back radiating warmth through the thin shirt as he collided with Wilhelm, staring down at his shoes. Wilhelm instinctively put his hands up, stopping Simon with his hands on his shoulders, keeping him steady but taking a step back away from him.

 

“You can wash them,” Wilhelm said, keeping Simon stable as he picks up one of his shoes to stare at the bottom, bottom lip jutted out. 

 

“They were expensive.”

 

“You go to Hillerska, you can afford it,” Wilhelm told him, taking his hands off as Simon stepped away.

 

Simon frowned at him as he turned around, shoes back on the ground. “Not always.”

 

“...What?”

 

“I can barely afford to go here. I got expelled from my last school, Sara gave Mama lots of money and so I could go here. I don’t want to be here, at this school,” Simon explained, his face sad the whole time. "We're doing good for money now... we lost a lot of money paying for Hillerska though, I bet you didn't even ask how much it cost. Lucky. I miss not worrying about money, when I was too little to understand why my showers were two minutes and why we all ate the same amount of food."

 

Wilhelm felt his eyes widen. Simon needs to stop sharing things.

 

Wilhelm remembers Felice telling him about the rumour of him being expelled from his old school, but there was nothing about financial trouble. Simon’s already told him he doesn’t want to be at Hillerska, that’s not new to him either. 

 

Wilhelm won’t ask questions, because this isn’t fair. Simon isn’t in the right mind, sober Simon won’t want Wilhelm to know all of this. “Simon, I’m sorry that’s - that’s, uh, happened to you. I really, really think you need to call someone, your Mama, your sister, even an Uber - “ Since he doesn’t want to call Marcus - “And go home, get some rest.”

 

Simon shook his head, closing his eyes and head towards the ground. “Sara is to busy… I’m too drunk for Mama to see. I … I have friends...” Simon explained, frowning like he's not sure. “They wouldn't like this. You don't mind... Do you? Does me being drunk make you mad?"

 

Wilhelm didn't reply, keeping his face straight, and Simon stared, eyes big and dark, waiting. "I don't care."

 

"'m going back to the party. Get an Uber or smth, later.” 

 

“Call your friends,” Wilhelm jumped to say as Simon turned back to the direction they’d run in from. “Simon, don’t go back to the party. You have a boyfriend, you can’t dance with people.” Wilhelm can feel the almost friendly atmosphere now sparking with electricity.

 

Simon turned to glare at him. “I - what? Stop caring , it makes everything harder ,” Simon grumbled, stumbling back towards the party. 

 

“What - “ Wilhelm slammed his mouth shut. Don’t take advantage of how his mind isn’t really connected to his mouth. Just get him somewhere safer than the party, God knows that August will use his drunken state to start rumours and cause trouble.

 

“Simon, please - “ Simon's phone began ringing again. Simon groaned, took it out his pocket, and hung up, dropping it back into his cargo pants. “Don’t - “

 

Simon kept walking, ignoring Wilhelm, grabbing tree’s to keep himself steady. “Fucking… I’m too sober for this bullshit,” Simon growled, pulling himself forward like there’s a physical weight holding him back. Wilhelm walked behind him, trying to convince him to stop until - 

 

Simon whirled around, stumbling into Wilhelm’s chest, grabbing onto his biceps to hold himself up while he gets his footing. Wilhelm grabbed his waist to hold him steady, feeling the strip of skin against his hand, warm and smooth. He gulps as Simon stared into his eyes, angry again.

 

“Stop, Wilhelm. Stop it. I do not need you to fucking baby sit me, tell me what to do, to go home, I’m fine . I’m not a kid, okay? I can look after myself,” Simon growled, eyes boring into Wilhelm's, slightly glassy with big pupils. “I’ll do what I want. Maybe I’ll go fuck someone, screw Marcus, like he hasn’t done the same. Maybe I’ll spend the night in someone else's bed, or in the woods lying on a tree root, or I’ll go home and get in trouble, but it doesn’t matter. Stop caring, please .” His last words sounded almost pained, and a small crack appearing in his eyes. “Let me go back to the party,” he whispered, breath hot against Wilhelm’s face. 

 

Wilhelm started, blinking a few times. “Don’t cheat,” Wilhelm whispered back.

 

Simon glared. "I fucking wouldn't. Stop caring," and shoved him away, turning to march off back to the party. He tripped on a tree root. “Fucking tree’s. Die.” 

 

Wilhelm sighed in annoyance. “Make good decisions, Simon! Don’t be stupid!”

 

Simon threw the middle finger back at him.

 

~ Sunday ~

 

Wilhelm and Felice took that long overdue trip into Bjärstad. It was Felice’s idea, and Wilhelm insisted he wasn’t sick anymore. He’s still sick. His throat still aches with every word, his nose is stuffed up, and he’s coughing as quietly as he can every few minutes. 

 

Upon seeing him that morning, Felice ordered him to go back to his bed and stay there the whole day, but Wilhelm was persistent with the fact he’s not sick. Felice side eyed him, but after a few more minutes of convincing lies, they were getting on a bus. Really, Felice is the one who should've been staying home. She's wearing sunglasses from her hangover and is carrying a giant Stanley drink bottle around with her.

 

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we bumped into Simon?” Felice chuckled as they got off the bus. “Thanks,” she said to the driver.

 

“Thank you,” Wilhelm smiled as he passed the driver also, behind Felice. “That would be painful and I might die,” Wilhelm replied, thinking back to less than 24 hours ago when Simon had stomped off to the party, muttering about nature and boyfriends. He wanted to ask Henry, Walter and Alex if they saw Simon last night, but decided they would probably make some comment about it, so Wilhelm didn't ask in the end.

 

“Oh yeah man, how dare Simon walk around his own neighbourhood,” Felice snickered, linking her arm through Wilhelm’s as they began to walk, taking a sip of her cup.

 

Wilhelm sighed, keeping his arm tight around Felice as they headed toward the shopping road. Wilhelm has never been into Bjärstad before, but it’s not nearly as bad as people made it sound.

 

Sure, some of the buildings they past are so run down Wilhelm can’t tell what they used to be, whether they were houses or a laundromat, and the sidewalks are cracked here and there, the drains are blocked with leaves and a few pieces of plastic, and one wall they passed was so covered in indescribable graffiti you couldn’t see the previous advert. But it looks like people actually live here, unlike the area’s around the palace, where the only hint of life is the fact everything is clean. People bustle around here with shopping bags tight against their bodies, parents holding the hands of their little ones with fond smiles, couples with their arms around each other as they walk into nice, little cafe’s. 

 

“So, where shall we go for some shopping?” Felice asks.

 

Wilhelm shrugs in response, smiling at two girls who gave him wide eyed stares through the window of an ice cream parlour. “I don’t mind, this was your idea.”

 

“Wonderful, to the thrift shop!” Felice said with a grin, pulling Wilhelm to a stop so they could cross the road.

 

Wilhelm spent the next hour following Felice around a massive, old warehouse full of racks and racks of unique clothes. Felice piled things onto his arms and talked as she went. “This one is so cute!” “This is absolutely hideous and I regret laying my eyes on it. Don’t look, Wille.” “This matches your eyes, babe.” “Can you stop wandering off and hold this?” “Does that say penis, or bestie… See, this looks like a T.” “Felice, that says penis.” “I’ll get it for Madi!” It’s very amusing, but also tiring, and Wilhelm is now starving.

 

“Felice, I will pay for everything in my arms right now if you stop so we can eat,” Wilhelm said through the changing room door, holding a black denim jacket, a white maxi skirt with pink flowers, two black slacks that look the exact same in different sizes, a white, fluffy jacket, her Stanley and the penis t shirt. 

 

Felice threw open the door, now wearing a white turtleneck with ripped jeans. “I’m getting these.”

 

“The turtle neck reminds me of August,” Wilhelm deadpanned, adjusting his arms, which are falling asleep under the clothes.

 

“Oh hell no,” Felice slammed the door.

 

Wilhelm paid for the things Felice brought, and they both took a quick photo with the young cashier who recognised both of them, and laughed as easily as he could when she asked Felice is Wilhelm was her boyfriend. “No, we’re not dating. He is my best friend, though. Why, you jealous?” The cashier blushed and laughed, replying with “jealous of him, yes.” Felice cackled as they walked out. 

 

Eventually, they wound up sitting in a pizza parlour, Wilhelm’s stomach speaking all the words he no longer has the energy to say. 

 

Felice hummed along to the song on the radio as she looked through the menu, simultaneously reapplying her lip gloss. Wilhelm slouched onto his side, holding his menu with one hand and leaning on the other. 

 

Wilhelm yawned. The waiter appeared with a bright smile, a guy about the same age as Wilhelm, brown hair in a slicked back bun, a brown, wispy goatee on his chin, with the lightest moustache above his top lip. “Hey, guys,” he said, looking down at his piece of paper and pen. “What can I - Whoa, you’re that Prince!” He gasped, eyes falling on Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm threw on a smile and sat up, reading his name badge quickly. “Yup, that’s me. Nice to meet you, Ayub,” he said with a smile.

 

“That’s crazy,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway - Oh! Hello! You must be Felice,” Ayub said to Felice, who was watching with an amused smile. Her face morphed into shock.

 

“Uh - yeah, how do you know that?” Felice asked, sitting up straighter and dropping her menu. Felice, you have over fifty thousand followers on Instagram, calm down.

 

“Simon is my best friend!” Ayub gushed. Wilhelm nearly raised an inquiring brow, stopping himself last minute and schooling his features. 

 

Felice smiled politely, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Oh, really? Does he talk about us?” She asked, leaning forward on the table.

 

Ayub hesitated, nodding a few times. “Yeah, he doesn’t really like your school, to be honest.”

 

“Oh, we are aware,” Wilhelm sighed. “How long have you known him?”

 

“Since primary,” Ayub said proudly. Damn. I didn’t even stop to think maybe Simon has friends outside Hillerska. “And it would’ve been all through high school as well, until he got wrongly expelled last year,” Ayub sighed.

 

Wilhelm felt his brows raise. “Oh?” 

 

“Yeah… Anyways,” Ayub smiled again, tapping his notepad with his pencil. “Ready to order?”

 

Wilhelm is very curious now. “Sorry, hold up, what did you mean he got wrongly expelled? He told me he set half the gym on fire,” Wilhelm said to Ayub.

 

Ayub eyed him with a confused look. “Uh - Well, Simon didn’t set the fire, but he was standing right there watching it burn when everyone else was evacuating. He tried to say it wasn’t him, but there was nothing to suggest it was an accident. Plus, they found a lighter on him, along with some ciggies, and you aren’t allowed either of those at Marieberg.” 

 

“Damn, poor guy,” Felice said, shaking her head. “He’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time when it comes to fire. Did he tell you about Friday?”

 

He really is always getting accused of arson, and that makes sense now why Simon was going along with the arson in the closet lie August made, because if he had already been rumoured/accused to have lit his old school on fire, wouldn’t you blame the previous arson case over the semi-royal, good guy? August is such a prick.

 

“Yeah, he did,” Ayub frowned. “August is such a prick,” he said, then his eyes widened on Wilhelm. “No offence, or anything. I’m sure he'll be nice if you get to know him.”

 

Wilhelm also frowned. “I - I literally sided with Simon on Friday. I hate August as much as the next person,” Wilhelm admitted.

 

Ayub blinked surprise. “Huh. Simon missed that fact.”

 

“Of course he did,” Wilhelm mumbled, rather annoyed. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

 

“Yup,” Ayub popped the P, eyes pinned on his notepad. “Alright, enough gossip, orders, lovely people?”

 

They gave Ayub their orders, thanked him for his service and he was on his way, the manager glaring from behind the counter.

 

“So Simon just forgot to tell Ayub that I saved him from expulsion and lied about setting his old school on fire. What else does he lie about?” Wilhelm wondered aloud, picking at the cuticle on his thumb. 

 

Felice just shrugged, sighing as she leaned back on the opposite side of the booth, into the thin, worn, red leather of the chair. It’s a pretty cosy pizza parlour, stereotypical, even. Wilhelm has never been in anything of the sorts. There’s a bell above the door that was still echoing into silence at least 20 seconds after they’d opened the door. The ground black and white chequered, and the lights that hang are a bright, artificial yellow, inside circular, hanging fixtures. There’s lots of different booths with the leather seats opposite each other, over basic wood and metal tables that contain menus, cutlery and seasoning compartments. The walls are a deep red and are littered with posters, varying from animated cartoon pizza characters to advertisements of real estate in the area. There is a literal jukebox in the corner by the door to the restroom that’s tall and coloured with reds, browns and blacks. But it’s nice.

 

Wilhelm is used to open, giant, bright white restaurants with massive windows with twenty story up views of sparkling night time cities. Plates of small, delicate desserts that taste spectacular, but are gone all too soon. And of course, a camera flashing for the public.

 

There’s no camera right now. 

 

A siren sounded, cutting through Wilhelm’s thoughts, and he turned to look out the window at the street as a police car whizzed past loudly, car’s pulling to the side and people craning their necks to follow it’s movement.

 

Wilhelm sighed, and scoched back in his chair as another police car followed, and then an ambulance. “Hope everyone’s okay,” he said, right before Ayub appeared, carrying their drinks.

 

“Chocolate milkshake,” he took the milkshake off the tray and put it in front of Felice. “And a small, diet Coke,” he placed the small, fast food cup in front of Wilhelm. “Your food will be out shortly. Enjoy!” And he was gone, scattering off towards the kitchen, humming to himself.

 

“He’s so nice, I wonder if Simon is like that when he’s in a good mood,” Felice said, stirring around the straw in her drink, before taking a sip. “Not bad. Tastes how Madi's candle smells. Wanna try?”

 

“No thanks. I don’t think he has a good mood. That’s just him, his factory setting, his only emotion,” Wilhelm replied with a smirk.


Felice rolled her eyes, but before she could reply, Wilhelm’s phone began buzzing in his pocket. He whipped it out, and his heart stopped.

 

“Do you need a moment?” Felice asked, foot nudging Wilhelm’s under the table.

 

“Uh - Sorry, I’ll be right back, Felice,” Wilhelm stood up quickly, and walked towards the jukebox, standing in between the jukebox, a plant and the wall, back to the parlour. For a moment all he could do was stare, stare at the caller ID, at the blank photo. Is he going to be in trouble for going out? He texted Minou and the principal already approved him going out last weekend, Felice just requested to change the permission to this weekend instead. Is it just the August and Simon debacle? 

 

Of course, the second Wilhelm forgets it’s a problem it becomes one again.

 

He slid his finger across the green and put the phone to his ear slowly. “Hello, Mama.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm slumped back in the booth, eyes teary and breathing heavily. Felice looked on with wide eyes, pizza steaming in between them.

 

“Wille?” She said hesitantly, leaning towards him. “What happened?” 

 

Wilhelm took a shaky breath, placing his phone face down on the table and pressing his fingers into his eyes. “I’m extremely disappointed in you.” “You choose this trouble making boy over your own blood?” “I’m not sure where you stand right now, Wilhelm, and it is worrying me.” “I fear for your education.” “Do you remember our deal?” “Our agreement.” “Negotiation.” “Compromise.” “Do you remember, Wilhelm?” 

 

“I - uh,” Wilhelm took a sip of his drink, trying to wash away the bitterness in his mouth with a heavy gulp. He took a deep breath, sat up straight and slapped on a smile. “Do you know what clubs are at Hillerska that I can join?” He asked.

 

Felice frowned. “Wilhelm, are you okay? You look like you’re about to break down, and you’re trying to hide it. Don’t suppress emotions, it’s not heal - “

 

“I’m fine, Felice, just a little flustered,” Wilhelm replied sharply, smile wavering. He picked at his cuticles under the table again. His Mother is not happy with him, and Wilhelm needs to fix that right away. Right the fuck now

 

She blinked a him with a expression that reads “you think I’m stupid?” But with a heavy sigh, she spoke again. “I think if you were to join a club or group, it should be the student council. You’d have no trouble getting into it, and they barely do anything, but you get a badge, it goes on your report and you can issue detention. Normally, first years don’t even bother going for student council because who’s going to listen to you? But everyone would vote you on. Madi’s going to try. Elections are next week.”

 

Wilhelm nodded confidently. Student council, easy. “How do I enter myself?”

 

“Email Miss Ramirez, she’s organising it apparently. Basically, you just need to convince her on why she should let you be a choice of nominee and then go from there. Pizza?” Felice nudged the pizza board towards him. Wilhelm shook his head, appetite gone.

 

“Wonderful. Thank you so much, Felice.” Wilhelm whipped out his phone again and began to format the email, eyes flying, heart still thumping. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, and glanced up. Felice is staring with horror.

 

“You spent forever complaining you were starving, and now you’re not going to eat anything?” Felice asked, looking horrified and confused. “You need food, Wille.”

 

“I’ll eat at school, Felice, I’m not hungry right now,” Wilhelm shook his head. “I’m fine.”

 

“I didn’t say if you’re okay.”

 

“Well, before you do, I’m fine,” Wilhelm stared at what he’s written for a few seconds while Felice huffed, stirring her milkshake, muttering “Ayub held better conversation than you” and looking around. Wilhelm deleted the whole thing, and started again

 

~ Monday ~

 

Hillerska has successfully beat off that virus! Wilhelm’s class is full on Monday morning as he sits down next to Felice, across the aisle from Simon and Alex. Simon, who is definitely possessed again, and is currently braiding Stella’s hair over his desk. He’s doing a good job - it’s net, and pretty, and she’s talking to Fredrika like the devil doesn’t have her beautiful hair in his hands, delicately crossing over strands, expression calm.

 

Wilhelm tried not to stare as he got out his book and notes, noting the earbuds in Simon’s ears and the way his phone buzzed with texts every few seconds, which he’s ignoring calmly.

 

Seeing Simon brought Wilhelm’s thoughts back to their conversations with Ayub. He was just about to talk to Simon about it when the bell rang, and Miss Ramirez waltzed in, a smile wide on her face.

 

Everyone stood up quickly to greet her, except Simon, who just reached up to finish tying Stella’s hair with a hair tie, before slouching on his desk, glaring over at his phone without opening any messages. 

 

Miss didn't even bother with Simon, only sending a scowl his way as she excused everyone else to sit down. “Can I get a show of hands on how well your reading is going? Thumbs up, down or in the middle.”

 

Simon put his down, Felice put hers in the middle and Wilhelm did it up right. Sue him for being optimistic (you'll lose don't try it)

 

“That’s … mostly good. It’s only our first bit of work, almost doubling as a bonding activity - “ Simon snorted and Wilhelm suppressed the strong, instinctive urge to roll his eyes. “- For some . Anyway,” she moved on quickly, sitting down at her desk and typing away. “I’ll do the role in a minute, firstly, I’d like to announce something.”

 

For a few seconds she continued to type aggressively, and everyone waited. Simon sighed loudly, causing a few side ways glances from the rest of the class around him. Mostly everyone is used to Simon's behaviour, they're not okay with it, but they aren't surprised.

 

Simon's phone buzzed. Simon glared over at it, and Wilhelm squinted at him.

 

“Put that in your bag,” Wilhelm hissed across to him.

 

Simon turned his neck back to look at Wilhelm.

 

“You’re clearly ignoring it,” Wilhelm pointed out. “So just put it away.” He didn’t mention how it’s distracting everyone, because he knows that will just encourage Simon to leave it out. 

 

“Just because you told me to put it away, I’m going to leave it right there,” Simon said back, and Wilhelm nearly winced at his volume.

 

“Quiet, boys,” Miss stood up again, and clapped her hands in excitement, standing in front of the class. And oh no, when your English teacher is excited, it’s never good. “We have arranged for a guest speaker to come in and talk next week to you guys.”

 

Wilhelm perked up. Oh, this might actually be interesting.

 

“Don’t tell me it’s one of these ancient authors who will prattle on about values or something,” Simon grumbled.

 

“Simon, that’s rude,” Alex hissed, and Wilhelm thanked him internally.

 

Simon rolled his eyes aggressively, so hard his entire head moved.

 

“She has written and illustrated some of the most famous comics in Sweden,” Miss continued, and Simon froze, eyes burning into the teacher. Wilhelm blinked. No way. “She’s the elder sibling to one of our students at Hillerska.” Cue everyone whisking around to look at a shocked Simon. "In fact, in this very class!"

 

“She’s doing what?” Simon blurted, and then snatched up his phone.

 

“That’s right! Sara Eriksson is coming into our class next week on Monday morning to talk to us about her comic, and life experiences! She will also be advertising her new comic, which I heard rumours about Simon having helped with the writing process of this one,” Miss beamed proudly at him, and Simon slid down in his chair, glaring at his phone.

 

Wilhelm might be mistaken, but he could’ve sworn his cheeks got pinker. “That’s a lie. Slander. False information, she’s a lying fucking twat.”

 

“Ahem, yes, well, we’ll discover on Monday! Who has read some of her comics?” Miss asked. Just under over half the class put their hands up, and a few looked rather excited at the news. Simon slid further in his chair. “I happen to be a fan myself. After her talk, we’ll write a short report on it. Until Monday, we will continue reading our books, but until then you should think of some deep questions to ask Miss Eriksson next week. Isn’t this cool?”

 

A few kids nodded enthusiastically, a few kids at the back snickered and rolled their eyes. Simon glared as he texted, and if Wilhelm squinted, he could see the contact reading “Snake on Crack”. He shouldn’t be surprised. He isn’t. Wilhelm assumes that’s Sara, as Simon is writing in all caps, sending short messages in rapid succession. This is hilarious, it's actually greatly amusing and Wilhelm has never been so excited for a Monday at school in his life

 

Miss stopped fangirling and set them all to work, ordering Simon to put his phone away and read. Simon was still texting as he reached into his bag.

 

Wilhelm sat back happily, already thinking of some questions he could ask just to annoy Simon. He is excited to meet Sara, and to talk to her. She isn’t his favourite author of all time, but she’s definitely up there in the top five. Wilhelm will have to tell Erik. This is brilliant~ Maybe he can get Sara after class to chat to and get some dirt on Simon, just for fun. From the small monologues Sara has left at the end of her comics, she seems to have a good sense of humour, and as long as Simon hasn't painted Wilhelm as an August variant, he’s hopeful she’ll be able to appreciate some fun.

 

“Wille,” Felice nudged him.

 

“Hmm?” Wilhelm turned to look at her.

 

“Your favourite piss head’s trying to get your attention, babes,” Felice said, gesturing across the room.

 

Wilhelm’s head swivelled, and found Simon leaning across his chair. He jumped back an inch. “Jesus fuck.” He then smirked at Simon’s expression, slightly distress covered with annoyance.

 

“You, Prince fucking Wilhelm of fucking Sweden, do not get any fucking ideas about next fucking week,” Simon snarled in a low voice.

 

Wilhelm could help but throw him a sickly sweet smile. “No idea what you’re on about, sweetheart.”

 

Simon scowled. “Shut up.”

 

“Did your dear sister not tell you she was going to come talk to our class? Maybe you should answer your phone, Simon,” Wilhelm smirked back, and Simon has literal fire in his pupils.

 

“I will destroy you.”

 

“That’s violent.”

 

“I will, Wilhelm I swear to God, don’t talk to her,” he growled.

 

“Why?” Wilhelm asked, genuinely curious, leaning towards Simon.

 

Simon’s nostrils flared, leaning back a few inches. “Because I don’t like you, and I don’t want her talking to you. You’ll contaminate her.”

 

“With what? My cooties?”

 

“Your royal, preppy, fucking boy cooties,” Simon grumbled, settling back in his seat. 

 

“Does she know that I’m in the class?”

 

Simon didn’t answer, picking up his book.

 

“Oh my God, Simon,” Wilhelm scoched further towards him, glancing at Miss. She’s too busy talking to the girls at the back of the room who were shitting on Sara before. Sucks for them. “Did you talk to her about me? Awww - “ 

 

Simon snapped his neck around to glare at Wilhelm, his cheeks pink again. “I only told her that I had the blood to the throne in my class and in a moment his blood will be on my hands.”

 

Wilhelm’s brows raised and he lent backwards. “Well, okay then. Sheesh. I told Erik about you. Basically the same thing, except you’re not as important as me.”

 

“I’m actually suffocating in your ego, can you see my head exploding from the pressure? My chest caving? I’m dying, deceased, fossilised. I’m in a museum under the exhibit “Death by Prince Wilhelm’s gigantic fucking ego” - ”

 

“If only you could put that much detail in your notes,” Mrs Ramirez appeared between them, hands on her hips.

 

Wilhelm flew into his seat. “I have lots of notes, Miss,” Wilhelm said, throwing open his notebook.

 

“Mmm,” she hummed, eyes skimming. “That’s good. You’ve got page numbers with the quotes and everything. Good job, Wilhelm. And your notes, Simon?”

 

“Can I use the restroom?” Simon asked instead.

 

Miss heaved a sigh, shaking her head at him. “Leave your phone. If you aren’t back in ten minutes, I’m sending Wilhelm to drag you out, pants on or off.”

 

Simon blinked at her. “I would much rather eat my own ass hair than have him do that,” Simon deadpanned, and Wilhelm blanched.

 

“That’s discussing,” Wilhelm commented, wrinkling his nose.

 

You’re disgusting - “

 

“Just go, Simon,” Miss sighed heavily, waving to the door. “No! Phone stays ther - Simon!” But he is already out the door, phone in his hand as he swings around the corner. “Oh my God. I’m going to tell his sister everything next week.”

 

Wilhelm snickered into his book. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

That night, Wilhelm is engrossed in his studies. Like, very into it. It looks like he’s trying to summon the demon of education with all the text books around him.

 

See, they have a pop quiz tomorrow in Geography for everything they’ve learnt so far, so it’s not really a pop quiz but Miss Clear still called it that. Wilhelm is going to ace it. Especially after all the damage Simon inflicted with their last quiz. He will never be seen that low again, ever. Bloody detention.

 

His laptop is open on the floor on an informative YouTube video from an account Miss Clear recommended. His Ipad is also open, which has the Document she posted for them to look at with the notes she made from the lessons they’ve done. He has his notebook next to him, and a few of the spare worksheet papers strewn around him.

 

His alarm went off for dinner, blaring through his headphones. Wilhelm swiped his phone to turn it off, grabbing the water bottle of his desk and taking a few swigs while his eyes were glued to the YouTube video, shoving two pieces of gum in his mouth. 

 

Erik’s words cut through his thoughts, and he immediately pushed them away, dropping back to his butt to grab two worksheets and scribbling some of the key points from them into his notebook hurriedly. He’ll eat breakfast tomorrow morning, it’s no big deal. It’s just one meal, he’ll be fine, he can’t afford to lose his mojo with this work right now, especially because he doesn’t like Geography very much.

 

He ignored the ache in his stomach and chewed on the end of his pencil, eyes flicking to the YouTube video as it ended. Wilhelm slapped the pause button and lunged over to his Ipad before it could turn off, tapping the screen to check the key points Miss Clear had written the week earlier. Wilhelm had missed a lot of school, so he doesn’t remember learning a lot of this.

 

After getting a detention, and missing so much of her class, Wilhelm desperately needs to make it up to her. Like, desperately. 

 

~ Tuesday ~

 

“Simon, do not sit anywhere near me,” Wilhelm orders, picking up a blue paint can. Simon smirked, grabbing a purple one off the shelf above Wilhelm. Wilhelm scattered back before Simon could dump it on his head.

 

“But I miss you, Wille Billy.” He jutted out his bottom lip and Wilhelm pulled a face of disgust.

 

Today in PE they are doing expressive art therapy. Which basically translates to letting a bunch of teenagers loose on big pieces of paper with giant paint brushes and entire paint cans, under a marquee on the grass right before it rains. Lazy, but entertaining.

 

Some kids are excited, skipping as much as they can with heavy cans towards the big, white marquee that has been set up on the grass behind the gym. It’s already shady back there, but because the weather is so trash, it’s just straight up cold, and everyone is in their PE clothes, arm hair standing on end as they huddle together. Some of the really enthusiastic boys - cough Henry cough - are running back and foward doing high knees to try and warm themselves up.

 

Felice walked next to Wilhelm with several oversized paintbrushes. “This one looks like a vibrator,” she commented, picking out a slightly thicker, shorter paintbrush that someone has painted blue.

 

“Felice!” Wilhelm yelped, turning to gape at her. “What the hell?”

 

Felice cackled, thrusting it towards Wilhelm’s face - oh, oh ok no , bad choice of words. Either way, he slapped it away and pulled a face at her.

 

He took a step back and Simon dodged to the side. “Jesus Christ, it’s like you want me to get purple paint all over you. You’d look like an Oompa Loompa,” Simon snickered, walking in between Wilhelm and Felice, or shoving his way in while Wilhelm protested.

 

“Oompa Loompa's are orange, idiot ,” Wilhelm remarked, glaring over at him.

 

Simon frowned, looking up from his feet - yes, the dirty Converse are still there, the ends are literally flapping as he walks. A lovely breeze on his toes. “Really? Huh.”

 

“Dude,” Felice shook her head. “Go re-watch Willy Wonka, it’s a classic.”

 

They all set down their paint cans. Thunder rumbled across the sky, still sounding rather distant. Wilhelm turned to look at the dark purple clouds making their way towards Hillerska far too quickly. He spotted a flash of lightning, and a few seconds later, another clap of thunder. 

 

“Groups of three’s, please! Two paint cans between each group, three brushes, one piece of paper! There should be enough to go around. We might need a group of four. Girls, you cannot be a group of seven, that’s simply too much - Henry do not eat the paint - Simon, you can’t stab yourself with that paint brush, hon, that would really complicate things.”

 

“You aren’t welcome in my group,” Wilhelm grumbled to Simon as he sat down in front of the piece of paper Wilhelm claimed as his.

 

Felice shrugged, dumping the paint brushes, handing one to Wilhelm and keeping the other for herself, everyone swarming over the others.

 

Simon cracked open a can with the end of his paintbrush calmly, dipping his paintbrush into the purple softly, watching the brush sink, and then pulling it out, the paint dripping off in thick globs back into the can. He turned, and then harshly slashed it across the paper, making Wilhelm jump slightly as the purple splattered the white paper, like Simon had murder Barney the dinosaur in cold blood.

 

Felice dipped her brush in too, and painted a smiley face, with a dot for its nose. Simon reached over the paper to put X’s over its eyes, because of course.

 

Wilhelm groaned. “Simon, go away .”

 

Simon didn’t go away. 

 

“Give me that.” He reached up for Wilhelm’s paint can. Wilhelm huffed, and set it down next to Simon heavily, plopping down on his own side of the paper, while Felice and Simon were opposite each other.

 

Simon opened the can and dipped his brush in it, drawing a heart in the middle of the paper. 

 

“That’s weirdly domestic,” Felice commented offhandedly, painting flowers on her side. Wilhelm thought the expressiveness would be more like what Simon had been doing, but everyone seems to be sitting down rather tamely, painting and talking amongst themselves. Wilhelm’s not complaining, but it just feels like art class now. 

 

Simon immediately scowled, and slashed it out, the purple returning from under the blue of his unwashed brush. “Are you gonna sit there and look pretty, or actually express emotions? If you start writing maths formulas, the only thing you’ll be expressing is your guts on this paper.”

 

“God, you are so aggressive,” Wilhelm snapped, dipping his brush in the blue paint and writing. “A squared equals - “ He began to say. Simon scowled, and whacked his brush away with his own. “I’m expressing myself, Simon!” Wilhelm said, glaring up at him.

 

“I hate you,'' was Simon’s response as he began painting what appears to be a dead stick man.

 

“Is that me?” Wilhelm asked after a moment, painting over his maths formula, blending the blue and purple.

 

“Yes, that’s you. And this is me.”

 

“Is that a knife?”

 

“It’s a machine gun. With four barrels.”

 

“Of course it is.”

 

“I’m painting my dream from last night,” Simon said casually.

 

Wilhelm leaned away from him slightly, eyebrows raised. “You need help.”

 

“You did in my dreams too,” Simon mumbled, leaning down to paint the fourth barrel on his machine gun. 

 

Wilhelm looked to Felice, who's wide eyed, her garden flowering on her side of the paper. She looked at Wilhelm, flaring her eyes wide before looking away, expression relaxed. Wilhelm does not get girl code, but he knows that was girl code for something

 

Wilhelm continued blending softly. The colours swirled in the cans from the mixed paints, but no one minded, not with the messes created on the actual paper. Some kids painted their hands or fingers and stamped them on the paper thoroughly, wiping their hands on the grass behind the teacher's back.

 

The teachers, one of which is their PE teacher Miss Myles and the other an art teacher, stand to the side with wide, shocked eyes, whispering to themselves. It’s like they can’t believe the calmness of the class either.

 

Another clap of thunder. Simon winced slightly, snapping out of his daze quickly. Afraid of the weather, interesting.

 

“I’m gonna paint that,” Felice said quietly, gazing out at the deep, purple clouds.

 

It’s most quiet right now, just a few people talking softly amongst the groups, the only other sounds are the billowing marquee, the occasional bang of thunder, and brush strokes.

 

A few minutes later Wilhelm glanced up, and found Simon with a relaxed expression, now painting music notes around what looks like an unmarked gravestone. His legs are crossed, baggy black workout shorts, and a baggy black t-shirt drowning his small frame. Simon has one elbow leaning on his knee, head resting there in his palm. His hair is tied up in a messy bun atop his head, as usual, a few stray ones have escaped, blowing in the breeze around his face.

 

Wilhelm blinked, watching him paint calmly, not a scowl in sight. Wilhelm prefers this Simon, who is docile and in his own world, sure, he’s probably painting Wilhelm’s grave after creating his murder, but he looks peaceful.

 

Until he noticed Wilhelm. His eyes flicked to Wilhelm’s art, still a blending of blue and purple in the form of lines, circles, squares and indescribable blobs. He looked for a moment, expression still calm, until he noticed the lack of movement Wilhelm’s brush his doing, and his eyes landed on Wilhelm’s face, and instantly hardened. “Are you good there?” Simon snapped, hand freezing where he was painting a crow on top of the grave.

 

Wilhelm shrugged, before going back to his work.

 

Apparently, Simon can’t deal with calm. He dipped his brush, and then dragged it down Wilhelm’s arm, from elbow to wrist to fast for Wilhelm to react.

 

“Simon!” Wilhelm yelped. It’s cold and slimy, and Simon’s pressing rather hard. It’s like something with a smooth, cold tongue licking him.

 

Of course, the class chose that moment to stop talking, and everyone then turned to look at Wilhelm and Simon.

 

“Wilhelm and Simon!” Miss Myles stomped over, and stopped short at the art in front of Simon. “I…” She blinked, and then shook herself. Simon stared up at her innocently. “I don’t want to know. Simon, you will be going with Prince Wilhelm to the bathrooms so he can wash all that off.”

 

“What about the changing rooms?” Wilhelm asked as Simon groaned, throwing himself backwards into Alex’s back, who shoved him off roughly.

 

“They are locked during class so students can’t skip,” she answered. “Simon, up. You did this, go fix it.”

 

More thunder rumbled in the distance. 

 

“Miss, we’re going to get struck by lightning,” Simon groaned, lying on his stomach, face pressed against the grass.

 

“Simon,” she sighed heavily, hands on her hips. “Please, go . The faster you go, the faster you can come back and continue… expressing yourself.”

 

Wilhelm stood up slowly, already feeling the paint drying on his arm, holding his arm hairs in place awkwardly. He doesn’t need Simon to wash off his mess with him, he isn’t five and petty. Wilhelm turned and began walking around the gym towards the bathrooms.

 

“Simon, go ,” she snapped. “Right now.” 

 

Wilhelm heard him drag himself to his feet, complaining and grumbling, before he walked after Wilhelm. 

 

They didn’t talk as they walked across the grounds, the wind billowing as they turned the corner. More lightning flashed. Wilhelm squinted. Another rumble of thunder. That’s getting quite close, Wilhelm thought to himself as he began to walk slightly faster. Let’s make this quick. I just got over my cold.

 

Simon walked behind him at a reasonable pace, leaving a lot of space between them. If Simon is going to come and probably keep annoying him, it's only fair Wilhelm gets himself some revenge, isn't it? Simon is always dragging him into trouble, so why not get a little revenge.

 

Wilhelm stopped suddenly, wiping his finger on his arm. Simon walked into his shoulder, having been staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets, and Wilhelm swiped the paint on his forehead, before taking off at a run towards the bathrooms.

 

“You prick!” He heard Simon yell over more thunder.

 

Wilhelm cackled, bursting through the doors to the hall where the fire was. He noted the blackened wall as he slammed into the bathroom door, pushing it open with a big grin, heart beating faster than normal from the sudden running in PE class.

 

He heard Simon running on the laminated floors behind him loudly, “oof”ing into the heavy bathroom door.

 

With nowhere to go, all Wilhelm could do was stand there in the middle of the bathrooms, breathing heavily when Simon flew in, blue paint smeared across his forehead, and through one of his curly hairs.

 

“Simba?” Wilhelm tried weakly. "The ciiiiircle of life?" He said, dragging out the word without any actual musical notes to back it up.

 

Simon snarled in response, going to the tap. Wilhelm frowned, watching Simon wash his hands, until he cupped them under the stream, and turned to Wilhelm, splashing it at him.

 

Wilhelm yelped and turned away, feeling the warm water splatter on his arms and back, hearing it hit the door of the stall next to him. “Oh! Simon!” Wilhelm complained, turning back as Simon cackled, walking over to Wilhelm, and he immediately backed up, reversing himself into one of the stalls, and nearly falling in the toilet, hands snapping to the side of the stalls to hold himself upright, barely.

 

Simon smirked, standing in front of him, smelling of cigarettes and oranges once again, a bright streak of blue contrasting against his dark exterior. He reached forward, and grabbed Wilhelm’s shirt, never breaking eye contact as he wiped his hands on the shirt fabric over Wilhelm’s stomach. “Thanks.”

 

“Your forehead is blue,” Wilhelm breathed, finding himself holding his breath, hands against the walls either side of him, leaning back over the toilet slightly, Simon leaning towards him ever so slightly, standing between his barely spread apart legs.

 

Simon rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and marching from the stall. “Hurry up! I need to finish my painting before we get pissed on!”

 

Wilhelm huffed, taking a deep breath of fresh air, and walking back to the sink. He washed his arm in peace while Simon texted on his phone. Simon then brought his phone up, flash going off in Wilhelm’s direction.

 

Wilhelm snapped around to face him, still scrubbing his arms with soap and water. “What was that?” He asked as Simon continued to type.

 

Simon caught his eye. “Ayub says hi.”

 

Wilhelm looked away sharply. Ayub snitched that he met Wilhelm. Of course he did. “I say hi as well.” 

 

Simon snickered. “He says “Tell Princy Poo to come again, the tip he left was massive, but don’t tell him that, say I liked the company. His friend can hold a good conversation.” Simon laughed, typing out a response.

 

Wilhelm froze, gaping at him in the mirror as the water turned off automatically, watching as Simon smiled fondly at his phone. Wilhelm was wrong. Wilhelm was so wrong. Simon is different around his friends. He … He just laughed. He’s still smiling. He looks so soft. He looks too vulnerable. Wilhelm looked away like he’s never seen anything, like he just witnessed a literal crime, wiping the remaining paint off on the hanging towel as lightning lit up the dim bathroom that smells of cleaning products. The lights flickered. The only time he's seen Simon smile was when we was drunk on the weekend, which they haven't talked about. Wilhelm isn't sure if that's because Simon doesn't remember, or he's just pretending it didn't happen.

 

“Alright, let's go,” Wilhelm walked past Simon, who followed without looking up from his phone.

 

Wilhelm heard the thunder before he heard the rain. It’s absolutely pissing down. Oh shit.

 

Wilhelm stuck his arm out so Simon wouldn’t walk blind into the rain, still on his phone. “The fuck - “ Simon glared up at him, hand grabbing his freshly scrubbed arm to steady himself. “Oh shit,” he frowned at the rain as Wilhelm lowered his arm.

 

It’s not just pissing down, it’s like the Gods were like “oh great, those two have left the safety of their classroom. Open the flood gates! Open the dam! Relax the bladder! Let it rip, fam!” Or something like that, dunno.

 

Wilhelm can barely see 10 metres in front of him. The ground is being pummelling, and their class is still out there somewhere, waiting for them to return. “This is all your fault,” Wilhelm mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Nah, fuck that,” Simon lent against the doorway, slipping his phone into his pocket and leaving his hand there, looking annoyingly relaxed, if not for his tense shoulders. He really doesn’t like the rain.

 

Wilhelm sighed heavily. He does not want to do this. “Is your phone waterproof?”

 

“Mmmhmm,” Simon hummed, glaring out at the rain. “Someone is really out to get us, aren’t they?” Simon grumbled.

 

“For once, I actually totally agree with you.”

 

“Ew. Don’t make that a habit,” Simon snorted.

 

“Okay, run on three?” Wilhelm suggested, shaking out his limbs.

 

“What?!” Simon jumped back a step.

 

“Three - “

 

“Wilhelm!” Simon took another step backwards, shaking his head.

 

“Two - “

 

“Absolutely not - “

 

Wilhelm grabbed his hand tightly. “One!” He dragged Simon forwards into the rain while he shrieked behind him. They got pelted and - Instant regret.

 

Simon stopped resisting quickly, letting Wilhelm drag him towards towards the gym, where they might get some shelter from the high walls. The rain stabbed into his scalp and face, plastering his hair to his head like some intense gel, his clothes suctioning to his thin frame. The water slipped between the tight grip of their hands, making them slippery.

 

Wilhelm squinted and Simon yelled something that sounded like a variety of curses, directed at him. Lightning lit up Hillerksa around them, followed shortly by a clap of thunder,  and Simon yelped again, stumbling. With the walls of the gym in view, Wilhelm just dragged him and they kept going, the cold dissolving into their bones, dampening their very organs, their souls.

 

They ran straight into the wall with synchronised grunts, but the thin lip of the gym’s high roof provided cover. They lent against the wall, chest’s heaving, grip tight. Soak.

 

“I just got over my cold,” Wilhelm panted. He looked over at Simon, and laughed loudly. He looks like a drowned rat.

 

That thought made him cackle, doubling over, pulling Simon down a bit from their still clasped hands. “Shut the actual fuck up,” Simon pulled a curl off his temple, and it bounced around, water droplets falling.

 

“Oh my - “ Wilhelm laughed again, feeling slightly hysterical but also grateful amused by this situation. He can't believe he just did that.

 

“You look like a soggy cat,” Simon deadpanned.

 

Wilhelm laughed loudly, and another bolt of lighting lit up the sky, casting eerie shadows across the school for a split second as the electricity forked its way along the skyline, and then disappeared. Another flash just next to it, equally bright and big.

 

Simon’s lips quivered, brows raised at Wilhelm. He pulled out his phone with his spare hand, a shiver racing up his spine, making his whole body convulse. He dragged Wilhelm upright by the hand, slinging his arm around his shoulder and smacking his lips against Wilhelm’s cheek. Wilhelm just laughed louder as he took the photo, falling all over the place, against Simon, away from Simon, into the gym wall, barely able to see the screen that’s freckled with water droplets from the tears in his eyes. It's such a stupid situation. They were painting, and then fighting, and they've somehow ended up taking a soggy selfie behind the gym.

 

Simon just kissed his cheek. Simon’s lips were very cold, but soft at the same time. Wilhelm wiped his cheek, and rubbed the tears off his eyeliner. “That was hilarious. I think I’m going insane. I’m delirious.” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes, dropping his phone into his pocket as he stepped away from Wilhelm. The eves of the roof are dumping bucket loads of water inches from their feet, which are already soggy as all hell. 

 

A massive, huge clap of thunder shook the ground. It deafened Wilhelm. It sounds like someone brought a drum to both his ears, crawled inside, and hit it as hard as humanly possible - harder, even. It made him jump and his heart skipped a beat, his organs vibrating, the school shaking in fear. Simon though, Simon yelped and dropped to the ground, his previous expression of amusement that was directed at Wilhelm snapping into fear as his arms wrapped around his head.

 

Wilhelm took a stumbling step back, looking down at him in blinded confusion.

 

Simon looked up slowly, eyes wide, pupils blown in adrenaline. What? Did he just react with a flight or fight response to a loud clap of thunder? “You good?” Wilhelm asked as Simon stood up, one hand on the wall to steady himself.

 

Simon sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m fine,” he snapped, any previous playfulness gone. “Let’s get back inside the gym and wait there.” 

 

They did, slipping around the eves of the gym until they could push the doors open. The class isn't there, but the teachers are.

 

“Oh my God, you're alive!” Their PE teacher rushed over with two white, fluffy towels, wrapping them tightly around their shoulders. “I am so incredibly sorry, darlings!” She rubbed Simon’s shoulders, and he stepped away, holding the towel tight around himself, looking at the ground. Wilhelm frowned. Only minutes before Simon was kissing his cheek like they’re the best of friends while they laughed together, now he’s all shaken up. 

 

“Go have a nice hot shower, right now, and come back when you’re done. I am so sorry, I was not expecting this weather. You should’ve stayed in the bathrooms. Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Wilhelm breathed, towelling off his face. Is his nose there? He’s not sure, it’s super numb. The streak of blue on Simon’s forehead has disappeared, and his eyes look distant as he looks at the ground a few feet in front of him. Wilhelm walked past, leaving Simon to whatever just happened in his head as he went to go get himself a warm shower.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The weather was shitty all day. The power went down in the last period, so everyone just sat around in the dark doing some paperwork the teacher assigned until the bell rang.

 

Everyone was feeling a lot better now they had a warm shower and aren’t cold as fuck. According to Felice, the teachers only let them go inside when it actually started raining, making them pack up everything before allowing them inside, apart from the marquee, which is still out there, fighting for it’s life.

 

Simon recovered by the end of his shower, coming out and demanding Wilhelm buy him a coffee while Wilhelm was pulling on his boxers.

 

“Simon, that was all your fault.”

 

“You made us run.”

 

“You went with it!”

 

“You literally grabbed my hand.”

 

“Didn’t wanna drown alone.”

 

“Baby.”

 

“Twat.”

 

“Oi, you two, go flirt somewhere else, I’m trying to change. Simon, you’re standing on my bag move, you fuck head.” 

 

“Coffee, or my painting is becoming your future.”

 

“Alright then, Jesus.”

 

Wilhelm assumed Simon wanted a warm drink, Wilhelm definitely did, but Simon still got the iced one he got last time. Freak of nature, that boy is. 

 

~ Wednesday ~

 

We’re giggling, stumbling, and we’re grabbing each other’s arms, hands, shoulders, waists - anything we can reach, really, for support. He’s soft and warm, his giggles contagious and joyous, making me giggle. I can’t help it! He’s so cute, and even cuter when he’s giggling.

 

I feel so happy, I might just burst, watching his bright expression as we stumble onto the curb, rain pattering softly against my perfectly styled hair. The rain is gentle, more like a mist, as if the clouds are trying to not hurt us.

 

He stopped us just past the curb, complete darkness surrounding us as he grabs my hips to stop me from moving, the touch sending instant sparks into my stomach.

 

He looks at my with his big, huge, emerald green eyes, glistening in the darkness, pupil’s blown. I giggle, grabbing his arms to hold myself upright as I sway on the spot, my stomach fizzling happily.

 

“Watch me, Wille,” he says happily, brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear with a feathery touch.

 

I nodded instantly. “Okay.”

 

“Stay. Watch. I’ve been practising,” he giggles again, leaning into my shoulder. “I’ve been practising,” he repeats.

 

I giggle with him, splaying my hands against his shoulder blades. His body is still gangly and long, we didn't start puberty to long ago. He has a few pimples on his face as well, as do I, but it doesn't take away from how adorable he is. “Okay. I’ll watch you, promise.”

 

“Promise?” He leans back, eyes wide and vulnerable. “You promise, Wille?”

 

I nodded instantly, my heart thumping. He is very close, his breath is quite stinky, though. “I promise,” I whispered to him. 

 

He grins, and takes a few steps back. I feel cold without his warmth, but I don’t call him back, he’ll be back with me any minutes now. 

 

I giggle as I watch, stumbling back a step to sit on the curb as he walks out into the middle of the abandoned street, spreading his arms wide as he stops where the white line should be. 

 

“Watch me, Wille!” He calls, turning back to me.

 

I laugh at him. “I am!” I call back, cupping my hands around my mouth to project my voice to him. I feel like I’m vibrating right now, I’m so excited, what’s he going to do? What has he been practising to show me? I feel like I could float away with the knowledge he’s been practising something to show me, and only me.

 

He turns around, and takes a few steps away again, then stops, turning to face me. He puts his arms up, and then turns sideways, leaning towards the road to do a cartwheel. I laugh with joy, watching hi -  

 

“WILHELM! FELIX! GET OFF THE ROAD, FELIX!”

 

I hear the roar of a car engine and I whirl around - Malin is in between the hedges we had come through only minutes, bursting through at a run, eyes wide. But how? Only I knew of that escape? How did she follow us? We were so sneaky and quiet.

 

“FELIX!”

 

Oh no.

 

I spring to my feet, and I turn back to watch him, horror gripping my insides tight, so tight I can’t breathe anymore. He lands the cartwheel, stumbling from the shock of Malin and the bright headlights now lighting up the road as a car zig zags towards us faster than it should. I watch as his ankle bends the wrong way and he falls onto his side, head smacking against the concrete with a deafening crack. He cries out in pain, grabbing his skull and curling into a ball.

 

I scream in horror, jumping forwards to help him, but I stumbled back with fright as I see a car zooming straight towards me. Several meters away from me it tears away and towards him, but it doesn’t stop. Malin runs into me, grabbing my body as I try to run out onto the road to grab Felix, and pulls my head forcefully away from Felix’s broken and curled up form when the car is mere inches away, pressing my face into her shoulder, arms tight around me as I squirm and scream as she backs away from the road.

 

The brakes screech - 

 

Bones crack - 

 

Felix howls in agony, louder than anything I’ve ever heard - 

 

I scream. I scream and scream, I keep screaming, thrashing around but Malin won’t let me go, won’t let me look. I’m not bubbly, I’m not happy, I feel like I’m going to die. Tear’s burn in my eyes and my throat is raw, I’m pushing against her as hard as possible, screaming as loud as I can, but Malin doesn't let me go, even when I try to hurt her by punching and kicking.

 

“SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!” She yells over my head at someone. People are yelling, calling Felix, to me, to Malin, to the drivers. Someone yells something about Erik, about Queen Kristina, about the police, about the broken boy on the road.

 

I keep screaming for him, but all I see is darkness. Malin’s body is warm and slightly damp from rain, but inside I feel cold. I might as well be dead as I press my hands against her shoulders to try and push myself away, screaming at the top of my lungs.

 

Wilhelm’s eyes snap open and he hits the floor with a thud. His heart is racing a million miles an hour, thumping so hard he fears it may short circuit itself. Wilhelm’s clothes are stuck to every crease of his body, from head to toe, his hair sweaty and tangled, cheeks flushed and damp, eyes teary and red. 

 

He feels disoriented, like he just changed dimensions. Just a dream. Just a dream. Wilhelm drops his forehead to the carpet, tears still falling. Just a memory. Memories can’t hurt me. His chest aches. Stop. Don’t feel. Stop it. Wilhelm takes deep breaths against the floor. The brakes are still screeching in his skull, slicing his brain in half. Bones splinter. He screams as his bones shatter under the weight of a four wheel drive carrying six drunk men.


Wilhelm rolls onto his back and covers his face. Just a memory. He’s at peace now. Wilhelm gulps thickly. Under the fucking ground. Oh God, why didn’t I just stop him? Why didn’t I tell him to do his cartwheel in the garden, inside the safety of the palace? Why did I feel the need to show off by sneaking out? I got him killed. It’s my fault. I killed Felix.

 

 

Notes:

There's your trauma from Wilhelm! I told my sister what happened at Wilhelm's birthday party, and she said I need to stop traumatising my characters

 

Tell me gossip
or just something in your life that you want to tell someone who doesnt know you

 

Love you guys! Remember to eat your food, drink lots of water and go to sleep, you're fan fiction isn't going anywhere

Chapter 6: Poecilotheria Metallica

Summary:

Oh, It's all on you
Oh no, here we go, welcome to the shit show!
Oh, hate me, hate me
I'm the villain you made me, made me
- Hate Me, P!nk

(this chapter is fucking wild)

Blooket makes an appearance.

 

So does Marcus

⚠⚠⚠TW MARCUS⚠⚠⚠

Notes:

An amazing person created this fan art, and I feel so incredibly honoured and happy whenever I see it. You can find their Twitter @BlakesWilmon , and their AO3 as blakesfishes, thank you so much. It's so accurate, as well, Simon has his rings, his cigarette, his Converse, his messy, curly bun! Oh, it's perfect. The shorts are really similar to the ones he wears in this chapter actually, lol, I just realised that.

Anyway, without further a due, here is this amazing art piece <3

 

Simon

 

My fan was in my eyes the whole time I was writing it so I kind of looked like I was crying but it's pretty vibey today!! (is that a word? Vibey? It's got a red line, I'll just add it to my dictionary, I made a new word y'all) No joke, there's like, minimal angst in this chapter (it's Simon angst WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO)

This chapter is really long, by the way, I swear they just get longer every update I'm sorry, next chapter will probably be super short.

This chapter has both the older siblings, winning at life, truly. I loved writing and editing this chapter, I'm sure you're all going to love the next one, because it's 89% fluff.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Friday ~ 

Student council is being chosen today. Wilhelm woke up, and immediately checked his emails. He felt like a child on Christmas, waking up and going for his stocking, but this time, the excitement is replaced with anxiety, it's only the determination that's the same. Madi said that each member will get emailed by Miss Clear to meet in the gym to get their badges some time on Friday.

 

Wilhelm really wants to get in. He’s going to give Simon so many detentions just because he can, and while that may be a violation of his privilege, he doesn’t care. Screw that, revenge is on the tip of his tongue and it tastes so, so sweet. Sweeter than any candy from a stocking.

 

There’s no email yet, so he got out of bed to get ready for his Friday classes, trying to look casual, calm, unbothered, when he's really shitting a house worth of bricks.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm walked into Geography second period and found an interesting sight, more random than Simon braiding Stella’s hair. His brother is just … standing there, talking to Miss Clear.

 

Simon walked into Wilhelm’s back. “Oof. Move you hunk of flesh,” Simon grumbled, giving Wilhelm a firm shove into the classroom, but freezing moments later, eyes surely finding the unmistakable back of the Crown Prince. “Is that who I think it is?” Simon whispered from behind Wilhelm, his breath hot on Wilhelm’s ear, smelling of the coffee he cornered and bullied Wilhelm into buying him again.

 

Wilhelm smirked at Simon over his shoulder. Wilhelm was expecting a look of shock, or maybe even fear, but the evil, malice filled smirk that greeted him was not that, not even close.

 

“Don’t you dare - “ Wilhelm hissed, but then Erik noticed him, unfortunately but also fortunately.

 

“Wille!” Erik grabbed his shoulders, whirling him around to pull him into a tight hug. Wilhelm, all too conscious of Simon’s powerful presence a few feet behind him, patted Erik’s back awkwardly, smiling shakily into his shoulder. What in the name of Mother fucking Merry is Erik doing here? Is Wilhelm in trouble? Oh God, they’ve sent Erik to take him home. It’s over. He didn’t even last a term.

 

“While it’s amazing to see you,” Wilhelm laughs easily as they pulled back. Erik grins back at him. “Why are you here, exactly, in my Geography class?" He probably woke up at six AM to be here for a 9 am start. 

 

Erik simply laughed at him, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Wilhelm ducked out of his way and nearly tripped into Simon, again. He has issues with standing too close to people.

 

“Can you move?” Wilhelm whispered behind him at Simon quickly, running a hand through his hair and momentarily dropping his smile to scowl at him. He sneered, and pushed Wilhelm out of the way into the whiteboard, stepping up to Erik. “Absolutely not - “ Wilhelm stood up straight, but Simon was already shaking Erik’s hand, who smiled with genuine interest and curiosity at him, but then again, Erik could befriend a tree and still manage to learn all it's secrets.

 

“Hi! I adore your hair! Is it all natural?” Erik asks with practised ease as they dropped their hands.

 

Wilhelm has witnessed Simon being asked this question a million times, and his reply is normally “why the fuck are you talking to me, you fuck wit?” Or “Yes, it’s natural, I only use curl creams to hold it in place. They don’t create curls, they only hold it - Don’t even try that with me, bitch. If I put the cream in your straight ass hair, nothing would happen.” 

 

“No, it’s an elaborate wig made of your mother’s chest hair,” Simon deadpans, then flashed an over enthused smile.

 

Wilhelm felt his soul die with a sharp intake of breath. Well, Simon is definitely going for expulsion. If he thought messing with a Prince was enough, oh no no no, he’s managed to get his grubby little hands on the Crown Prince , that definitely gains some attention, especially when you use the Queens - His Mothers - name in such a horrific way.

 

The rest of the class gawked at Simon in complete shock, eyes wide and jaws on the ground, dead silence filling the mostly full room. Wilhelm face palmed, cutting through the silence.

 

For a moment Erik was in shock and then he burst out in a boisterous laughter, which he quickly contained, clearing his throat and standing straighter, but Wilhelm could see the tail tell traces of actual amusement on his face. Simon's been in front of him 20 seconds and he already got a real laugh, damn. “That’s awfully inappropriate, but I’ll let you get away with it.” Simon winked at him. “Are you two friends?” Erik asked with a smile, gesturing between Simon and Wilhelm.

 

Miss Clear cleared her throat awkwardly, scratching her head.

 

“No, this is Simon,” Wilhelm sighs, sliding back into the conversation and pushing Simon out of the way. Simon pushed back, so they just stood, pushing their shoulders back and forward lightly. “Simon Eriksson," he grits out with a shove that sends Simon into a desk, causing grumbles and cursing.

 

“I’m trying to ruin his reputation. Right, sweetheart?” Simon beamed at Erik proudly, turning to smirk at Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm sneered at him in response.

 

“Simon!“ Miss Clear gasped from behind Erik.

 

Erik only laughed again. “Oh, Simon ! Wille’s told me about you. Good luck with that one, Simon, Wille cares more about his reputation than his own siblings,” Erik tutted, and Simon snickered as Wilhelm groaned in annoyance.

 

“Go away,” Wilhelm hissed at Simon, but he over-spoken him.

 

“Oh, you talk about me with your brother?” Simon smirked, turning to Wilhelm, who glared at him.

 

“If you mean how I ranted to him how problematic you were, how you are sabotaging my learning like it’s your only purpose in life, then yes, I "talked" about you to my brother,” Wilhelm snapped back at him. He took a calming breath as Simon looked back at him with amusement and satisfaction. 

 

“Well, it’s been lovely to meet you, Simon,” Erik said, nodding his head at him. Simon stabbed his elbow into Wilhelm’s ribs in a last attempt to keep Erik’s attention. His eyes snapped down to the elbow and for a moment there was a frown, until Wilhelm dug his heel into Simon’s toes, causing him to wince. Erik smirked, before turning to Miss Clear. Is he not going to whoop Simon's ass for being such a trouble to Wilhelm? He would always stick up to August, why not Simon? 

 

“I’ve loved catching up with you, Miss Clear, but I’ll let you get back to your lesson now.” They shook hands again, and Simon then slunk off to his chair with a defeated sigh, muttering about “Should’ve broken his nose or something”. The rest of the class all frowned at Simon. A lot, if not all but two (excluding Simon), of the students in the room will never even be mentioned to the Crown Prince, but Simon shook his hand, Erik already knew who he was and not from his sisters fame, he laughed at his joke, had a conversation in which Simon insulted the Queen and admitted to trying to ruin Wilhelm's academic chances, shitting on that once in a life time opportunity. Of course he did. Simon doesn’t care for things like that.

 

Erik spun to Wilhelm and patted his shoulder with an air of finality. 

 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Wilhelm grumbled, trying to keep looking professional and throwing another smile because when it doubt, make people think you're having fun.

 

“I know you hate surprises, but it’s a surprise,” Erik chuckled, and Wilhelm sighed, conscious of the entire class watching them. “I’ll see you later today, though,” Erik promised, patting his shoulders twice with both hands. “It was wonderful to see all of you! Focus on school and follow my Instagram,” he winked, and some of the class giggled. Simon blew him an exaggerated kiss and - no , Wilhelm is talking to him about flirting with his brother ASAP. “Have a nice day.” Erik waved, before turning and walking out the door, straightening his suit jacket as he went. Wilhelm must have missed Malin and Lucas in the corridor, bustling with students and Simon trying to spill his coffee.

 

Wilhelm wandered to his seat while the class burst into conversation, spreading rumours - “I heard he’s here to see his secret girlfriend!” “I think he’s going to expel Simon for that.” “Maybe he’s spying to find his next girlfriend!” “Maybe he just wanted to visit his old school, guys, maybe it’s just that boring and mundane?”

 

He sat down in his seat and whacked the back of Simon’s head, who was sitting in front of him.

 

“Ow,” Simon yelped, turning around to glare at him.

 

“Do not flirt with my brother,” Wilhelm hissed as Miss Clear quieted the class. From next to Wilhelm, Felice cackled with laughter.

 

“That’s hilarious,” she chortled, and Wilhelm threw a glare.

 

Simon’s angry expression melted in amusement. He jutted out his bottom lip. “Are you jealous of Erik? Don’t worry sweetheart, I didn’t forget about you.” Simon reached over to pinch his cheek, but Wilhelm lent back into his chair away from Simon.

 

“It’s gross,” was all Wilhelm responded with. “I know what you’re trying to do, but unless you do something really serious, Erik won’t do… anything,” Wilhelm admitted. Oh. Oh crap . “Please don’t do anything serious, Simon,” Wilhelm whispered, suddenly desperate.

 

Simon considered his words silently as he turned to face the front of the room, sipping his coffee - 

 

A shriek exploded from the desk behind Wilhelm, and he jumped in his chair like someone Tased that one part of his waist harshly. He spun around to face Madi, who’s clutching her phone, hand against her mouth.

 

“What?” Felice asked her, eyes wide.

 

“Oh nothing,” Madi dropped her phone into her lap and let her hand’s fall after it, expression going blank.

 

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“Madi,” Miss Clear breathed in distress.

 

“Nothing… I only got into the student council!” She squealed, grabbing Felice’s hands over the desk in shared excitement.

 

Wilhelm whipped out his phone instantly, along with Walter. Wilhelm isn’t that surprised Madi got in, he’s pretty sure she’s already interacted with half the school and most people know her by name. She’s likeable for sure, despite missing the entire first week of school due to that sickness.

 

He flew into his emails, and was met with the email from Miss Clear. He got in. Wilhelm showed Felice with a wide smile and she grinned back at him. From the desk over, Henry grabbed Walter in a tight hug, who was still holding his phone, planting a kiss on top of his head happily.

 

“Phones away, please!” Miss Clear called, clapping her hands. “I know there’s a lot of excitement going around today, trust me I know, I send the email let's not forget, my dears! But we have to get back to schedule. Let’s go, everyone!” 

 

~ ~ ~

 

At lunch, all the elected student council members went to the gym to receive their badges. Wilhelm walked with Walter and Madi caught up shortly after.

 

“Why didn’t Alex go for the student council?” Wilhelm asked as they approached the gym. They’d been told to change into their Hillerska uniforms, as there will be photographers for the school year book. 

 

Wilhelm is scared. Simon disappeared at lunch and Wilhelm really, really doesn’t want him to cause drama today, not while Erik is lurking around the school, not while there’s a photographer here.

 

Wilhelm prays no one will be able to see the faint wounds on his face.

 

“Said he doesn’t want that kind of control, that he’s more a follower than leader,” Walter explained. “I like knowing what’s going on, personally. Having a say in what happens. A voice for our year.”

 

“I like yelling at people,” Madi shrugged and they all laughed. “Wille?”

 

My Mum made me join something and I knew I would get in. “It sounds like a beautiful opportunity to meet new people and contribute to the school,” Wilhelm said casually, and Madi rolled her eyes.

 

“Is that what your Mum told you to say?”

 

Wilhelm bristled. Yes. “No, that’s how I feel.”

 

Wilhelm pushed open the gym doors and faltered. Erik is standing at the front of the room with Miss Clear, and Headmistress Lilja, a photographer scurrying around them snapping pictures, and he really should've connected the dots sooner, smartest in the year group and all.

 

Standing to the side of the door is Malin. She smiles over at him. “Good afternoon, Wilhelm,” she said calmly as always, hands clasped in front of her.

 

“It’s good to see you!” Wilhelm smiled at the other woman brightly, causing her to smile back at him fondly. Wilhelm loves Malin, she’s like a second Mother to him, plus she can do karate, he’s seen it in action and it’s freaking awesome. “These are my friends, Walter, and Madi.”

 

“Oh fuck ,” Madi whispered at the sight of Erik, while Walter smiled and waved at Malin. “That’s wild . No wonder we had to dress up. If I knew he was here, I would’ve done my makeup better,” Madi sighed. “Oh well - Jessica, hi! Wow, I love that bracelet, did you make that? It’s gorgeous . Can you make me one? We can trade, a bracelet for a spirit warding necklace.” 

 

Madi whisked herself away into the crowd of students like a pro, and Malin only laughed softly. Wilhelm and Walter moved away after a minute, lingering around the edges of the crowd, Wilhelm trying to avoid the photographer and Erik, who are now studying the crowd, and Walter following him quietly, seeming happy with his hands in his pockets, occasionally commenting on something.

 

After a few minutes, the Headmistress stepped up to a podium and asked everyone to take a seat on the benches they had put out. Erik stood to the side with Miss Clear, posture perfect, smiling his PR smile as the photographer ducks around, taking photos of Headmistress Lilja, Erik and the crowd of tidy, formally dressed students.

 

Wilhelm is waiting for Simon to burst in, ass on fire, high off his balls and demand Erik marry him, or to drop through the roof after climbing on top of the gym, throwing oranges at everyone. Who knows with that guy, who knows.

 

“Good afternoon Hillerska's 2021 student council!” Headmistress Lilja beamed, and everyone clapped and cheered, quieting down when Headmistress Lilja moved back towards the microphone. “I would like to start this event by saying how proud I am of every single one of you for having the confidence to enter yourself for this role. You each carry something different and unique that can be offered in benefit to our amazing school…” Her speech dragged on and on, but Wilhelm kept smiling, because now the photographer had found him in the crowd and just asked two students to move aside to snap better photos of him. They looked rather put out by that, but Wilhelm, as practised, acted as if he’s oblivious to the flashing camera which is leaving dots in his vision and causing students to either shuffle away or closer to him, keeping a polite smile, tight jaw and eyes dead set on the Headmistress.

 

“We’ll have our own graduated, top of the class student, Crown Prince Erik presenting your badges. He was once Head Boy here at Hillerska, too long ago now, Erik. We’ll go in alphabetical order. Miss Clear, would you like to read out the names?” Miss Clear stepped up the the podium, while Erik and Headmistress Lilja stepped to the side. Headmistress Lilja held a large, red velvet box, and Erik stood ready to shake hands.

 

“Starting at the beginning, August Horn of Årnäs.”

 

Wilhelm tensed. The room fell silent, and he felt more than a few pairs of eyes on him. Erik’s smile didn’t waver, and Wilhelm refused to let his either, even though the photographer stopped snapping photos of him at that moment, probably told that the topic of August would be taboo.

 

“Ashlee Crane,” she continued quickly.

 

August isn’t even here for most of the election week and he still got in? Of course he did, it doesn't matter he not only set fire to school property, but tried to frame someone else for it. People still love him.

 

A tall, lean girl with blonde hair in a tight bun and dark mascara stood up and walked to the front, shaking Miss Clear’s hand with a tight lipped smile, before moving on to Erik, who shook her hand, said a quiet congrats and gave her her badge. Ashlee returned to her seat.

 

A few minutes later - 

 

“Madison McCoy.”

 

Madi stood up proudly from the row in front of Wilhelm, her confidence gaining the photographer's attention. She strolled to the front, shoulders back, head up, shook hands, smiled, got her badge and returned, already fastening it to the lapel of her uniform.

 

The clapping died down and Miss Clear continued.

 

Walter went up and got his, which means Wilhelm’s own name is to be called very soon.

 

“Prince Wilhelm of Sweden.” Yup, that’s his name. Lovely.

 

Wilhelm stood up, heart jumping anxiously. He has the urge to start cackling maniacally about how the power is so close, he’s so close to throwing detentions in Simon’s stupid, flirtatious face, but he didn’t.

 

The photographer lunged over to him, taking photos as he walked . He smiled at the camera charmingly for a few steps, until he reached Miss Clear. 

 

He didn’t look at the crowd, which is only 18 people, but it’s still 16 too many for him. He shook her hand with a polite smile and a quiet “congratulations, Wilhelm” from her.

 

Wilhelm took a deep breath as he walked to Headmistress Lilja and Erik. Erik smiled proudly at him, pulling him in for a hug instead of a handshake. Wilhelm heard the camera flash again and again, the hug held for slightly longer than a normal one would so he could get the perfect picture for the press.

 

“Congrats, little brother,” Erik whispered as he put the badge in his hand. “I knew this would be an interest for you.”

 

Wilhelm beamed at him. He couldn’t be more wrong.

 

“Mama is proud.”

 

Never mind, and now his heart might burst.

 

Wilhelm turned and walked back to his place on the bench, Malin smiling at him from the corner. 

 

Everything seems brighter, and not even the threat of Simon crashing through the roof is scary anymore, he'll just issue him detention all year for interrupting assembly, damaging properly, and being annoying. His Mama is proud of him, Erik believed in him - redemption is in sight! He’ll ignore the fact his Mother hired a photographer just to show the press he is slaying at school - yes, he is slaying, thank you very much - and instead listen to the part where she’s actually proud of him.

 

It just makes all the pain worth it, doesn’t it? Yes, it does.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Is Erik here?” Simon asks the second Wilhelm opened his bedroom, shoving in past Wilhelm to search like he’s an FBI agent hunting a criminal.

 

Wilhelm laughed at him, shutting the door. He’s still riding his Mama’s-Proud high. “No, he left after lunch to go do his Crown Prince duties. Missed your opportunity to piss him off.” Wilhelm was actually quietly surprised when Simon didn’t show up again while Erik was there. Maybe he does have morals. Unlikely, he’s pretty selfish.

 

“Dammit. He’s fit, your brother is,” Simon waved a finger at Wilhelm with a secretive smirk, plopping himself on the floor and throwing open his backpack.

 

“Never, ever say that again,” Wilhelm sighed, sitting opposite Simon and crossing his legs. He got changed after the ceremony before class started, but still pinned his badge to the collared shirt he’s wearing under an orange jumper. 

 

“So, where would you go during lunch if you weren’t causing mayhem in front of Erik? Didn’t get to ask during class,” Wilhelm asked as Simon threw his homework at Wilhelm in a big pile, who bean to organise it into separate piles.

 

“Music room,” Simon replied simply, still digging through his bag.

 

Wilhelm’s head snapped up from the piles being formed, some of this homework is from week one, how has he only just seen it? “Didn’t you eat lunch?” He questioned.

 

Simon slowly looked up at him, eyes narrowed, hands buried in his backpack up to his elbow. Ah, that’s where weak ones homework came from. “Not technically, I ate an orange. Why the fuck do you care?”

 

“You need to eat,” Wilhelm knows he’s a hypocrite, but he’s different, he’s not skipping meals to do something as mundane as go to the music room and write sad songs like Simon probably does, he’s studying, building himself towards something. There’s time for eating after that.

 

Simon’s frown only increased, dropping the last bit of paper on the floor, the way he did it almost making a point itself. Wilhelm smoothed it out and put it into a pile, not looking up at Simon, able to feel his concerned gaze. 

 

“I did fucking eat, I just told you. Did you eat?”

 

Wilhelm shot him a nasty look and Simon recoiled, brows raised. “No. I was accepted into the student council. You know, making an impact.”

 

“You are so fucking weird. You’re borderline telling me off for only eating a fucking orange for lunch, but you’ve eaten Jack shit and that's okay? Double fucking standards. You’re weird . Do my homework,” Simon nudged the two pieces of maths homework from today towards him.

 

Wilhelm shook off the talk of food with the homework as a distraction.

 

They worked for half an hour until Wilhelm’s stomach decided old conversations are more fun than homework, and let out a loud grumble.

 

Simon paused, eyes flicking up to Wilhelm, who is doing his own homework while Simon does his from last week. Wilhelm ignored it easily, the ache familiar and easy enough to pretend it isn't there. Dinner is in a few hours, he can last until then. His thoughts feel slightly fuzzy, though, his blinking slower than it was awhile ago. The world might be spinning a bit, but that’s okay, he’s felt worse.

 

“Work,” Wilhelm mumbled, tapping Simon’s worksheet with his pencil. 

 

Simon sighs, shaking his head, before going back to his work, as if trying to remind himself he doesn’t care, he doesn’t need to worry. Wilhelm finds himself feeling the same - worrying about Simon even though he doesn’t deserve Wilhelm’s concerns.

 

Another few minutes passed. Wilhelm’s stomach flipped and churned inside him, begging for some substance. Wilhelm knows if he makes a move for gum, Simon will jump at him, probably, so he ignored it and changed worksheets: something fresh to wake up his sluggish mind.

 

His stomach grumbled so hard it hurt.

 

Simon dropped his pencil, sitting up straight and glaring at him. “Do you want something, Wilhelm?” 

 

Wilhelm shook his head, refusing to look at him. “I’m fine. Dinner’s soon.”

 

Simon scoffed, and then stood up. “I’ll be right back,” and he left, just straight up … left the room, leaving everything but his phone behind. Wilhelm blinked at the door, and then down at his homework. 

 

“Uh, okay,” Wilhelm massaged his stomach, which didn’t help. He grabbed his drink bottle and chugged a few mouthfuls, and that calmed his stomach, for now. 

 

His phone buzzed just as he was about to return to his work.

 

Mama
Wonderful photos today, Wilhelm. I’m so proud of you, darling, the student council is a perfect role for you. Love, Mama.
4:13 pm

 

Wilhelm
Thanks Mama. I’m excited.
4:14 pm

 

His stomach growled at him again. Wilhelm grabbed the pack of gum from his drawer and threw a piece in his mouth, inhaling deeply to clear his sinuses from any leftover sickness boogers, an added bonus. It burnt slightly, but he kept chewing, waiting for his hunger to fade.

 

Something about the way Simon had called him out made him feel uncomfortable, though, and he feels weirdly self conscious eating gum. In the war, they used gum to stop solders from feeling hungry as the constant chewing tricked their brain into thinking they aren't hungry. Wilhelm's life is like that, right? His war is school work, fighting for the best grades and his parents approval.

 

The door flew open a few minutes later and Simon waltzed in, carrying two paper bags.

 

“What is that? Is that drugs?” Wilhelm asked, not being serious at all, right before he smelt what reminds him of cheese scones. “An edible?”

 

Simon sat down across from him, suddenly seeming a bit hesitant as he crosses his legs underneath himself. "Uh..." Wilhelm stiffened. Did he just … ?

 

“Your stomach is distracting and it’s not healthy,” Simon mumbled, shoving one of the bags onto Wilhelm’s homework, then nibbling on the edge of his own cheese scone, head facing downwards at his homework.

 

Wilhelm stared down at the bag, stomach growling despite the gum he’s chewing, the savoury, cheesy aroma of the scone too powerful compared to a single piece of mint gum and some water. 

 

“Uh,” Wilhelm opened the bag, looking inside at the freshly heated scone. “Um.” Wilhelm grabbed his water bottle to swallow the gum, it sounded slightly like a nervous gulp.

 

Simon said nothing, scribbling furiously on his science homework, still chewing on his scone’s edges in silence.

 

Wilhelm took a small bite and felt better. His stomach ache faded, his head cleared, energy returned. He took another bite. Even better than the last. “Thanks, Simon.”

 

Simon only grunted in return. “What’s this answer?” He asked.

 

Wilhelm turned his finished worksheet to face Simon. If acts of kindness are their mood tonight, Wilhelm might as well continue it. It’s quite weird, though. Simon brought him food? Wilhelm has the money, he’s capable, Simon should have stayed to do work, Wilhelm would’ve been fine. He’s gone entire days without eating, but he would normally spend those in bed at the palace, not moving around classes, learning, arguing, going in front of crowds to shake hands and only getting in a quick breakfast. 

 

Simon finished writing the answer and fell still, slowly looking up at Wilhelm. His heart began to pound. Simon stared, his eyes curious and vaguely concerned, piercing through Wilhelm like he can read his every worried thought.

 

Wilhelm looked back, unable to tear his eyes away from Simon’s gaze, it would only put the laser beams through more of his head if he looked down. His heart is getting faster every second and he’s not sure why. Is he expecting Simon to attack him? Is Simon waiting for him to drop dead of the poison in his scone? Is that what’s going to happen?

 

“Do you often skip meals to do school work?” Simon asked, his voice shockingly gentle and calm, not raised, maybe even soft.

 

But the question. No. Wilhelm has never been asked that before. He felt himself grow cold, hunger evaporating from his stomach. “It’s not like that,” Wilhelm insisted, dropping the scone back into the bag and turning his gaze to the homework before them, eyes filtering over it quickly.

 

When he didn’t speak, Simon sat up straighter, eyes narrowed. “What’s it like then? Because to me, it looks like some self destructive bullshit is going on,” he snapped, and Wilhelm glared up at him suddenly.

 

Always quick to anger, Simon is. Wilhelm used to consider himself patient, but he’s not realising he might not be, he’s just never encountered someone like Simon before. He gets him so riled up so quickly, as if he holds a physical control of Wilhelm’s emotions.

 

“You know what is self-destructive? The absolute trash you smoke and snort,” Wilhelm replied hotly, cheeks burning from being told he’s self destructive for wanting to get his school work done. He will eat eventually, he’s not starving himself forever. It’s just … It’s not self destructive. “That is poison , Simon. You put poison in your body - “

 

“And you barely have a body to put anything in! Let me remind you of the fucking difference between someone being conscious of what they are doing to themselves and then being in fucking denial of what you are doing to yourself. Perfect example, me and you,” Simon replied, his own scone abandoned on top of his homework. Wilhelm felt even more heat rise to his cheeks. Simon is wrong. He’s always wrong. “I know what I’m doing. Fuck, I’m doing it on purpose . I smoke that to feel less of that and I snort that to feel more of that. You just sit here and do homework while your body fucking decays. You don’t even need to do work, your already really smart, and it’s not like you need to get a job when you’re older,” Simon says, voice rising.

 

Wilhelm bites on his tongue. Simon is wrong. “I’m not even going to try and argue with you, you wouldn’t understand, you don’t know me, you don’t care about your grades.”

 

“I - “ Simon stopped himself, glaring down at the homework, something else floating in his gaze.


“You what?” Wilhelm snapped, folding his arms. His mouth has been soured with the words Simon’s said and a scone from Simon couldn’t sound less appetising. 

 

“I think I’m done here,” Simon began to pack up, grabbing handfuls of homework and stuffing them into his backpack.

 

“You can’t walk away from every problem. Why can’t we talk this out?” Wilhelm asked as Simon stood, glaring down at Wilhelm.

 

“Why? It’s not like we’re fucking friends,” he growled, turning to the door sharply.

 

“Thank God for that,” Wilhelm mumbled as Simon slammed the door without even a goodbye. “Fine, whatever.” Wilhelm threw his hands in the air. “At least I can work in peace .”

 

He moved all of his stuff up onto his desk with a huff, dropping the uneaten scone into the bin under his sink and sitting down, ready to work. He looked up and watched as a third year couple ran into the woods, hand in hand, grinning at each other and laughing with the sunset.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t like arguing with Simon. It makes him feel bad, and physically filthy - not from Simon, but from being mean. Being mean isn’t his thing, he decides. He wouldn’t be mean if Simon wasn’t mean to him and if Simon mellowed out, he would too. 

 

Yes, sometimes the light, shameless - and slightly offensive - banter can be a bit of fun, add some spice to class when it’s not really consistent and has little to no real fire behind it, but arguments like that… Especially because of what Simon said.

 

Wilhelm banished all thoughts of Simon as he grabbed his ear buds. Doesn’t matter. He has his friends - Felice, Madi (She’s everyone’s friend), Walter, Henry and Alex. Most of Sweden loves him, wants to be his friend or more. He doesn’t need anymore friends, especially not toxic, rude ones like Simon

 

~ Saturday ~

 

Wilhelm doesn’t like Felice anymore.

 

Currently, Wilhelm is sitting in the pizza parlour again, Simon next to him, Felice opposite, with Ayub next to her. Felice had the brilliant idea for them to go over their notes somewhere a little more fun than the library, and suggested this. Simon was up for it, and so Wilhelm didn’t really have a choice.

 

Simon is texting Marcus, who is apparently going to join them in a few minutes. Wilhelm hopes he’ll be able to tame his boyfriend, because Simon chugged a Red Bull in two minutes and his knee is bouncing, he keeps elbowing Wilhelm as he shifts around or kicking him as he unfolds/refolds his legs, interjecting himself into conversation randomly and humming when he’s not speaking. Wilhelm is never buying him another caffeinated drink, not that he got Simon the Red Bull, Ayub gave it to him for free. 

 

Felice and Ayub are having an animated, bouncy conversation about a TV show, and Wilhelm is people watching out the window at the streets.

 

Felice seems to have a type of friend, either someone that is super energetic and talkative, like Madi or Ayub, or someone rather quiet and subdued, like Wilhelm. Most of Felice’s friends are cool, funny, popular people, and then there’s Wilhelm, who wears a mask and pretends to be all of that.

 

Ayub shuffled out of the booth to go do his job, as he’s not on break, he just wanted to talk to Felice and Simon. 

 

Simon put his phone down just as Ayub disappeared, frowning at his back. “Oh well. Marcus should be here soon. He’s driving here from his house.”

 

“Should I move so you guys can sit together?” Felice asked Simon, starting to shuffle out of the booth.

 

Simon was quick to reply, almost a little too quick. “No, that’s okay. He can sit opposite me. We aren’t big of PDA,” Simon explained, eyes flicking from the window to the door. “Well, he is, but I don't like PDA. He’ll be here soon. Really soon. He got delayed at his house because his Mum wanted him to do the dishes and then he had to fill up his car. He’ll be here any minute.”

 

“We know,” Wilhelm grumbled, sipping on his iced water with a paper straw, side eyeing Simon. “You seem really nervous. This isn’t like, your guys' first date, right?”

 

Simon scowled at him suddenly. Wilhelm only rolled his eyes. “No,” Simon said defensively. “It’s not. I’m not nervous.”

 

“You’re just severely over caffeinated, then,” Wilhelm concluded. 

 

The door opened with a ding and Simon’s head swung around. A guy walked in, much bigger and taller than Wilhelm, his brown hair short, a frown set on his large head. He’s wearing what appears to be farming gear, black jeans, gumboots, a grey long sleeve shirt with a polar fleece vest, and a beanie in his hands. 

 

Simon stared as he approached, looking a bit tense. 

 

“Hello,” Felice said kindly as Marcus stood at their table, and, well, Wilhelm hates to judge, but the vibe is all off. Simon didn’t jump up to greet him, offer him a seat - didn’t even want to sit next to him. Maybe Simon didn’t want to seem clingy, Wilhelm can understand that. Not that he’s ever had a partner, but he can see where Simon would be coming from. 

 

“Hey,” Marcus replied, voice gruff.

 

“You can sit next to me,” Felice smiled, scooting further against the window, away from Marcus as Ayub swooped over, also looking slightly hesitant.

 

“Hi,” Wilhelm said as Marcus caught his eye. “I’m Wilhelm. It’s nice to meet you.” He couldn’t sound more hostile. He cleared his throat and threw Marcus a smile, but the damage was done.

 

Simon blinked a few times, throwing Wilhelm a glare as Marcus raised a brow.

 

The silence is really, really awkward. Wilhelm is moments away from throwing himself through the window and onto the road. 

 

“Hey, Marcus,” Ayub said as he appeared, standing more on Simon’s side than towards Marcus.

 

“Hi, Ayub,” Marcus smiled at him. “Can I have a Sprite for free, man?” He asked.

 

Simon shuffled around in his seat. 

 

Ayub laughed, “No, sorry, I don’t do that.”

 

Um. Liar. What is going on? Does Simon’s friend even like his boyfriend? He seems so uncomfortable sitting next to Wilhelm.

 

Marcus sighed. “Just water then, is fine.”

 

Ayub walked away quickly.

 

“So, Marcus,” Felice said, clearly trying to stop the awkward tension. “I’m curious where you got this vest. It looks very warm and er - comfortable.”

 

Simon slid an inch down in his seat, watching the conversation.

 

Wilhelm sipped on his water, side eyeing Simon every second to see his reaction.

 

“Hand me down,” Marcus replied. “Yours is nice … to. Looks expensive.”

 

Wilhelm might die. “Do you work on a farm?” Wilhelm asked, forcing false interest into his voice that he normally uses in interviews or public events. 

 

Marcus turned to him, scowling slightly. “Yeah, I work at Hillerska's farm. You never saw me around there?”

 

“I don’t really go near the horse area, to be honest,” Wilhelm replied easily, feeling some of the tension draining away a bit. “Do you get paid to work there, or is it like volunteering work?”

 

“My family owns the land, and the school pays us to use it,” Marcus explained as Ayub returned with his water. “Thanks, man. I heard you used to do horse riding, why did you stop?” Marcus asked.

 

Simon sat straighter in his chair. His boyfriend hadn’t tamed his nervous energy, more like drained it.

 

“People made it weird when I came out, if you catch my drift,” Wilhelm nodded, taking another sip of his water to finish the sentence.

 

Marcus did not in fact, catch his drift. “Oh yeah, I forgot you came out as gay. What do you mean made it weird? It’s just horse riding.” Oblivious to the awkwardness, Marcus picked up a menu and began reading, eyes flicking to Wilhelm when he didn’t reply.

 

Felice’s lip curled in slight disgust and Simon looked down at his hands, suddenly fascinated.

 

“I’m not gay, I don’t want to put a label on it. Do I need to be labelled to be happily in love with someone? No, so I don’t call myself gay, or straight, or pan, I just am,” Wilhelm defended, cheeks heating slightly.

 

“So you think it’s wrong to label yourself?” Marcus asked, brow raised, glancing over at Simon strangely.

 

“No, no I didn’t say that. I said I don’t label myself, not that everyone should dump labels and just be. I know it makes some people feel better to have a word to put on it, which is fine, if that’s what they feel comfortable with, but - “

 

“Well now you’re basically labelling yourself as unlabelled,” Marcus said, menu flat on the table, his brows gathered towards Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm blinked at him. “No … I’m not,” he replied plainly. Are you STUPID? He wants to slap him with the menu. “I’m - that’s just not how it works, Marcus. I’m unlabelled, I’m not labelling myself with that. It’s quite simple. If you can understand and accept people as gay or lesbian, why can’t you understand unlabelled?”

 

“Simon,” Marcus’s head flew to face his boyfriend, who’s eyes shot up to meet him. Simon looks uncomfortable, but his eyes hold hard towards Marcus. “Are you just going to sit there while he is being rude?” Marcus asked, and Simon’s mouth fell open. 

 

“Uh,” Simon sat up and turned to Wilhelm, eyes emotionless. “He’s never met someone who is unlabelled before,” Simon explained, as if that’s an excuse. Wilhelm frowned at him.

 

And?” He replied to him. 

 

Simon clenched his jaw, eyes flicking to Marcus, who is staring at him intently. “Can we talk about something else?” Simon asked, looking at Wilhelm instead of Marcus.

 

Wilhelm wants to snarl at him. “You have a problem with running away when something gets hard,” Wilhelm blurted, and Marcus slapped a hand down on a table, making Simon jump.

 

“How dare you say that,” Marcus snapped, and Wilhelm just blinked at him as Simon sat up straighter.

 

“Marcus, it’s fine. We always argue and snap at each other like this. It means nothing,” Simon was quick to say, reaching over to put a hand on top of Marcus’s, and Wilhelm might just be looking for reason to hate Marcus, but it looks like Simon's hand was shaking. 

 

Marcus glared at him, snapping his hand back. “Let’s talk.” Marcus stood up and walked away without transition.

 

Simon slid his hand back into his lap and stood to follow quickly, putting his hands in his pockets and trailing after him towards the jukebox corner.

 

“I strongly dislike him,” Wilhelm said to Felice the second they were out of earshot.

 

Felice swallowed thickly, watching the couple. “It … It seems a bit,” Felice scratched her head with one long, manicured finger. “I don’t know…” She decides quietly.

 

Wilhelm turned to watch Simon and Marcus. Simon is saying something, looking surprisingly vulnerable and desperate. Marcus reaches forwards, grabs his face and kisses him. Simon is frozen for a second, eyes still wide open, but he pulls back and continues talking, and Marcus frowns, talking over Simon until he stops talking to stare up at Marcus, frowning in annoyance.

 

Wilhelm looks away. He's no pro lip reader, but he's good on body language, and Simon and Marcus's body language lacks love, affection, romance, you know, those things couples normally feel. “Couples argue all the time,” Wilhelm shrugged. “Maybe he’s having a bad day. Late invite or something. Are we going to actually study or just gossip and argue?” 

 

Ayub dropped off their large cheese pizza with a sideways glance at Marcus and Simon. "Not to be rude, but do you know whats going on over there? Why did Marcus pull him away?" Felice asks.

 

Ayub sighs, sliding the pizza into the middle of the table slowly. "Yeah, no, Simon doesn't really like talking about his relationship with Marcus with Rosh and I," Ayub is quiet for a moment, smoothing his hair back, like an anxious tic. "It's fine."

 

By the time Marcus and Simon return, Ayub is gone and Wilhelm and Felice had their notebooks out, talking calmly, trading notes, how this study session should've been.

 

Simon plopped down, shuffling over to Wilhelm’s side so their shoulders were grazing, peering at his notes over his shoulder as he snagged a piece of pizza. 

 

“Have you read up to chapter 15 yet?” Wilhelm asked Simon, while looking over at him, pizza sauce smeared on his lip, which is still healing from August.

 

Marcus sat quietly, looking proud of himself as he nibbled on a piece of pizza, staring at Simon.

 

Simon looked over at Wilhelm, and Wilhelm was taken aback. His eyes are slightly glossy, cheeks flushed. “Um, no,” Simon replied, blinking rapidly. “Been busy.”

 

Marcus snickered.

 

Wilhelm had to suppress pulling a face. “Can you hurry up and catch up, then?” Wilhelm asked, and was struck back to his thought process of last night. If Simon doesn’t bite, then he won’t either. Simon is being rather tame towards him today, and not because he’s all over his boyfriend instead. 

 

Simon rolled his eyes, dropping a bit of crumb on Wilhelm’s book. Wilhelm swept it off calmly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get there. Let me copy those notes, though.”

 

Simon pulled his notebook out of the backpack he’d shoved beneath the table, plopping it down next to Wilhelm’s.

 

“So, are you and Felice dating, Wilhelm?” Marcus asked Wilhelm.

 

Felice laughed easily. “We actually get that a lot,” she replied calmly. “It’s getting kind of irritating, but it never fails to amuse." By that she just means "it's really annoying and gets super boring, but I'm trying to stay on your good side so I'll pretend it's a little amusing." "No, I’m not into guys. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten.” 

 

“Oh, okay. Does that mean you were there for, y’know, the famous 13th birthday at the palace?” Marcus asked conspiratorially, mouth full of pizza.

 

Wilhelm stiffened and Simon’s head turned to look at Wilhelm, noticing the movement. 

 

“Yes, I was at his 13th birthday. How long have you and Simon been together?” Felice changed subject with a smile, turning her notes to Simon so he could copy hers as well. He looked away from Wilhelm, who kept his eyes on Felice, continuing to write.

 

“Oh, quite a long time,” Marcus boasted, puffing out his chest slightly as he chewed through a mouthful.

 

“Since the start of May,” Simon mumbled, still writing.

 

Wilhelm snorted and covered it as a cough, sipping his water. Simon side eyed him with amusement in his eyes, brushing a stray curl behind his ear.

 

Marcus deflated slightly. “It’s still a while , Simon. I’ve never had a relationship last so long,” Marcus said. “We’re in love. Have you been in love, Wilhelm?”

 

“What about me? Why are we asking Wilhelm all the questions? I have interesting answers too,” Felice laughed, but Wilhelm could tell she is trying to draw Marcus's attention away.

 

“Well, I was going to ask you too. Wilhelm?” Marcus dismissed Felice far too quickly and Wilhelm doesn’t like it.

 

Simon sat back, finished with his notes and piece of pizza. 

 

“No, I’ve never been in love,” Wilhelm said.

 

“Babe, Wilhelm isn’t going to spill his guts to you just because we’re dating and he’s in my classes. He’s a PR trained Prince,” Simon explains with a smile that quivers. 

 

He’s not wrong. He’s actually very right. He just forgot to mention that Wilhelm is planning on never seeing Marcus again, because he does not like him, his vibe, or how his relationship with Simon looks. 

 

“I know, Simon, just trying to make conversation. Sorry for pressing. Felice?”

 

Felice sighed forlornly, leaning back in her chair. “Well, there was a girl in intermediate who had the most beautiful, curliest, reddest hair. But she was a bitch and I just thought she was really pretty. We dated for awhile, it was one of those ‘kiss in dark corridors but bully me in class’ relationships,” Felice admitted with another sigh. 

 

Wilhelm remembers the night Felice decided to break up with her, calling Wilhelm in tears late at night because the girl had just leaked Felice’s nudes after Felice broke up with her, and she was heartbroken. Wilhelm had threatened to find this girl and rip all her hair out if Felice didn’t give Wilhelm her number. Felice didn’t. She told him she doesn’t need his aggression, she needs his comfort. Wilhelm just wanted to give her a big hug after that. He apologised and helped her to calm down, talking her through everything that came into her young mind. They were only 14, and her face wasn’t in the pictures, but it didn’t stop Felice skipping school that week.

 

“Mmm, Simon was like that, at the beginning. Ashamed of me,” Marcus laughed, but everyone else just kind of stared at him.

 

Simon cocked his head and blinked at Marcus in both annoyance and confusion. “Marcus. I told you at the time that I wasn’t sure how I felt and just wanted to test the waters, that I didn’t want to be one of those couples that snogged in the middle of the corridors with no room for Jesus. I never said I was ashamed of you,” Simon defended.

 

“That’s not something you joke about,” Wilhelm added.

 

Marcus frowned. “Well, okay, sorry. My bad.”

 

“Yeah,” Wilhelm whispered against his straw. “I think we’ve finished trading notes. Shall we go, Felice?” Wilhelm asked, ignoring the half a pizza still on the table, already shoving his notebook and mechanical pencil - which, yeah, Simon stole to write notes with - into his bag.

 

“Actually, I need to go to Hillerska. Would you mind if I caught a ride with you?” Marcus asked as he and Simon stood to walk out.

 

“I’ll just talk to Ayub, be right back,” Simon said, before scurrying away. Wilhelm glared at his retreating back.

 

“Uh - “ Wilhelm turned to Felice, who just gave him a defeated shrug. “Yeah, alright then.” Wilhelm ended up saying. “We’re taking a taxi back, there’s no private driver or chauffeur,” Wilhelm said with a small laugh.

 

Marcus chuckled and Wilhelm’s smile dropped. He doesn’t feel like smiling with Marcus. “Oh, Wilhelm, I’m not just using you for the Prince benefits. Simon talks about you a lot, granted, it’s not very nice things he says, but Simon barely likes anyone.” There's a malicious look in Marcus's eye, like he knows something Wilhelm doesn't.

 

Wilhelm got the message of “but he likes me” loud and fucking clear.

 

Simon appeared at their sides again, and Marcus wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist instantly, kissing the side of his head. Wilhelm watched as Simon went stiff, his jaw clenching. 

 

“I’m going to stay here with Ayub for a bit longer,” Simon explained, hands fiddling with the case on his phone, which is covered in different stickers, Wilhelm can see a pride flag, a skull, a black rose, a penis, and a black heart, all jammed together. “So I’ll see you guys later. Bye.” Simon turned to kiss Marcus on the cheek.

 

“That all?” Marcus pouted out his lips. Wilhelm and Felice eyed each other. Wilhelm is beyond uncomfortable.

 

Simon hesitated, before going onto his tip toes to peck Marcus’s lips. “Bye, babe,” Simon said over his shoulder, already heading towards the counter, where Ayub is standing. They waved as they walked out the doors, the Uber pulling up at the perfect time.

 

“Simon is such a nice guy,” Marcus began, and he didn’t stop the entire way home. “Simon’s lip balm tastes like peaches.” “Simon’s Mother is a lovely chief, or though she does look the spiciest food.” “Simon has an amazing voice, you should hear him sing.” At that Felice pointed out he does choir with her, and Marcus seemed slightly put off, saying “I didn’t know he did choir.” But then continued with his gushing about Simon. 

 

If Wilhelm didn’t already know Simon, and hadn’t just spent a max of half an hour at a pizza parlour with the couple, he’d say they sounded like the cutest pair alive, but every time Marcus would say something about Simon, all Wilhelm saw was Simon stiff in his arms, his hesitancy to kiss Marcus, the way he glares at his phone as he texts to the contact “Mar”, and how Simon has never said anything good about Marcus. 

 

When they got to Hillerska, Marcus got out of the Uber and walked away promptly, and both Wilhelm and Felice were shitting on him before they’d even paid the driver.

 

“He’s either really in love, or really spitefully trying to prove Simon loves him.”

 

“No, because the way he said “we’re in love” and Simon just stared at him - Pfft.”

 

“His entire vibe was off.”

 

“I know, he failed the vibe check worse than your Mother.” 

 

They ended up in Wilhelm’s dorm, still talking about Simon and Marcus.

 

“How many times has Simon mentioned Marcus?” Felice asked as she flopped onto Wilhelm’s bed. “Also, why does your room smell of cheese?”

 

“Unfinished scone,” Wilhelm replied, throwing open the window. “He’s mentioned him twice, maybe three times. But he’s always texting him, or ... Marcus is always texting him.” He sat down against the head of his bed, his legs resting on top of Felice’s.

 

“I would say Simon has absolutely no feelings for him if not for how hard Simon is trying to get out of Hillerska,” Felice commented, twirling one of her curls around her finger as she looks around Wilhelm's room absentmindedly.

 

Wilhelm hummed. “Yeah, but Simon did say he’s not big on PDA, so they might be affectionate when they're alone. Ayub did seem rather fond of Simon, and there’s no way he’s fond of the prickly side we’ve seen.” The softest Simon Wilhelm has seen is either in detention when he was mumbling about his Mama, or in his room last night when he got him a scone. He hasn’t told Felice about the scone, because then he’ll have to explain how he wasn’t going to eat till diner, and he knows Felice would go off at him. “Like, I’m not very nice to Simon, but I’m nice to you, and I snuggle with you and we hangout. Simon could be like that with Marcus or his friends.”

 

Felice nodded. “That’s very true. We could ask Ayub, I’ve got his number,” Felice said proudly, tapping on the perfect screen of her phone.

 

“You what?” Wilhelm deadpanned, leaning forwards from his bed.

 

“Got his number. He’s so nice, Wille! He’s funny as well! It’s nice to have someone like that to talk too,” Felice shrugged.

 

“What am I, a roach?” Wilhelm gasped in fake offence.

 

Felice laughed, patting his shin affectionately. “You’re more than a roach to me, Wille, you’re like a … A spider.”

 

Wilhelm snorted out a laugh. “What kind? You’re a Poecilotheria metallica, which is the worlds most beautiful spider.” 

 

Felice cooed at him, reaching over to pinch his cheek. “Aren’t you a cutie with your spider facts no one else cares about but you. You can be a jumping spider.”

 

“Why?” Wilhelm asked curiously, wiggling his feet a top her legs. 

 

“Because they’re the most harmless spider,” she laughs softly, pulling her hand away. “No, no. Because almost everyone hates spiders. They’re creepy, ugly, poisonous, but not jumping spiders, everyone loves them. I had a pet jumping spider when I was 7, because I wasn't afraid of them. And you know how much of a girlie girl I was before my emo phase, terrified of anything with more than two eyes and two legs. They’re cute! If you zoom in on their faces, they look so innocent. All they do is bounce around. They don’t even grow very big - “

 

“Okay, I get the point, stop before you call me short,” Wilhelm smiled. “You’re an amazing person, you know that, Felice?” Wilhelm asked, turning back to look at her.

 

She smiled brightly at him. “I know, thanks.” Wilhelm snorted. “I love you so much, Wille. This world doesn’t deserve your soft heart.”

 

“What does that mean?” Wilhelm asked her, frowning slightly. He fiddled with the sheets under him.

 

Felice only smiled. “You ... You just have such a beautiful soul, babe.”

 

~ Monday ~

 

Wilhelm is excited for today. It’s Monday, and the first period is English, which means a certain older sister of a certain douche bag is coming into school today to talk about herself. To talk about herself, willingly. Wilhelm is sure he’ll be able to slip some questions about Simon into the mix.

 

As he jumps up from the breakfast table with his friends, Wilhelm is half convinced Simon will just skip the entire period. That would make it all very boring and disappointing, but that'd mean Wilhelm could get even juicier answers out of Sara, without Simon to tell her to shut up.

 

The group walk to class together, Henry and Walter ahead of Alex and Wilhelm, talking in their bubbly tones with a skip in their steps. As per usual, Henry is doing most of the talking and Walter is just watching him with a soft smile, humming and nodding, giving the occasional word of acknowledgement or asking a question to keep Henry going.

 

Wilhelm shook his head. “Those guys,” he mumbled to Alex, who laughed in response.

 

“They’re almost more obvious than you and Simon - “ Wilhelm shoved Alex away, which only made him laugh harder.

 

“For the last time, we’re not dating,” Wilhelm groaned. “He’s the most infuriating person on the Earth. He has no respect for others.” And yet, the image of Simon, curled uncomfortably in the booth of the pizza parlour in front of his own boyfriend crowded into his head. Simon looked more comfortable talking to the Crown Prince of Sweden than his own boyfriend. He’d been leaning into Wilhelm more than was necessary at all, and Wilhelm is just grateful Marcus didn’t notice it.

 

“Whatever you say,” Alex patted his shoulder as he steadied himself on the path.

 

“Wille!” Wilhelm turned to find Felice walking towards him with Madi, Stella and Fredrika behind her.

 

Wilhelm stopped to walk with the girls. “I’ll see you guys at class,” Wilhelm told Alex, as only he’s paying attention, Henry and Walter walking into the building to class without even noticing that Wilhelm had stopped.

 

Felice appeared at his side, linking their arms together. “You look happy,” she commented as they resumed walking, Stella and Fredrika tailing behind while Madi joined Felice on her other side.

 

“It’s because Sara Eriksson is coming in today and he’s going to torment Simon,” Madi predicted calmly. Wilhelm beamed. He's rather fond of Madi, she speaks her truth 24/7. Which Simon does as well, but he seems to target his attention onto Wilhelm, while Madi pays attention to everyone but August and his friends.

 

“Exactly, Madi,” he confirmed, opening the doors. “Ladies first,” he said, sticking his foot in front of the door so the others could walk in before him.

 

“Such a gentleman,” Stella laughed as she waltzed by, the tips of her fingers wrapped around Fredrika’s. God, this entire school is gay for each other. Apart from Simon and Wilhelm. They’re the exception. Gay but not for each other.

 

The first thing Wilhelm notices is that Simon isn’t in class as they all settle down in their chairs. Miss Ramirez is behind her desk, while she normally gets here just as the bell goes. She's dressed slightly fancier than normal.

 

Wilhelm took a seat at the desk at the front of the room, directly in front of the whiteboard, right where Simon had served his detention miserably. Felice sat next to him with an evil smirk.

 

“Do you want Simon to sit next to you today?” Felice asked with a sly smile.

 

Wilhelm rolled his eyes at her as everyone settled around them, Alex taking the desk to Wilhelm’s left, meaning Simon will end up at the desk right next to Wilhelm’s anyway. “No, Felice. I don’t want to be near him, I just want to annoy him.” 

 

Felice chuckled wickedly as the bell rang.

 

Miss Ramirez stood up to do the roll, and Wilhelm thrust his hand in the air while Felice turns backwards to talk to Stazia, who sat behind them.

 

“Yes,” Miss Ramirez moved to stand in front of Wilhelm’s desk with a slightly cautious smile.

 

“Where’s Simon?” Wilhelm asked, staring up at her innocently.

 

“I believe he’ll be arriving with his sister, Prince Wilhelm, as that seems most logical. They should be here within the next ten minutes,” she replied with a smile. “Please behave today, sweetheart. There will be a photographer, remember, and with Sara’s and your fame combined it’ll end up somewhere big,” she gave him a pointed look.

 

Wilhelm smiled back at her. “Miss, I never cause trouble,” Wilhelm promised. “It’s always Simon.”

 

She squinted at him. “Mmhmm, right. Anyway, Amy, are you here? Yes, wonderful.” 

 

Wilhelm did a bit more research about Sara last night, looking at recent pictures of her which are the same as the ones from her comics. He read an article she wrote from last month about her new comic, which is what she’s advertising today. Last week she went to another school in Stockholm to talk to them about her comic as well and under the article are a bunch of photos of her with fans, the class, teachers and even some of the parents. 

 

Sara is a big deal, like her popularity is bigger than Alice Oseman, a big hit with Gen Z with her representative, honest, realistic, inclusive comics. There’s photos of Sara taken by the paparazzi on red carpets, or mundane things like while she’s been out with friends, or doing shopping, or just walking from her car to a building or back. That kind of big.

 

Wilhelm did a bit more stalking into Sara’s, and discovered she lives in a nice area of Stockholm in a penthouse, and yet Simon and his mother still live in a Bjärstad, but she owns different apartments all over Sweden for her convenience while she tours, which she rents or uses as holiday homes while she's not there for other celebrities. 

 

Is this what people do to me? Do they Google “Prince Wilhelm’s actual bedroom” and believe the stock images from 20 years ago they got? Is what Wilhelm found himself wondering as he Googled her net worth (which is 14 million, just saying).

 

Miss Ramirez finished calling the role and then Jane speaks up. “Miss, there she is!” Jane yells, pointing out the window as a black BMW pulls up outside Hillerska.

 

Several people got out of their seats to crowd against the windows, phones appearing and pointed at the BMW as it rolled to a stop.

 

Wilhelm craned his neck to see around them. God, he’s so used to being the one in the BMW, being the fan watching is stressful

 

“Please sit down and put your phones away! There is going to be a professional photographer with a good quality camera, so don’t take photos on your trash phones,” Miss Ramirez ordered, trying to look like she’s not peering out the window by her desk as well.

 

Another car, a smaller white one pulled up and a photographer got out, a young woman with a purple buzz cut and eyeliner Wilhelm can see from here. She approached the BMW and the back door opened.

 

The class held their breath as the photographer listened to whatever someone was saying, before she stepped back and allowed Simon to get out of the car. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with a few rips up and down the leg, with a fluffy, purple jumper that has splatters of orange and black on it. It actually looks rather good on him, matched with his busted Converse. Clearly, not even his sister can get him to take those off.

 

Simon turns back to the car as his backpack is hurled out. Simon laughs at something said by the person inside, saying something back before slamming the door playfully, slinging his back pack on.

 

“Whao.”

 

“I thought he had no soul.”

 

“He can laugh?”

 

“Oooo, harsh.”

 

“Guys,” Miss Ramirez scolded. “Calm down, please. You see him everyday.”

 

Wilhelm chuckled to himself, and Felice threw Wilhelm a look that clearly reads “she just doesn’t understand.”

 

Simon turned to the purple haired photographer and started speaking to her enthusiastically as the door to the BMW opened again and Sara stepped out. Unlike the class, who all gasped and jumped at the window, Simon and the photographer didn’t even wince, because of course they wouldn’t, they probably talk to her everyday, see her often, the photographer probably more than Simon, which is a little sad, to be honest. The memories of Simon saying how he misses his sister, how he misses his family jumps into mind again.

 

Sara looks amazing. Wilhelm heard a few kids swoon. She’s wearing a plain black dress that goes mid thigh, with semi see through black stockings, black, knee high wedge boots that have white on the inner leg, where the shoes stretch. To top it all she’s got a grey coat, which looks like a hybrid mix of a trench coat and a cardigan. Her hair is loose around her face, shoulder length and wavy. She’s smiling brightly at Simon, as if he’s never done any wrong, as if he’s a little angel. 

 

Simon turned back to Sara and she shut the door, he said something that made Sara chuckle again. 


The passenger door opened and a middle aged guy with dark skin and a black fade got out, towering over every other person in that situation. Simon says something that makes him also laugh. 

 

Very Smashable Bodyguard goes to the boot and takes out a box. Simon says something else and pats the Very Smashable Bodyguard’s biceps and everyone laughs. Who knew Simon could have so many jokes up his sleeve. Maybe these adults are just humouring him… But the way they all look at each other and talk as they approach the Principle, who is walking towards them, makes it seem like they really do enjoy Simon’s company. It’s not like when Wilhelm is at events and people talk to him with polite interest and practised smiles, which he returns. They actually watch Simon as he talks, answering him.

 

It goes both ways, as well. Simon is silent when they talk, and laughs when they joke, stopping to take a photo with his sister and the principal, taken by Purple Buzz With The Good Eye Liner. 

 

“Please stay seated,” Mrs Ramirez scolds the class. “She’ll be here any minute.”

 

“God, he made such an entrance,” Wilhelm said to Felice instantly, and she just laughed.

 

“He looks hot. So does his sister,” Felice replied, eyes on the doorway.

 

“Felice, no,” Wilhelm sighed.

 

“Oh, forgot he’s your man, sorry,” Felice patted his shoulder, and Wilhelm slapped her away.

 

Around the class, people are settling back into their chairs with a new excitement buzzing under their skins. Even Those Kids at the back look fascinated by the celebrity walking in. Imagine if Wilhelm made an entrance as attention seeking as that? He’d get slandered and teased. Simon’s just getting gawked at.

 

Maybe it’s because that kind of shit is expected of Wilhelm, but no one expected Simon to pull up to school in a sleek, shiny BMW with his rich as sister, chaperoned by a personal driver with a body guard and photographer, who he all seems to know personally.

 

Wilhelm gets told the name of the photographer, along with the make up artists, the hair stylists, the other hair stylists, the assistant make up artist, the one who clothes him, the one who walks him through his lines, the one who tells him who to talk to, what questions to ask, the one who offers him water. He loses track of names faster than he can learn them most of the time. Sometimes, the staff introduce themselves and then the names stick, but he gave up trying to remember their names, just sticking to thanking them before leaving.

 

There was a knock on the door and then Headmistress Lilja walked in, followed by Simon, then Sara, and finally Purple Buzz With Good Eye Liner and their camera.

 

“Good morning, class,” Headmistress Lilja beams.

 

Simon caught Wilhelm’s eye and his amused look wilted into a withered look, eyes flicking to the Headmistress before he turned to whisper something at his sister, who is watching Headmistress Lilja with polite interest.

 

She blatantly ignores him and Simon turns back to the class with slight annoyance in his face. Wilhelm recognises it. That’s what Erik looks like whenever he whispers something to Wilhelm in front of cameras and Wilhelm refuses to let himself cackle, or grimace at what he’s just said, and Erik is quietly put out. 

 

Clearly, there’s Sara Eriksson, and then there’s Sara, who can laugh at her brother's jokes and ignores the hostess. This is Sara Eriksson, she is here for business.

 

“It’s wonderful to see all your young, excited faces this morning,” Headmistress Lilja says. “I’m sure you’re all very excited.”

 

There’s a chorus of “yes”’s, and Sara smiles proudly at the room, but Simon shuffles his feet, his expression growing bored now he has no one to laugh with. Of course, can’t even pretend to be proud of his sister for one period.

 

“Well, I won’t hold you up. Remember to be respectful, and behave. Show Miss Eriksson how good Hillerska is,” Headmistress Lilja warns the class, eyes only pausing on Wilhelm for two whole seconds.

 

“Thank you, Miss Lilja,” Sara says as Headmistress Lilja passes by her. “I’ll see you later.”

 

“And you,” She nods, before slipping out the door. 

 

Sara nudges Simon and he jolts into action. “Oh, right.” He steps forward and everyone watches with anticipation. Wilhelm smirks up at him. “Hey, y’all. This is me reminding you that there’s a photographer, their name is Jenny, so don’t vape into each others mouths while making out, and no fingering under the desks - “ 

 

“Simon,” Sara sighs, stepping up next to him. “I’m sorry about him. And yes, he’s like this at home.”

 

Oh this is going to be good.

 

Most of the class laughs and Simon just rolls his eyes, denying what she says as he slinks off to his seat, sticking his tongue out for Jenny’s camera as he passes, and the flash goes off to take his picture in that horrible moment.

 

“Anyway,” Sara swipes at the air, as if to clear it from Simon. “Good morning, Hillerska! I’m Sara Eriksson, but just call me Sara. I’ve come in here today to do a small, private Q&A with you guys without it actually being professionally recorded. Feel free to post the answers out on social media, you can video if you want, but please stay engaged. Anyone who doesn’t want to be photographed, that’s completely fine and entirely your decision. Please put your hand up if you don’t want to be in any photos…”

 

No one put their hand up, and Sara nodded. “Alright, that’s fine as well,” Sara claps her hands together, turning on her heels to the teacher. “Good morning, Miss. You must be Miss Ramirez." She practically gushes at the attention.

 

“That I am, Sara, but you can call me Susie,” Miss Ramirez says, and Simon snorts from his chair. Wilhelm has to admit, that is kinda funny.

 

But Sara only smiles with charm. “It’s lovely to meet you, Susie. You have a beautiful classroom,” Sara comments, before turning to said class. Her eyes flicker over the front row, only pausing on Wilhelm for a second, but she lets nothing away in her brown eyed gaze. “So basically, you ask questions, if it’s something I can’t answer I’ll simply say so. At the end I’ll hand out copies of my new comic to anyone who asks questions I’ve never heard before.”

 

An excited whisper falls across the class, and Sara smiles again. The camera flashes. 

 

“First, I want to get to know a bit about you. Has anyone been following my story since the beginning?” Sara asked, pacing slowly at the front of the room.

 

Simon stuck his hand up. Camera flashes. “Wow, that is such a surprise, young man. Thank you,” Sara replies to him sarcastically, clapping her hands. 

 

“I’m a big fan,” Simon tells her, leaning over his desk dramatically.

 

“Hmm, cute. Anyway.” Most of the class laughs again, and Simon leans back with a content smile. Wilhelm side eyes him with amusement. “Anyone apart from him?”

 

Jane’s cautious hand goes up, and Sara beams. “What’s your name and preferred pronouns?” Sara asks, walking to stand in between Wilhelm and Simon’s desks to be closer to Jane.

 

“Hi, my name is Jane, and I go by she/her,” Jane said, voice wobbly as she stares up at Sara with pure awe. “I love your comics. My favourite character is April, by far.”

 

Sara smiles at Jane. The camera flashes at the two women beam at each other. “Why is April your favourite, Jane? I’m assuming it’s not just because of the birth month.”

 

“She has a Medusa tattoo, and I hope to get one when I’m old enough as well,” Jane replies, voice suddenly confident and sure. “It means a lot to me that you included that in your comic without shame or dancing around it. A lot of the time it’s a taboo subject, and I get why, I mean, it can be hard for some people to talk about, and some people may feel like they are filthy because of it, but that doesn’t mean we just stop talking about it. The abusers feed off their victims' silence. Which is what April says.”

 

Sara’s smile changes in only the way her eyes grow sad. “This is exactly why I write this comic, Jane, so people feel seen, so people get the raw truth. It’s my goal to send out a message, and to connect with the right audience. Thank you for sharing that.” 

 

Sara returns to the front of the class, taking a deep breath as she turns back to face the room. “Shall we get into the questions, my friends?” Sara ask’s, and is met with a series of nods, a few people still stuck in Jane’s words. “Can we try and think of something a little more original? My last school asked rather basic questions like “How much money do you have?” “Do you have a boyfriend yet?” “What’s your favourite thing about this job?" Let’s spice things up, guys! Yes, you, what’s your name and preferred pronouns?”

 

The class turns to Joshua. “Yeah, hey, m’names Joshua and I go by he/him. My question is: Does Simon snort cocaine at home too?” Joshua began giggling with his friend, falling into each other.


Simon immediately began to retort, but Sara spoke over him calmly. “Joshua, I think you should go outside.” 

 

Joshua fell quiet, staring back at Sara’s dead gaze. She looks like she’s done this before. Simon grinds his teeth, leaning back in his seat slowly. See, this is what Wilhelm often doesn’t get. He doesn’t go public interviews without a list of questions he already has answers for. The worst he gets is people yelling at him as he moves from building to car, from car to car, social media posts and bullies at school. “Can you see how funny I find that, Joshua? It’s really funny. The joke is almost as mature as year 5 students. Please go outside. Miss Ramirez, would you mind writing him up for that? I don’t tolerate the slander of my brother like that. Especially something as rude and large as suggesting he does drugs.”

 

The class fell into an awkward silence. Either Sara is the only one who doesn’t know, or she’s pretending she doesn’t. Most of the class has seen Simon smoking in between classes, at lunch, or after school, yet alone heard the rattling of his bag or just assumed. Simon scratched his head and didn’t look anywhere but the desk.

 

“Joshua, outside,” Miss Ramirez said. “I’m emailing your parents as we speak.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Joshua asks. “It was a joke!” He stood, grabbing his backpack and stalking out the room muttering to himself.

 

“I’m so sorry that happened, Sara,” Miss Ramirez says. “And to you too, Simon, I’m sorry. He’ll be in serious trouble for that,” she promises. 

 

Sara nods. “That’s quite alright Miss. It’s not the first time someone has said something rude like that, there’s always a few immature ones. I hope the rest of you are better than that,” Sara smiles again lightly. 

 

“We are,” Felice mumbles, glaring at where Joshua is pacing up and down, past the door. 

 

Sara smiles at her. “Wonderful. Sorry we had to bring the mood down like that. Questions, questions, questions?”

 

Stazia put her hand up.

 

“Yes, name and preferred pronouns?” 

 

“I’m Stazia and I go by she/her. So, I was wondering what your skin care routine is, or if it’s just the genetics, because you and Simon both have this flawless, glowing skin,” Stazia says, and a few kids chuckle, Sara included.

 

Simon smirks.

 

“Well, I do have a skin care routine, but it’s honestly just the basics, cleanser and moisturiser. I do my own makeup,” Sara nods. “So it must be the genetics.”

 

“Damn. Well, you are beautiful, Sara,” Stazia grins at her. “Was that an interesting question, at least?” She asks.

 

Sara laughs. “Yes, I’ve never got that before. You’re a very beautiful girl yourself, Stazia.” 

 

Wilhelm’s brain is churning. After seeing Joshua get sent out, he’s reluctant to ask any questions about Simon. Of course, Wilhelm isn’t going to ask about his drug life at home, maybe just if he did anything embarrassing as a kid.

 

Meanwhile, Henry is asking “how many houses do you own?” And Sara is laughing at him playfully. 

 

Wilhelm waits for her to answer as he settles on a question.

 

“I don't own a house, per say, but I own several apartments across Sweden, if that counts,” Sara explains. “But I did help buy my Mama a new house.” Sara nods as she speaks, standing next to Felice as she answers Henry. “It is a very nice house though. Very spacious, big backyard. Simon lives on his own floor, all secluded and teenage like."

 

“Throw lots of parties there?” Henry asks cheekily.

 

Sara laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

 

Henry snickers. 

 

Wilhelm puts his hand up and Simon actually blanches. “Wilhelm - '' he warns, turning to face him with a glare. “Put that down - '' However, it’s too late, because Sara’s noticed, and she looks villainous as she throws Simon the subtlest smirk and oh , she was definitely waiting for this. 

 

Wilhelm might cackle.

 

“Name and preferred pronouns,” Sara asks, standing in front of Wilhelm’s desk calmly.

 

“My name is Wilhelm and I go by he/him,” Wilhelm answers.

 

“Don’t talk to him,” Simon mumbled against his hands, rubbing his face as he slid down under his desk. 

 

Wilhelm can feel Felice’s smirk as Sara watches. “And what is your question for me, Wilhelm? I imagine it is something to do with Curly over there, as he’s mentioned you quite a few times over time,” Sara smiles over at Simon, who throws her the middle finger, which she professionally ignores. 

 

“Well, I was simply wanting to inquire - “

 

“Stop talkinggg - “

 

“Whether or not Simon actually puts hot sauce on his spaghetti, or if he’s a liar,” Wilhelm finishes, ignoring Simon, who shoots up right and glares at the side of Wilhelm’s head. “As he claims he does.”

 

Sara laughs and the camera flashes as Wilhelm smiles back up at her, proud of himself. Shame on that, Simon. Wilhelm hopes his sulky little face is in the corner of that photo.

 

“Yeah, it’s true.”

 

The class gasps, someone whispering something that sounds like vaguely offended Italian.

 

“Scandalous,” Madi whispers. 

 

Simon groans in annoyance.

 

“Is that true?” Wilhelm clarifies. “He does put hot sauce on his spaghetti?” 

 

Sara nods. “Yep. Every time without fail. He likes to eat almost anything with hot sauce,” she explains. "Spaghetti, mac n cheese, mince pies, nachos - "

 

“This is meant to be about you,” Simon snaps from his chair, cheeks slightly pink.

 

Sara laughs. “Thanks for the question, Wilhelm. Got any questions about me?” 

 

Wilhelm quickly racks his brain to make one up. “Yeah, obviously. Sadie deals with domestic abuse - “ Simon stiffens in his peripheral vision - “And it’s known that is something you also had to deal with, however, there’s been rumours that Sadie is actually an emotional manipulator and is the real abuser. Can you please just shut these down?” 

 

Sara’s expression changed a few times, going from amusement to serious, and then too quiet acknowledgement. “I can confirm Sadie is not an emotional manipulator and is actually the victim of domestic abuse, and not the abuser. Where did… Who came up with these rumours, dead God?” Sara laughs, but Simon stays stiff, staring ahead of himself.

 

“Twitter trolls,” Wilhelm shrugs with a small smile. 

 

“It’s called X now, don’t let Ellon hear you forgetting that,” Sara points a finger at him dramatically, waggling it.

 

Wilhelm snorts. “No of course. But I could totally take him.”

 

Sara laughs, and then she moves on. “Yes, hello. No, sorry, the person next to you. Yes - hi, haha. What’s your name and preferred pronouns, sweetie?” Sara cranes her neck to see the back of the room.

 

Wilhelm turns to see Fredrika sitting up straighter. “Hi, I’m Fredrika and I go by she/her. I don’t know if this is a sensitive question - “ Her eyes darted to Simon and then back to Sara. “ - But you’ll say if it is, right?”

 

Sara nods. “Yes. Ask away, my dear.”

 

“So, everyone knows your Dad was an addict and abused you and your family, and that because your first comic blew up you could afford to get yourself and your family out of his house, and that you guys are all okay now. But what happened to your Dad?” Fredrika asks.

 

Everyone turns to Sara and Simon. Simon watches Sara with a deadly expression that confuses Wilhelm, his eyes boring into her. Sara doesn’t miss a beat. “We have no contact with him, none of us. He was toxic and abusive, as you mentioned, and we have no room for people like that in our lives.”

 

“Is he alive?”

 

“I don’t know, sorry, Fredrika. I haven’t seen him since I moved out, but I don’t let myself worry about that. Alive or dead, he’s not allowed back into my life,” Sara explains with a firm nod. “Thank you for the question, Fredrika. And the lovely person next to you?”

 

“Hi, my names Stella and I go by she/her, and my question is related to Fredrika's,” Stella clears her throat and sits up straighter. “I heard rumours that Simon and your Mother lived separately from you once you got them out. The rumours claim that they lived with a bunch of other filthy, old people until you bought that house?”

 

The room grew tense, and Wilhelm shuffled awkwardly in his seat, watching Simon the entire time as he grew stiffer and stiffer, eyes pinned on his sister, even though Wilhelm is sure Simon knows he’s watching him closely.

 

“Okay, wow,” Sara turns to Simon. “Do you wanna, or should I?”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Simon says blatantly, turning to glare back at Stella. “They’re just rumours. Do you believe the rumours that Wilhelm and I have a secret love child?” Wilhelm recoils.

 

“There’s rumours about that - ?”

 

“I mean - “ Stella pursed her lips.

 

“No, exactly. Rumours are just rumours.”

 

“But it’s a good thing she asked,” Sara said as Simon turned grumpily to the front of the room. “Thank you for asking and busting that rumour, Stella. What is the time, Susie?” 

 

“You’ve got another half an hour,” Miss Ramirez replies. “I have a question, Sara.”

 

“Go ahead,” Sara walks back to the front of the room while she listens, her fingertips brushing over Simon’s shoulder as she walks, but he doesn’t react.

 

“Here’s one related to our learning, guys,” Miss Ramirez says pointedly. “We are all currently reading non-fiction books, and I’m aware that all your comics are fiction, but are you ever going to release a full autobiography? There’s heaps of people inspired by the small author's notes on your comics who admire you, adore you, and want to know so much more about your journey. But will you share, Sara, is the questions?”

 

Sara hums, stopping to cross one leg over the other, hands clasped behind her back. “I’m not sure. Maybe! Writing isn’t my strong suit, hence why I make comics, but I might. I mean, I’m only young, so there’s plenty of time. But in my comics, there are already many references to my life people won’t notice unless they're looking, especially in my new comic. We meet a new character, Coralie, and she is heavily based off one of my imaginary friends from my childhood.” A photo snaps as Miss Ramirez nods along, Sara smiling softly as she speaks of Coralie. 

 

“Smooth advertising,” Simon mumbles. 

 

“Let’s do a quick fire question round!” Sara beams, turning back to the class. “Think of easy yes or no questions, put your hand up, I’ll point to you and you’ll say your question, I’ll answer as fast as possible and then move on to someone else. Ready? Go! Yes.”

 

“Do we annoy you?” 

 

The class laughs. 

 

“No,” Sara chuckles. “You have very interesting and deep questions, for once. Yes?”

 

“Is there meant to be a cursed Sponge Bob in the background of Roman’s room?”

 

Sara snorts with amusement, nodding. “Yup! Did that on purpose, it’s 100% meant to be there, and I’ve seen the Tweets about it. Yes?”

 

“Does Simon have an orange scented shampoo?” 

 

Simon turns to raise his eyebrows at Wilhelm. “Why not ask me that?” He asks with amusement.

 

Wilhelm shrugged. “Don’t wanna talk to you.”

 

“Yes he does, Wilhelm. That’s hilarious,” Sara mumbles the last two words to herself. “Yes?”

 

“Are April and Sadie going to get together?” 

 

“Add another person and then you have it. Yes?” 

 

The girl who asked the questions widened, whispering frantically to her friends at the discovery. 

 

“Do the fish in Sadie’s bedroom have names?”

 

Sara laughs again. “Yeah, they’re named after Simon’s fish, but we’ll keep them anonymous for now.”

 

And Wilhelm couldn’t help but think Is Sadie, this curly haired girl who dresses in dark clothes and is broody to everyone but April, who is a victim of domestic abuse, who has fish that are based on Simon's own fish, based on Simon himself? So Wilhelm’s read all the comics, are you really going to say anything?

 

The quick fire continues and Wilhelm looks over to Simon, who is texting under his desk with a frown. 

 

“Uh - “ Simon stands up sharply, grabbing Jenny’s arm to pull them away from the class into a corner, whispering and showing them the screen. “Mama … Sara … Phone … Her?” Is all Wilhelm heard, Simon whispering words in between. 

 

Everyone else is distracted watching Sara walk around and answer questions in her bubbly, excitable way that’s just contagious, but Wilhelm's attention has been pulled away.

 

Jenny shakes their head, and points outside. Wilhelm tries to read their lips, but fails.

 

Simon turns back to the class, and his eyes catch Wilhelm’s, and for a moment his walls are still down, clearly not expecting Wilhelm to be watching, and Wilhelm wants to erase the terrified look on Simon’s face, the vulnerability and stress in his eyes, the sharp set on his mouth, the tight grip on his phone. Then Simon’s eyes are off Wilhelm and on his sister, firm, like nothing happened, walls blocking the emotions from shining through his deep, dark eyes.

 

“Sara,” Simon says firmly to get her attention.

 

“Wait your turn - “

 

“Sara,” Simon repeats. “Come here for a moment.” 

 

Sara pauses. “Can it not wait, Simon?” Her voice carries vague irritation, but she’s still smiling.

 

“Abos - fucking - lutly not,” Simon snaps, and then stalks right out the room. “Yo, Rocky, do you have her phone? Thanks.” Simon must be talking to Smashable Bodyguard with the box which probably has comics. 

 

Sara sighs. “Sorry, guys, I’ll be right back. Talk amongst yourselves, when I come back we’re going to play a game to win some comics.” Sara flies out the door behind Jenny with a guilty smile at Mrs Ramirez.

 

Wilhelm squints, straining his ears to hear, as the rest of the class is, but Simon bursts back in, grabs his bag, and slams the door behind himself, only shooting Wilhelm a slightly distressed look as he passes in a flurry of orange scented shampoo.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Sara and Simon never return. Headmistress Lilja shows up twenty minutes later to announce that a family matter came up, but Sara left enough comics for everyone, wanting to give them away as a surprise at the end of the class. Clearly, Sara just wanted to up her engagement with the class by bribing them with books she was planning to give them all anyway, classic.

 

Wilhelm can see a few disappointed faces, as clearly several people had more questions or wanted to chat to her after class, but Wilhelm just has the big one: What family matter just happened to cause Simon to look so scared, and drag Sara away from her work that she clearly loves? What is so bad that Simon can’t see the rest of the school day out, and that Sara can’t come to explain herself?

 

For that reason, her name is now being dragged through the dirt and back around Hillerksa’s halls. 

 

“She was supposed to stay all the way till dinner,” one girl claimed as they filed out to go to Maths. “She was going to eat with us and trade gossip.” Yeah right . Wilhelm didn’t speak up. Would Simon do it if Erik was being trash talked? No. Exactly.

 

“She probably had one of those Autistic meltdowns because no one was actually paying attention to her,” Joshua is saying as everyone bustles into Geography to one of his friends.

 

“I bet Simon caused some drama and they’re trying to cover it up as we speak.” A more harmless statement Wilhelm heard as he took his seat at the lunch silently.

 

“Did you see the way Simon treated the photographer? No respect! He couldn’t even pull his shit together for his own celebrity sister! He thinks he can get away with all that crap just because she’s a bit famous.” Clearly they’ve never seen a friendship between a young adult and a 16 year old before. They also clearly haven’t done their research on Sara, because a bit famous is a severe understatement. 

 

“I heard someone spray painted a slur onto the car they arrived in.” “No, did you not see Sara on the phone as they got in the car? She looked like she was in shock.” “She looked angry.” “But what about Simon’s expression! Dude was about to piss himself!” The girls who were gossiping at the back of their PE class cackled.

 

Is this how people are behind Wilhelm’s back? Trash talking him for this kind of thing? He's never ran out of an interview or public event before, but there's still plenty to hate him for, trust him, he could name a few.

 

Wilhelm is tempted to text Simon and ask what happened, but he doesn’t have any of Simon’s socials, or his number. You know who does have Simon’s number? August. But Wilhelm can only imagine those texts with Simon. “Hey, so I know you deal to August because he confirmed it even though you’re in denial so I asked for your number and he gave it to me, so I’m basically just asking what was the "family matter" that caused you and Sara to ditch in first period? Hope everything is well xoxoxoxoxo.” And Simon’s reply would probably be “ I don’t sell drugs wdym??? ” Definitely with too many question marks.

 

Wilhelm makes it through the rest of the day without hearing any more slander of Sara and Simon - key word being he doesn't hear it, since spends the his entire even doing homework or studying, before settling down around 10 pm to read the new comic he’s gotten today, guilty because he is yet to finish his advanced, optional history worksheet from Mr Grady, but too excited to focus. Not even an hour later he's forcing himself to throw the comic aside and do homework.

 

~ Tuesday ~

Wilhelm threw himself into the seat next to Simon before Alex could take that place. Alex froze with a frown, staring down at Wilhelm with a face that rivals the confused expression Simon had when Wilhelm offered him gum once (which was a mistake, because Simon took three pieces and stuck them all under the desk).

 

Wilhelm opened his mouth to defend his impulsive, not very well thought out decision, when Alex threw his hands up in surrender.

 

“Hey, I’m not complaining." Alex walked past to sit next to a stunned look Felice at a desk a row back back and across the aisle, sitting down like he’d won the lottery, grinning smugly over at Wilhelm like he hadn't done this voluntarily.

 

Wilhelm only caught a glimpse of Felice's slightly hurt expression, before he was turning himself to the lump that is Simon Eriksson. Simon is doing his whole “I’m fucking dead because who gives students maths first period on a Tuesday, and then claims they like their students?” (“Simon, no one says they like you.” “And people only say that to you because your name means something.” “Touche. But your name means something and people are still don’t like you.”)

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm whispered, poking Simon’s arm.

 

He’s currently face down on his desk with his arms folded underneath his forehead, the long, curling locks of brown hair falling around his head to hide all of his face. Today, Simon’s slim body is adorned in baggy, black, shorts with ripped edges that reach his knees, a black shirt for another band Wilhelm doesn’t know, or care about, and, of course, his stupid Converse. 

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm pushed his shoulder more aggressively than before, jolting Simon a few inches, but he just rocked back into position, shuffled around a bit and went still.

 

Wilhelm poked his arm again.

 

Simon grunted out weakly in reply.

 

Wilhelm hesitated, glancing around the room to confirm no one is watching. Everyone is too distracted talking with their friends or being anti social, and the rest of the class isn't even here yet. Wilhelm threw himself onto his desk next to Simon, looking over at him, the wood of his desk cold against his cheek as he stares at his arm.

 

“Siiiimoonn,” Wilhelm whispered again, and then he blew a stream of air at Simon’s hair, just to disturb him more and because it's kinda funny.

 

“Oh my fucking Jesus,” Simon turned his head to glare at Wilhelm, his eyes immediately going higher than Wilhelm actually is. “Oh. Hello down there,” Simon said, his glare drifting for a moment as he realised Wilhelm is literally cheek down on this desk just to talk to him. He decided awhile ago he'd lost his mind, but this really just confirms it.

 

“Good morning,” Wilhelm replied with a smile.

 

Simon scowled back. “The fuck you want?”

 

Wilhelm sighed and sat up properly, cracking his spine in the process.

 

Simon followed slowly, still watching Wilhelm with confusion. “Why are you sitting next to me right now? It's kind of freaking me the fuck out, to be honest.” 

 

“Please,” Wilhelm turned to Simon, folding his arms across his chest and cocking his head. “As if you don’t know why I’m here right now.”

 

“Aww,” Simon suddenly grinned at him, mimicking his cocked head with his over done smile. “It’s because you love me, isn’t it?” He winked obnoxiously, and Wilhelm pursed his lips.

 

“Right, well, anyway,” Wilhelm shuffled around in his chair to brush those words away, giving himself a small shake. ANyway. “Anyway...Still up to be tutored this afternoon?” Wilhelm asked Simon. Start off small.

 

“No. I’m busy,” Simon said, twirling a curl around his finger, staring blankly at the whiteboard. But he doesn’t look particularly happy about this, and also, for someone who claims he hates school, he sure does sit at the front of the room a lot.

 

“Can I guess why you’re busy?” Wilhelm asked instead of getting angry that he’s skipping tutoring again. Wilhelm isn’t hurt by the action of being ditched, he’s just … Why would Simon bother if he’s not even going to show up? That’s all.

 

“No - “

 

“Are you hanging out with Marcus this afternoon, by any chance?” Wilhelm asked, clasping his hands in his lap and watching Simon’s expression darken, eyes slowly meeting Wilhelm’s.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Simon snapped back harshly.

 

Oh. Well, this wasn’t the intention. “Nothing. Just … guessing,” Wilhelm shrugged it off, trying to drop the bad energy. “I’m sure you guys will have fun.”

 

Simon was silent, squinting at Wilhelm like he’s trying to figure something out, trying to see the truth Wilhelm is hiding behind a polite smile, watching Simon back. “You don’t like him, do you?” Simon asked blatantly, cocking his head to the side, serious this time.

 

Oh, whoops. Maybe his polite smile isn’t as solid as he thought. It wouldn't surprise him if Simon saw through his fakeness, his smile is even more plastic when he even tries to pretend. “My opinion doesn’t matter. We aren’t friends.”

 

Simon’s face twitched, then he shrugged. “My friend’s don't seem to like him either, but I still don’t care,” Simon admitted.

 

Wilhelm frowned. “Why don’t they like Marcus?” Wilhelm inquired, trying to not sound as curious as he is.

 

Simon pursed his lips, eyes flicking around the room, memories clearly pooling in his skull, deep in his mind. “They just don’t know him like I do.”

 

“Cheesy,” Wilhelm mumbled, and Simon smirked.

 

“I love him soooo muchh - “ Simon started to saw.

 

“Ew - “

 

“He’s my favourite person on this Earth . I’d die for him - “

 

Stooop - “

 

The bell rang sharply, cutting Simon off and Wilhelm was relieved. He’s had friends who like to talk about their partners, but Wilhelm normally just blocks it out or ignores them, because, personally, he would never gush about a partner like that. It’s so embarrassing. It's so cringe! Like, no one else cares that you're partner is the most adorable person when they talk about their Nana, or they also love chocolate chip cookies under cooked so it's still chewy and just - Shut up. And NO, I'm not jealous, because that's fucking stupid. People tell him they felt the same and it changed for them when they fell in love, but Wilhelm doubts it'll happen to him. He'll probably end up marrying for his imagine and not his heart either way.

 

Mr Englund bustled into the room with his suit and overpowering cologne and the class rose to greet him automatically, before taking their seats once they had greeted him.

 

This is progress though! Wilhelm managed to avoid an argument with the infamous and antagonistic Simon Eriksson! For the first time! These are real milestones being hit right here and now, pics or a it didn't happen kinda jazz.

 

Mr Englund announced that they will be having an easy lesson today, as he’s a bit tired - which caused some quiet whispering and snickers across the classroom, because Wilhelm shares a roof with some immature neanderthals - so they’re going to be doing maths revision Blookets. 

 

This caused excitement to ripple across the classroom, as, despite it being several weeks into school, they are yet to use Blooket. Wilhelm is personally quite proud of his tokens in Blooket, and he’d be willing to bet an entire school week in bed with no technology or messanger to tell him the work they did in class that he has the most tokens of anyone in the class.

 

Simon, however, seems less than pleased, huffing and sliding down in his desk while everyone bustles around to grab their Laptops out to join the Blooket Mr Englund just put on the projector, the race to be the first name on the screen vital and completely reasonable.

 

Wilhelm, of course, was the first one in, setting his name as "Wilhelm"

 

“Willes panties” joined the Blooket, and caused Mr Englund to go on a short rant about using proper names and not butchering or mocking royalty. It was Joshua’s friend who joined as that, in case that wasn't a given.

 

Wilhelm glanced over at Simon’s screen right as Mr Englund was about to click the start button, and saw him slap enter with his name set as “Wilhelm,”. A comma at the end so he could get away with it. Maybe he isn't entirely stupid.

 

Wilhelm turned sharply to scowl over at Simon. He honestly should’ve been expecting that. Because of the late join, Mr Englund didn’t even notice, nor did anyone else, but it shouldn’t be a problem, because the real Wilhelm will be at the top of the leader board and Fake Wilhelm With A Comma will be somewhere around the bottom. Not to be rude to Simon, but, like, Wilhelm knows where he stands academically; he tutors the guy (the two times he showed up, and then left halfway through)

 

It wasn’t too bad for Wilhelm. He heard more than a few angry curses from people clicking the wrong chest and for being robbed. More than once Wilhelm was swapped from first place by others, only to work his way back up quickly. He hates to brag, but he's just that good.

 

With about two minutes till the game ends, Simon’s phone buzzed on the table in between the pair. On instinct, Wilhelm’s eyes strayed from his screen to the glowing, shattered screen and read “Marcus” as the contact, his eyes snapping away instantly.

 

Simon instantly ditched the game and scooped up his phone without hesitation just as someone called out “The fuck? Wilhelm how did you swap me for your hundred if you’re at the top of the leader board?” 

 

“It’s not me,” Wilhelm defended, turning back to reply to one of the guys Henry and Walter are friendly with.

 

He laughed boldly, hunched over and clicking away madly, barely sparing Wilhelm a glance. “That’s hilarious. Who is it?”

 

Wilhelm nodded his head at Simon before turning back to his winning Blooket to see Felice swapped him with one minute to go.

 

“Felice!” Wilhelm shrieked elegantly while frantically clicking, swapping himself with Alex, who is second place the second he got the chance, Felice cackling maniacally while Alex yells at Wilhelm.

 

Everyone is screaming or yelling or having given up and is texting as the game comes to an end with a stressful flourish, Mr Englund frantically trying to get everyone to calm down to no success. Someone stands up and demands a rematch, even though it hasn't finished yet. Simon is one of those texter’s, sitting in his seat, feet kicked out, scowling as he types out a short message and puts his phone down.

 

“Are you still free to tutor?” Simon asked as he reaches over to Wilhelm’s computer and clicks the wrong answer on the touch screen.

 

Wilhelm yelps and slaps his hand away, right before the round ended and he got put as first place seconds later.

 

“You think I made a plan in the 10 minutes we weren’t talking?” Wilhelm retaliates with an amused smirk, before standing to go get his reward from Mr Englund when Simon just rolled his eyes. Alex and Jane follow Wilhelm to get a Fruit Burst that Wilhelm doesn’t really want, but ate just for the show.

 

“Did Marcus cancel then?” Wilhelm asked as he sat down to find Simon Googling porn on Wilhelm’s computer.

 

Wilhelm slammed the computer on his fingers, causing Simon to snap them away before he could get crushed and shattered with a fast fading smirk.

 

Simon sniffed, wiping his nose as his eyes flicker to his screen, placed as 26, AKA, last place, then his quiet phone. “Blew me off to hangout behind a fucking grocery shop and get high as fuck with some old fuck heads,” Simon replied shortly, clearly frustrated with his boyfriend.

 

Wilhelm’s brows raised in surprise. Marcus didn’t strike Wilhelm as that kinda guy, he never thought of Simon as the bad boy and Marcus the good boy, because Marcus isn’t a good guy, not in Wilhelm’s eyes, and Simon isn’t entirely the bad guy either.

 

The class has now moved onto gossiping and suggesting Blooket ideas to Mr Englund as they wait for him to pick a new one.  

 

“Not the first time?” Wilhelm said to Simon, trying to sound casual.

 

Simon let out a harsh, sarcastic chuckle, and while he didn’t verbally answer, that was all the confirmation Wilhelm needed. Wilhelm pursed his lips in response, buy Simon just shrugged, looking back to the white board as Mr Englund scrolls.

 

And… And Wilhelm feels bad. Simon isn’t the most amazing person on the Earth by any stretch of the imagination, but he still doesn’t deserve a boyfriend who would cancel their evenings plans after Simon cancels his own plans just to ditch him to get high, and his educational plans at that, which is debatably more important than any romantic plans. Just to get to a state of mind he may not even remember Simon. Simon doesn’t deserve that. 

 

“Hey,” Wilhelm turned to face Simon even more full on, one arm resting on his desk and the other across the back of his own chair, legs towards Simon.

 

Simon turned back to him, still looking unhappy, frowning. “What?”

 

“Do you want to do something else this afternoon?” Wilhelm asks before he can talk himself out of it, cocking his head at Simon.

 

“Like what?” Simon asks, lifting one of his legs to turn his body to face Wilhelm, resting his chin on his knee, arms wrapped around the shin.

 

Wilhelm shrugs. 

 

“Well,” Simon starts slowly. Wilhelm raises his brows. “My friend has a football game tonight that we could go to. Ayub will be there as well.” He said it cautiously, as if afraid Wilhelm would laugh, and, well, that’s fair. They definitely aren’t friends, but this is a domestic thing, isn’t it? Inviting someone to your friend's football game? 

 

Wilhelm ponders as Mr Englund finally chooses a new Blooket, this time on flags around the world. “Could Felice come?” Wilhelm asks as he enters himself into the Blooket with a quiet smirk.

 

“Sure, I guess,” Simon shrugs, angling his computer away from Wilhelm as he enters, surely as “Wilhelm” again. “Her and Ayub are going to take over the world one day,” Simon sighs, before straightening his computer, and glancing at Wilhelm's. He does a double take. “Nice name,” he commented with a burst of genuine and surprised laughter.

 

Wilhelm grins in response, looking over at his screen where he’s entered as “Simon”, and Simon is in the game as “Wilhelm”. “This’ll be funny,” Wilhelm chuckles as Mr Englund begins the Blooket.

 

“Fuck yeah,” Simon offers Wilhelm a fist bump, which he returns without looking, to busy getting Simon a win.

 

~ ~ ~

 

In PE Felice drags Wilhelm to the side while everyone else is swarming to grab basketballs, as today they’re getting to mess around with basketballs on the courts for an hour straight. Honestly, his PE teacher is so lazy some days. Not that he's complaining! 

 

Wilhelm goes willingly, frowning slightly at the confusion on her face. “What’s wrong?” He asks as she stops and stares up at him with a troubled expression.

 

Felice blinks at him obnoxiously. “What’s wrong with you ?” She asks instead.

 

“I’m not following… Is it Simon?”

 

“Yes!” Felice blurts sharply, smoothing a hand over her curly hair as the gentle breeze blows it around her face. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you because in English he was right in front of us. You two haven’t shown any hostility since the first period started, and I’m concerned. Is he threatening you? Did you bribe him? Has he been swapped out with a fake? What drugs is he on - “

 

“Felice,” Wilhelm laughs, glancing over at Simon, who is sitting with a ball in his lap on the ground cross-legged, rubbing a stick on the footpath leading up to the courts while the teacher watches with a slight frown, marking the role. “It’s, Marcus was being a prick - “

 

“As per usual.”

 

“Yeah, so I asked if he wanted to do something fun tonight after tutoring, and he suggested going to his friend's football match. And you’re coming, by the way, because I still don’t trust him to not slit my throat behind a shed, or just lie entirely and sell me to the press,” Wilhelm trailed off, lying. He feels a bit guilty for saying he thinks Simon would sell him out to the press, because he doesn't believe that, not at all, but he just feels like he needs to prove they still aren't friends. “Anyway.”

 

“So you’re friends?” Felice asked slowly. 

 

“No,” Wilhelm said all to quickly. “Definitely not. I still haven’t forgiven him for that detention, and everything else he did, but I feel bad for how shoddy Marcus treats him.”

 

Felice stares at him with an unreadable expression, before sighing heavily, like a Mother caving in to her child's demands. “Alright. Okay. Is Ayub going to be there?”

 

Wilhelm laughs, turning towards the bag of basketballs and beginning to make his way across the court towards it, Felice by his side. “Yes. We’re going to watch Simon’s friend at the match. We’ll take a bus there after Simon and I finish tutoring.”

 

“Damn, really got this all planned,” Felice commented as Wilhelm grabbed a ball, bouncing it over to her.

 

“I’m going to text Minou at lunch to make sure I can go out, and then we’ll have to ask our Housemasters for permission at some point. Likely lunch as well. Then we’ll have everything planned,” Wilhelm corrects. Felice bounces it back.

 

“Do you wanna play with Simon?” Felice asked as Wilhelm bounces it to her again.

 

Wilhelm glances over at Simon, who is still rubbing the stick on the ground with a furrowed brow. “It looks as if he’s making a spear.” Wilhelm observes. “Concerning. But not surprising.” 

 

“Hey, Simon!” Felice walks right past Wilhelm towards the spear creating twat without hesitation.

 

Simon looks up sharply, body drowning in his oversized PE clothes again, hair twisted into a knot on top of his head, revealing yet another hickey just above his collarbone. It looks as if his shirt has ridden down to reveal it - Simon must have been covering it. “What?” Simon asks Felice, stopping his stick-sharpening movement to squint up at her.

 

“What are you doing?” Felice asks, stopping in front of him.

 

Wilhelm goes to her side, frowning at the slightly pointed end Simon is now jabbing into Wilhelm’s shin. “Ouch,” he kicks at Simon’s hand, and he pulls it back.

 

“Survival skills,” Simon says casually.

 

“Simon, don’t poke others!” Miss Myles calls.

 

“Sounds like something she'd say to preschoolers,” Wilhelm says with a chuckle.

 

Simon snorts.

 

Felice blinks in surprise. “Well, anyway. We aren’t at school camp, Simon, so you don’t need to learn how to make a spear. Plus, you seem to have it aced anyway, so let's play catch or something.”

 

“No,” was all Simon said, testing his stick's sharpness on Wilhelm’s shin again before he could step away.

 

“Ow - yes, it’s sharp, Simon, Jesus,” Wilhelm finally takes a precautionary step back, glancing over to see if Miss Myles saw - she didn’t. “Come play catch like we’re seven years old's, again. Relive childhood memories!”

 

“I don’t really enjoy games with fast moving dangerous things,” Simon grumbles to the floor. “That are being thrown at me at high velocities. Or childhood memories.” 

 

Wilhelm was about to make a joke about Simon knowing what a “high velocity” is, when his brain jumped to a new thought process. “Why?” He asks in what he hopes it a gentle voice.

 

Felice side eyes him with a look that says she’s on the same brain wave.

 

“You were fine with dodge ball, which is literally exactly fast moving dangerous things being thrown at you at high velocities,” Wilhelm said. 

 

“Memories have resurfaced and it’s kinda not my jam right now,” Simon replied shortly without looking up, still sharpening his stick, voice cold and ever so slightly shaky. He grated the stick more aggressively.

 

“Simon and Sara’s Dad was an abusive drug and alcohol addict.” Family emergency. “Memories have been resurfaced.” “Not my jam right now.” Simon, your family emergency wouldn’t happen to have been something to do with your ex abusive Dad who Sara claimed on Monday neither of you had any contact with, saying you guys aren’t even sure if he’s alive? 

 

But Wilhelm just can’t bring himself to ask that. Suddenly, Simon looks so small curled around the ball in his lap, sharpening a stick, his “survival skills” seem almost like a way of self defence in the new light Wilhelm see’s things through.

 

Felice looks at Wilhelm and shrugs. “Okay then. See ya,” Felice turns and walks away and Wilhelm follows quietly but quickly.

 

“His Dad,” Felice says, grabbing Wilhelm’s arm when Simon’s out of earshot.

 

“I think so too,” Wilhelm agree’s instantly, taking the ball from her to bounce anxiously.

 

“Do you think he died?” Felice asked, crossing her arms and glancing at Simon.

 

“Wouldn’t he have stayed off school for longer?” Wilhelm replied, bouncing the ball really high to catch.

 

Felice shrugs, going grabby hands for the ball. “Doesn’t seem like the type of guy to need to take a break. Made of steel and all that,” Felice says, catching the ball Wilhelm throws to her. “Watch the nails, babe.”

 

Wilhelm chuckles. “Sorry, my bad.”

 

“When can I paint your nails?” Felice asks, throwing the ball back, causing Wilhelm to back up a few steps to catch.

 

“Uhh - “

 

“I’ll only go tonight if you let me paint your nails while you and Simon aren’t doing any studying,” Felice bribed, putting her hands on her hips definitively. “You would look so pretttyyyy - “ She began to coo.

 

“Okay, okay, fine,” Wilhelm felt his cheeks heat slightly, throwing the ball at her. He’s always been curious about nail polish, but when he asked his parents for some around age 10, they blatantly refused and immediately took him for a hair cut. At the time he’d just thought “oh well, guess my hair was long”. But now it makes him sad. Wilhelm is content with being a boy, he feels comfortable as a dude, but he would feel prettier with nail polish. Maybe he could ask to try on a dress one day with Felice.

 

He’ll have to take off the polish before the short holidays in a few weeks though, his parents can’t see him with nail polish or a dress. Ever.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Ding dong!” Felice throws the bedroom door open after knocking a miller second earlier, carrying a little jewellery box looking thing that’s clear, displaying all the different colours of nail polish. “I’m here, bitches!”

 

Simon raises his eyebrows at her from where he has situated himself under Wilhelm’s desk, having kicked the chair out, curled up over some science homework. Wilhelm is sitting against his bed with his legs straight out, typing up a short response to a paper they read in geography today. 

 

“Hello to you too,” Wilhelm said as Felice slammed the door and threw herself onto the floor next to Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm did tell Simon Felice was coming, but he still looks slightly startled, frowning at the nail polish container. Wilhelm didn’t tell him what she was coming to do. Simon wears nail polish, granted, it is black, which is a gender-less kind of colour, while pink is more feminine and blue is more masculine, stereo typically, that is. Wilhelm personally thinks "fuck it they are colours, so who cares?" He has a few pairs of pink or purple boxers, so what? His penis isn’t going to fall off and he isn’t growing boobs. 

 

He might also be jumpscared as they had been sitting in a relaxed silence, focused on work, the only sound pencil scratches and the keys clacking. It’s relaxing. And rare.

 

“What colour?” Felice asks, throwing open the gel plastic nail polish bag, lined with colourful, small bottles with carrying levels of fullness. “I think that this dark blue would look good with most of your outfits, but whatever you want, babe.”

 

Wilhelm slowly put his laptop down, looking over the nail polish, all too aware of Simon’s curious eyes on him.

 

“Um,” Wilhelm scratched his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, unsure.

 

Simon slid out from under the desk, crawling onto to sit on his knee’s with Wilhelm and Felice. Wilhelm watched him anxiously as his own painted finger nails flicked over Felice’s collection delicately. “I think this one,” Simon picked out a light blue colour, placing it to the side with a shrug. “But whatever you’re comfortable with,” he slid back under the desk silently.

 

Felice gave Wilhelm a loaded look he didn’t understand, picking up the colour Simon choose with a confused expression at Felice, causing her to sigh heavily.

 

“This one?” She asked.

 

Wilhelm took a deep breath, and then nodded. 

 

Felice grinned. “Alrighty. Aww, I’m so excited. You’ve never let me paint your nails before. You’re going to look so cute,” Felice rambled as she grabbed his hand, placing it on a cloth on her knee, shaking the bottle. “You have very soft hands, Wilhelm. Do you use a hand cream?”

 

“No,” Wilhelm replied with a smile.

 

“Hmm. Good genetics. Jealous.” She opened the bottle, wiping the brush on the inside lip, before placing it on Wilhelm’s right thumb carefully, swiping down to colour it blue. Wilhelm watched as she worked carefully, not getting any polish on his cuticles of fingers, all while talking to ease his nerves. Sometimes her rambling does make him a bit more anxious, it can cloud his thoughts, but he knows Felice is only trying to make him relax.

 

“So today at lunch Casey asks the Housemother if she and Mr Englund were dating, and she got really defensive,” Felice is saying as she starts on his other hand. Wilhelm admires the glistening blue on his right hand while she does his left. He grins at it. “So now we are all really suspicious. And you know how Mr Englund was tired this morning? Our Housemother woke up late today,” Felice tutted. “They aren’t leaving bread crumbs, they’re leaving entire loaves.”

 

Simon chuckled along to Felice’s stories, while Wilhelm watched his hands with a soft smile. He feels prettier. 

 

“Do you like it?” Simon asked Wilhelm, and his gaze snapped up to Simon, who is watching with a soft expression that makes Wilhelm’s smile grow, warming his insides.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s so cute,” Felice cooed, letting his hand go and putting the nail polish back with a big grin.

 

“I feel pretty,” Wilhelm whispered before he could help himself, staring down at his nails. He immediately felt embarrassed, his mind instantly jumping to remind him handsome. You’re handsome. Not pretty.

 

“You look pretty,” Simon replied immediately, voice quiet, almost as if it was simply a thought that slipped through the filter he speaks in. Wilhelm looked up to catch his expression, but Simon’s back to his homework, fast as lightning, expressionless, his face shadowed from the desk, but maybe slightly pinker. Or is Wilhelm making that up - “Anyway, what else can I add to an essay to make it more convincing?”

 

“Um,” Wilhelm replied quietly. “Statistics? Facts to support your topic, basically.”

 

“Hmm, okay…”

 

“Can I keep this?” Wilhelm found himself asking Felice.

 

Please do! Please rub it all on your Mother’s sexist, homophobic face! Sorry, too far. Yeah, you can keep it babe.”

Notes:

Can I just say, I don't think gushing about your partner is cringe or whatever, I actually think it's extremely cute and it makes me jealous, even with a girlfriend, but we're going through shit so it's kinda not as sweet as it was, and we definitely don't gush anymore but ANYWAY, THATS JUST WILHELMS BRAIN.

Also aren't they cute awwaghljkasfjskldfjslkfj, Felice, my love <3 GUYS, guys, guyssss they're bonding. I know, I've been keeping you waiting, so have nail polish evolved fluff and Simon forgetting he doesn't like Wilhelm

Guys I'm so tired, I crave sleep.

Next chapter will basically just be their trip to Rosh's game and a bit more ;) Thank you for all your lovely, beautiful comments, school and life is really tough on me right now so they keep me going, thank you. I love forgetting how to socialise and being unable to focus the second I need both those basic human abilities haha, love you guys <3

Chapter 7: Rudolph, Mate

Summary:

Singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs
With a boom box blaring as we're falling in love
I got a bottle of whatever, but it's gettin' us drunk
Singing "Here's to never growing up"
We'll be running down the streets, yelling "Kiss my ass"
I'm like yeah whatever, we're still living like that
When the sun's going down, we'll be raising our cups
Singing "Here's to never growing up"
- Here's to Never Growing Up, by Avril Lavigne (guys I forgot about this song and my jaw dropped when I heard it (i still know all the lyrics help - ))

 

My football field scene..... One of many <3

Notes:

babe when i tell you I crrrieed.

So, I'll tell you what happened quickly. Motivation has been dead to me since school started, like two weeks ago it came to me, so I wrote. I closed my laptop to go hang up some washing and in the 7ish minutes I was away my dumb ass fucking laptop died, and your girl forgot to save it to drafts <3 Then a week later, once I finished mourning, I tried to write again I did! I rewrote everything I lost, then went to go grab a snack, came back and forgot what I'd been doing so restarted my laptop without opening it to give the screen a clean. I lost all progress again.

 

On a brighter note, I made a playlist for this ff! The account is under my online name so I'm not doxing myself ahahahah lols.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
I'll probably edit it all the time because I'm #indesivie and I like to spice things up

I kind of hate this chapter, so I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations, as it's a bit shorter than normal.

Enjoy <33

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ ~ ~

 

"It's like the world doesn't want us to go to this game, or something," Simon huffs, glaring at the construction sign Wilhelm, Felice and he are currently staring up at. "Seriously, what the fuck did we ever do to wrong this planet?" He glances at Wilhelm and Felice. "What did you two ever do to wrong the plane - oh, I bet it was those fucking private jets, with all their shitty carbon emissions fucking up the atmosphere. Mother Nature is taking revenge with the form of modernising Bjärstad."

 

"That is the vibes I'm getting, yes," Wilhelm agrees, sighing heavily.

 

First, their bus missed the stop at a petrol station they were going to get off at, so they had to get off at the next stop. Then three girls recognised Wilhelm, followed by recognising Simon as "that boy who lit his old school on fire!", and then Felice, just as an influencer. They insisted on taking photos, which isn't an issue, it's just that they wouldn't stop talking for nearly 10 minutes straight, so Simon recommended they take a detour he hadn't been down in a while to save time and they ran into blocked roads. 

 

"Should've Ubered," Felice tuts, turning on her heel to walk the other way, back up the street they'd just spent the last 10 minutes meandering down, only to turn the last corner and be stumped.

 

Simon spits at the sign blocking the footpath, the worker a few meters away frowns at him. They're doing construction on this entire side of the road, so they have those coordinators to let the cars go in a pattern through the single side of the road, with the footpaths blocked as well. Wilhelm grabs Simon's arm and drags him away, trying to not laugh at his childlike antics, which should be repulsive, but it's just kind of funny because of how petty it is.

 

"It's fine, we'll go around," Wilhelm shrugs, letting go of Simon's wrist. "Just tell Ayub we ran into some problems. Several problems. It's a good thing we left early, though, right? We made a good decision," Wilhelm nods. "Let's stay positive."

 

Simon laughs, shaking his head as he types out a text. "Let's stay positive," he mumbles. "No thanks."

 

Wilhelm nudges him. "No, positivity for the win, and I have an idea." Simon perks up instantly, Felice stopping to let the boys catch up. Wilhelm stops their walking. "See? Positive thinking for the win - "

 

"What's your idea?" Simon asks impatiently. "We're already 15 minutes later, Rosh is probably missing us terribly."

 

"Mmmhmm, anyway. My idea - and don't hate on me, okay? I've never done this before. My idea is to go over to those people, and just explain who we are, and what we're doing, and beg them to let us through. Easy peasy." Wilhelm inwardly cringes. He doesn't feel good about it, he's told Simon before he rarely uses his title to his benefit, but, well, it does have its benefits, and this is generally harmless, there's a small section of road coned off for the workers to walk us and down, which they could use. It would be out of the way. What if they say no? Wilhelm is already regretting this.

 

Simon grins maliciously, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I fear I may be corrupting you, dear Wille," he says, slinging an arm around Wilhelm's shoulder and grinning up at him, dark eyes glinting in the dim street lamps and car headlights, the sun nearly fully set by now, the rest of Hillerska is probably eating dinner about now, or just finishing.

 

Wilhelm flushes. "No, I'm just being smart and tactical." 

 

"So, what's our lie?" Felice asks, rubbing her hands together conspiritorly. 

 

"We'll bullshit as we go, like an improv game in drama," Simon says, turning to the workers, one of which is eyeing them suspiciously. Wilhelm can't blame them. They look like they're scheming, and they are. 

 

"What?" Wilhelm looks at Simon. "I never took drama."

 

"Ah, I forget you two went to preppy fucking, stick-up-your-ass schools."

"They taught drama, we just didn't take it," Felice shrugs. "Wasn't my cup of - Oh my God, you were a gay drama and choir student! Simon! Did you take art?"

 

Simon glares at her.

 

"Oh my God! You are such a stereotype, that's amazing, that's hilarious, little twink," Felice snickers. 

 

"Guys, focus! We're already late. We'll "improv" it then," Wilhelm nods, grabbing Felice and Simon's arms to shake them. "Let's go, lying and stuff, we got this."

 

"Relax, you look so suspicious right now," Simon says, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go." He turns and walks over to the construction worker who had watched him spit. Wilhelm regrets it already. What if they call the police on them and they get taken to prison and never get to see Rosh's game, or the light of day? Okay, that's a little dramatic ... But what if his parents ground him at Hillerksa for the rest of the term? What if the worker says no and they are so late to the game, Ayub is just mad at them, and Wilhelm makes a bad first impression with Rosh? He'll feel like shit, this was meant to be a distracting evening for Simon but now they're 3 seconds away from trouble.

 

"Hello," Simon greets, grabbing Wilhelm's arm so he's standing directly next to him. He gulps as the worker's eyes pause on him, recognition flashing through his face. "My name is Simon, and this is Wilhelm, and Felice," Simon points to them in turn.

 

"I know who you are," the man says, pointing a fat finger at Wilhelm's face. Simon's grip on his wrist tightens, and Wilhelm isn't sure he knows he's doing it. 

 

"Hi," Wilhelm says, voice cracking embarrassingly. He clears his throat. "Hello, uh, we - "

 

"Would you mind if we walked down this road to get to Wilhelm's best friend's last-ever football match? She's moving away tomorrow - "

 

"To London!" Wilhelm blurts, nodding, and then shaking his head. "I'll miss her - him, I'll miss them so much." He hangs his head and wills himself not to burst into tears. Maybe that would help... Hmm, he should've taken drama.

 

"Yeah, he's so distressed about it," Simon wraps his arm around Wilhelm's shoulders, patting the side of his head, making him blink with every pat. "He's going to miss her terribly, and the match ends in - " Simon clicks on his phone. "25 minutes! Oh my goodness gracious! We're sooo late guys!" He looks from Felice to Wilhelm.

 

"So late," Wilhelm adds weakly. "I don't want to miss it, sir."

 

"Sorry, so," Simon shakes himself. Felice snorts and covers it with a cough, shaking her head sadly. "We need to get there, and it's just at the other end of his road, but we go around it'll take another 20 minutes, and she might be gone by then!"

 

"Can't you just see her off at the airport?" The man says, frowning at them, eyes mostly glued to Wilhelm. Simon squeezes his shoulders as if he can feel the anxiety radiating off him right now. He probably can. He's sweating in his coat.

 

"No, because she's leaving early in the morning tomorrow, like, 3 AM, and we all have school tomorrow - "

 

"A test!" Wilhelm blurts out.

 

Simon nods. "Yup, an exam tomorrow, so we can't miss it. Please, if we could go through this street, right now, that would be great. Really great. Spectacular even - "

 

"We'll be super quick and we won't touch anything," Wilhelm nods, meeting the man's eyes for a split second.

 

"We can give you guys a tip?" Felice offers.

 

For a moment, the man stares at them, clearly considering his options. Simon keeps his arm around Wilhelm, who watches the man like he might explode with yelling at any second. Wilhelm finds himself leaning into Simon. It's colder than he was expecting, but Simon radiates warmth right now,  it's too tempting. 

 

His walkie-talkie buzzes, and he picks it off his belt to listen. The cars stream past steadily, almost all staring at the teens as they pass, lights bright. "Right, I got three teens, one of them is Prince Wilhelm ... Yeah, of Sweden, no shit, John... So, they need to go to their friend's last football match down the road - no, she ain't dying, she's just moving to London... Yeah..."

 

Simon runs his hand down Wilhelm's arm, and then back up, which causes some strange, bursting feeling in his stomach, making his cheeks warm again. He looks over at Simon while this guy explains the situation to John. He feels his breath catch when Simon looks back, his face is close, closer than expected, his lips shiny from the lip balm he applied earlier on the bus, his skin glowing softly under the light of the headlights passing them, his eyes, framed by the longest lashes Wilhelm's ever seen on a guy, blinking back at him -

 

"Yeah, you can go. Make it quick, though, and keep this to yourselves." The guy steps to the side and allows them to pass

 

"Thank you so much, Sir," Wilhelm says. "I'll never forget what you've done for us tonight!"

 

Simon's arm drops as they begin speed walking down the road. "Goodbye! See you never!" 

 

"Good day to you, kind Sir!" Felice calls, waving over her shoulder.

 

They all break out into a fit of giggles once out of his ear range, like a bunch of fan girls freaking out over their celebrity crush looking in their general direction one time in a crowd of 6000 people. 

 

"Her game barely started!" Felice giggles, bumping into Simon and nearly going on the road, but he catches her arm in time, dragging her back and nodding.

 

"London?" Wilhelm shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as they walk(stumble) down the road, uncoordinated and giggling.

 

"It's the first thing that came to mind!" Simon defends, looking over at Wilhelm with a soft expression that makes that bubbly, blushy feeling return. Wilhelm looks away, over at the car they're passing. A little girl is asleep in her car seat in the back of a car, head lolled to the side. 

 

"That was exhilarating," Wilhelm breathes, turning to the direction they're walking. Maybe his heart is pounding a bit, whether that's from Simon touching him, looking at him and the way his hand keeps brushing Wilhelm's as they walk, or from their little lie he isn't sure. "Kinda fun."

 

Simon laughs again. "Hell yeah, it was. Lying is fun."

 

"When it's harmless," Felice corrects, waving her pointer finger at Simon.

 

"Yes, Mother Dearest," Simon says, before snapping his teeth at her finger again.

 

"You're like a snappy Chiwahwah," Felice says thoughtfully, looking over at Simon with raised brows.

 

"A little, tiny, harmlessly, snappy Chiwahwah," Wilhelm adds with a smile at Simon, who walks in the middle of their little trio. Wilhelm is having fun, out with his two beautiful friends, nails sparkling gorgeously, smiling as they take their shortcut - albeit slightly slower than planned - to Rosh's game.

 

"Hey!" Simon says, but he's laughing.

 

"A curly, cute Chiwahwah," Wilhelm offers, grinning over at him as their knuckles brush again.

 

Simon's cheeks turn slightly pink, and he sighs, shaking his head before taking Felice and Wilhelm's hand, swinging their arms nearly 360 degrees around as they walk, the end of the road in view now, past the blinding headlights.

 

"Plan success, minions," he says, but Wilhelm can barely hear him, eyes pinned on where they're holding hands, where their skin meets, where their bodies are joined. Simon's skin is soft but his rings are cold and hard, his grip gentle, hands fragile but firm, the edges of his jumper soft. Wilhelm holds his hand back as they walk.

 

They make it out to the other side without an issue, the man Wilhelm believes is John sees them coming and stands with his arms pointedly crossed, staring at them as they approach and pass.

 

"You're hairline is receding faster than these lies are coming out of my mouth!" Simon yells over his shoulder once they're a step or two in front of the man.

 

"Hey!" He yells angrily, going to grab Simon, who jumps forward running, dragging Wilhelm and Felice with their still bound hands. Wilhelm may scream, Felice is cackling, and Simon is swearing, glancing over his shoulder with a wide grin as they run across a road.

 

"Cars!" Wilhelm yells. Break screech and his eyes slam shut, stomach dropping fast, his mood going with it. Simon tightens his grip on his hand and keeps him running, nearly cutting off the circulation to his fingers in the process.

 

"You're okay," Simon tells him as they jump onto the curb. Wilhelm blinks a few times to get his mind back on track, Felice hasn't noticed his panic and is doubled over, cackling instead, eyes closed. Simon looks at Wilhelm with worry. "You okay?" He asks. "Sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you out, but it's not a busy road," Simon looks back at the road while Wilhelm forces deep breaths, staring at Simon, trying to keep his thoughts at bay. His gaze flickers to the cars. He's right, it isn't a busy road, but it's still not a road you'd just run across.

 

"It's fine," Wilhelm breathes, rubbing a hand across his chest, his heart slamming, and it's not from Simon touching him now. "It was a good call, John is relentless. But did you need to go after his hairline like that?"

 

"I feel I've spoken enough lies for one night, I had to be honest with him," Simon says, nodding his head as if it makes the most sense.

 

Wilhelm barks out a laugh, finally catching his breath. Felice recovers as well, and they turn to face the field.

 

The whole field is wrapped in a basic wire fence, bathed in the bright lights of four, towering lights that point towards the field from each corner, lighting up the players running around, the ball being skillfully passed from foot to foot. The field itself is trimmed short with painted white lines. The goals look frail even from this far, surely suffering with every hit. There's a group of three sheds at one of the other end of the field behind the goal, all grey tin with yellow lights hanging above each of the doors. At night time, with all the lights off, it would look utterly terrifying, Wilhelm can imagine the stretching shadows, the haunted ticking of metal parts of the goal hitting the edges, but the atmosphere tonight is beautiful.

 

The air smells of barbecue-cooked sausages, warm bread and coffee, with the smatterings of something sweeter, coming from a small food stand at the front of the field. There's a small crowd formed, a group of two young girls and a boy run around clumsily with a ball, giggling as they kick it in all kinds of directions, two sets of parents standing on the sidelines a few meters away. An old man sits in a wheelchair next to a teenage boy, who is sitting on the ground, holding a sign he occasionally hoists into the air, the older man grinning. A group of five teenagers stand together in a line, the name "CLARA" spelt letter by letter across their foreheads in red paint. A family of five, a Mum with a sling which holds a small baby, a Dad with a toddler on his shoulders, and a little girl holding a poster stand together, all cheering for their family.

 

It's like nothing Wilhelm's ever seen. It's beautiful, it's real, it's homey and lovely. He loves it. He wants to attend all of Rosh's games just to experience this again and again, it's better than sitting in his bedroom studying with a moody Simon. Simon's company tonight though, has also been lovely, he hasn't said anything mean, went along with Wilhelm's idea, and even apologised. It's a good night.

 

They approach Ayub, who is standing next to the food stall holding a Styrofoam cup, blowing on the steaming insides harshly. Wilhelm wants to get himself a drink, his fingertips are losing their feeling now he's let go of Felice and Simon's hands, his nose fell off ages ago, along with his lips. It's fine, those things grow back.

 

Simon slings an arm around Ayub's shoulder. "Hello, fine sir."

 

"Simme! Finally!" Ayub turns to embrace him with both arms, careful not to spill the hot liquid on Simon as he squeezes him.

 

"Sorry we're late," Wilhelm says as Ayub pulls away from Simon.

 

"Nah, whenever he comes with Marcus the game is nearly done by the time they actually get here," Ayub tuts, missing the way Simon's expression sours and he turns to face the field. Ayub embraces Wilhelm and Felice.

 

"That's not my fault," Simon grumbles, eyeing the small, fold-out menu sign for the stall with a curious expression.

 

"Oh, no, I know that," Ayub agrees, sipping his drink. "Ah - Hot, my tongue," he exhales harshly, and Wilhelm wrinkles his nose when his chocolatey breath hits his face.

 

"I don't know about you guys, but I think I'm about to get hypothermia," Felice announces, also staring at the sign. "So I'm getting myself a hot chocolate right the fuck now. Hi, could I please have one hot chocolate, with marshmallows?" She changes from an annoyed, borderline psychotic voice into a calm, friendly one. 

 

Wilhelm snorts, but agrees, and they all end up ordering. 

 

A few minutes later, they're all standing on the sidelines together, cradling hot cups, the steam floating up, straight into their faces and making Wilhelm's nose run. 

 

"Is my nose pink?" He asks, turning to the person next to him, who happens to be Ayub.

 

Ayub squints at his nose. "Like Rudolph, mate," he nods in confirmation. "Like you ran flat tack into a wall, no hesitation - "

 

"Okay, I get it. Thank you," Wilhelm interrupted with a sigh, rubbing his nose as if it would make the redness vanish. In retrospect, it probably makes it worse. His nose and cheeks always go red when he gets too cold. His Mother told him he looked like a ghost, and now Rudolph, which is just fantastic news. It's even more bothersome when he is with his family, and Erik is simply pale with a light dusting of blush, his parents similar, and then there's him, with his acne and bright red nose. It's just to embarrassing - 

 

"It's cute," Simon says.

 

Wilhelm turns to look at him.

 

"Oh, what, would you rather I also called you Rudolph and said you looked like you ran into a wall?" Simon asks, raising his eyebrows at Wilhelm.

 

He snorts, shaking his head. "No, I - yup, no, I'll take it." He nods, turning to the field. "Anyway, how do I tell who we're cheering for?" He asks. Listen, he is not a sporty guy, he'd much rather spend his time at his desk with some worksheets and notes than running around a soggy field, sweating, panting, smelling like actual garbage bins, with a dead possum in them - no hate to people who like sports, like Rosh, he's sure she smells great. His point is, he knows there's a goalie, the person who shoots in a goal, and then wings. If there are other positions, they're lost on him.

 

"Number 23," Simon points in the general direction of the field. 

 

"...And that is where?" Wilhelm asks, sipping on his coffee. It's quite strong, maybe a little stronger than he'd like. He wonders if he can request a bit more milk. The guy serving recognised him, he just didn't say anything past widened eyes and hushed whispers with his daughter, who was helping to run the stall.

 

Simon points again, towards the far end of the field. "Tall, dark hair slicked back - she's got the ball right now." Wilhelm leans over to follow the direction he's pointing in, cheek brushing Simon's shoulders. Finally, his eyes land on a taller girl, who indeed has the ball at the mercy of her quick-moving feet. 

 

"Oh... Oh - Go Rosh!" Wilhelm cheers, making Simon jump in surprise. "Ha, sorry." He feels a bolt of adrenaline at the cheering. This is fun, he decides, he's missed some monumental moments of being a teenager from his sheltered upbringing.

 

"Can I try that? Thanks, babes," Simon swaps their drinks quickly. Wilhelm wouldn't have complained anyway, keeping his eyes on the field. He doesn't know all that much about football, just there's a ball, there's a goal, players, you kick it into the opposite goal and you get points. Points are good, you want those. His knowledge is extensive and he's a pro. You may even consider him the next Ronald... Ronald? Ronaldo? Does he play football, or is that the golfer Erik likes?

 

"I'm keeping this," Simon says.

 

Wilhelm sips the drink he's been handed. It's hot chocolate, but it's mostly milk, which is how he likes his hot chocolates. "Don't like milky hot chocolates?" He asks Simon, glancing over to find him nursing the coffee Wilhelm brought. He's not bothered by Simon stealing his drink, which happens any day he doesn't buy Simon his own, and he doesn't mind, it's not like he has anything else to spend money on. 

 

"No, absolutely not. If I did I'd just drink microwaved chocolate milk, wouldn't I?" Simon asks, frowning at the field, the cup touching his lips as he speaks.

 

Wilhelm laughs, then realizes what Simon said and frowns. "Wait, what? Microwaved chocolate milk? That sounds criminal."

 

"What do you call a hot chocolate?"

 

"Hot water, milk, hot chocolate powder...?"

 

"Same shit."

 

Wilhelm laughs again, "No, it's not, but go off." 

 

The night continues. They cheer for Rosh and she does a little dance, waving at them before continuing like nothing happened. They only cheer louder. 

 

Once their drinks have finished, the cold seems to intensify. As the night gets darker, it seems to get colder, so the group slings their arms around one another, swaying back and forth while singing the Swedish national anthem, earning a few odd looks from some people, but most just smile and laugh, amused or endeared by their support.

 

Rosh scores and they go ballistic, jumping around and screaming like school girls. It's all very fun, Wilhelm doesn't have room to feel embarrassed as he bounces up and down, grabbing Simon's arm to drag him with him as he jumps. Simon laughs, slinging his arm around his neck as they cheer together.

 

A few minutes later, the other group of teenagers approach them and asked to film a TikTok.

 

Wilhelm laughs as one of the teenagers jumps onto the other's shoulder, holding a phone, and instructs the group to put their hands on each other shoulders and dance in a circle around them. It's all very silly, but Simon's hands are warm on his shoulder and Felice is bouncing around in front of him as they walk in a circle, like ants. Then they zig-zag around, trying to not run into each other. Wilhelm nearly bowls into a girl his age, but she just grabs his hand and spins him under her arm and away. He laughs, catching himself on Simon, who grins at him. Wilhelm twirls him like the girl had just done into Ayub, who hugs him tight, rocking them back and forth while Wilhelm laughs.

 

They all band together on the sidelines to cheer, and Wilhelm learns they're supporting opposite teams. The opposing team scores, but they don't stop their cheering, throwing encouraging words at Rosh's team, who all laugh and wave, the loss clearly not too deep as they chuck thumbs-ups at them.

 

As the game starts up, their cheering turns into a competition, trying to cheer as loud as possible over each other to support their friends. It turns into borderline screaming at one point. But it's fun, it's so much fun. Wilhelm's insides are lighter than they've ever been, a girl even compliments his nails and says they're gorgeous, suiting him perfectly. A drink bottle gets passed around at one point, everyone doing their best not to pull a face as they take a sip, standing along the sidelines craning their necks to see each other's reactions.

 

It gets to Ayub, who's next to Wilhelm, and he takes a sip, instantly pulling a face of disgust and passing it on. "Aye, is that just straight - "

 

"Shhh," a girl hushes. "Go, try it," she urges Wilhelm.

 

It's clearly alcohol, judging by their reactions and excitement for it to come back around.

 

"Go on!" Someone else encourages.

 

"You don't have to," Simon whispers next to him.

 

Wilhelm wants to. He doesn't need to drink alcohol to have a good time, that's just been proven by the amount of fun he's been having, standing around with these strangers, filming, dancing and screaming. He doesn't want to miss out on this teenage experience because of the past. Felix would want him to get to live a fun life. He hopes Felix is proud of him, and won't hate him for it.

 

He puts the bottle against his lips and waits until liquid touches his lip, allowing a small mouthful into his mouth. He pulls it away, swallowing it quickly. It burns, making him cough as it warms his body from the inside out, lighting his oesophagus on fire as it reaches his stomach, pooling warm there, nice, even. He hands it to Simon, wrinkling his nose.

 

"Ew, what was that?"

 

"Vodka," Ayub snorts as Simon throws back two gulps before handing it to Felice.

 

And on the night goes. 

 

Wilhelm forgets who's winning, but he also doesn't care. Simon's got his arm around his waist for most of the evening, leaning on him or vice versa. He's laughing with these people he doesn't know about high school as they take turns shitting on teachers and students. They talk about who they're supporting, how they know them, etcetera. The drink bottle empties as they all sit on the sidelines, one girl teaching the cup song with her water bottle while Ayub tries to copy her with a trusty Styrofoam cup. 

 

Simon slips away from Wilhelm's side as he plops down next to Ayub so he can learn.

 

The girl hums the tune to the cup song as they go, showing them the movements slowed down so they can copy her. "Clap, clap, drum the ground, up down... No, two claps... Yes. Clap, clap, drum the ground, up, down, clap, grab, hit, hit, pass, hand down, place - uh-uh, not even close, man." 

 

"That made no sense!" Wilhelm complains, frowning at his cup. "I lost you at the second clap, to be honest."

 

Ayub cackles.

 

The game rolls to the end, and Wilhelm begins to look for Simon, finding his happiness dripping away when he can't find him from where he stands, looking around the crowd. A few members of their new friends have vanished as well, but the remainders don't seem phased, too busy bouncing around their friend they came to support.

 

"Hey, who won?" Ayub asks Wilhelm in a whisper.

 

"No idea. Do you know where Simon went?" Wilhelm asks back, glancing over at Ayub.

 

"That was my next question," Ayub mumbles, looking around them as Rosh approaches.

 

"You were amazing!" Felice cheers. "Hi, I'm Felice, by the way. That was amazing! Great job!" 

 

Rosh beams at her proudly. "Thanks, football is my passion, I train hard to be as good as I am. What's up, Ayub?" They have a quick hug, and she turns to Wilhelm.

 

"You were great. I can't even kick a football five meters," Wilhelm says, and Rosh laughs.

 

Something hard and warm drops against the middle of Wilhelm's shoulder blades, two gentle hands landing on his hips as he hums, leaning heavily against Wilhelm.

 

Rosh, Ayub and Felice crane their necks to see what's happening. Disappointment colours Ayub and Rosh's faces, while Felice relaxes onto her feet. "We should probably get going," she says.

 

Wilhelm feels the happiness drain from the atmosphere.

 

"Simon," he says quietly, ignoring his hands on his waist making his stomach flop. 

 

"Hmmm," Simon hums. "Very warm, Wille."

 

Wilhelm gulps. "Did you have to get high while we were all having a good time?"

 

Simon stands up straight, and Wilhelm turns to face him. 

 

Simon has white powder on his nose, pupils larger than normal, body swaying, soft and pliant. 

 

"They offered," Simon slurs. "What was I supposed to do?" He frowns like he genuinely doesn't know.

 

"Say no?" Wilhelm supplies.

 

Simon wrinkles his nose. "Why would I say no?"

 

"And that's our cue," Rosh sighs. "I've got my stuff, so we can go," she says to Ayub, who nods.

 

"Simon, man, pass me your bag. We're taking you home," Ayub offers his hand. Simon slowly wiggles out his backpack and hands it to Ayub. He grabs Wilhelm's arm and leans on his shoulder, sighing contently.

 

Wilhelm stares down at him, unimpressed, not amused. Did he have to do that? They were all having fun, probably one of the funniest evenings of Wilhelm's entire life, but it just wasn't enough for Simon.

 

He's quiet as they untangle Simon from Wilhelm's arm, and he doesn't even try to comfort the other boy as he mumbles complaints. Rosh hoists him - bridal style - into her arms, making it seem effortless. As someone who has carried Simon on their back, he can confirm he isn't particularly heavy, but Simon's not even trying to hold up his weight right now, head lolling backwards like a newborn baby as Rosh holds him.

 

"Thanks for coming to watch, guys," Rosh says with a small, not fully there smile. "I'm sorry it ended like this, I hope you had fun, it certainly sounded like it."

 

"Did you like our cheering?" Wilhelm asks, trying to keep the mood light, but it's hard with Simon staring upside down from Rosh's arms. 

 

"Wasn't distracting at all," Rosh snorts. "Simon, stop. Okay, we've got to get him home, I'll see you later."

 

"Bye," Wilhelm waves.

 

"See you," Felice bids goodbye from Wilhelm's side.

 

"Yeah, sorry, guys... He uh, yeah." Ayub shrugs, itching his neck. "I'll see you later. You should come again! This was super fun. Sorry about him though, he does this a lot. People offer it and he doesn't know how to say no, that's what he says at least, whenever we ask. But, hey, he had heaps of fun tonight! So did I, so thanks for coming out with him."

 

They nod and bid Ayub a goodnight, turning towards the road.

 

"Uber back?" Felice asks quietly as they get to the footpath. The food stand has closed, and most of the cars pulled away, only adding the dulling on the evening. He didn't even get that girl's Tik Tok, so he can't go find the video. Who's he kidding, it'll be trending by midnight.

 

"Why'd he do that?" Wilhelm wonders, sitting heavily on the curb of the road, the stream of cars thinning out as it gets later into the night. Felice sits next to him with a sigh, the Uber app open on her phone as she looks for the closest driver. 

 

"Well, remember we talked about addiction?" Felice asks slowly. "Terry, five minutes away," she mumbles. Wilhelm shrugs. "Well, with addiction, I don't think you can always say no." 

 

Wilhelm frowns at his shoes. "You can always say no. What - what do you mean? No is always an option, it's simple, it's easy, it's more responsible. "Hey, do you want some coke?" "No thanks, I'm here with friends who don't do that kind of drugs." "Okay, bye." It's that easy, Felice."

 

She's quiet for a moment as she pockets her phone, rubbing her fingers together. "No, Wille, you have to understand, sometimes it's not that easy. I think what you're really asking me is why you're enough for him."

 

Wilhelm is quiet. Is she wrong? Maybe the fact he doesn't instantly deny it speaks volumes.

 

Felice wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him against her gently. "You could try and learn, Wille, then you'll understand him. I can see you want to be his friend..." She pauses, then nods, as if confirming her thoughts. "He wants the same, but giving up addiction can be hard. It can be genetic. You know about withdrawals, some people would rather die than never consume drugs again."

 

"Simon isn't one of those people."

 

"Babe, I'm not saying he is. It's ... I suppose, like most things, it's a spectrum. Some people can say no, like you, and some would rather die than say no, some might have an internal crisis if they say no, same if they say yes. It's complicated. Maybe Simon just wanted to add some spice, maybe it's not as deep as we're thinking and he said yes because he did want to."

 

Wilhelm frowns at their shoes. "I don't get it, though. Just say no."

 

"You need to put yourself in his shoes. He grew up in that house, with that Dad, for how long? Look at your house. You grew up in a family that said no to all of those things, so you struggle to say yes. It's the opposite for Simon."

 

It clicks further into place with that analogy. "Oh," Wilhelm says simply, as a car pulls up in front of them.

 

"C'mon, think about this another day, he's in safe hands." Felice stands, pulling Wilhelm with her. "Let's go home." 

Notes:

I'm not even kidding when I say I wrote the beginning of this chapter with tears in my eyes, lmao.

With Wilhelm drinking, I didn't want him to never drink alcohol again because of what happened. While that isn't a bad choice, I, personally, feel it's kind of a t h i n g for teenagers to get wasted together. While he isn't getting wasted here, he is stretching his boundaries, and this fic is about him doing that. We can already see that in how he accepts Simon as his friend, allowing him to do things like steal his notes or his drink, and how he isn't bothered by his teasing anymore.

I have made some bad decisions while high and a bit tipsy, which landed me in a lake with my ex a few months ago... Anyway, so alcohol is not something you should recklessly consume when in an unsafe place, and I do not encourage you to get blackout drunk or high as a kite, but I want Wilhelm to take another step towards healing, and letting go of his fears :)

I'll see you next update, check out the playlist I made and linked in the beginning notes <3

Chapter 8: Twisted In Torrents Of Trauma

Summary:

Playlist for the book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

That makes me feel like I should fucking disappear
And drown my demons in a bathtub filled with tears
No whatever what I try, they always seem to come back to life
What if I didn't do this to my body?
What if I quit and then you don't want me?
The dinner conversation no one talks about
Don't know how much longer I can keep this down
- dying on the inside, by Nessa Barrett

 

SPOILER TW. In this chapter the gay slur is used as an insult multiple times by someone who is not a member of the LGBTQIA+ community. A character indirectly starves themselves to the point of fainting, and if that is something that triggers you, I encourage you to skip from Sunday to the second ~ ~ ~ in the Monday segment :)

Notes:

Babe, I love you (remember that when you read this chapter I'm sorry-)

At the time of posting this, Young Royals season three is coming out today. I won't be checking the comments until I've finished watching the show, to avoid spoilers, so feel free to say absolutely whatever you want about the show in the comments, and I'll get back to them later. I'm so excited and so scared. I want to go back to season three confirmation, waiting for season two to come out, waiting for confirmation of season two. I WANT TO GO BACK, BASICALLY.

I love them so much, and this show probably saved my life. This fandom is beautiful, and kind, and so, so wonderful. I feel blessed to be apart of it, honestly. I can't wait to share this last part of the journey with you <3

Just remember, just because there's no more official content doesn't mean the fandom is dying! Let's stay strong until we're all dead, I don't know what I'd do if this fandom died... Rationally, I know it will, all good things end eventually. We won't even miss it once we realize we've left. It's scary, but for now, let's be happy! New chapter, new season, behind-the-scenes movie, whoop!

I'll see you on the other side, my friends! I'm wishing us all luck and preying for Wilmon's endgame!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Wednesday ~

They’re all standing on the football pitch, in the middle of the field, kicking a ball around.

 

Felice passes to Rosh, who kicks it over to Ayub, who passes to Felix, and then to Simon, back to Felice.

 

They’re laughing and giggling, chasing the ball when they miss a pass as teasing each other with infectious grins. They're illuminated by the big, towering lights used for nighttime games, not meant for the teenage shenanigans its currently assisting in.

 

I’m sitting to the side, picking at the fake grass absentmindedly, watching my friends where they're playing several metres away. I listen to their joyful laughter and let it fill me up, warm like the first sip of alcohol in your stomach during a party, a mini fireball.

 

Felix turns to me, as he had been facing away from  He’s grinning as well, his smile young and naive. I find it way too contagious.

 

Felix begins to bound over to me as I grin back at him, as if I'd do anything else. I glance around him at the group for a moment, they're still playing, passing the ball from Felice to Ayub. When I look back Felix is now Simon, scowling down as he gets closer. I don’t think a second on it, accepting it like it's normal.

 

“Miss me already?” I joke as Simon stops, towering above me, the bright lights silhouetting his pretty curly head.

 

“You know what is going to happen,” Simon snaps back, and I feel my mood deflating like he stabbed a needle into a balloon inside me.

 

My gut knows what he means - I can tell because my stomach weaves itself into tight knots and my lungs seem to shrink - but I can't put my finger on it.

 

I try to stand up, but it’s like moving through thick slime, it’s too hard, too impossible, and I'm not strong enough to lift myself off the field. The ground is damp now, soaking through my clothes and moistening my skin, making me want to itch it all off.

 

I look back at Simon, but he’s gone, back with the group, who are all giggling as they line up to do cartwheels one by one. My stomach drops. Their backs are to me.

 

“No!” I yelled instantly, but no one heard, I can't even hear myself, I sound far too distant to be able to impact their unpenetrable bubble of fun.

 

I hear car wheels screeching as Felice does her cartwheel with an easy laugh, and I try to stand again, but I still can’t. Rosh goes for it.

 

I yell for them to stop,  my voice like a mouse squeak against lion roars, but I keep trying, the knots in my stomach yet to loosen.

 

Ayub steps up and does his flawlessly. I begin to cry as Simon shakes out his limbs, laughing. 

 

“Simon! Please! I can’t lose you too! - “

 

“Hey, Wille!” Simon calls, turning around to me. I feel the movement returning to my body a moment too late. It's like a cruel joke, like "Ha, you can move now. Shame it wasn't three seconds earlier, though."

 

“Stop!” I sob, begging, trying to crawl towards him. I’m moving, but I can tell I’ll be too slow. I cry, stopping on my knees to watch, staring helplessly at his beautifully grinning face. He is too young to die, too pretty, too gentle.

 

"Don’t…”

 

“Watch me!”

 

“Simon...”

 

Felix cheers like it's a football game as he goes for his cartwheel simultaneously with Simon.

 

I scream as the breaks screech, my eyes slamming shut as their screams of agony blur into one ear-shattering cry. Bones shatter with gruesome crunching and snapping. I hear their broken bodies crash to the grass as the breaks slam, too late.

 

I struggle and thrash around in this slime, screaming and crying as Ayub, Felice and Rosh yell out in alarm as their friend's bodies are shredded and torn by the harsh, expensive tyres, driven by careless idiots.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Buzz-buzz… Buzz-buzz … Buzz-buzz...

 

Wilhelm’s eyes crack open slowly, blinking blearily against the brightness, vision fuzzy from the sludge in the corners of his eyes. His clothes are stuck against his body like they shrunk overnight, twisted around his torso and legs. This is why he normally sleeps in boxers with a heater on high because he has the craziest dreams.

 

Wilhelm sighed, rolling onto his back and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. This is why you don’t go to bed with socks, track pants and shirt on, no matter how cold it is. In the darkness of his vision, the screams echo, playing in his mind like the sounds of a haunted house - 

 

Buzz-buzz … Buzz-buzz… 

 

His phone is ringing. Right. That woke him up from hell. Thank God for whoever called, God bless them and their entire bloodline.

 

Wilhelm sits up slowly, stretching his tight muscles and sweaty limbs, untangling the covers from around his appendages, his heart still pounding in his chest from the nightmare his mind graced him with.

 

He can still remember his dream vividly, something most people enjoy, not not Wilhelm. Felix's face morphs into Simon's. Rosh, Ayub, Simon, and Felix take turns to do cartwheels on a dimly lit field. The car wheels, the headlights gleaming, the bumper of the car wearing a maniacal expression as it gets closer. Wilhelm never sees what happens next, but he dreads the day his brain makes it up and he has to watch, mind trapped, twisted in torrents of trauma.

 

Buzz-buzz… Buzz-buzz - Right, his phone.

 

Reaching over, he flips it over to read the caller, “ Erik .”

 

Wilhelm clears his throat before snapping his phone open and sliding his thumb across the green to answer, trying to make himself calm to talk to his brother.

 

Finally! Good morning, Wille! Did I wake you? ” Erik greets brightly.

 

“Jesus. Y’know, Erik, some of us haven’t got to have our triple shot coffee yet, so we’re not all that awake and excited by mornings,” Wilhelm grumbles as he gets out of bed, finding his throat abnormally dry and voice groggily. "And yes, you did wake me." Wilhelm clears his throat. This isn't him, he's normally bouncy and happy with Erik. "But it's okay! I needed to wake up for school anyway. Wednesday's are my favourite." It's Wednesday, right?

 

Sorry to wake you, I just couldn’t wait any longer to tease the shit out of you. ” Wilhelm can hear the smirk in Erik’s voice as he sips from his drink bottle to soothe his throat. He slowly puts his bottle down.

 

“...Tease me about what?” He asks cautiously.

 

Last night! Did you actually go to your arch nemesis’ best friend's football game on a random Tuesday evening?!” Erik yells through the phone, sounding like a fangirl freaking out about his celebrity crush.

 

Wilhelm groans in annoyance, stumbling over to his mirror to see how bad he looks.

 

“He is not my arch nemesis. That’s stale white bread and PR meetings.”

 

What as that last thing? You’re mumbling.

 

“Never mind." He clears his throat once more. "Yes, I did go to Simon’s friend’s football match, but I have a good reason - “

 

Ahaha! Yeah right, and what is this good reason? You seem to hate this guy's guts! And he clearly doesn’t like you either, if that single interaction I got to witness last week was anything to go by.”

 

“Maybe if you stopped interrupting me every three seconds, I could get out a full sentence and explain to you.”

 

Erik was silent on the other end.

 

Wilhelm sighed, running a hand over his sweaty face, cheeks flushed and hair wild. He looks like he walked through a storm before falling into bed and then spent the night rolling around like an egg beater on crack. “Listen, he was having a bad day, and I felt guilty making him do schoolwork after it all. I know him. I know if he’s in a bad mood during tutoring, he won’t do anything and he’ll just make me angry again.” And he might try to start a fight to get himself expelled. A factor Wilhelm thought but didn’t say, and it still makes him a little uncomfortable how desperate Simon is to get out of here. 

 

So instead of just cancelling, you went to his friend's football match? And you brought Felice, took photos with fans, danced with him and a bunch of other people, let him lean on your back and cling onto your arm?” 

 

“Wait, what? Did people take photos of us?” Wilhelm asked, already putting the phone on speaker and sitting back on his bed, opening Google and typing in his name.

 

Prince Wilhelm Spotted Watching a Friend’s Football Match in Bjasatard with Rumoured Girlfriend and Simon Eriksson!

 

“Oh my God,” Wilhelm groans in horror as Erik cackles.

 

Yeaaaah," Erik says, drawing out the a. "You literally filmed a TikTok with some kids,” Erik laughed easily, but then it fell flat, just as Wilhelm reads something not so positive after Googling Simon’s name, his screwed-up expression dropping to an open jaw.

 

Simon Eriksson Sniffing Lines In A TikTok From A Football Match In His Hometown in 4K, Slowed Down!

 

“Oh my God .”

 

Wilhelm scrolled to the next article, and Erik was quiet like he somehow knew what Wilhelm had scrolled upon. 

 

Here’s Why We Think Simon Eriksson Was Caught Doing Coke At 16: It’s Genetic, Folks!

 

I’m guessing you’re looking at Simon’s articles?” Erik asked softly, and Wilhelm nodded, before remembering Erik couldn’t see that.

 

“Yes, yes I am. Oh my God. He’s going to be so distraught, I bet his Mother is furious. Jesus, this is not good for Sara’s image, let alone Simon’s!” Wilhelm shook his head, clicking on an article and watching the video of Simon doing cocaine. It’s a TikTok from a different account from the dancing one, and it’s taken behind one of the sheds, panning over a bunch of teens all doing some TikTok dance, but in the background, you can see a few kids sniffing white lines off a phone. The phone is moving, so it’s hard to make the face of the first person to sniff, but you can see as the phone steadies for a second Simon taking the phone to sniff the next line, but he disappears behind one of the dancers before you can see him sniffing it. The video rewinds, and gets slowed down, zooming in on Simon. Wilhelm can tell it’s him, especially off the clothes he’s wearing and his hair.

 

“Yes… He, uh, he disappeared just before the game ended,” Wilhelm explained slowly, closing the news tabs as it began to discuss Wilhelm’s opinion on this matter, and whether or not he’s the other kid Simon is shadowing slightly. He puts his phone down and rips off his shirt.

 

Which is why he was leaning on you at the end,” Erik finished gently, voice no longer teasing and joking. “ I’m sorry a good evening got ruined, Wille. You looked like you were having some real fun with those people.

 

“Yeah,” Wilhelm agreed. “I was.” This is why he’s still pissed off that Simon had to go ruin all of that because they were having fun. Felice might say Simon did it because of the addiction... but he still did it. “No” is a word Wilhelm knows Simon is capable of saying...  “It’s Genetic, Folks!” 

 

On a brighter note, your nails are very pretty Wille,” Erik said softly, his voice carrying affection.

 

Wilhelm instantly lifted his hands to stare at his fingers. He grinned to himself, cheeks heating slightly. “Thanks. Felice did them.”

 

Obviously. Your hand isn’t that steady, I’ve seen your art from last year.”

 

“Hey! That was meant to be interpretive! Mr Rose loved my art!”

 

And I interpret it as a 2-year-old's attempt at the Mona Lisa, while there’s an Earthquake. You got an award in maths, science, health, English, geography, history and the Principal’s award, but no award for art.”

 

“You’re so mean,” Wilhelm laughed, running his fingertips over the smooth sheen of polish, which is cool to the touch.

 

Remember that time you were annoyed that I told Mama you snuck into the kitchen to steal chocolate so you put salt in my wine when I had my date over for dinner so I choked and spluttered it all over the table, and the white table cloth, and my girlfriend? Yeah, that was mean.”

 

“And she’s still dating you, so no harm was done. At least not to you, she still has to look at your face, which must be hard on her.”

 

Erik laughs boyishly through the phone, Wilhelm laughs with him, missing the good old days when he could do things like that. In the moment he was too mad at Erik for snitching, so his young brain had thought it was completely rational to put salt in his wine glass while the adults were still mingling around the room. He got praise for being at dinner on time and everything.

 

Erik falls silent, but it’s an easy silence. Wilhelm smiles calmly, sitting on his bed. He checks the time, and quickly swipes the warning for an alarm about to go off in a few minutes, as Erik woke him just before his normal alarm would.

 

Hey, uh, Wille,” Erik’s tone has dropped and Wilhelm tensed instantly.

 

“Yes?” He replied blankly because this already doesn’t feel good.

 

Mama and PR think it’s a good idea if you stay away from Simon for a bit. He’s not good for anything with you. He’s bad for your grades, your public image, your patience. I see why it’s fun to argue with him - I’ve seen you two arguing a little bit, and I can very clearly see the banter that’s there. But your public image is not something you can joke about,” Erik sounds almost sad while telling Wilhelm this.

 

“I know, Erik. Believe me, I try, but … “ Wilhelm shakes his head in confusion. “I don’t even know . It’s like the boy just has invisible strings attached to me, or vice versa. We just keep ending up in the same room, the same situation, a proximity close enough to argue about it,” Wilhelm shrugs helplessly, but he knows Erik can’t see it.

 

Wilhelm.”

 

“I know.”

 

This needs to stop. Mama has told you several times, but clearly, the message isn’t getting through. Either become his friend and settle this peace, or Mama is going to get him expelled…” Erik trails off quietly, and Wilhelm can feel where Erik’s mind has gone. “Hey, not to be rude or assume anything - “ 

 

“Sorry, someone’s knocking on my door,” Wilhelm lied quickly, standing up from his bed like that would make a difference to Erik. “I’ve got to go, but know that I’ve heard Mama, and I hear you. I’ll go for peace. Talk to you later, Erik.”

 

Sorry, I’ll be quick - “

 

“Bye, Erik,” Wilhelm hangs up and puts it down on his desk. If Erik doesn’t get the message that Wilhelm really doesn’t want to discuss the fact that Simon does want to get himself expelled, then he’ll just tell him (He knows he won’t, he’s too much of a coward for that) But it's not just that. He doesn't want to argue with Simon, he's discovered that being his friend is much more fun than his mortal enemy, especially after last night. 

 

Wilhelm reaches over his desk to pull open the curtains, staring out at the bright day in front of him, mentally planning it already. He’ll get ready for school, and go grab a snack to nibble on while he grabs a coffee. The first class he has is geography, and then history, followed by science and then lunch. After lunch he’s got maths, and then food technology, before he’ll be done for the day.

 

He begins to get ready, but his mind strays back to the curly-headed guy, who is just layers upon layers of a mystery.

 

He’ll endlessly bully Wilhelm, insult his family and try to get himself expelled, but then he’ll crumble when it comes to detention and his Mother’s wants and needs. He’ll punch all of Wilhelm’s buttons and deal to his cousin but then invite Wilhelm to his football game to cheer on his friend, twirl under Wilhelm's arm, lean on his back and hold onto him for support when he appears again high.

 

What’s his issue? 

 

"It’s genetic, folks!" Wilhelm grabbed his phone again and quickly opened Google before he could second guess himself. 

 

Is addiction genetic?

 

He paused over the search button, staring at the screen hesitantly. Does he even want to know? That random article said it is, but they also say Wilhelm and Felice are rumoured to be dating and suggest Wilhelm and Simon may also be dating in the same article…

 

Wilhelm's thumb lands on the delete button and he gets up from his bed, chucking his phone onto his bed and going to brush his teeth.

 

What does it matter if it’s genetic? Simon isn’t his friend, barely even an acquaintance. It’s really not Wilhelm’s problem, so he needs to stop caring.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Rosh and Ayub like you,” Simon says as everyone gets up to leave geography after an hour. Wilhelm offers Simon his half-drunk coffee, as he’s rather full from the two crackers he ate for breakfast, as he wasn’t hungry, to begin with from the anxiety of his near Google search.

 

Simon took it without question, nudging Wilhelm slightly to get out to the door ahead of him.

 

“I like them too. You have cool friends, I’m just surprised you have any,” Wilhelm replied as they turned into the corridor, Felice trailing behind with Madi.

 

Simon rolls his eyes. “That was weak as fuck, you could do better. Anyway, where are we going right now?” Simon asks, taking a sip of the coffee.

 

“History,” Wilhelm replies, opening the door quickly so he can step into the history classroom before Simon this time. 

 

“Ah yes. There’s your entire heritage on the wall,” Simon chuckles, pointing to one of the walls, where Wilhelm’s great, great, great grandfather stares back in a dingy black and white photo. “Looks like a fucking paedophile,” Simon comments positively as he sits at the desk over from Wilhelm, who waits for Felice to sit on the further chair from Simon before he takes his seat in the aisle, next to Simon.

 

Wilhelm looks at Simon sharply. “He was not,” he defends instantly.

 

“How do you know? Do you even know his name?” Simon asks with a raised eyebrow, before sipping the coffee again as students file in around them. Today, Simon is wearing something a little different, he’s got on some dark brown slacks, and a white shirt with a knitted white vest over the top. The light colours look rather beautiful on his dark complex, Wilhelm noticed the second he saw Simon, dark hair tumbling around his slim, sharp, elegant face. His attitude has changed as well. He's less friendly than last night, but more friendly than yesterday day. 

 

“His name is Robert,” Wilhelm answers easily. “Robert IV and he is not a paedophile. He had seven kids, but that is beside the point, honestly, don’t even know why I mentioned it.”

 

Simon squints at him. “You’re weird. Anyway,” Simon moved on again without transition, something Wilhelm is getting rather used to - the fast-paced way Simon’s brain moves. “As I said earlier before you derailed the conversation, Ayub and Rosh think you and Felice are really fucking cool. Which, gag.” Simon sighed as if he couldn’t believe Wilhelm and Felice could be “cool”, as if he wasn't giggling and holding Wilhelm's hand yesterday. Honestly, Simon wasn't that drunk.

 

“I think they’re awesome,” Wilhelm replied, just to annoy him. “Tell them I think they’re awesome .”

 

Simon wrinkled his nose. “Why did you say it like tha - No, I won’t. Anyway . Stop distracting me.”

 

“That’s all you, babe.”

 

“Be silent, Pretty Boy.”

 

Wilhelm felt his brows raise into his hairline, but Simon didn’t address it. That's not even the right context for that -

 

“They want you to come to Rosh’s game next week as well, and they want to go out for pizza after,” Simon said a bit quickly, looking a tad embarrassed. “I’ll have you know they tried to DM you on Instagram, but you didn’t reply, so me asking is the last fucking resort and I absolutely would not be doing it unless it was entirely fucking necessary - “

 

The bell cut Simon off, and they all rose as their Mr Grady strolled in his slacks and button down, greeting the class in his Swedish tinged with a British accent, smiling over at the room. Simon wiggles his eyebrows at Wilhelm instantly. It's Simon's favourite pair of slacks, apparently.

 

Wilhelm ignores him, joining in with the class chorus of “Good morning, Mr Grady.”

 

His smile doesn't waver. “Good morning, class! Take your seats, please, and we’ll get started.”

 

Everyone sits back down, and Wilhelm ponders Simon's question as he watches Mr Grady pull up a slide show to talk over today's lesson plan. 

 

He knows the answer, it's rather short and plain. He can’t go to another football game with Simon, maybe ever, but definitely not next week. The media will go insane if it looks like the two are hanging out regularly, and it’ll look even weirder if they go out for pizza later. It'd make it slightly better that it would be a group trip, but media outlets have a habit of cropping everyone else of the photo so it looks like there are only two people there.

 

“We’ve been doing a lot on the history of Sweden, and I can see you all getting bored of that. May I just remind you that this is a history class, so of course you’ll be learning the history of the country you live in, guys!” Mr Grady laughs to himself, and Simon gives Wilhelm an obnoxious and suggestive side eye, flicking his eyes from Mr Grady to Wilhelm and grinning fondly.

 

"You have a boyfriend", Wilhelm mouthed at him, and Simon tossed his hand in the air. 

 

“You’re no fun,” he whispered across the desks to Wilhelm. “Yay or neigh next week?”

 

“I can’t,” Wilhelm whispered back, and Simon visibly recoiled, looking almost a touch disappointed, the amusement melting off his face, replaced with a scowl. 

 

“Why?” He asked in confusion.

 

“You were seen sniffing coke last night, and I was seen with you. I can't - “

 

“Yeah, but not doing the coke with me,” Simon replied defensively. Wilhelm wasn’t even sure if Simon knew people knew what he’d done last night, but it seems he just doesn’t care, which brings Wilhelm to the conclusion that his family must know... Right? It's all over the news, if you write "Simon" into Google, the first search is "Simon Eriksson doing coke with Prince Wilhelm at a football game". 

 

“It’s bad for my public image,“ Wilhelm replied, feeling a bit guilty saying this. Normally, in the past, when he was invited to a party, he would say things like “It’s bad for my public image” or “I’m studying tonight, sorry,” and he’d feel shameless in these words, confident in them, even when people called him lame or a loser. It is what it is, and that’s how it was, he never felt like he was missing out either. But somehow, Simon has wedged his way closer to Wilhelm’s feelings and is making him feel guilty.

 

“Simon, Wilhelm, focus, please,” Mr Grady tapped the whiteboard sharply and they both fall back into their chairs, Simon grumbling about “fucking royalty and their stupid fucking public images. No one gives two fucking shits who they’re seen with.” Which is just wrong. Millions, maybe even billions do. Simon doesn’t understand his small, tiny encounter with fame.

 

“Sorry, Sir,” Wilhelm replied robotically, smiling at him.

 

“It’s alright. As I was saying, we’re going to take a break from Sweden’s history and move on to our own history. I understand some of us have bigger, more well-known families with an interesting history, and some of us don’t.” That seems a little … Harsh. “But either way, looking into family trees is always very interesting, I think, and is a nice break from the history of Sweden. So, tonight after school, go text or call your parents and ask about your family. When we come back in tomorrow I want everyone to have at least two interesting facts about your family!"

 

Wilhelm tried not to look too disappointed as everyone else broke off to whisper and flex to each other. There’s not a thing he can tell this class that they don’t already know, or that they can know.

 

I used to wear pull-ups to public events in case I crapped myself when I got anxious. Erik picked his nose until he was 14, I know because the space behind his bed's headboard was covered when we were moving his room around. Mama has Daddy issues. Papa had an affair with one of our kitchen staff and Mama let it go. Mama once ordered a SWAT team after a guy who threatened Erik when he was leaving school and they killed him because he ‘resisted’, but Mama was always a bit vague on it. Anyway, me, oh, I prefer Coke over Pepsi. Pepsi is just a less spicy version of Coke and its overrated.

 

  “I’ll give some examples,” Mr Grady continued after everyone quietened down. 

 

“My history will have you in it, Sir,” Simon whispered from the table over, and Wilhelm rolled his eyes at his antics. Mr Grady didn't hear him, thank goodness because speaking of paedophiles. At least Simon isn’t angry at Wilhelm for his mother’s wishes, and for the sake of his public image getting any worse than it already has.

 

~ ~ ~

 

At lunch, Wilhelm along with Madi, and Walter all made their way to the student council office for their very first student council meeting. No one else is wearing their badges, since it’s not a uniform-compulsory day, but Wilhelm is, the badge stuck in the lapel of his orange collared shirt proudly. Sure, he didn’t work all that hard for this badge, but he’ll still wear it with pride. Watch out Simon, Wilhelm hasn’t forgotten about his powers.

 

I will detention his ass into the ground... Not that he's really been causing any problems recently.

 

“How do you suggest we develop our school this year?” Miss Clear asks once they’ve all settled around the table in the office that is the student council room, a fairly spacious room with a large, rectangular table in the middle with a deep red tablecloth that goes in a strip down the middle, a vase of white lilies in the center, along with two different pencil holders full of pens on both ends. There’s a big window across one side of the room, and the other has a dusty, walk-in storage cupboard with a lock on it, and a bunch of photos of the old student councils. 

 

Wilhelm put his hand up.

 

“Yes, Wilhelm?”

 

“We could offer students to come fowards and be the leaders of different clubs that interest them. For example, chess, history, art, DND, pride, etcetera. Then we can figure out different interests in the school. We could also put this in the yearbook as an advertisement for the diversity of interests and variety of options of groups at Hillerska. You can make lots of friends by having similar interests, and we could exploit that.”

 

“Why don’t we do all-about-me slide shows to get to know each student,” A third-year boy piped up randomly from across the table, eyes pinned on his lap. Everyone stared at him. "It was August's idea. He's texting me." He waves his phone around, which had been on his lap.

 

“We do all-about-me slide shows all the time, though. Some people - most people - tend to get bored of it after doing it for every single class, every new year,” Wilhelm counters. “Instead, we could do something short and easy, like a book that reminds someone of themself, or a movie, or a celebrity.  That can tell a lot about a person. For example, if someone thinks they are like Andrew Date, you know they are not someone you want to talk to, ever.”

 

A few people laughed around the table, voicing their agreement.

 

“What’s wrong with Andrew Tate, Wilhelm?” One of the third years Wilhelm doesn’t know asked.

 

Wilhelm frowned at him in confusion. What do you mean what's wrong with him? Do you want the list alphabetically or by the level or harm and petty?

 

“I’m not saying there’s something wrong with him.” No, I meant he’s mentally unstable and fucked in the head. “People's beliefs are their business and don't need the opinions of others, except for the fact he’s shoving them in people's faces, influencing the younger generations and encouraging a bunch of wrong and harmful thought processes - “

 

“Let me take this one, Wilhelm,” Madi sat up straighter, glaring across the table at the boys. Wilhelm feels she would make a stellar lawyer.

 

Miss Clear cleared her throat. “A debate club, perhaps?” She chuckled nervously and wrote something on her list in front of her. “All ideas considered. Thank you, guys. Ashlee?”

 

“What about a market day? We could go into town and hold a little market stall to show the school's hospitality. We would make everything, and give anything we don’t sell to charity,” Ashlee suggested.

 

“I like that idea, Ashlee. Thank you,” Miss Clear smiled at her, before writing that on her list as well. “Any more ideas?”

 

“What about a parent's day lunch?”

 

“A wonderful idea, Walter! It's a tradition, after all. We'll do a choir performance, and have a nice lunch.”

 

“Then we could connect the parents with the teachers as well as other students,” Wilhelm forced a small smile. That is going to be hell. “And ex-students who are now parents can come back to see the school again.”

 

Miss Clear beamed around the table. “Wonderful suggestions, everybody. What else do we have?”

 

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day passes smoothly. Nothing happened, nothing dramatic or of any real interest. Until Wilhelm decides to go to the library after school to study, as he missed his study session with Simon last night and didn’t get back to school till well after nine p.m. Vincent tried to grill him on where he was until Wilhelm explained how he got permission from the Headmistress, and the palace PR team and Vincent was quietened.

 

Wilhelm plops himself down in his chair firmly, taking a deep breath, and immediately he wants to get back up, go to his room and ask Felice if she feels like hanging out, which is … Weird. Very, very strange, and also very, very wrong.

 

He looks around as if he’ll be hallucinating.

 

Doesn’t matter what you want, Wilhelm reminds himself, turning his gaze back to his shoulder bag on the table, opening it up to take out his laptop, putting his phone in his bag and putting the bag under the table. School comes before things like hanging out with your friends. I might have to skip dinner to play catch up for missed work tonight. 

 

He scooches back, reaching into his bag to grab some gum, popping a piece into his mouth and turning to gaze out the window as he powers up his laptop to check the notes he wrote of things he needs to get done tonight, including helping to plan for the different club sign-ups and creations, the market day in Bjärstad, and the parents day lunch.

 

Wilhelm's gaze catches onto someone in his peripheral vision. It's... Simon? He pauses, watching him walk down the path at a more hidden, secluded side of the school. His bag is dangling off his front as he riffles through it with a confused expression, stopping for a moment, and looking through his bag with more care. He's at least 20 meters from Wilhelm, and if he was to turn he'd see him. Wilhelm smiles, getting ready to wave obnoxiously if Simon looks his way -

 

Wait... Isn’t he meant to be in the choir practice...? Yeah, he is meant to be in choir practice, with Felice and some of the other kids in their classes. What on Earth is he doing at the back of the school when he needs to be at choir practice?

 

Simon's chest seems to deflate as Wilhelm leans back into his chair, frowning. Simon closes his bag and walks a few more steps until a random third-year walks into view. Wilhelm has seen him hang out with August before, he's also seen that guy at parties pull out the drugs. It's always him. Tall, tan, bleached hair and bright, fake smile.

 

Wilhelm stiffens, hands going a bit clammy with the realisation of what he’s about to witness. Surely there's no way they're doing that here, behind the school. Aren't there cameras? Simon won't care, sure, but the boy?

 

The boys glance around for a second as Simon’s hand reaches back into his bag, and they’re talking, expressions tight and maybe slightly irritated. Wilhelm finds himself snapping his head towards his blank laptop when the boy looks in his direction, hoping his frown passes as something aimed at school work.

 

He looks back slowly. The boy says something, and Simon looks up at him with a caught-off-guard expression. He laughs, and Simon wrinkles his face, saying something in return that makes the boy's smile drop, glaring at Simon and sticking out his hand.

 

Wilhelm feels the sudden need to get this on photo, to have evidence of this illegal doings. Why, he’s not sure, he just does.

 

He grabs his shoulder bag from under the desk, keeping an eye on Simon and the boy as he fumbles around for his phone, feeling a paper cut sting the back of his hand at his careless grab.

 

Simon sticks out his hand in return, and the boy heaves a sigh, pulling out his phone.

 

Wilhelm whips out his phone, causing a few pieces of stray paper to slip out onto the floor. “Shit,” He picks them all up, his blunt nails struggling to get under the thin papers on the floor as the two look at their phones for a moment before Simon nods and puts his away.

 

Wilhelm opens his camera as he sits up, turning it towards the two as Simon pulls a plastic bag out of his own backpack, and the boy pulls his backpack around to open it.

 

Wilhelm snaps a photo as Simon moves the bag between them quickly, into the boy's backpack.

 

The deal is done. The boys say something and Simon just turns and walks away without another beat, head swivelling for watchers.

 

Simon’s eyes pause on the library, and Wilhelm throws himself back to his laptop so fast he drops his phone, but he lets it tumble to the ground until he sees Simon and the boy disappear from his peripheral vision, only then going to pick it up and check the photo.

 

It’s slightly blurry from his hurried movements, and you need to zoom in a little bit to recognise who it is, but you have both Simon and the boy's side profiles, their backpacks very clearly in view, the plastic bag glowing in the late afternoon sun, a white blur as it’s midair between their hands, very clearly heading from Simon’s backpack to the other open and waiting one.

 

Wilhelm feels like his phone weighs a few extra pounds right now.

 

He … He could get them both arrested with this photo, Simon would be expelled in a heartbeat, probably the boy too. He has literal evidence of them dealing drugs, and he’s guessing that was a phone transaction of money, so if someone was to get the right papers to search their phones - or even just their backpacks - they’d find evidence and traces of drugs.

 

Slowly, Wilhelm swipes off his gallery and puts his phone face down on the table. Focus. Focus. Focus.

 

Wilhelm is normally possessive of his phone, but he feels even more so now. A part of him is screaming to delete the photo, the only way he’d get people to know about this would be to leak the photo because even if he goes to the police it’ll get out who released it. But another part is telling him to just keep it quiet, maybe, if the time comes, it’ll be a good blackmail. That thought makes him feel guilty. Simon doesn't deserve that, he's trying to get himself expelled but Wilhelm wants no part in that.

 

Work. Do your bloody homework.

 

Wilhelm smacks his gum and taps the keys of his laptop a few times to bring it back to life, typing in his password and opening his note page, looking at the long list of things he has to do. 

 

~ Thursday ~

“I’m in your group now.”

 

Wilhelm turns around as he’s tying his apron around his waist, frowning in surprise Simon. His mind is quick to bring yesterday's afternoon to his brain. “What? Why?” 

 

Simon already has his hairnet and apron on, his apron tight around his slim waist, tied in a bow at the front, his arms crossed angrily, sleeves rolled to his elbows. “I got kicked out of Alex, Madi and Walter’s group,” Simon answered with a sniff. “So Sir put me in this one,” he concluded with another sniff. 

 

Wilhelm’s group is himself, Felice and Joshua, the only group of three in the class. Henry is with Stella, Fredrika, and Joshua’s friend Daiki. 

 

Wilhelm shrugs at Simon. "Sure you didn't just miss me?"

 

Simon snorts, face cracking a grin that makes Wilhelm smile in accomplishment. 

 

“Wille, can you tie this for me,” Felice asks, appearing at Wilhelm’s side, holding the apron strings. “Hey, Simon. You good?” Felice asks as Wilhelm loops the strings around her waist and ties them in a tidy bow.

 

“He’s been kicked out of his group into our group,” Wilhelm explains before Simon could answer.

 

Joshua is currently standing with his friends, his apron draped over his shoulder and his hair net torn down until it’s around his neck like a lacy choker, which is a good look on some people, sure, but not Joshua and his muscle head. 

 

“Oh,” Felice arches her brows.

 

“I know, as if it wasn’t bad enough with us and Joshua,” Wilhelm sighs as Felice ties her hair up with her silk scrunchie, her hair net in between her teeth. He means it as a joke, but Simon seems to miss that.

 

“There’s a reason I didn’t choose to be in your group before,” Simon huffs, eyes flicking to the ground, and then looking over at Joshua. “I don’t like him. He’s a bully.”

 

Wilhelm’s mind is quick to jump back to when Joshua asked Sara that rude question, and he can’t blame Simon for his hate, Wilhelm also hates Joshua, but not just because of that.

 

“Can youse stop messin’ 'bout and put on ya damn aprons 'n hair nets?” Mr Rogerson said in this thick Irish accent. He isn’t wearing a damn apron or bloody hair net, but that’s because he’s a teacher and the rules don’t apply. “Joshua, what group are ye in? Get yerself a new hair net, boy, don’t play with me. Simon, thank you for cooperatin', for once.” He said the last part quietly, but everyone heard and still chuckled. “Here, Joshua,” he chucked the bag of hair nets at him. “I’ve written the instructions and the ingredients right 'ere on the whiteboard,” Mr Rogerson slaps the whiteboard with the blue, swirly instructions.

 

“I can’t read Jack shit,” Simon grumbles from next to Wilhelm, leaning back on their countertop. 

 

Wilhelm hums in agreement, glancing over. Simon's t-shirt sleeve is folded back from him taking his jumper off, so Wilhelm reaches over and quickly brushes it down. Simon frowns at him. "Your shirt," he whisper shortly, gesturing to his sleeve

 

Simon hums, nodding and looking back at their teacher, sighing heavily.

 

“Youse has been messin’ 'bout for nearly ten minutes, so youse only have 40 minutes to make yer cheese scones before clean up, and if everythin’ isn’t sparklin’ clean, youse will stay into ya next period to make it all spick and spam. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” the class replies.

 

“Alrighty. The ingredients are right 'ere on this table, get what ya need and nothin' more. Let's go, get a wriggle on!”

 

Joshua trudges over to their group, snickering about something Daiki had said. “What's up, Simon?” Josh nodded his head at Simon, offering his hand. Wilhelm scoffs.

 

Simon blinks at Joshua, eyes flicking down to his hand with disgust, before turning to grab a tray to load their ingredients on silently.

 

Wilhelm followed him to help, and also escape Joshua.

 

“Awww, be a good boyfriend and help him carry all that. Might just be too much for those little arms,” Joshua giggled, and Felice whacked him on the shoulder.

 

“Shut up, you twat. Go get a mixing bowl so we can put this together,” Felice tells Joshua, who puts his hands up in defence, raising his brows annoyingly high.

 

Wilhelm looked away as he stopped next to Simon.

 

"He's so annoying," Simon grumbles. "And for what? What did we do to him?"

 

"We liked boys," Wilhelm mumbles back, picking up one of the pieces of pre-cut cheese and putting it on the tray. "That's all anyone's ever needed to hate people. It's immature and honestly a bit pathetic. You can't even think of a good reason so you attack them for the people who they love? Love, which is the most beautiful thing, and that's what they choose to hate on? It doesn't even hurt them, or affect them."

 

"Amen, sister," Simon agrees with him as he puts butter on the tray. Wilhelm measures out the right amount of flour into the bowl Joshua brings over after Felice whacked him with a wooden spoon behind Mr Rogerson’s back, to which Joshua had said “Kinky.”

 

Simon hums some song as he wanders back to their station, a small smile on his face, where Felice is with a grater, preempting the cheese being grated. Or she probably read the whiteboard, the only person who isn't squinting at it to read the words.

 

“Everyone needs a wifey who’s good in the kitchen,” Joshua commented.

 

Wilhelm put the salt, cayenne pepper and baking powder into the bowl. “Are you saying that about Simon or Felice?” Wilhelm dared to ask.

 

Joshua looked at him with piercing blue eyes. “Well, now you mentioned him - “

 

“Whisk this together,” Wilhelm ordered Joshua. Everyone says to ignore bullies, and Wilhelm does, but it’s mostly because arguing with them is too emotionally taxing.

 

Simon is waiting at their bench with a whisk, snatching the bowl from Joshua to whisk the dry ingredients. Joshua squints at Simon for a moment, before sighing and walking over to Daiki’s group, and, well, no one was complaining.

 

After a prolonged glance at the board, Wilhelm concluded that the next step was to add the butter and rub it in with their fingers. 

 

The rest of the class went as smoothly as it could go with Simon and Wilhelm working quietly, gentle touches and quiet notations to the other's movements (mostly Simon to Wilhelm, whose cooking experience is limited to school food tech) Joshua commenting on every interaction like a fan girl, and Felice trying to play peacemaker.

 

Wilhelm looks away from the oven with pursed lips, where he’d just put their scones. Felice has migrated over to Madi’s group and is talking with her, and Joshua has done the same with his friends. Simon is standing at the sink, washing the dishes quietly and putting them on the drying wrack to drip dry.

 

He decides to go help Simon and not run off to talk to someone else the rest of his group has done. 

 

He picks up a towel from the pile on the ingredient table and walks over to Simon, who is still humming to himself, hair net just barely hanging onto his hair, apron still tight and making his waist look cinched above his butt. Wilhelm blinks his gaze off his body to the pile of dripping utensils.

 

"Hello there, sir," Wilhelm says as he leans on the counter with his hips, picking up a mixing bowl from the top of the pile before Simon could stack a breadboard on top and cause an avalanche.

 

"Good morning to you," Simon smiles over at him for a moment. "I thought you had run off to gossip with your girlfriends."

 

"I would never betray you like that, Simon," Wilhelm laughs, putting down the dry bowl to pluck the wooden spoon from Simon's hand before he could add it to the pile. "Do you like to cook?"

 

"Yeah, I do. My Mama and I used to always cook dinner together, she taught me everything I know," Simon smiles fondly at the sink for a moment. Wilhelm smiles at him. "Well, uh, we used to. She works pretty long hours now, and I'm not always home for dinner. Why'd you ask?"

 

Wilhelm has the opposite problem. He's never been close with his parents bt it's all he's ever wanted, he's expected to act the exact same even as he grows, as his brain develops and his body changes, he must be the same, he can't skip dinners or be out past curfue, or cook for himself. "You seemed really comfortable and confident cooking today, is all. You added your own additions to the recipe without thinking."

 

Simon grins at the sink, lifting a handful of bubbles. "You went along without question."

 

Wilhelm thinks for a moment, eyes flickering to the hygiene poster on the wall above the drying rack. He had, hadn't he? It didn't seem like something he'd need to question in the moment - something flashes in front of his eyes, making him jump a bit. Something wet is on his nose.

 

"Simon!" Wilhelm complains, staring down at the bubbles dripping off the tip of his nose.

 

Simon cackles at his expression. "Awww, Wille," Simon cups his cheeks with his damp hands, making Wilhelm squirm away. "You looked like a kicked puppy, baby" Simon laughs, cocking his head to the side with something pretty sparkling in his dark eyes as Wilhelm wipes his cheeks with his apron, grinning pink-cheeked into the fabric. Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. Bab - 

 

“Awww, how cute.” Wilhelm hears Joshua say from a few meters away. “The Prince is doing dishes with his prostitute,” Joshua whispers, having walked over without making a sound.

 

They both jumped at the sudden appearance, smiles melting off their faces like ice cream in the summertime. “That couldn’t be further from the truth, Joshua,” Wilhelm snaps back angrily, glaring over at the blue-eyed boy, a smug expression on his extremely punchable face, wiping the remains of bubbles from his face.

 

“He’s just jealous that we're friendly with each other and not him,” Simon shrugged, plucking the plug from the sink and letting the water drain away, rinsing his hands with cold water. 

 

“Pah,” Joshua scoffs. “Jealous of the money, maybe - “

 

“Joshua,” Wilhelm interrupted, about to go off about him making jokes about prostitution when he changed his mind. “No, I don’t think he’s jealous,” Wilhelm says thoughtfully, turning to Simon, who raises an eyebrow at him, pulling his rings from his pocket and sliding them onto his fingers. They lean on the sink next to each other, staring over at Joshua, who squirms under the sudden attention. “I think he’s obsessed with us. Like, stalker-level obsessed.”

 

"Ohhh - Oui, oui" Simon agrees. 

 

Joshua pauses, his amusement fading as his ears go red from the small prick of embarrassment he endured. “Obsessed?!” Joshua laughs loudly. “Obsessed like you are with Simon? Going to his friend's football matches? Dancing with him? Holding his hand?” Josh jeers, getting more confident the more he speaks again, drawing attention to the increasing volume from other students, Mr Rogerson is distracted grilling Daki for dropping his bowl of batter. “You might not be dating each other, but you totally want to - “

 

“Actually, I have a fucking boyfriend, so I would never date Wille because I’m loyal to my partner, and he isn’t my type. Wilhelm seems to be more your kind of guy, since you seem to have an issue whenever I’m around him,” Simon fires off suddenly, glaring at Joshua and waving his hand around as he speaks, moving off the sink. “And since you seem to just know so fucking much about us, I would’ve thought you’d known that. I’ve met heaps of ignorant shitheads who think two people should or are fucking, but once you tell those jocks that you’re dating someone else they normally gain some basic fucking manners and common sense and lay off the jokes, but you are on a whole other level of fucking incompetent and stupid." Simon pauses for effect, and Joshua opens his mouth to talk, Simon makes a shushing motion with his hands, and keeps going. "So much so that despite being told several fucking times that Wilhelm and I are not dating, you just won’t accept that we don’t like each other. We barely even tolerate each other. Wilhelm isn’t my type, at all, in the slightest. Get a fucking grip, Joshua.” Simon finishes his speech and then walks past Wilhelm to go check their scones without another word.

 

Joshua stands with red ears, glaring at Simon’s retreating, and then Wilhelm. "We barely even tolerate each other." "It's cute." "Awww, Wille. You looked like a kicked puppy, baby."

 

“It’s a joke, man, does he not understand it?”

 

“Most jokes are only funny the first time they’re told. Yours hasn’t made me laugh at all,” Wilhelm replies coldly, staring back at Joshua with an expressionless look. He wasn't this level mad at Joshua before, but then Simon went and said they barely tolerate each other after their moment... He's hurt, okay? He's confused and hurt. “Seriously, joke or not, it’s making us uncomfortable, stop trying to put two people together just because they’re both queer of some kind. He’s got a boyfriend.”

 

Joshua fumes. “I don’t fucking care if you’re both married to other people, you act gayer than Neil Patrick Harris and his husband on a honeymoon!” Joshua yells, and Wilhelm raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re both faggots, so why not go date each other! His stupid boyfriend isn’t even at this school, is he? I bet he’s a cover-up for you and dickwad over there’s relationships.”

 

“That was just uncalled for. That’s a slur, you can’t say tha - “ Wilhelm begins to say, but Joshua interrupts him in a mocking tone.

 

“ “You can’t say that”,” he jeers, stepping towards Wilhelm threateningly. He raises his chin in return, refusing to back down to his homophobic remarks. “If I can’t fucking say it, why does it exist? Why have words that I can’t say for being straight, but you can say just because you like sucking cock? That’s straightaphobic.” Joshua sneers, shoving Wilhelm back against the counter behind him.

 

“It’s - it’s called heterophobia, and no it’s not me just being mean. Do you even know what it means?” Wilhelm replies, standing up straighter in front of Joshua and his flaring nostrils. You could fit a jumbo jet inside those nostrils.

 

“Don’t fucking care, twinky. You and Simon are both faggots,” Joshua spits, and Wilhelm struggles to keep from screwing up his face at Joshua. “Disgusting apart, so why not be gross together.”

 

Wilhelm wrinkles his nose at him, but Simon suddenly appears, grabbing Joshua by his hair and dragging him sideways so he tumbles to the floor, swearing and yelling. “Don’t say that about him,” Simon hisses down at Joshua, and Wilhelm recoils, frowning. What no God's ever-loving green Earth is going on? "It's cute." "Baby." "Barely even tolerate each other." "Don't say that about him." HUH?

 

Joshua jumps to his feet and instantly goes to throw a punch at Simon, but Wilhelm grabs Simon’s arm and pulls him back before he can get hit in the face, Simon steps back into Wilhelm's chest. Wilhelm feels him lean back the slightest amount and it sends a flurry of butterflies up from the pits of his stomach.

 

“Calm down, Joshua. Simon would’ve decked you anyway,” Wilhelm says as Joshua seethes, taking a step back and straightening his shirt, trying to look chill and relaxed with his glowing ears and frizzy hair.

 

Simon pulls out of Wilhelm’s grip as Mr Rogerson stomps over, frowning. “Joshua, what was that, boy?” Mr Rogerson asks, planting himself in between Simon and Joshua, hands on his hips.

 

Wilhelm feels unclean, just by Joshua’s words. He knows they aren’t true. He and Simon aren’t gross for liking different people than Josh and each other, in the end, love is love, no matter who it’s between. Of course, there are exceptions to that.

 

“What were ye sayin'?” Mr Rogerson asks again when Joshua is quiet.

 

“He was calling Wilhelm disgusting and a faggot,” Simon told him factually, and Mr Rogerson winced.

 

“And you, he was also calling Simon that,” Wilhelm added, he can’t tell if Simon missed that part of Joshua’s words, or if he’s just trying to make it seem like Wilhelm is the only one attacked in this picture.

 

Simon and Wilhelm stand together, glaring over at Joshua, and Wilhelm hopes Joshua is regretting his words.

 

Mr Rogerson’s brows raise as he looks over to Joshua. “Is this true, Mr Wright?” He asks. The class is watching now, whispering amongst themselves about the situation.

 

Joshua glares at Simon and Wilhelm. “Sir, I didn’t say that. They started this.”

 

Wilhelm feels his glare intensify, face dropping, unamused as Simon growls next to him, before speaking. “He’s fucking lying. He hasn’t left us alone at all since the lesson began, saying we should date an - “

 

“He’s lying!” Joshua tries to speak over Simon, but he just steps fowards and talks over him instead.

 

“And saying that we should hook up, even after I told him I have a boyfriend,” Simon says, and Wilhelm nods along. “And he called Wilhelm a - and me, faggots, disgusting, gross. Tell us, Joshy, are you also sexist, racist, and ableist, along with being homophobic?” Simon turns to Joshua.

 

Wilhelm has the sudden urge to drag Simon out of this situation. Joshua’s words aren't true but they still kind of hurt, at least for Wilhelm. 

 

“It’s my opinion, Simon! I can think what I want,” Joshua snaps back.

 

“Joshua! Come outside and talk to me, boy,” Mr Rogerson plants a heavy hand on Joshua’s shoulder, and he glares at Simon and Wilhelm.

 

“You’re opinion is fucking wrong. I don’t care when people say opinions can’t be wrong, yes they can, and yours is. Your thoughts and words are hurtful! Did you know queer kids are four times more likely to make a suicide attempt? You know what encourages suicide?” Simon growls at Joshua.

 

“I didn’t tell you to kill yourself, you stupid fucking twat!”

 

“Joshua! Outside, right now!” Mr Rogerson roars over the two boys.

 

Wilhelm wants to go and grab Simon, pull him back, step in between.

 

Joshua turns with a huff and stalks out of the room, dumping his apron on the floor in the process, and slamming the door behind him.

 

Simon crosses his arms casually, leaning back against the island counter next to him. 

 

“Simon, please calm down,” Mr Rogerson says. “I’m sorry he spoke to ya like that. I hope ya know nothin' about your sexualities is wrong, at all, alright? He’s just got a skewed point of view.”

 

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Simon says back.

 

Mr Rogerson squints at him. “I’m not, boy, I’m not. His actions are his fault. Class!” He bombs, turning to look at the class. “If I am to hear another curse word, or homophobic comment, or slur, I'll drag ye up to Headmistress Lilja’s office meself, alright? Get on with ye cleaning, and watch ‘em scones, aye?” 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

When the bell goes, everyone is quick to get out of the class and head to lunch, nibbling on their scones of varying edibleness. One group was closer to charcoal than a scone, and they still tried to eat it before coughing up dust and throwing the rest of them out with laughter and choking.

 

Wilhelm’s scones are pretty good, he has to admit. During a few parts of the method, Simon changed up the recipe. “If we add more salt, it’ll add more flavour.” “I’m just sprinkling some herbs, I’m not poisoning us so stop squawking like a turkey, Jesus fucking shit.” “Those are not cooked. Colour equals flavour, and those scones look more pasty than Wille.” Joshua didn’t get his scones, so they split them between Wilhelm, Felice and Simon joyfully.

 

Simon acted like himself for the rest of the lesson, maybe slightly happier when Mr Rogerson informed them Joshua would be going to talk to the Headmistress after their conversation outside and wouldn't be getting his scones.

 

Wilhelm explained to Felice what Joshua had been doing, and she threatened to “pull out each of his nails with a pair of pliers and then pour lemon juice on his hands and feet”. To which Simon replied “Period,” and Wilhelm said “Please don’t go to prison over that prick, Felice.” “What about me?” “Oh yeah… Nah, you can go to prison over Joshua.” "Will you bail me out?" " 'Course."

 

At lunch, it’s all anyone talks about. The fact that Joshua called two celebrities faggots to their faces is pretty monumental news. He said that gays are “disgusting” and “gross” in front of two queer people who are both publicly out and supportive of the queer community. It's like he's asking to be cancelled.

 

After being asked for the fifth time if Wilhelm is going to get Joshua suspended like he did to August to protect Simon, Simon stands from his chair next to Wilhelm.

 

“Wanna go smoke with me at the bus stop?” Simon asked, already picking up his bag.

 

“You two smoke together?” Henry blurts, and isn’t this all just a lost cause? It's been a train wreck of a day and it's only lunchtime.

 

Wilhelm groans in annoyance, but he too is standing up, the guy who had been asking frowns as Wilhelm shoves his chair into the side of his foot, making him step back with a wince. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

 

“Hold up,” Alex says, putting down his cutlery to express his surprise. “Since when do you go smoke together? Since when do you smoke at all, Wilhelm?” 

 

“It’s not a regular thing,” Wilhelm attempts to explain, but Simon’s already wandering off with his plate, leaving Wilhelm to defend the fact they aren’t together. “It’s mostly his fault, to be honest, he has the cigarettes. Anyway, don’t make this seem like a big deal. It’s not.”

 

“Alright, chill,” Henry smirks as he dramatically impales some pasta onto his fork. “Go on then, your bae’s leaving you behind.”

 

Wilhelm sighs in exasperation, ignoring the boy, who goes to speak up again. He’s got an ugly black quiff and a snotty expression, so Wilhelm doesn’t feel bad. Wilhelm heads after Simon, who is already out of the building.

 

“Go chase your man,” Walter snickers.

 

“ “If his baby mamma aggravating, walk ‘em like a dog, walk ‘em like a dog, sis, walk ‘em like a dog “,” Henry sings jokingly as Wilhelm walks away, and he makes sure the Housefather isn’t looking when he flips him off.

 

Wilhelm scraps his plate, puts it in the pile and hurries out after Simon, trying to look relaxed and not at all desperate to escape as he follows him. Simon is not walking him like a dog, he isn’t chasing after him, he just wants to escape the gossip and questions, and since Simon is a part of said gossip, he won’t be asking questions. That’s a benefit to hanging out with famous people, as they tend to not spread your gossip. At least, Simon doesn’t. 

 

Simon isn’t walking particularly fast, so Wilhelm catches up to him easily enough, running a hand through his hair as he falls into step next to him.

 

Simon’s got his hands in the pockets of his giant, black bomber jacket, over top of a grey shirt with some faded words on it, his stupid Converse, and a pair of ripped-up, black skinnies. Wilhelm wasn’t aware people still owned black skinnies, not since One Direction at least.

 

He pulls it off, because of course he does, Simon looks good in whatever he wears, even with the chipped black polish and crusty dusty Converse.

 

“You okay?” Wilhelm asks, readjusting his shoulder bag around his shoulders.

 

“Yeah, I’m good babes. Ahem. You?”

 

Babes. Baby. Why am I getting butterflies from these names? He's called me babes before, Felice does it all the time. I need to get a god damn grip, right now.

 

“I'm fine. Joshua was mean. What he said was so uncalled for, and also petty… it’s so obvious he’s trying to get a reaction,” Wilhelm sighs heavily as they walk, swinging his arms before resting one on top of his shoulder bag and the other in the pocket of his hoodie. “Still hurts a bit.”

 

Simon shrugged as they approached the bus shelter. “I’m used to it, to be honest. Bet you never experienced homophobia, up in your high castle above the world.”

 

Wilhelm ignored his last comment and instead tried to get some more of Simon’s history. He’s learning that Simon will cover up admissions, facts about himself, or something of value with insults to try and bury them. “Did you get bullied at your old school for being gay?” Wilhelm enquiries as casually as possible.

 

“I mean, you’ve seen the shit I wear to parties,” Simon snorted. Wilhelm has, indeed. “I was better known as the school's twink than ... than fucking, Sara Eriksson’s baby brother… or Prince Wilhelm’s secret boyfriend.”

 

“Or Simon.”

 

“Or Simon,” Simon agreed, sliding his bag off one shoulder and sitting in the bus shelter.

 

Wilhelm sits next to him, glancing out at the pickup/dropoff zone in front of them. Wilhelm feels the slight dip in temperature each day as they head more and more into winter. Today he’s got on a shirt and a hoodie and he’s still a bit chilly. 

 

"I like Simon."

 

"...So do I."

 

“Is the bullying worse here or at your old school?” Wilhelm asks as Simon fishes out a packet of cigarettes from his bag, chucking them at Wilhelm as he digs around for a lighter. Wilhelm ignores the rattles and the rustling that Simon is shameless about. He opens the packet of cigarettes, which is mostly empty.

 

“Oh,” Simon scoffs coldly as he rummages around, but it isn’t directed at Wilhelm, more at the question. “It's definitely worse at Marie Burg. It’s mostly why I changed schools.” 

 

Wilhelm’s immediate reaction was to ask “the hell? I thought it was because you set the gym on fire?” But he holds back as Simon gets the lighter in his grip. Wilhelm passes him a cigarette he lights between his lips carelessly, watching the flame through hooded eyes, before passing the lighter to Wilhelm as his cigarette fizzles brightly. 

 

“Why did you come to Hillerska?” 

 

“So, Marieberg is one of those schools that does intermediate and high school, but for the years I was there in intermediate, I got bullied, even before I fucking came out.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t look like the average fuckin', white Swedish dude, y’know?” Simon says, blowing out smoke in front of them.

 

Wilhelm puts the cigarette between his lips, and flicks on the lighter, cupping the end of his cigarette as he lights it. Simon watches as he hands back the lighter, breathing in lightly and feeling the smoke trickle down his throat.

 

“Try to hold it,” Simon says.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t, exhaling instead. “Ew, okay, anyway… So people were racist?” 

 

“Mmmhmm,” Simon hums against his cigarette. “I was fucking born and raised here as well. Stockholm is where my parents met.” He goes silent for a moment, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Anyway, people called me the N-word and said I was fucking adopted because Sara has a much lighter skin. Then Sara got all jacked on cash and people learnt about my fucking home life. I got teased even worse for having an abusive father, which seems fucking backwards, doesn’t it? I got called to the counsellor's office because of the stuff about my Dad. Sometimes, random people would show up at Marieberg to shit on Sara to me, writing slurs on the school walls.” Simon pauses for a moment, and Wilhelm stares. He had no idea Simon had been through any of this. "Either way, with the fucking money, Mama figured it would be better if I just go to a different school altogether, to escape the bullying and harassment. But now everyone knows I go here instead, and I'm still getting harassed. We're getting harassed."

 

“I don’t think you’ve ever shared that much with me before,” Wilhelm marvels quietly, before taking another breathful of his cigarette. It gets slightly easier each time, but it still burns and is warm in his throat and lungs. It helps him process that block of information Simon just shared. "I thought you were expelled..."

 

Simon shrugs. “Well, I spread the rumour it was I set the gym on fire, but Mama just transferred me even though I didn't fucking want to change schools. My friends are there, it was closer to home." Simon doesn't mention anything of Marcus, Wilhelm quietly notes. "It’s not a secret, it's just embarrassing. Like, transferred for bullying? What little pussy transfers because they're being bullied? I could take it, I was fine." Simon stops talking for a moment, eyes jumping to his arms, then back to Wilhelm, sharp and dangerous. "Bullying is more common of a thing for people to go through in high school than drinking. Everyone already called me cowardly when I tried to stick up for my sister and me, I didn't want to give them more reason to hate me... I'd appreciate if you didn't tell people all that detail, though."

 

“Why would I?” Wilhelm replies, glancing over at Simon and his sharp side profile, looking straight ahead of them, bag in his lap.

 

“Because I’m mean to you,” Simon replied, leaning his head back against the hard walls, turning over to look at Wilhelm with his deep, secretive brown eyes. “For revenge against me, because you never did anything you know about to me but I’m still mean.”

 

Wilhelm smirked at Simon. “Thought you were salty about the coffee incident.”

 

Simon rolls his eyes as he looks ahead again. “Oh, hardly. I’m not that petty, Wille,” he scoffs, a small smile on his lips as he breathes in his cigarette.

 

Wilhelm smiles too, looking away from Simon to the gravel around them, to the tree at the edges of Hillerska. When did this change, between them? When did Wilhelm go from smoking just to prove he’s not scared to do so, to smoking with Simon to escape the rumours together, voluntarily?

 

“I’m sorry about all the rumours and stuff. It must put pressure on your relationship with Marcus,” Wilhelm says sincerely. He means it. “It’s not fair. Just because we’re queer doesn’t mean we should date. I don’t understand why people think that, like, the rest of the school is all straight, so why don’t they go and date each other, hmm? I get why people hate gays, Adam and Eve, humans are made to be gay, blah, blah, blah. But then why do dudes have a g-spot up their ass then? The Romans and Greeks used to have sex all the time for pleasure, back before straight and gay existed and it wasn't frowned upon. Why don't people hate on them but are homophobic at people simply liking the same gender, in the twenty century? Sorry, I could rant about that for a while.” Wilhelm sighs out some more smoke a little harsher than intended, and it burns.

 

“It’s fine,” Simon says, voice a void of emotions. Wilhelm can tell it’s not fine, but he just has a feeling that maybe it’s not just the rumours putting pressure on Simon and Marcus’s relationship.

 

Wilhelm has questions he wants to ask, like “Why do you hate me?” “What’s the family issue?” “Where is your Dad?” “Why do you sell drugs and enjoy getting high and drunk?” “What’s going on between you and Marcus?” But Simon’s shared a lot, and Simon doesn’t owe him answers … Okay, maybe it’s not a lot, but it’s more than ever before, and that’s progress. Maybe Wilhelm should delete that photo.

 

“Since I just shared some of my history with you,” Simon says suddenly, voice calm and casual. “Care to share something of your own?” 

 

Wilhelm blinks, pursing his lips as Simon turns to look at him. “Um, it depends on what,” Wilhelm admits, not meeting Simon’s eyes as he talks. He doesn’t want to share anything. At all... But, Simon shared, and how lame would Wilhelm be if he didn’t share right now? Super lame, is the answer.

 

“Well, I do want to know about the infamous 13th birthday.” Wilhelm feels himself stiffen, cigarette freezing on its way to his mouth, still burning softly in between his fingers. “But I’m not high enough to comprehend the shit that actually happened. I’ve heard at least seventeen different versions of what the fuck happened, all from people who weren’t fucking there. So, like, tell me some drama from your old school or something fucking basic.”

 

It occurs to Wilhelm that maybe Simon isn’t trying to pry into his life and use it against him, and is just talking. He can hold good conversation when he wants to, it seems. 

 

“Hmmm… Prompt me, Simon,” he looks over at Simon, who rolls his lips, visibly thinking.

 

“Do you like being a Prince?” Simon decides to ask, but Wilhelm can see the thousands of questions burning behind his eyes. He wonders if Simon saw the same look on him just before.

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily. He’s seen Erik answer this question a million times, always with bright, happy "yes"’s, and Wilhelm knows that he should say the same to Simon, but with his dark eyes, and his genuinely curious expression … Wilhelm knows Simon isn’t going to sell him out, not after what he told Wilhelm about his past and old school.

 

“It has its ups and downs. Ups like people tend to care what I say, but that’s double-sided as well because obviously, not everyone is going to agree with what I think or say. Most of the time, the things I say in public are sentences I’ve had scripted by my PR team, therefore it doesn’t tend to hurt my feelings when I get thrashed for something that isn't my opinion, or only half of it, or not how I would word it,” Wilhelm explains carefully, and Simon just nods, watching him quietly. “Down’s like the paparazzi, like people prying into my life, like I’ll never get to have my dream job, or a normal family, or an event that isn’t photographed from fifty different angles.”

 

Simon hums in agreement. “I haven’t been part of this celebrity life for as long as you, and also not to the same intensity, but some of what I’ve been through with the paps has been fucking disgusting.”

 

“Yes, it’s like that, it’s like somewhere along the way, we signed away the right to privacy without knowing, and no one cares to figure out where it went wrong. I'm in too deep anyway.”

 

“What is your dream job?” Simon asks after agreeing once more, taking another drag of his cigarette and exhaling it in a singular stream in front of them.

 

“It might sound dumb, so don’t laugh,” Wilhelm finds himself warning.

 

“Do you know who the fuck you’re talking to right now? I’ll laugh if I want to, babes.”

 

“Fine, whatever,” Wilhelm huffs and Simon smirks. He's wanted to be this since he was about 10. He used to plan out his day, Erik's day, and his parent's day, and stick up their programmes around the palace. “I want to be a manager,” Wilhelm blurts. Little Wilhelm didn't really understand what a manager did at the time.

 

Simon just blinks at him. But he doesn’t laugh! A win! “A manager for what? Why? The fuck?” He isn’t laughing, but he sure sounds confused.

 

“Anything - I haven’t thought that far yet. But it just seems… satisfying,” Wilhelm says, and Simon just raises an eyebrow at him in confusion, cig perched between his parted lips. “I’ve spent my whole life being controlled, told where to go, what to say, who to smile at and who to blatantly ignore, most of it without context. Sometimes it can be really hard to, for example, say that eggs hard boiled are just the morally right option compared to soft-boiled when you just hate eggs altogether. Do you get what I mean? It’s hard to act like I care when it’s not my opinion.” I don’t get to ask the questions, I just do what I’m told.

 

“So it’d be nice to have control over something,” Simon guesses, eyeing Wilhelm curiously. “That’s what I’m gathering from that ramble.”

 

“Or at least a voice in it, I don’t need all the power over someone. I just want to be the manager I wish I had, who listens.”

 

“So, like a celebrity manager? Out of the spotlight but still choreographing things?” Simon concludes, exhaling through his nose and shifting around, sliding so his back is straight, looking over at Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm nods. “Yeah, I guess,” he agrees. “What’s your dream job?” 

 

Simon freezes, taking a second to have another drag of his cigarette, which is significantly smaller than Wilhelm’s, but he doesn’t comment. “I wanted to be a singer. A pop star. Someone's idols.” For a split second, Simon looks like he gets swept away in his thoughts, eyes gazing at something that isn’t there, the tense emotion in his brow melting away, cigarette floating down from his face.

 

Wilhelm grins at him. “I could be your manager,” Wilhelm laughs, and Simon smiles softly at whatever he’s watching. "Following you around with a clipboard and pen, directing you here and there."

 

"Would you listen to me?" 

 

Wilhelm's grin only grows as Simon turns to look at him, eyes focused. This cigarette must be stronger than the last because Wilhelm feels his heart speed up slightly. Simon's smiling at him, a genuine, happy, amused smile that Wilhelm called. "I'd keep you in line, but I would listen to you, of course. I want to be a good manager, not a strict stepmum."

 

“Imagine that,” Simon chuckles, turning slowly to look out at the grounds. “But I’ll probably never get there, because of my history. The best I’ll ever do at that is having a solo in the choir,” Simon sighs, smile melting, and Wilhelm misses it. He looks nice when he smiles, in all contexts of nice. Simon brings the cigarette back to his lips as he looks away from Wilhelm, his face tightening, cheeks hollowing as he inhales. 

 

“But there are loads of celebrities with history’s way dirtier than yours who have risen. Like Robert Downy Junior, and Mark Wahlberg. Your past doesn’t define you, Simon,” Wilhelm says honestly. “There’s no way I’ll be able to become someone's manager, I’d have to leave the royal family, and find someone who won’t just agree with everything I say because I used to be a Prince - It’s too complicated. But there’s lots of hope for you being a singer,” Wilhelm watches Simon’s struggling expression, his tight mouth and uneasy eyes. “That isn’t all there is to it though, is there?”

 

Simon sighs heavily, like Wilhelm saying what he said calmed him just that little bit. “No. I’m…” He shakes his head and then gestures to the cigarette, and he almost looks hateful. “Won’t I just be one of those celebrities in the eyes of the public? One of the crackhead popstars, snorting lines backstage and then stumbling out to their crowd. I don’t even know if I’d be able to sing full songs, or write music that is good enough for labels and talent scouts if I get lung cancer and fry my brain.”

 

“Just stop smoking then,” Wilhelm says, the thought that’s been going around his mind since yesterday. It’s genetic, folks! 

 

Simon doesn’t say anything, breathing in his cigarette, which is starting to get awfully short, giving Wilhelm a side eye that makes him recoil slightly. His eyes look toxic, dangerous, and angry, like Wilhelm doesn’t understand.

 

Wilhelm turns to his own silently. 

 

Maybe he can’t stop, like Felice said. Maybe Wilhelm needs to do a bit of research on addiction and genetics to understand Simon better. He finds he does want to do that, he wants to learn everything there is about that boys life, his brain, his dreams and his demons.

 

Simon finishes his cigarette in silence, and a few minutes later the bell goes. Without another word Wilhelm drops his cigarette and grinds it with the heel of his shoe, Simon already walking off towards class quietly.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm flops down on his bed after school, his bag dumped on the floor. Simon and Wilhelm got pulled out of class after lunch to talk to the Headmistress because apparently, they take bullying and homophobia very seriously. Joshua got detention for a week and an email home. Simon was fine with missing class, but Wilhelm was twitchy and texting Felice to remember everything that was said.

 

And since lunch, all he’s been thinking about is Simon, his dream, his Dad, the contents of his backpack and his goddamn DNA. 

 

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he goes to Google and types in the question he didn’t ask yesterday slowly, pressing the search button and reading the first thing to come up.

 

Research suggests alcohol addiction is about 50 per cent heritable, while addiction to other drugs is as much as 70 per cent heritable .” Well, shit.

 

Wilhelm scrolls down and reads a bit more. 

 

Is addiction genetic or learned? Addictions tend to run in families, and certain types of genes have been linked to different addictions. ” Ah, Wilhelm's messed up, he's messed up bad. He was naive and assumed he knew better, because he normally does. But Felice was right. There is still no telling if Simon is addicted … Which leads to his next search of “ how to tell if someone is addicted to smoking .”

 

A noticeable lack of energy doing daily activities. ” Does Simon have a lack of energy when doing normal things? Wilhelm doesn’t think so … He seems passionate about things, like annoying people and getting himself expelled, fighting for himself and … and for Wilhelm, like he did today in food tech. He didn't even hear when Joshua called them both faggots, only hearing it about Wilhelm.

 

He goes down a rabbit hole of questions and answers he never even thought he’d need to ask, and starts to get a little more worried with every search.

 

How many cigarettes to get addicted? The answer is, only one.” 

 

The younger you are when you smoke, the more harmful it is, as the brain is still developing and smoking can damage your brain and stop it from growing.”

 

Substance use disorder, also known as SUD.

 

An addictive behaviour is compulsively engaging in the same behaviour despite having negative or harmful consequences to your wellbeing.

 

Most smokers say they want to stop, but some continue because smoking seems to relieve stress and anxiety -

 

Smokers are more likely to develop depression - “

 

Addiction in young people -

 

Drugs in family households -

 

Suicide and self harm -

 

Death.

 

Could Simon die? Wilhelm blinks, looking away from his screen. The world seems to be more quiet, but his heart is slamming in his chest. Could Simon die? He thinks again, brain stuck on the thought. Would he overdose or kill himself? Would it be on purpose?

 

He’s not entirely sure what to think of this, but he does feel regret. He regrets looking into it because he feels like he knows a bit more about Simon than he wants to. But then again, he doesn’t really know anything, doesn’t he? Because he has no idea if Simon is addicted, or if he’s just smoking for the sake of it. Has he grown up around drugs and doesn’t know a life without it, or does he just want to try and get himself expelled? 

 

It’s blurry, and Wilhelm shouldn’t try to figure it out, he’s got his own problems, like his parents, his school work and grades, student council, his reputation.


Wilhelm chucks his phone to the side and goes to his desk to do some homework instead of worrying about Simon and his problems. At the rate Simon’s going, he’ll be expelled in no time and Wilhelm won’t even have to worry about it.

 

~ Sunday ~

 

This weekend murdered him.

 

They’re planning to do the market day next weekend in Bjärstad, which means planning for transportation of people, products and stalls, planning what they'll sell, finding people to run the stalls, setting up advertisements, figuring out where they’re going to put the stalls themselves, etcetera.

 

Wilhelm spent all of Saturday in the council room with Madi. He had to cancel their afternoon Crisis note-sharing with Felice and Simon, communicating that to Simon through school emails, to which he replied “fuck yeah, thanks babe.” Followed by an eggplant emoji, three red years and the heart eyes emoji. Weirdo. Wilhelm told him to read his book, to which he got no reply.

 

Madi left the council room around lunchtime for an amount of time, Wilhelm isn't sure exactly he was focused on work the whole time she was gone. But when she came back she had some food and Walter, which Wilhelm nibbled on. Madi, Wilhelm and Walter all worked until dinner with Miss Clear and Ashlee, but Wilhelm continued well into the evening.

 

Walter tried to convince him to leave his bedroom for dinner, but Wilhelm insisted it was fine, he was hungry but knew if he worked hard tonight he could have a slightly more relaxing day tomorrow. Walter and Henry dropped off some dinner in his room anyway, but Wilhelm put it on the floor so it was out of the way for his work, as he’s trying to make posters on Canva and get them printed out tonight so he can go into Bjärstad tomorrow with some of the council to stick them around.

 

By the time he was ready to print, the library was closed, which then made him realize tomorrow wouldn't be a relaxing day, so he kept working until one A.M., looking into different locations where they could legally hold a market. He came across an actual market the town holds on Saturdays that they can sign up for and add some stalls in, in a large field just outside Bjärstad, which is a big weekly event for the town. He wonders if Simon's gone to that before, if he goes every week with his friends, family and boyfriend.

 

He ended up getting dragged down a hole of research around the different stalls they could hold, writing lists and creating mood boards on what the different stalls could sell.

 

He woke up Sunday to the sound of people chanting August's name, face down on his desk with a pen pressed into his cheek painfully. He'd peeled it off his skin and jumped out his bedroom window without showering, brushing his teeth, or eating any breakfast, which was fine because he wasn’t hungry. He forgot August was coming back this weekend, time flew by when he wasn't here, and it was glorious (Not really, Joshua really stepped up to take his place. A real one he is.)

 

Wilhelm spent an hour printing things in the library, texting Alex as he paced between the printers asking where August is so he can avoid him for as long as possible, chewing on his nails as the printer beeped behind him. Alex informed him that August was planning his own welcome-back party in the common room, and hadn’t expressed any interest in Wilhelm’s existence at all. Which should probably be a bit concerning, but Wilhelm was overjoyed by the news of his own neglect.

 

Wilhelm got himself a coffee from the library's cafe the second it was open, causing Agnes some surprise at his morning appearance, as he has never been there for the opening of the cafe on weekends, which is later than school days, 10 instead of 7:30.

 

“You alright, Wilhelm?” She asks as she pours the ice into the cup. Is that always that loud?

 

Wilhelm nods, trying to look more awake than he feels. Wilhelm remembers checking the time last night and seeing it was four A.M. but has no idea when he fell asleep in the end, it must've been at least half an hour later. August got back around 9 this morning, so he slept in later than he'd like. He's missed hours in which he could've been working!

 

“Here’s your drink, Prince Wilhelm. Have a good day,” she smiles pleasantly, sliding the coffee over the counter. “See you around.” The use of his title reminds him of what he's doing here, at this elite school, in his cafe, on this morning. He's getting energy to continue with his school work, because, unlike Erik, he can't be sporty, funny, smart and nice to teachers, so he has to work four times as hard in his one strong suit to make up for the lack of the other four. Oh, and he's the younger sibling, the backup, so he'll always be frowned at, always compared, always lesser, never an equal to Erik. He loves his brother and doesn't blame him for this, he can't help being born first, but he hates being compared. His A+'s in every subject look like nothing compared to Erik's A+'s in every subject and a shiny, first-place trophy for rowing.

 

“Thank you, have a good day,” Wilhelm replies, grabbing the coffee, already chugging it down before he was fully out the cafe doors.

 

Now Wilhelm has his beloved drink, he’s going to the council room to wait for the rest of the council to gather so he can share his findings, research, mood boards and ideas, then Miss Clear will drive four of them into Bjärstad to stick up the posters. Wilhelm has his shoulder bag, inside he has his laptop, a binder with all his posters, a notepad, pencils, blu-tak (In case Miss Clear doesn't have any) and his phone.

 

He treks across the grounds in his clothes from yesterday and stops in the bathroom to flush his face with cold water to wake himself up a little more, taking a pee and then continuing to the council room. Wilhelm notices that his legs feel a little jelly-like, which he blames on the amount of walking he's been doing... and his heart is pounding a little harder than normal from the walk across the school.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The meeting goes well, everyone is impressed by his ideas and agrees to all of them. Only half the council shows up, and August is not included, nor is Walter. Screw them, but Madi is there, so Wilhelm doesn’t feel entirely small compared to the other, older, basically adult members.

 

Miss Clear thanks him for his dedication and tells him to take it easy for a bit before they go and print out some business cards, one of Wilhelm's suggestions he didn't go through on his own. He wishes he had, because now they have to wait an hour for them to all print and be cut up before they can go out.

 

Once that's done, Madi, Wilhelm, Ashlee and Joeanne all get into Miss Clear’s car and spend an hour going to different post offices and noticeboards around Bjärstad, pinning all their posters up. They stop in at the pizzeria where Ayub works, and he's overjoyed to see Wilhelm again, wrapping him in a fierce hug. He doesn't even bother asking his manager before insisting they stick their posters to the windows. Madi chats happily with Ayub, while Ashlee and Joeanne go around sticking little business cards for the market in condiment holders, and Wilhelm sticks up posters with Miss Clear.

 

Afterwards, Miss Clear takes them to her favourite smoothie drive-thru and insists on buying everyone a drink. Wilhelm politely declines, and everyone else is too hyped about the market and smoothies to notice how Wilhelm doesn't take a sip of the smoothie she buys him despite his protest.

 

He sits in silence, staring out the window on the way back to Hillerska, feeling physically drained, but determined to keep working. He makes a mental list of everything he needs to do once he gets back as the smoothie leaves condensation on his hands, the forest blurring past the tinted windows.

 

Wilhelm wanders across the school grounds back to his bedroom, dumping the smoothie in the bin as he walks, nearly tripping on his own feet at one point.

 

He decides to avoid the front entrance and jumps back in his window. Wilhelm's beyond exhausted, his limbs weigh a small child each, and his bag, full of notes and add-ons to his ideas, is like carrying a sack of concrete. He drops his bag to the floor, feet sluggish and slow. He has to keep going, he's doing so much good work right now, and the teachers are all proud of him.

 

Wilhelm's insides ache with a deep, unwavering pain. He pushes his hands against his abdomen to try and soothe the endless ache, but it doesn’t help.

 

Wilhelm kicks off his shoes weakly, and he kind of wants to cry when they don’t come off as easily as he'd like, and he has to try twice to pry one off with his toes.

 

Down the hall, he can hear boys laughing and joking loudly, obnoxious music playing in the background. he assumes they're planning August's welcome-back party with him. It must be nice for that to be your biggest worry and not the impending failure of school.

 

He wants to lie down in his bed and melt into the sheets that look softer than normal. His pillow looks like it’ll smother him in the best way. 

 

But Wilhelm has homework to do from last Thursday, which is due tomorrow morning. He has to keep his mind off Simon as well. He's been good at that all weekend, but remembering the homework he has to do reminds him of their last study session on Friday afternoon, where Simon fell asleep on Wilhelm's bed while Wilhelm worked at his desk. He hadn't wanted to wake Simon up when dinner was ready, so he pretended he dropped a book on the floor to wake him up and then let him realise by himself how late it was. The memory of Simon curled up on his pillow, curls splayed around his head, facing towards Wilhelm with his eyes closed softly, mouth shut as gentle breaths escape his nose is engraved into his brain.

 

Wilhelm pauses, contemplating. A nap would be nice, when he collapsed into bed Friday night he got a waft of orange-scented air.

 

But...He'll lose valuable hours if he naps, in which he could be getting ahead and making everyone proud. He didn't get all those awards from taking naps. He turns from his bed and dumps himself in his chair. His legs are grateful for the break, at least. Wilhelm reaches for his laptop and worksheets with shaking hands.

 

~ Monday ~

 

“Wilhelm?” Something prods him in the arm, but the sleep is just too nice, to comforting. It's better than a soft, weighted blanket, better than sex on the beach... not that he knows what that is like... this is like Heaven threw up on his bed! Wilhelm never wants to move. He wants to live here, die here, decay here, and make sure no one can ever feel this amazing bed he’s found, all for himself and only him.

 

“Simon, do not take photos.”

 

Well, it can’t be Heaven if Simon is here. What the hell is Simon doing in my bed... Again?

 

Wilhelm is awake very suddenly, the desk underneath him hard and not soft, and his forehead and nose hurt a little bit... like he fell on them.

 

He sits up immediately, realising what’s happening.

 

“You okay?” Felice asks kindly as he rubs at his eyes, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You just passed out, straight onto your desk.”

 

“You’ve been dozing off and then waking up halfway through the whole lesson,” Simon informs Wilhelm from behind him.

 

He turns to glare at the other boy, who turns his phone around to show a picture of Wilhelm face down on the desk, one arm over the front of his desk, and the other limp on his lap, his mouth is slightly open and his cheek is squished.

 

Wilhelm feels fire in his cheeks. “Delete that,” he growls, going to grab the phone, but Simon chucks it into his backpack carelessly. 

 

“Consider it deleted,” Simon replies with a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which flickered quickly over Wilhelm's clammy and slightly numb face. “You seriously need to sleep more and study less, though. Your bed is comfy, use it.”

 

"Ayo?" Someone whispers from behind them. Wilhelm can't be damned.

 

“Are you alright, Wilhelm?” Miss Clear asks, standing at the desk.

 

The whole class is watching. Wilhelm has never, ever fallen asleep in class, not in the entire history of his life. He’s never understood how other people manage to fall asleep while the teacher is talking when they know people will take photos and make fun of them. He’s seen the videos of teachers waking up students by slamming their hands on their desks, or other students screaming about a fire - and he’s already been woken up by the fire once before, so he's had his turn, and his one was a real fire. Thanks, August, thanks a lot.

 

“Yes, Miss, I’m fine. I’m so sorry I fell asleep,” Wilhelm laughs it off, running a hand through his hair anxiously, catching on some unbrushed parts. “Sorry, your lesson isn’t boring - “

 

A shrill, ringing sound cuts through the air like a bullet, making Wilhelm jump in his chair, generating a few snickers from around the room. He feels Simon frown at the back of his head. The lesson only started two minutes ago though… Wilhelm looks down at his desk. He doesn’t even have his laptop, notes, worksheet or pencil out.

 

He meets Felice’s worried gaze for a split second, but the rest of the class jumping up distracts Miss Clear from Wilhelm falling asleep in her class.

 

“You okay?” Felice asks as Wilhelm stands. His legs feel like spaghetti, his thoughts a jumbled, blurry mix, which is how they've been since last night. How did he sleep through an entire lesson? Simon said he was dozing on and off, so he must’ve been half asleep the whole time. Wilhelm knows Simon won’t post the photo he got, and the rest of the class will probably find it more funny than worthy of a post.

 

“Huh?” He asks, turning to Felice suddenly, realising she’s been speaking the whole time as Wilhelm waits for her to pack up.

 

Felice turns to look over at him with a frown, shoving her laptop into her bag. “I just said “are you okay, Wille? You look really tired. You’ve been distracted since the first period, and it’s only the third. Did you sleep?” Did you not hear what I’ve been saying?”

 

Wilhelm looks away quickly, watching as Simon stops next to Felice. 

 

“We’ve got choir,” he informs her calmly, eyes flicking from her to Wilhelm.

 

“And I have a council meeting to get to, so move,” Wilhelm adds, ushering Felice along. “I’m fine, just a little tired, but nothing to worry about, really, I'm fine.”

 

“Want me to ask Madi to grab you a snack?” Felice asks as they wander out the door together, Simon waiting to walk next to Wilhelm, scuffing his shoes on the floor with each step.

 

No, it’s fine, I’m not hungry,” Wilhelm responds, and his heart begins to pound a little more, inside aching as he moves. Miss Clear locks the classroom behind him and begins to follow towards the council rooms. His head is fuzzy and unclear. Wilhelm blinks, but it doesn’t clear his thoughts at all. What is wrong with him?

 

Wilhelm jumps to a stop when something is waved in his face. He blinks his eyes into focus as Miss Clear walks past. Simon is waving a mandarin in his face. “Do you want this? Are you listening? Heeellooo - “

 

Wilhelm slaps Simon's hand and his fruit offering away. “I’m fine, Jesus, do you people listen to me at all?” He snaps, stalking past Simon and Felice.

 

“Did he eat breakfast?” He hears Felice ask Simon not so quietly. Wilhelm glares over his shoulder. 

 

“I can hear you. Stop talking about me when I’m right here. I’m not fucking deaf, or stupid, Felice,” Wilhelm hisses at her and hurt crosses her face for a moment, then anger. She opens her mouth to respond, but Wilhelm is out of the building, heading to his meeting on unsteady feet, and legs like poorly made walls during an Earthquake.

 

It doesn't matter if he had breakfast, he’s just a little tired from all the work he's been doing. He got a coffee this morning, and that stopped the ache for an hour or two. He's not stupid, he knows his stomach wants actual food. He’ll suck it up and go to dinner if he doesn’t have any extra work, which he probably will have. He knows he can't avoid August forever, but he'll sure as hell try. He has no idea how his cousin will behave towards Wilhelm after his two-week suspension which he caused.

 

Wilhelm kinda… Kind of doesn’t want the ache to go away… It’s not satisfying, because it hurts, but the way it’s there, it’s fulfilling for something he can’t place.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Whoa! Watch where you’re going,” Simon appears suddenly, his hands pressing against Wilhelm’s back gently as he stumbles back into him. “Jesus, Wille, stop falling for me.”

 

Wilhelm blinks his vision back into focus, trying to find his balance with Simon’s hands against his back. His head is spinning and Wilhelm can’t grasp thoughts. They’re playing hockey, right? No, no, there’s no sticks, bloody idiot, they’re playing a big game of basketball. Yup, that’s what they’re doing. He should've known that, they've only been playing for ... How long? Ten minutes? Thirty?

 

Wilhelm steps away from Simon to block the ball from someone's grasp - 

 

“Dude! I’m on your team!” Some girl yells at him, managing to step around him to catch it anyway.

 

“Oh - Oh, sorry,” Wilhelm apologises, stepping back again, embarrassed, confused and disorientated. He can’t describe it, but everything is just wrong ... out of place. Wrong.

 

Wilhelm blinks as he looks in circles, locating the ball on the other side of the court, now in Henry’s grasp. He shoots for the net, and scores. Wilhelm cheers, taking a few more steps towards the net Henry scored in.

 

“Hey, hey,” Wilhelm turns to find some random guy he can’t remember the name of standing there, looking amused as he shakes his head. “Wilhelm, you’re a goalie, stay over by the net, okay?” He pats Wilhelm’s shoulder and then jogs off.

 

“Sorry,” Wilhelm replies to his back, the air stirring at his departure. “I can’t fucking … Fucking focus,” he grumbles, looking in a circle. He should know where to go, but he just doesn’t. It's making him want to cry and sit down, catch his breath, sleep. Wilhelm takes a deep breath, but the gym is just a little stuffy right now, and it makes his head even more foggy.

 

“Wilhelm!” Someone yells from across the court. “Go to the goal!”

 

“Sorry,” he whispers, turning to the goal and walking - 

 

“Wrong goal!”

 

“Wille,” he stops as he turns around, stumbling a step, nearly walking into Felice. She’s on the opposite team, he bib is yellow and not pink like Wilhelm's, like Simon's. Crap, what way is he going?

 

“Can’t talk, apparently I can’t find my net,” Wilhelm tells her, forcing a small smile even though he wants to cry, then throw up and lie down until everything stops.

 

Felice tries to stop him as he walks past her, and he snaps. "God, Felice, can you just leave me alone? You don't need to fucking parent me all the time, I can look after myself!"

 

A few kids look in their direction as a hurt expression slashes across Felice's face. Wilhelm turns away as someone throws the ball to Felice, his head pulsing, insides painfully tight.

 

Wilhelm sees Simon intercept Felice’s throw to Fredrika, and he nearly walks into Madi, who is watching. “Sorry, sorry.”

 

“You’re all good,” she replies, not even looking at him, eyes on the ball.

 

Wilhelm reaches the goal, leaning on it heavily, praying the ball stays away for a bit so he can catch his breath. I need to get out of here.

 

The whistle screeches. Oh thank god, it’s all over, he can go sit down - 

 

“Swap roles with someone on your team, please!” Miss Myles calls to the class. “2 to 1, are the current scores. C’mon, remember what we talked about spacing and communication, guys! You got this!”

 

Wilhelm looks up as people swarm around to take his place as goal defender, but he just steps away, allowing them to argue and debate.

 

“Oh, hey, Simon,” he stops by Simon, who is standing by himself, cracking his limbs.

 

“What's up?” Simon asks, frowning at him as he pauses stretching his arms. "Hey, are you okay?" Simon takes a step closer, brows gathering.

 

Wilhelm blinks. Umm - “Standing here. It’s really hot in here, isn’t it?”

 

Simon pauses, shaking his head slightly. "No?" It sounds like a question, "You're on the other wing. You're meant to be that side,” Simon points to the other side of the court, down a straight line opposite them. "I'm left, you're right."

 

“Oh,” Wilhelm blinks. “Sorry.”

 

He goes to walk off, blinking a few times, but Simon grabs his arm to stop him. Wilhelm turns to him. “You okay? Are you high? Did you get high without me?” Simon asks jokingly, but he also seems serious. Wilhelm can’t read his body language like he normally can, he can’t even think, his body aches and it’s too heavy for him to carry. He wants to collapse into Simon and let him hold him up.

 

“I’m fine,” Wilhelm snaps, ripping his arm from Simon’s strangely gentle grip and marching across the court, shaking his head harshly to clear his thoughts. He wants to crouch and rip his hair out to clear the cobwebs, to sit down and wait for this to stop - 

 

The whistle blows.

 

Wilhelm runs after the ball and feels darkness crawl into his vision like a parasite infecting him, his feet stop working and he’s stumbling around, blinking and trying to stay focused as his mind is slipping, and his stomach aches like he’s been punched several times, his forehead sweats and his breaths fall unevenly, eyes heavy and tired.

 

Wilhelm reaches out to steady himself but misses the arm of some short, curly-haired person who turns to face him a second too late, their hand slipping through his grasp as they brokenly call his name - 

 

Yelling consumes his blackened mind, blurry like he’s under the water, he’s suffocating the same way as well -

 

The ground is hard against his shoulder and hip - 

 

Sharp, loud ringing in his ears as he tries to blink again -

 

Sports shoes all around him - 

 

Darkness.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Is he dead?” 

 

“He’s not fucking dead, you idiot. He fainted.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Shut up."

 

"He’s waking up.”

 

“He tripped me up, my knee hurts.”

 

“He could have a concussion, girl, be so for real.”

 

“Prince Wilhelm? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you hear me.”

 

I have hands?

 

Wilhelm blinks his eyes, but they’re heavy and he kind of doesn’t want to. His head is heavy on the ground, which is hard beneath his skull and his body, and weighs more than it used to. He feels that way at least.

 

It’s really bright as well, the gym ceiling - The … The gym ceiling...

 

“Did I faint?” Wilhelm whispers, manoeuvring his arms to cover his face, untangling his hand from the teacher's small, damp ones.

 

“He lives!” Wilhelm hears Stella cheer, but she gets silenced quickly by a smacking sound.

 

“Everyone, please go to the changing rooms, you have no business here,” Miss Myles orders to the class sternly.

 

“We just want to know if he’s okay,” Wilhelm hears Henry argue.

 

“Two friends may stay,” the teacher replies as Wilhelm feels tears boil in his eyes hotly. Shit, he fainted in PE, in front of the whole class, in the middle of a lesson.

 

Wilhelm hears the class grumbling and complaining as they shuffle away. His heart is beating fast in his chest, his stomach is aching.

 

“Wilhelm, can you sit up, please? Simon, pass me his water bottle, please, hun.”

 

Simon’s here. No, no, no. That’s so embarrassing. Simon saw me faint.

 

A few tears leak out of his eyes. “Can’t,” he whispers into his arm. His teacher must be so confused as to why Simon stayed, Wilhelm is too, but not as much as he would've been a week ago.

 

"It's okay, Wille," Simon whispers.

 

"Stop it. I can't."

 

“Yes, you can, c’mon, I’ll help. You can do this, Wilhelm,” Miss Myles encourages gently, rubbing his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm whispers numbly, embarrassment making his pale cheeks flush. “Is Felice here?” He croaks, craving his best friend's gentle touch and words.

 

He’s met with silence. Silence has never hurt so much. He squeezes his eyes shut, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. She’s not here right now, all he has is Simon, his teacher, and a water bottle. Where did she go?

 

 

 

Notes:

The pet names have me dying guys, how are you doing?

Before I cut it down, this chapter was nearly 50,000 words long, I'm not editing that for one chapter, not when I'm trying to update more than 10 times a year xoxo

Love me some angst

Don't worry it's still tagged with crack for a reason :D

Season 3?

Chapter 9: Awkward Alien

Summary:

There's things I wanna say to you
But I'll just let you live
Like if you hold me without hurting me
You'll be the first who ever did
There's things I wanna talk about
But better not to give
But if you hold me without hurting me
You'll be the first who ever did
- Cinnamon Girl, by Lana Del Rey

You know my girl Lana had to make her debut in this fic at some point. I could scream that song until my lungs literally shrivel and die like Voldemort in the last scene GIRLLLLL.

Playlist
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Notes:

I'll never listen to Arcade the same again. I'm absolutely shitting my fucking pants waiting for episode six. If they aren't endgame, Lisa's Instagram DM's will never know peace again. Episode six comes out tomorrow but six A.M. for me, so I'm going to be off the internet all day until I can watch it after school, with my sister and snacks. I think I might send myself into a coma crying over the fact it's ending.

Anyway, I've been really cold recently, my fingers are so stiff, so I haven't been doing much writing but I've done heaps of editing. I wrote a future scene that's pretty far down the track and it made me cry. This fic is bouta leave the eye of the storm and be blown in every direction. If you think it's stressful right now AHAHHA, babe, BABE. It gets pretty crazy, fighting and parties and arguing and kissing and betrayal and drugs oooo la la.

For now, enjoy this one, ta-ta!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

“C’mon,” Miss Myles pulls his shoulder, and Wilhelm removes his arm from his face to help himself sit up, leaning forward slowly, his head is between his knees, hiding his tears and blocking out the bright white lights above him.

 

“Drink some water, Wilhelm. Did you eat breakfast today?”

 

Wilhelm gulps thickly, throat tight. “I had coffee,” he replies weakly, eyes clenched shut. “That’s what I normally have for breakfast. I’m just tired. I’m sorry.” His mind is still foggy and unclear.

 

Wilhelm hears someone walking over, and a few seconds later he hears something scrape against the ground. Wilhelm opens his eyes and finds his dejected glass waterbottle staring up at him.

 

“Drink up, Wilhelm,” Miss Myles rubs his back. “And you normally have coffee for breakfast?

 

Someone sits down next to him, cross-legged. Simon.

 

Wilhelm rubs his eyes to hopefully rid the tear stains from his face before he looks up. Sure enough, Simon is beside him, silent and face stony, staring at Wilhelm with worried eyes. Miss Myles is crouched on Wilhelm's other side, hand on his shoulder, looking equally serious, if not more.

 

“Um,” Wilhelm says dumbly, cracking open his water bottle and sipping his water. He still wants to cry - again. He’s so, so, so embarrassed by this, and he still can’t think straight. It’s boiling here, it's far too stuffy, and the air is too thick to inhale properly.

 

“Did you skip dinner last night?” Miss Myles asks gently.

 

Wilhelm gulps again, cheeks burning. “Miss, I - “

 

“Wilhelm,” Miss Myles frowns at him. “I know you aren't one to lie." Wilhelm looks away, to Simon, who purses his lips. Miss Myles sighs. "While you were out, Henry and some of the other boys were saying you haven’t eaten with them in a while.”

 

“I’ve been eating at the cafe,” Wilhelm lies quickly, meeting his teacher's aged, brown eyes. “I promise I’m eating, Miss.”

 

She gives him a doubting look, taking a deep breath before slapping her thighs and standing up. “I’m pulling you out of last period - “

 

“No - “ Wilhelm begins to protest, feeling more tears boil in his eyes, making everything blur. He wills them to go away, he’s suffered enough in front of Simon. He doesn't let himself look over at the other boy, even though he really wants to. 

 

“Wilhelm, it’s for the best. You can have something to eat in the health office, alright?” Miss Myles says, but Wilhelm - Wilhelm can’t breathe. “They’ll put it in a file, and inform the Housefather you haven’t been eating with your House. Eating at the cafe is occasionally okay, but the food doesn't have the right nutrients that your growing body needs. It's not as nutritious as the food the school provides for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so we need you to be eating that and not surviving off unhealthy, sugary cafe food - ”

 

“Stop,” Simon interrupts Miss Myles suddenly, and then he’s standing as well, leaving Wilhelm hypoventilating on the ground.

 

“Don’t tell my - “ Wilhelm breathes, unable to get a breath in suddenly. “Don’t - “ Wheeze. “Don’t - “ Wheeze

 

Simon grabs his hands tightly and pulls him to his feet with surprising strength, causing Wilhelm to drop the drink bottle with a solid thunk. He pulls Wilhelm across the gym, ignoring Miss Myles' protests that he needs to sit. Wilhelm just stumbles after Simon, wheezing, and probably crying - fresh air hits his face and he gasps, grabbing Simon’s arm to steady himself as the cool air freezes his tears.

 

“Breathe,” Simon whispers, voice slightly shaky, eyes burning into Wilhelm’s head, his hands gripping onto the back of Wilhelm’s arms, but more softly, his fingers might be stroking his inner arm but Wilhelm isn’t sure. “Don’t freak out, just breathe.”

 

Wilhelm wants to make snarky comments, but the best he can do is push Simon away to save himself some dignity, leaning on the gym doorway as he breathes deeply, looking out at the classrooms. His limbs are like lead, his hair is sticky, so are his joints, and his stomach aching, but the fresh air helps.

 

Simon doesn’t say anything about his actions, walking back into the gym and returning a moment later with Wilhelm’s water bottle. 

 

Wilhelm sits down in the doorway, legs unable to hold himself for another quivering second.

 

“Miss has gone to go get you some food,” Simon says.

 

Wilhelm wants to throw up. He knows he won’t be able to walk to the health office without stumbling or passing out again, not on an empty stomach. He doesn’t answer Simon, he’s too embarrassed. Wilhelm has seen Simon high off his marbles, and drunk to the point he’s nearly in tears over his sister, but that’s different to passing out from not eating, and the fact Simon stayed when everyone else left shows how serious he finds this.

 

“When was the last time you ate an actual meal, and not a coffee?” Simon asks quietly from where he stands a few feet away from Wilhelm, staring at his feet.

 

Wilhelm leans his head on the cool metal, brain chugging along at the pace of a slug dragging a house behind it. “I don’t remember, Simon. It’s … Whatever. It’s whatever.” He doesn’t know what to say. Claim it’ll never happen again? Makes it seem a little dramatic. Ask him to not tell anyone? That’s kind of a given… Cry over Felice? He’ll do that later. Felice, his best, best, best friend, ditching him right now. What did he do? 

 

“Okay,” Simon replies simply, standing where he is. “Do you want me to go to the health office with you? So it doesn’t look like it’s you going to the health office, and people could speculate it’s either of us.” Simon suggests quietly, and Wilhelm is … taken aback.

 

But his brain is messed up, and he just doesn’t care. “Okay,” he replies simply, eyes still closed.

 

“I don’t really know the rules for passing out from hunger - “ that makes it sound horrible, thanks, Simon. “ - So I don’t know if I should let you sleep or what,” Simon mumbles.

 

Wilhelm's insides are aching, but he doesn’t reply.

 

“I’m back!” Miss Myles calls from across the gym. “Simon, can you go grab Wilhelm’s bag, please? Then you can go to class.”

 

“I thought I might go with you guys to the health office,” Simon says as Miss Myles hands Wilhelm a wrapped salad and chicken sandwich. Wilhelm unwraps it and takes a bite.

 

“No, no, that’s alright, you can go and get changed after you bring his bag here. But thank you for the help, Simon, its wonderful to see you making friends and showing kindness to your peers.”

 

Wilhelm would rather have Simon here than Miss Myles, who will ask questions and prod and poke. At least Simon wasn't ranting about fucking kindness. Like Wilhelm gives a shit.

 

Wilhelm nibbles at the sandwich while Simon walks off, not even putting up a fight. He silently begs him not to go.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Around dinner time, Wilhelm is sitting in his room doing homework when Housefather Gordon comes and knocks on the door.

 

Wilhelm glances at his phone and silently curses himself. He probably thinks Wilhelm was going to skip again, but he just lost track of time, again, which is why he’s been missing meals in the first place, but people don’t believe him. He tried to explain to the nurse how he gets too engrossed with his homework, how he gets into that state of mind that’s too focused to just stop, but she just tutted and said he needs to stop or she’ll get him diagnosed with an eating disorder.

 

Which, well, made Wilhelm stop and frown. She’s using it like a threat when she shouldn't. But it doesn’t matter, because Wilhelm sure as hell doesn’t have an eating disorder. He told her as much, saying she was taking it way too far. She looked him up and down and told him to eat his sandwich and then go back to his room. Wilhelm does not like the nurse. He'd give her detention had she not been staff,

 

“I was just about to come down, Housefather,” Wilhelm lies once he identifies the knocker.

 

“Alright, Wilhelm. Everyone else has got started, so come, come,” he says, before turning on his heel and marching away.

 

Wilhelm’s very next thought is that August will be in there, and he’s going to know about Wilhelm and Felice’s outing with Simon, the drama in food tech last Thursday, and now him fainting in PE. Wilhelm can only pray he’ll leave him alone.

 

He walks into the dining room and sees all the sideways glances, hears the voices go quieter, and meets August’s eye. He smiles and then goes back to his food like nothing's wrong... smirking down at his plate with an expression he hadn’t given Wilhelm. Wilhelm resists the urge to curl his lip in disgust at the amusement his cousin poorly concealed, and instead grabs a plate and silently moves to take some dinner. He’s honestly not hungry, not in the slightest. The only helpful thing the nurse explained was that his stomach would have shrunk over the period he wasn’t eating - and he tried to defend that he was drinking coffee, but she tutted over him and didn’t even answer if liquids counted - so it’ll take a few over full dinners for him to be back to a normal diet. 

 

Once his plate has a sufficient amount, he takes the empty seat between Henry and Alex, which is clearly a purposeful placement to make sure Wilhelm is sitting next to people he knows. 

 

“Are you okay?” Alex asks the second Wilhelm has scooched his chair uncomfortably.

 

Wilhelm smiles over at Alex easily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine, thanks,” he assures him. “I was just coming down when the Housefather appeared.”

 

“Are you anorexic?” Henry blurts, and Wilhelm raises his brows.

 

“What?” He laughs easily. “No. I was just - “ “Henry and a few other boys said you haven’t eaten with them in a while “ - “I’ve been really busy with student council work recently, and I’ve been eating at the cafe. I just forgot breakfast this morning.”

 

“You had a coffee,” Alex points out.

 

“Miss Myles doesn’t count that as breakfast,” Wilhelm explains, before sticking a mouthful of chicken in his mouth, eyes catching on the Housefather, who is watching like a hawk. He chews awkwardly. 

 

“You do do a lot in the council,” Walter nods from across the table. “Maybe a bit too much. Y’know I have nothing to do most of the time, I can help if it gets too much, Wille.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Wilhelm assures him quickly, swallowing his food with a heavy gulp.

 

Walter pauses where he was going to sip his water. “Are you sure? I saw how much work you pulled out yesterday after only, like, three days of having the ideas. You must’ve pulled an all-nighter to finish all that,” he says, before chugging half his cup and refilling from the jug in the middle of the table, ice cubes clinking along with lemon slices.

 

Wilhelm shakes his head with a small smile, running a boiled green bean through some gravy. “It’s alright. If I need help, I’ll ask,” he replies, and Walter shrugs, then nods. “So, what did I miss in History?” 

 

“Not much, we just did more on the family tree drama. Turns out we might have two barely related cousins in our class,” Alex explains, slicing his food into small pieces, as he always does. “There’s also a history club being started, and you email Mr Grady to join.”

 

“Right. Anything I need to know for our next lesson?” Wilhelm asks, adding “Email Mr Grady about history club” into his brain.

 

“You’re not seriously going to school tomorrow,” Henry says, eyebrows raised at Wilhelm. 

 

Wilhelm blinks at him, feeling a tad uncomfortable as a few other boys look over at Henry’s slightly raised and surprised tone of voice. “What?” He says with a nervous laugh.

 

“You fainted,” Henry deadpans, as if it explains everything.

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “I know, I was there. It was five hours ago. I’m fine.”

 

Henry stares at him like he can’t believe his mind.

 

“We don’t even have history tomorrow,” Wilhelm says instead, trying to dodge more talk on the fact he fainted today. “We have a second period on Wednesday.”

 

“We have PE tomorrow,” Henry points out.

 

Wilhelm feels his insides twist anxiously. “And? Henry, I will be absolutely fine. Today was just a one-off occasion of not eating the right amount of food and not getting enough sleep. It’s not going to happen again because it’s never happened before.”

 

“Famous last words,” Alex whispered.

 

Wilhelm turns to him venomously. “Can you not, Alexander? It’s not “famous last words”, it’s just not going to happen again. I’ll - I’ll pay attention to how I’m feeling, this isn’t something that has happened before, nothing even close. It’s rare, especially for me, so let it go, okay?” 

 

The boys fall silent, and Wilhelm eats his dinner quietly after that, listening to the conversation once it picks up again, not contributing apart from “hmm”’s or “yeah”’s when they talk about the market day, and quiet when they discuss rowing or school drama.

 

Hillerksa was not meant to be this complicated, and Wilhelm really can’t stress that enough. If he could, he’d go back and warn his past self to not buy coffee that first morning and to leave for class earlier so he could avoid August. And to look up when he walks into the class.

 

~ Tuesday ~

 

August
Hey Wille! I’m holding a party at the Palace next weekend, Saturday night to celebrate my return to school, and to prove I’m a good dude, y’know what I mean? Lol, anyways, I’m going to invite Simon and Felice, but you can bring whoever you want! It’ll be a big party, like always. Do you want to come?
8:23 am

 

Wilhelm
I’ll think about it.
8:43 am

 

August
Kk
8:43 am

 

The first order of business today is to talk to Felice. Wilhelm went to text her, but he’s not the best at reading text tone, or so he’s been told by Erik, plus, he isn’t even sure if she’d reply. He’s pretty hurt that he passed out and she didn’t stay by his side, but Simon did instead. Wilhelm wonders if Felice had stayed, would Simon have as well, or was it a pity that made him stay? Was Simon a bit too slow turning to leave, and resurrected that little bit of kindness from their slow... bonding, and decided to stay, so Wilhelm wouldn’t feel entirely abandoned and unwanted? Did Miss Myles just stop him from leaving altogether, because he looked pretty uncomfortable the whole time, and didn’t put up a fight when leaving Wilhelm?

 

Wilhelm stands up from the breakfast table, excusing himself and scraps half of his breakfast into the bin, glancing back at the Housefather, who’s still watching him.

 

He throws him a polite smile, before turning and walking out of Forest Ridge. Is this what his life will be like now; Housefather Gordon watching his every move during meals. He has meetings for council and now the history club he joined, so he won’t always be at lunches, but they’ve got everything wrong, Wilhelm isn’t skipping meals to hurt himself, he’s not stupid he knows that’s what they think he’s doing, he gets invested in school works and forgets to check the time. If he doesn’t skip dinner every now and again, he'd fall hours behind in homework.

 

Closing his bedroom door, he’s already reaching for his phone after feeling a notification and discovers an email from Miss Clear. 

 

Hello, Wilhelm, I hope you are doing well. Thank you for all your marvellous work, it has helped the council an insoluble amount, however, I feel I may be putting too much pressure on you. Therefore, I will be balancing out the roles of each council member a bit better so you aren’t doing as much.

 

Your work is valued and appreciated, but your mental health comes before your school work here at Hillerska. Again, I thank you for your unfaltering dedication.

 

Kind regards,
Miss Clear
Hillerska School, Head of Geography

 

Wilhelm feels his chest constrict just a bit. What does she mean by balancing it out? Is she going to take one of Wilhelm’s projects away from him? The stalls? The times? The people running stalls? Product design and manufacturing? 

 

He wants to go back and blabber about how he’s fine, but Wilhelm can guess that his fainting yesterday wasn’t just put on some record, but emailed to all his teachers. He just prays his parents didn’t get an email about him fainting, the nurse did say Wilhelm should tell his parents, but PFFT, who does she think Wilhelm is? An idiot? His Mother will probably scold him. She’s nice like that.

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Walking into the classroom, Wilhelm is met with stares and hushed whispers. Dear God, they’re all making such a big deal about it. Wilhelm isn’t dead, and he doesn’t have an eating disorder or some fainting problem.

 

Felice has an open seat next to her as she texts on her phone, Simon sitting at the desk in front face down, headphones in his ears and hair in half up half down space buns, the edge of his Converse sticking out the front of his desk, his bag out in the aisle. At least some things don’t change. 

 

As Wilhelm walks past he shoves Simon’s bag under his desk, and he only grumbles in protest, throwing the middle finger blindly from next to his head, clearly half asleep.

 

Wilhelm sits down quietly next to Felice, and she doesn’t look up, even as he scooches his chair in and turns to look at her. She’s curating an Instagram story at the moment, silently typing away and tagging a charity in the post, before she clicks the story button, and puts her phone down, turning to Wilhelm with a set expression.

 

“Felice,” Wilhelm begins. “Before you ask, I’m fine - “

 

“I know,” Felilce says breezily. “You told me, several times, very aggressively.” 

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

“Oh,” Wilhelm says, blinking a few times. “Did I hurt your feelings?” He says slowly, watching her tight expression.

 

Felice just watches him for a moment, and it makes Wilhelm want to twitch under her gaze and hide. “Yeah, Wille, you did. Because I was worried about you, and rightfully so because then you fucking fainted,” she hisses the last part, and Wilhelm winces. “I asked you all day, and you brushed me off, every single time when clearly something was in fact wrong. So wrong, you passed out - “

 

“I’m sorry, Felice,” Wilhelm interrupts. He can’t stand someone saying one more time how he fainted or passed out. He knows. It’s embarrassing, so they can stop .

 

Felice’s expression crumbles just a little bit, and she shakes her head. “I believe you’re sorry, I do, but next time I ask if you’re okay, can you be honest, and not lie? I've known you for forever, babes, I can recognize your tells,  it was obvious you were lying, but without the end result I could still tell. What really worries me is how you were clearly hungry, but still denied all offers of food. Just, promise you'll be honest.”

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. He can’t promise that, because it’s rare for him to feel just okay. Because most of the time he feels a little too anxious, embarrassed, irritated, nervous, uncomfortable, sore, nauseous, or tired, and he can’t tell Felice that he feels like his stomach is eating itself but he doesn’t want to eat when they’re sitting in Geography mapping out America, can he?

 

“Okay,” Wilhelm says in the end. “I promise.”

 

Felice smiles and a dagger stabs into his heart a little bit. “Thank you. I’m sorry I left you yesterday, but Simon stayed, right? I still should’ve stayed, but I was pretty angry, and you woke up, so - “

 

“It’s alright.” It only hurt me a lot. “I understand why you did it. I deserved it, I was being a twat,” Wilhelm admitted.

 

Felice snorted, and then wrapped her arms around Wilhelm, pulling his head into her shoulder, hugging him tight. “You aren’t a twat, but you can be a little too quiet sometimes. You have lots of beautiful thoughts, Wille, don’t be scared to share them.”

 

Wilhelm holds her tighter.

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Right before lunch, they have PE, third period. Wilhelm walks there with Felice and Madi, so Madi and Wilhelm chat about plans for the market and Felice asks questions and gives her input every now and then.

 

Then they split to go to their changing rooms, and Wilhelm spots Simon walking a few paces ahead by himself, as he usually is. Wilhelm continues with his plan of befriending Simon - which got slightly derailed, he won't lie - and walks a little faster to catch up to him.

 

“Hey,” he says brightly.

 

Simon startles for a moment, putting his hand over his heart and sighing heavily. “Jesus fucking shit, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were August for a moment.” 

 

Wilhelm wrinkles his nose as they step into the changing rooms. “Is August not scarier than me?”

 

“Totally. You look like a Golden Retriever puppy when you run,” Simon says casually as they stop to drop their bags to change, turning and flicking one of Wilhelm’s bangs off his forehead smoothly. “With your floppy hair.”

 

Wilhelm feels his insides flutter. “Well you look like an alien with the two buns,” Wilhelm replies, and Simon just snorts with laughter, before turning to face ahead to tug off his hoodie.

 

Wilhelm faces the same direction and pulls up his hoodie, before reaching into his bag to find his gym shirt before he takes off his shirt.

 

Simon rips off his shirt and then digs around his overfull, messy backpack for his gym clothes. Wilhelm glances over at his back, which is facing Wilhelm, watching his muscles and bones move under his dark skin as he looks for his clothes. There are some faint scars on his back, but as quick as Wilhelm's zeroed in on them Simon is pulling his shirt over his head.

 

Wilhelm looks away, face feeling all hot. He finishes changing and makes his way into the gym, finding Felice already standing around, waiting for people to join her.

 

He’s just about to greet her again when Miss Myles appears. “Wilhelm, a word, please.” Uh oh. Internally, Wilhelm is screaming, crying, and throwing up.

 

Wilhelm freezes, and Felice looks over, having heard Miss as well. “Of course,” Wilhelm replies, smiling as he follows her over to the side of the gym quietly. “What is it, Miss?”

 

“Are you sure you feel up to PE today, Wilhelm?” She asks quietly, voice lowered purposefully despite them being alone. “It’s okay if you aren’t.”

 

Wilhelm forces another easy smile. “Yes, I’m fine, Miss.”

 

“Alright, wonderful, I’m glad. If you need anything, a snack, water, or some fresh air, tell me and we’ll sort you out, yeah? You have breakfast today?”

 

“Yup,” Wilhelm nods calmly, and Miss Myles nods as well, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

“Awesome, good boy. Don’t be afraid to talk to me.”

 

“Not at all, Miss.”

 

“Alrighty, c’mon then, your friends are waiting.” By that, she means the whole class is now finished and is watching the conversation with inquiring eyes, and not-so-subtle whispering.

 

“Okay, guys! Today we’re going to be having some semi-free time. You can go to the courts where we have basketballs and netballs, or you can stay in here and play volleyball. Try and make the split somewhat even, please!” That's subtle, real subtle, almost as subtle as the whispering happening before, so super subtle. 

 

People bustle around as they decide, grabbing friends and negotiating.

 

Wilhelm walks over to Felice, who is talking with Fredrika, Madi and Stella.

 

“I want to play volleyball,” Madi says.

 

“Same,” agrees Fredrika.

 

“Sure,” Stella says, looking at Fredrika. “I don’t mind.”

 

“Wille?” Felice turns to Wilhelm with a smile. “What do you want to do?”

 

“Um,” Wilhelm looks around to see the majority is staying in the gym. “I’d rather go to the courts, to be honest,” he shrugs. “But you do whatever you want.”

 

Felice mocks his shrug with her own. “I was going to go to the courts anyway. See you guys later, play nice!” Felice and Wilhelm walk off towards the gym doors and pass a sulking Simon, who’s standing behind Henry, Walter and Alexander quietly, arms crossed glaring at them. He's clearly trying to look unbothered at being an outsider to their group, close enough that you can tell that's where he's intended to be but far enough it's clear they're yet to include him. Awkward alien. 

 

Wilhelm grabs his wrist and pulls Simon with them out the doors. Simon doesn’t even protest or resist, allowing Wilhelm to drag him onto the court.

 

It’s free play out on the courts again, but Simon doesn’t make a move to sharpen his stick this time.

 

“Do you guys prefer free play or actual games?” Felice asks as she fishes a basketball out of the bags. The only groups out here are another group of seven or so girls with netballs, and two dudes by the hoops with basketballs.

 

“Neither,” Simon says, hands on hips as he stands next to Wilhelm, facing the boys at the nets, back to Felice. “I fucking hate PE. I’d rather do anything else.”

 

“Really?” Wilhelm is surprised, looking over at Simon. “You seem so passionate about PE.”

 

“Yeah, well I enjoy it when I fucking smite you with dodgeballs, less so when I’m getting whacked with balls. I mean, I do like balls, and dick, but not in the context of fucking PE.”

 

Wilhelm face palms and sighs, while Felice just laughs, bouncing the ball as she walks around Wilhelm and Simon. 

 

“You are so strange,” Wilhelm comments as he turns to Felice, gesturing for her to pass the ball, which she does with a bounce pass.

 

“Thanks,” Simon replies, taking the ball from Wilhelm and walking away with it. Wilhelm finds he isn’t even that surprised by Simon’s randomness.

 

“What are you doing now?” Wilhelm asks with an amused smirk, putting his hands on his cocked hips and watching.

 

Simon grins over his shoulder at him, sending a flurry of feelings to Wilhelm's stomach at his cheeky grin, teeth on display for a second. “Dunno,” he shrugs, bouncing the ball a few times, stopping at least 10 metres away and turning back to face him. Then Simon walks back, bouncing the ball as he goes, eyes flicking from Wilhelm to the basketball under his thin, capable fingers.

 

“Did I mention you’re strange?” Wilhelm says when Simon stops in front of him, their feet nearly touching.

 

“Mmmhmm,” Simon hums, amusement flickering throughout his dark eyes and in his small, quirked lips. Wilhelm smiles back at him. “You’re strange as well. We’ll be strange together.” Wilhelm snorts. Simon bounces the ball really hard, so it flies high in the air.

 

Wilhelm takes a few steps back so he can catch it -

“Y’know, that really didn’t help the dating rumours,” Felice comments from the side, hands on her hips.

 

The ball lands in Wilhelm’s arms and he frowns, glancing at Simon who is also frowning. “What does that mean? You know we aren’t together, Simon - “

 

“I have a boyfriend,” Simon interrupts.

 

Wilhelm kind of wants to roll his eyes at the comment.

 

Felice shrugs. “Pass me the ball.”

 

“You are not going to explain what that meant?” Wilhelm asks as he throws her the ball.

 

“Nope,” she pops the P and then walks off with the ball to the empty hoop with the basketball in hand.

 

Wilhelm looks over at Simon, who’s squinting at Felice. “You don’t actually think we like each other, right?” Simon asks, crossing his arms.

 

Felice turns around and raises her eyebrows at his question. For a second she stares, eyes flicking between Simon’s crossed arms and cocked hip, and Wilhelm’s hands on hips and frowns. “No, of course not.” She turns back with a smirk, shooting for the net and making it in flawlessly.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“So, have you thought about it?”

 

Wilhelm stiffens at the voice of his cousin, no matter how bubbly he makes himself sound in the moment. Wilhelm doesn’t force himself to relax, August should be able to see how uncomfortable his presence makes Wilhelm feel.

 

“About what?” Wilhelm decides to play dumb, why, he’s not sure, because he can? Jesus, why does he need a reason?

 

Wilhelm turns around to face August, who is leaning uncomfortably close to him, eyebrows raised annoyingly into his hairline, giving his face that punchable look only he can manage. A skill, truly.

 

“My party?” August prompts, eyebrows raising even more, which Wilhelm would have bet real money to not be possible. But you know August, always exceeding expectations, even when no one gives a shit.

 

The short answer is no, Wilhelm doesn’t want to go to August’s “welcome home!” party, but he doesn’t want to seem like a loser by saying so. Since when did I care about looking like a loser? When did saying no to parties be less about my education and more about my status of coolness? Since I’ve failed to be cool and make not going to parties as much of a cool thing as going. I miss being the coolest in school, I don't think I've been cool for a single day here.

 

“Thanks for the invite, but parties aren’t really my scene,” Wilhelm says, before turning around to grab a plate and load up on lunch, grabbing a cucumber and chicken sandwich with a scoopful of kale chips.

 

“You sure? You went to your own party, what’s wrong with mine?” August asks. “And your party was dope.” It’s making Wilhelm feel even more uncomfortable at how at ease August is, despite the fact Wilhelm got him suspended for two weeks. It makes him feel all tense and stiff.

 

“I’ll see how I feel on the day,” Wilhelm replies over his shoulder, before walking after Simon, who was filling his plate in front of Wilhelm. “I don’t want to go to the party,” Wilhelm informs Simon quietly, falling into step next to him and craning his neck over to whisper at him.

 

Simon shrugs. “I’m not fussed. If there’s weed and alcohol, I’ll go.” He glances back to find August, who is watching them like hawks, eyes wide and curious as Wilhelm and Simon walk to their chairs together, whispering.

 

Wilhelm sighs, stopping to put his plate down and pull out his chair. “Of course you would.” Instantly, all the research he did floods back into his mind relentlessly, death circulating at the front of his mind, but he says nothing more. “So, you're going, then?” Wilhelm asks Simon, before chucking a kale chip into his mouth, crunching the dry thing around. Regret.

 

“Yeah, probably,” Simon nods. His lunch consists of kale chips, with a side of kale chips and a dessert of kale chips, with a sprinkling of kale chips. Wilhelm thinks he cleared half the bowl. It looks like something one of those fitness guru people would eat as a treat. “You won’t go?”

 

Wilhelm shakes his head.

 

“Having a fallout because you aren’t going somewhere together?” Joshua asks suddenly, sitting down in the chair Walter was seconds away from taking. 

 

Wilhelm and Simon just stare at him, equally unamused. Simon slowly raises an eyebrow. Wilhelm eats a kale chip. Joshua’s smirk melts slowly, and he clears his throat. “Hello? Did you fucking hear me you fa - twats,” Joshua corrects quickly.

 

Wilhelm rolls his lips. He really can’t give less fucks about Joshua right now.

 

“You’re really fucking boring,” Simon says to Joshua, picking up his fork and stirring around his plate of kale chips. Wilhelm tries not to falter at the strange action, which Joshua fails at, squinting his eyes at Simon’s dry meal. “Hello? Did you fucking hear me you faaa-twat?” Simon mocks.

 

Joshua narrows his eyes on Simon. “Don’t use my words against me. How unoriginal.” 

 

“They aren’t your words. Do you own the rights to them? Are you going to sue us with all your Daddy's money which makes up your personality?” Wilhelm snaps at Joshua. Joshua’s plate has potato salad with two potatoes and at least seven pieces of egg (must be a real lucky spoonful), and a turkey sandwich.

 

Simon glances over at Wilhelm with a proud smile for a split second, but Wilhelm catches it.

 

Joshua falters again, and Wilhelm kinda understands why Simon is so … Simon-ey. It’s satisfying to see the person who pissed you off stumbling and unsure where they stand in an argument.

 

“God, you two are so proud, aren’t you? You think you are sooooo fucking smart,” he sneers, and Wilhelm’s instincts tell him to back down and ignore him, but the fire in Simon’s eyes doesn’t let him fall to Joshua’s words. “You’re just as fucking stupid at each other, with your matching heart eyes and abandonment issue - “

 

Simon yawns loudly. “Sorry, excuse me, don’t mind me. Go on. Please.”

 

Joshua seethes, ears going pink.

 

“Okay then. I’m going to go eat outside in peace and quiet. Bye, Joshy,” Simon stands with his plate of dry kale - and a fork - grabbing his bag, and walking towards the exit. 

 

Wilhelm instantly stands as well, himself not needing any cutlery.

 

“As I said,” Joshua instantly jumps forward to say. Wilhelm rolls his eyes.

 

“Attachment issues? Abandonment issues?” Wilhelm guessed. “Maybe we’re just friends and I’d rather sit with him than any of you bystanders,” he says, eyes flicking over Henry, Walter and Alex, who all seated themselves around Joshua, Wilhelm and Simon, and have been ignoring the situation, or watching with wide eyes.

 

Joshua fumbles.

 

Wilhelm grabs his plate and shoulder bag, walking after Simon. Yes! He's cool again! Thanks, Simon!

 

He can tell Joshua wants to say more, and maybe he goes too, but Walter says “Thanks, Josh, for driving away our friends because you made them so uncomfortable. You’re a real wanker, mate.” And while Wilhelm won’t take what he said about bystanders, he appreciates it. It’s funny how Simon is now considered their friend just because Wilhelm said it. He didn’t even mean it... Did he?

 

“Wilhelm, where are you going?” The Housefather calls over the tables, causing Wilhelm to stop and slowly swivel around.

 

Simon pauses in the doorway and peeks his head back in an annoyed expression.

 

“To eat outside, Sir,” Wilhelm replies over the silent table, everyone’s gaze pinned on Wilhelm and Simon, as if they didn’t have enough attention on them right now. Wilhelm just wants to disappear. Simon can come. He makes good conversation and doesn't ask questions Wilhelm hates.

 

“Oh, alright, alright. Are you okay?” Housefather Gordon asks, bushy, grey eyebrows gathered like storm clouds on his forehead. Example of a question Wilhelm hates.

 

“Yes, I’m fine.." Pause. "Thanks," Wilhelm adds as an afterthought, smiling over at the Housefather like the whole room isn’t squinting at him and Simon. 

 

Housefather Gordon nods. “Okay then. Enjoy your lunch, Prince Wilhelm.”

 

“Thank you, Sir. You too,” Wilhelm turns on his heel and marches past Simon, who he’s pretty sure sticks his tongue out to the room like the mature hedgehog he is.

 

Wilhelm walks over to the nearest picnic table and dumps his plate down, heavily sitting in front of it and dropping his bag onto the bench next to him.

 

Simon sits across from him, putting his bag on the table and scooping a kale chip into his mouth clumsily, biting half of it so the other half falls onto his plate in flecks of dark green.

 

“Do you have any table manners?” Wilhelm asks as he nibbles on his sandwich, eyeing Simon.

 

Simon’s eyes flicker up to him, and he scowls. “I’m literally eating with a fork right now, while you, you motherfucking heathen of a human, are using your grabbers.” 

 

“No one calls hands grabbers,” Wilhelm replies.

 

Simon shrugs, unbothered by Wilhelm’s suddenly snotty mood. “Sure, no one around you calls grabbers grabbers. I didn’t until just now either. It's never too late to invent something new and fun. Grabbers. Grabbers. Grabbers. Grabbers”

 

Wilhelm squints at Simon as he munches on his kale chips, eyes flickering over the grounds calmly. Simon is so strange. Five weeks ago Simon would’ve told Wilhelm to sit the fuck down and not go outside with him to eat, probably would’ve used every insult in the book at Joshua, and probably taken the whole kale chip bowl instead of most of its contents. Wilhelm can’t place when this all changed, but he can see moments, like when they got outside because of thunder, Simon getting high and Wilhelm saving him, when Wilhelm fainted (damn, PE is a really problematic class, isn’t it? This is why physical education is bad, bad, bad, child) But when this whole dynamic changed he isn’t sure. Oh well, it’s better for them than arguing.

 

“So, Wilhelm, you come here often?” Simon says randomly, and Wilhelm’s eyes snap into focus, where he’d been staring unseeing at Simon’s basic ass plate.

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes at Simon, posture relaxing at his antics. “No, not really. It’s pretty bloody miserable out here, to be honest.” They both glance around at the grey clouds, the dead trees being blown in the freezing breeze. Wilhelm shudders. “What about you? You a regular?”

 

“At the Hillerksa … Outdoor, Early-Winter… Restaurant? No, my dates normally stick to Netflix and Chill, not fancy dinners,” Simon says slowly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Wilhelm’s own eyebrows raise and his mouth forms a small O. “Ah. That sounds … fun. I think…” He purses his lips, attempting to stay serious. Simon’s eyebrows press together and he leans his head to the side for Wilhelm to continue, but he’s got nothing. He snorts, shaking his head.

 

Simon laughs loudly, throwing his head back and sighing, exposing his annoyingly sharp jawline again.

 

Wilhelm chuckles, watching him - There’s a sudden, sharp snap, followed by a distressed bird squawk and a solid thud. Wilhelm’s head snaps to the side, eyes finding a small bundle of twigs at the base of a tree. Something is moving around inside of it.

 

“Ummmm,” Simon blinks. “Did we just witness a disownment?” 

 

Wilhelm stands from his seat slowly, looking up at the tree for the parent of the bird that just dropped from the tree in the nest. The tree is tall and has some thin, gangly leaves at the top, but there’s no parent bird. It's easy to see how the bird fell, those branches don't look steady, and the weather is getting rougher, and colder.

 

“Why is there a baby bird in winter?” Wilhelm wonders as he approaches the wiggling nest, which is chirping and calling pathetically.

 

“Bah!” 

 

Ah!

 

Wilhelm jumps, turning around to push Simon away while he cackles, stumbling around and falling onto his butt. Wilhelm’s heart is now pounding hard in his chest. He glares at Simon, who tries to stand, but is laughing too hard, and falls backwards again. “Ahahah… You should’ve - should’ve seen you fa-a-a-aceeee!” He laughs, banging his fist on the ground.

 

Wilhelm squints at him, unamused. “Yes, haha, very funny... Look, Simon, you scared the bird, it’s gone quiet.”

 

“Ah yes, let me just look at the sound,” Simon says, sitting on his butt with his legs bent, arms out behind him. He gives Wilhelm a deadpanned look.

 

Wilhelm flicks his wrist dismissively at Simon, who immediately mocks him, but is significantly more exaggerated. “I do not like you,” he snaps, and Simon chuckles, standing with a jump and patting Wilhelm’s cheek.

 

“You love me. Now, please continue, Mr Veterinarian, you look rather cute when you think so hard like that,” Simon says, and then blinks a few times, like he too is surprised he said that.

 

Wilhelm turns to the bird. “Anyway,” he coughs, and Simon is quiet.

 

Wilhelm walks a little bit closer until he’s a foot or so away from the nest. Again, he looks around for a parent to this bird, but there are no birds anywhere near them, a few pigeons approach their abandoned lunch, but they show no interest in Wilhelm and Simon being by what could be their baby. If it was their fledgling, they would be squawking, maybe even dive-bombing them, these ones are either very food-driven or aren't the parents.

 

He grabs a stick, and pokes the nest, causing Simon to snort. Wilhelm glares over his shoulder, and Simon slaps a hand over his mouth dramatically. Wilhelm sighs heavily, and turns to the nest, rolling it over to face him.

 

Inside is a baby bird, hairless and red.

 

“Ew,” comments Simon helpfully.

 

It squeaks up at Wilhelm, blinking pure black, tiny eyes at him. “Oh my Gooood,” he fawns, not hesitating to drop the stick and shuffle closer to the bird, feeling some mud soak through the knees of his jeans. 

 

He hears Simon shuffle closer as he peers down at the little bird, shivering and naked in the broken-down nest. “It’s still ew.”

 

“We need to help it,” Wilhelm declares. “Give me your jumper,” he orders, turning to Simon, who wraps his arms around his stomach in pure horror.

 

“The fuck? No, use your own jumper, you turd,” he replies snappily.

 

Wilhelm sighs. “Good to know you are still annoying sometimes.”

 

“I’m not letting you get bird shit on my fucking jumper because you have caught feels for this goddamn, flea-carrying, hairless red bean! No wonder it’s parents left, it’s ugly ass fuck. I too would abandon my child if it was hairless and pink. And that small. Why does it look like someone gave it two black eyes?“

 

“Those are his eyeballs, Simon,” Wilhelm huffs, slowly sliding his hands around the nest and lifting it. The bird chirps at him in uncertainty, fluttering its tiny, featherless wings as the sharp, broken edges of twigs dig into Wilhelm's hands.

 

“Bro’s a gang bird, straight up chillin' with his featherless, birdy bros in the back streets, getting beat up,” Simon whispers as Wilhelm stands slowly, turning to him with the bird in the nest in his hands. “Don’t point that thing at me. It’ll attack.”

 

Wilhelm stares at Simon, and then the bird. “Simon, it’s a freaking baby, days old, not a trained Police attack dog. Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, walking around him back to their table.

 

“Feed it chicken. Cannibalism,” Simon whispers as he sits back in his chair, a pigeon flying off the table in distress. Simon nibbles on a kale chip as he watches Wilhelm.

 

“It can’t eat chicken, that's too solid. At this age its mother would still be mouth-feeding it,” Wilhelm replies as he sits down, the bird shivering and chirping in its nest. 

 

“I would pay money to see you mouth feed that chick,” Simon says earnestly. 

 

“Can you shut up?”

 

“I can, I just don't want to. Wille, it sees my soul.”

 

“I hope she does kill you in her sleep. Slowly and painfully,” Wilhelm says to Simon, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't mean it. Simon's commentating is kind of funny.

 

“What makes you think I can’t take that bird? And when did you decide it was a she? I’m calling it “it”,” Simon declares, throwing a kale chip at the pigeon.

 

“She’d deck you, Simon, don’t even lie,” Wilhelm replies with a snort, watching the little bird shiver. “Hey, you still got those tissues?”

 

Simon sighs heavily, before reaching into his bag and pulling out the packet, throwing it at Wilhelm’s head. “Don’t forget to eat your own lunch, don't spend the whole time mother-birding that bean,” Simon adds, pulling his phone out of his bag. “We got ten minutes.”

 

Wilhelm slowly wraps a couple of tissues around the bird, before he lifts it out and into his hand. “Can you go take our plates inside? I’m going back to my room with her,” Wilhelm says. She’s delicate as he holds her, he knows if he closed his fist she’d die, so he keeps a light grip, hoping to transfer some body heat - 

 

“You’re keeping it?” Simon squarks eloquently.

 

“If you keep trying, I think you’ll be able to communicate with her,” Wilhelm says airly, lifting his bag carefully. 

 

Simon raises his phone suddenly and then lowers it.

 

“What was that?” Wilhelm asks, eyes flicking from the bird to Simon.

 

“Took a photo because this is fucking ridiculous and I’m telling Sara,” he grumbles as he types. “And Ayub, and Rosh.”

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes, standing up and beginning to walk away. “Thanks, Simon!” He calls over his shoulder.

 

“Eight minutes you idiot! Can you pay me for this bullshit? Do I look like one of your fucking maids? Wille!”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Why did Simon inform me you managed to adopt a bird during lunchtime, Wilhelm?” Felice asks when Wilhelm sits down next to her in Geography ten minutes later. 

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes at Simon behind him, who rolls his eyes back at him mockingly, but he's grinning as he looks away. “I didn’t adopt a bird at lunchtime. Her nest fell out of a tree, and I took her back to my room. She’s in my sink.”

 

“It’s in his sink,” Simon repeats under his breath, massaging the bridge of his nose.

 

“So you kidnapped it?” Felice asks.

 

“Her.”

 

“How do you know it’s a her?” Felice asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I checked,” Wilhelm shrugs.

 

“He checked it has a fucking coochie,” Simon grumbles, pressing his fingers into his eyes harshly.

 

“Don’t make it weird. People change baby diapers and don’t make that weird,” Wilhelm argues to Simon, who drops his hands exasperated. He’s very expressive, Wilhelm notes, with his body, his face, and his words. It seems the more comfortable he gets with people, the more expressive he gets. Which makes sense, it's just interesting to learn about him. Wilhelm doesn't always enjoy learning, but everything about Simon seems fascinating and important. He's an interesting person, unlike anyone Wilhelm has ever seen before.

 

Felice waves her hands. “Anyway, why is she in your sink?”

 

“She’s sitting on my heat pack on top of a blanket, with a bit of mushy muesli bar next to her,” Wilhelm explains, and Simon face palms, Felice’s eyebrows raising. “Wrapped in a hand towel.”

 

“He’s lost his marbles,” Simon whispered into his hand.

 

“That's actually really sweet, Wille,” Felice laughs lightly. “But you can’t keep her. You’re too busy to look after a bird, babe.”

 

“I’m not that busy. Miss Clear stole half of my life’s purpose after yesterday, so I’ve got loads of free time,” Wilhelm lies. “And I can’t kick her out, she’ll freeze to death, or get trampled.”

 

Felice gives him a sad look. “Wille, you were super busy before you joined the student council, it’s not much different right now. You can take her to the vet in Bjärstad, maybe.”

 

“My Mum works at the vet," Simon mumbles. Wilhelm looks back at him. "Or let it fight for itself in the elements, natural selection, you know, how its life should be,” Simon suggests.

 

“Shut up, Simon, no one asked,” Wilhelm replies, pushing Simon’s forehead to get him back into his chair.

 

“It’ll peck your eyes out in your sleep,” Simon whispers, leaning down on his chair, chin in front of Wilhelm. Wilhelm squints down at him.

 

“I’m going to train her to chase your bus home, and to peck rhythmically on your bedroom window so just as you’re drifting off to sleep, she’ll peck again, and you’ll be up all night wrapped in blankets trying to figure out who’s at your window. When you go to check, she’ll hide, and in the morning she’ll return to me and tell me where you live because I’ll teach her to write,” Wilhelm replies.

 

Simon rolls his eyes at him, unbothered by his elaborate threat. “Truly harrowing. A bird hitting its face against my window all night long as if I’d be asleep anyway. I quiver in fear. I’d like to see you keep that thing alive for more than a day.”

 

“Challenge accepted.”

 

What the fuck, no - “

 

“Starting today or tomorrow?”

 

~ ~ ~

“I refuse to walk past it,” Simon declares, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the bird sitting in Wilhelm’s sink. Her eyes are mostly closed, but she continues to peep every few minutes, before going quiet. She’s stopped shivering since Wilhelm left her in his sink, which is good, but she has yet to try and move anywhere. Wilhelm assumes that'll come with time, as she grows more used to the space, and Wilhelm. Like Simon, coming out of his shell and growing more comfortable with Wilhelm.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm sighs, placing his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes at the other boy, standing in the middle of the hallway outside Wilhelm’s room squinting at her like she’s some satanic spawn. “Why are you so scared of her?”

 

“It’s probably a spy from the government, come to stalk you. Why else would there be a baby during winter?” Simon replies, not moving as a small group of boys pass, all having to thread around him, frowning at Wilhelm as they pass in confusion.

 

“Simon, come on. You’re causing traffic in the corridor, I promise she isn’t going to attack you,” Wilhelm laughs, leaning on the frame next to the sink and looking down at her, then at Simon, who raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “I can hold your hand if you want,” Wilhelm cocks his head to the side, jutting out his bottom lip.

 

Simon scoffs, cheeks turning slightly pink as he looks away sharply. “In your dreams, lover boy.” With that, he marches past the bird without looking at her, arms crossed, until he reaches Wilhelm’s bed, promptly throwing himself down on it without taking his bag or shoes off, landing face first just below the pillow.

 

Wilhelm closes the door and then nudges the soggy, crumbs of a muesli bar closer to the sparrow, but she just chirps and ignores it.

 

“Seriously, what do you have against baby birds?” Wilhelm asks, strolling over to hit the back of Simon’s shin, shoving his leg as a sign to move over.

 

Simon sits up and swivels around, prying off his shoes with his feet and dumping his bag on the floor.

 

Wilhelm sits next to him, sliding back so his back is against the wall, crossing his legs while Simon turns around to glare at him over his shoulder. “They fucking shit everywhere, Wille. Everywhere. They’re so fucking demanding, and fucking loud in the mornings when I’m trying to enjoy a peaceful morning to myself, they’re there, trying to invade from the trees outside. When they grow up they’re just annoying, 24/7. Yappy yappy yappy. Feed me, love me, I’m so reliant on you I need to shit on your hands,” Simon scoffs at the bird, who Wilhelm can barely see inside the sink. “Grow up.”

 

Wilhelm finds this all very amusing if he's being honest. This Simon is funny. “You would’ve been like that once upon a time,” Wilhelm smirks.

 

Simon turns sharply to glare at him. “That’s not the point. You aren’t meant to mother that bird, let it die or something,” Simon then picks up his bag again and begins pulling out some pieces of homework.

 

Wilhelm is about to reply when something else lands in between Simon’s homework sheets on the bed, but he doesn’t notice, digging around inside and grumbling about baby birds and government spies. Wilhelm reaches over and picks up a piece of homework, sighing at the sight of a half-empty packet of unmarked, small, white pills. 

 

He picks it up and clears his throat. Simon turns to him and does a double-take. Wilhelm watches his expression shift from surprise to guilt. “Give me that,” he snatches it from Wilhelm’s hand harshly, a small white line appearing from the vaguely sharp edge that burns slightly but doesn’t bleed. “Don’t touch my shit.”

 

The photo jumps to his mind, Wilhelm’s hand twitching to reach for his phone to make sure it’s still there. “You dumped it on my bed,” Wilhelm replies as Simon drops it into his bag, and then puts it back on the floor. Wilhelm picks up a piece of homework and sighs. Let it go, for now, he tells himself. Delete it, his brain urges back without reason. “Simon, this was due yesterday.”

 

Simon gives him an unamused look which causes Wilhelm to turn his gaze away. He can’t tell if Simon means all these strange sideways, and slightly hurtful looks or not, but he doesn't like how quickly he can move between emotions. “No one told me that.”

 

“The teacher did,” Wilhelm points out quietly, discarding the piece of homework for the trash bin.

 

“Doesn’t fucking matter now, does it?”

 

“Not really," Wilhelm mutters in response.

 

Simon doesn’t look very satisfied with Wilhelm’s response, but then the bird starts to chirp again and cuts him off. “Shut the fuck up!” Simon yells at it, which causes her to go quiet.

 

“Well that was unnecessary,” Wilhelm says, frowning. 

 

Simon goes to reply, but then his phone starts ringing loudly from his pocket. He swears some very not-PG words as he fishes it out of his cargo pants. Wilhelm sees the briefest flash of the caller's name - “ Papa ”. 

 

He freezes, eyes stuck on the phone. His eyes track it across the room as Simon stands up, swiping to answer instantly, oblivious that Wilhelm saw anything, mind spinning.

 

“Hello?” Simon says into the phone. Wilhelm just stares at his back like it'll spell out the answers for him. Something comes from his staring though - Simon looks stiff where he stands, one hand awkwardly hanging by his side. He’s not leaning to the side like he normally does when sassing someone; his back is rigid and his limbs unmoving, listening as the caller talks in silence.

 

Wilhelm can hear quiet talking, but nothing more. Sara said Simon and her have zero contact with their Dad… Is it possible that this isn’t Micke Eriksson, and is Linda’s new husband… Does Linda have a husband? Wilhelm doesn’t think so, and if she does, Wilhelm missed that development. Why would Simon keep talking to his Dad? His abusive Dad.

 

“Go drink some water - “ Simon says before he’s cut off, and he flinches away from the phone like it tried to hit him.

 

Wilhelm can hear yelling from where he sits on his bed. Wilhelm watches as Simon’s shoulders rise and fall faster and faster as he listens to his Dad (Dad?) yelling on the other end, the phone still several inches away from his ear. 

 

Simon doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just listens to some incoherent yelling, breathing quickly, phone away from his face, body stiff like someone has a knife against his back to stop him from moving. 

 

Wilhelm notices the smallest shake in his hand, before he clenches his fist, and digs it into his thigh. Wilhelm frowns deeply, eyes flicking over Simon’s body. Should he do something? It’s not his place to step in though, is it? Besides, what would he do? Tell Micke to piss off? Hug Simon? They're doing good at being friends, but Wilhelm doesn't know if that's what Simon needs. He finds himself leaning forward on the bed. He would do that, if Simon needed, telling his Dad off or hugging him.

 

The yelling quiets down, and Simon brings the phone back to his ear. “Can you please get some water, please,” Simon’s voice quivers, and Wilhelm gets the feeling Simon might even be crying the way his voice is thick.

 

It makes him uncomfortable, so he begins to look through all of Simon’s homework, checking to see what there is to do. He knows Simon can do some of this stuff by himself, so he sets that into a pile while Simon mumbles into the phone.

 

“No - No, don’t do that… I-I know … Please don’t… Please… I can’t … I’m busy right now, sorry…” Simon runs a hand over his face harshly, letting out a rough breath, which sounds like relief to Wilhelm. He keeps his focus down. “I will, I promise… Yes, good idea, go drink something.” 

 

There’s a long pause, and Wilhelm looks up. Simon is rubbing his face still, but then turns and sits on the opposite bed, eyes slightly red and face pale. His eyes pin to Wilhelm, and there’s so much emotion Wilhelm can’t keep eye contact, looking back to Simon’s homework, chest feeling twisted up at what is happening.

 

“I will… Yes, I promise. Alright…” There’s a small smile in his voice. “Okay, bye. See you later. Bye… Yup… See you … Okay, got it. Bye.” He hangs up the phone a few seconds later, and Wilhelm can feel his eyes on him as he reads the homework, trying to look unbothered.

 

“Was that Marcus interrupting our study plans again?” Wilhelm asks stomach in knots. He wasn’t meant to see that caller ID, was he? What will Simon do if he knows Wilhelm saw it? Does he care at all? Should Wilhelm tell anyone? Oh, God, he should tell Sara.

 

Simon pauses for a moment. “No, it was my contact. He’s high as fuck, and wants to talk to me,” Simon explains, and Wilhelm feels his heart begin to pound. Is Micke his contact? Does he get all his drugs and alcohol from his Dad? Who he is meant to have zero contact with. Oh shit. Oh crap. Wilhelm was definitely not meant to see the name.

 

“Oh. Do you need to go?” Wilhelm asks, risking a glance at Simon, who is watching him closely. He gulps.

 

“No, I told him I’ll meet him later,” Simon replies, standing up and walking over to the bed again. Why were you crying if it’s just your contact calling while high? 

 

“Okay,” Wilhelm replies quietly, trying to seem calm as Simon sits down slowly. He feels like Simon already knows what he saw, with the way his eyes dig into him, he wouldn’t be surprised - 

 

“You alright?” Simon asks, and Wilhelm really, really needs a distraction. 

 

Ah, bird.

 

“I’m just thinking about the bird, and what I’ll do with her,” Wilhelm lies, looking up at Simon fully now. His eyes are dark and calculating, still a little bit red, and Wilhelm doesn’t think he knows it, so he says nothing about how he’s clearly been crying. 

 

Simon sighs heavily. “Throw it out the window! You’re way too busy to raise a bird. You know it’ll be demanding food every fucking hour?”

 

“Probably more frequently than that,” Wilhelm corrects.

 

“Are you a morning person?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow at Wilhelm.

 

“No - “

 

“Sucks for you, because it is, and now you’re going to be woken up at the fucking buttcrack of dawn by the little helpless squeaks,” Simon snaps. "Would work for me, I love getting up early, doing some yoga and maybe a little swim, if I'm feeling extra spicy."

 

Wilhelm wrinkles his nose. “Wait, actually?” he replies.

 

"Yes, it'll actually wake up at the butt crack of dawn - "

 

"No, no, do you actually do morning yoga?"

 

Simon freezes as if called out on a crime. Wilhelm smiles at him, cocking his head to the side, momentarily forgetting the change in attitude, the photo, the caller, and his bird as Simon's cheeks turn a pretty pink as his brain catches up to his fast-paced mouth. "Uhhh - actually, yes, I do, because it's a nice way to start and stretch all my joints before going to this hell for hours on end. I refuse to be embarrassed by doing yoga. You kidnapped a bird because you're stupid, so I will own doing yoga."

 

"I wasn't hating," Wilhelm mumbles with a smile. "Do you wear a little colourful headband as well? What about those scandalous tights?"

 

Simon manages to turn even pinker.

 

"Aww, you're blushing! You so wear headbands to do morning yoga - "

 

"Shut up!" Simon interrupts, covering his face with his hands and laughing into them. 

 

Wilhelm grins at him, nudging his shoulder with his own gently. He's strangely endeared by Simon admitting all of that, even the way he owns it makes him grin like a fool, uncontrolable. It's weird. It should probably stop, but Wilhelm hasn't felt this happy in awhile.

 

"It's fine, it's cool, I can see the appeal. I would personally rather pluck my own eyes out with chopsticks than do morning yoga. Why do you always look dead in class if you have a nice morning routine?"

 

"Because it's school?" Simon says, as if it's an obvious answer, and Wilhelm is starting to agree. 

 

Wilhelm hums in reply, still thinking of Simon with pink headbands holding his hair back. "Anyway, we can get back on track now - "

 

"Thank god."

 

"I thought you were owning yoga?"

 

"Shut up!"

 

Wilhelm laughs again. "What do you need help with?” He asks, tapping on the homework.

 

Simon sighs heavily, shuffling closer and sifting through the homework. “Can you re-explain this formula? I heard Mr Englund say it, but I didn’t really absorb any of it,” Simon says, picking out a homework sheet and handing it to Wilhelm.

 

“Sure,” Wilhelm replies. Simon shuffles around so his back is against the wall, his shoulder just barely brushing Wilhelm’s.

 

Wilhelm was about to open his mouth to explain when Simon blurts - 

 

“And Rosh has a game tonight, still, if you want to come. Rosh and Ayub won’t shut up about me bringing you again, by the way. I don’t care if you come. I know what you said about your reputation and whatever the fuck, but they honestly won’t stop talking about how wrong I was about you. Here, I’ll show you a message,” Simon pulls his phone out again, and Wilhelm feels his cheeks heat slightly as Simon opens his Whatsapp, and clicks on a group chat, scrolling before turning the screen to Wilhelm.

 

Ayub
SIMME
IDC IF HIS REPUTATION IS ON THE LINE
BRO WAS DOPE
I MISS HIM ALREADY
9: 23 pm

 

Simon
U saw him two days ago u fucking twat head
9:23 pm

 

Rosh
Is Felice a lesbian?
I got those vibes
9: 24 pm

Simon
Hahahahahahaha
ur gaydar going off around her??

Lmao
9: 24 pm 

 

Rosh
Was i wrong tho?
9: 24 pm

 

Simon
Yeah no you were right girl
But u got a gf
9: 24 pm

 

Rosh
Ikik im just saying my gaydar was tingly
9: 24 pm

 

Ayub
THE ONLY STRAIGHT PERSON FROM TUESDAY NIGHT MISSES ALL THE GAY BRING THEM BACK SIMON
9: 24 pm

DOES FELICE MISS ME????
9 : 25 pm

 

Simon
Idk dm her shes got ig
shes an influencer
9: 25 pm

 

Ayub
OMG YEAH IVE BEEN DMING MY POOKIE PRINCE BUT NOT FELICE NAVI DAD
9: 25 pm

 

Wilhelm laughs as Simon turns the phone away. “Awww, I wasn’t sure what your friends thought of me. You can tell Ayub I miss him too.”

 

“Tell him yourself,” Simon grumbles, turning his phone off and putting it aside. “But please come tonight, Ayub will be mopping if you don’t.” 

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily. “I can’t. I’m a parent now, Simon," he gestures to the sink and Simon snorts. "And I have lots of work to do for the market day and school. Sorry,” he says honestly. It’s been too long since Wilhelm has had friends that enjoy his company as Wille and not Prince Wilhelm. How lucky is he to have found them out of his least favourite person, AKA Simon? He doesn't hate Simon anymore, he's definitely in the good books (Yes, yoga got him there, take notes.)

 

Simon groans, sliding down the bed until his head is the same height as Wilhelm's hips. He looks up at him, through his pretty lashes.

 

"You look like a fish."

 

Simon bats his eye lashes. “Please, Wille? For them? Ayub’s probably going to DM your phone so much that it fucking explodes. He wants me to ask so much, like do you have BeReal, or Snapchat, or for your number, or a private account so he can message you that'll guarantee you’ll reply. I feel like his slave. Some kind of weird friend maker. Back in intermediate telling my friends crushes they like them.” 

 

“I mean, I can give you my number,” Wilhelm says slowly. “For him. And Rosh, if she wants it. She seemed cool." For the two seconds I saw her before she had to carry you away. "But they have to know that they can’t hand it out everywhere, to anyone who asks, and it’s probably best they don’t put me as Prince Wilhelm in their phones, just in case.” Like you shouldn't put your Dad who you're meant to have zero contact with in your phone as "Papa."

 

Simon is quiet. “I’ll pass it on to Ayub. Here, write it in the group chat from you,” Simon says, picking up his phone and handing it back to Wilhelm on the group chat.

 

His eyes jump to the most recent messages and he skims over them.

 

Rosh
Is marcus coming tonight simme?
2: 30 pm

 

Simon
Yeah
Sorry :(
3 : 23 pm

 

Ayub
Is wille coming?
3 : 24 pm

 

Rosh
Its okay simon, as long as he keeps his sexist comments about football to himself this time, we wont have an issue
3 : 24 pm

 

Simon
I’ll talk to him
Sorry again
3 : 25 pm

 

Wilhelm doesn’t mention the things he just read, and instead begins to type out his number, and a message underneath, before clicking send, Simon reading over his shoulder after moving back up the bed.

 

Simon
0204 1191 876, that’s my number! Please don't hand it out or flex you have my number. Sorry I can't make the game tonight, but I’ll see you this weekend at a market Hillerksa’s holding at the Saturday Market in Bjastard!!! Yayy!! You’ll do great tonight, Rosh - Pookie Prince ;)
4: 04 pm


Simon takes it back silently, smiling softly at the screen with that look again, looking so happy with his friends. 

 

“Lovely. Now I won’t get thrashed all evening,” Simon says, pocketing his phone. “Right, now, this fucking formula explained for dummies, please.”

 

~ Wednesday ~

 

Ayub
ITS SIMONS BIRTHDAY NOT THIS WEEKEND BUT THE WEEKEND AFTER AND WE’RE PLANNING SOMETHING SUPER SPECIAL BC HE’S TURNING 16 WHOOOO ITS ON SUNDAY CAN U COME PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS
7:23 am

 

Wilhelm reads the message a few times over, surprised, before replying with a tight expression.

 

Wilhelm
Simon won’t want me there though
7: 26 am

 

Ayub
Nahhh I promise he won’t care if ur there or not
It’ll be me, rosh, sara, marcus, u, and simon
and Felice if u go
you can bring her to
So only rly small
Pls linda will love you soooo much and sara thinks ur rly funny
7: 28 am

 

Wilhelm really loves all the gossip Ayub gives him without even knowing, like the fact Sara finds him really funny, which implies Sara either told Simon and then he told his friends that fact, or Sara told Ayub herself that she finds Wilhelm not just funny, but really funny. That’s such a big compliment coming from her. 

 

Ayub
Btw babe idk if ur aware yet but there's photos of u and simme eating lunch together yesterday leaked online :((((((((( sorry
Yall do look really cute tho
Not in a romantic way 
looks cozy
and fun :D
7: 29 pm

 

Wilhelm groans loudly, before opening Google and searching himself. He’s Googled more this one term than he has in his entire goddamn life. This is probably what the email about not being seen with Simon from his PR team was about this morning, he did think it was rather random.

 

He sits up in bed as he clicks on images, and sees several different photos, all posted 10 or 8 hours ago. The first one is Simon taking a photo of Wilhelm holding the bird. After a few seconds of consideration, Wilhelm decides the angle makes it look like it’s coming from inside the windows of Forest Ridge, slightly zoomed in but very clearly the two of them, you can see both their faces. The next is Simon mid-laugh, face slightly blurry and Wilhelm watching him with a distrubly fond expression. That's from when they were adding onto that fake dating thing. The next one is only moments later when they both turn to look at something out of frame with shocked expressions, as the nest fell. There’s a bunch of completely random photos of the two of them walking, Wilhelm crouching, Simon standing all dramatically behind him, and then them back at the table. If you click through them fast enough it looks like a picture-by-picture movement movie, since the photographer took so many fucking photos.

 

It’s annoying, how every fun, domestic, friendly interaction they have ends up photographed or ruined by bad people. Wilhelm can understand it happening out in public, but when he’s at school, where he should be safe from cameras? One of his fellow students left their lunch to go take these photos, which is unnecessary, but they clearly wanted the world to see what Simon and Wilhelm were doing. Dick.

 

It’s not especially incriminating, apart from it exposing that Wilhelm walked off with the bird in his hands and Simon looking exasperated at his back, and that’s where the photos end. It isn’t suspicious, except for the fact it isn't common for students to eat outside at Hillerska, which the public may not know, but the students will.

 

Wilhelm flicks off his sheets and throws a glare at his bird, which, like, Simon warned, has been chirping since six am. 

 

Wilhelm
I'll think about the birthday thing
Is it a surprise party?
7: 33 am

 

Ayub
Yeah so dont do ruin the surprise
7 : 34 am

 

Wilhelm
Don’t worry I won’t!
Also, do you know what birds eat?
7 : 34 am

 

Ayub
AHAHHA LMAOOO SIMON TOLD ME ABT THAT BRO
AHAHHA SUCKS FOR U
TTYL POOKIE GOTTA GET READY FOR SCHOOL
7 : 34 am

 

Wilhelm sighs as he puts his phone down, and walks over to the bird, who chirps up at him, blinking and standing, trying to climb out of the blankets. Wilhelm observes the yellow-brown stain she left on the shirt. She's shat herself. Great. Wilhelm doesn’t like being a parent anymore, especially because his room smells like literal shit now - He should've listened to Simon.

 

 

Notes:

I gave you fluff after angst, bc I am KIND, be GRATEFUL <3 Just kidding

Guys they're basically best friends, you can thank me now
Honestly, I feel like that transition was so smooth I'm proud of myself for that lets fucking go (I can't write anything but a slow burn, can't read anything but a slow burn, and I can't love anyone I haven't known for a while (its a problem (I'm just kidding, go off demi baddies)

The next chapter is going to be pretty long (and insane. I'm kind of scared y'all will murder me after it), so I'll see you sometime next month. Maybe on my birthday, which is next month. Hmm, we'll see.

I could actually keep editing these notes and add new things every time please these notes were a horrible idea. Love you guys, hoping you survive next episode

Can y'all give me some Wilmon-coded songs please, I'm bored of my playlist aglkjfr time for some spice
Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
for anyone who saw the pe teacher fuck up no you didn't

Chapter 10: Where The Fuck Are You Making Tea, Simon?

Summary:

OH LORD I THINK ABOUT JUMPING
- Is It Over Now, by Taylor Swift

That lyric summarises this chapter nicely. I was caught between using lyrics from Those Eyes, Happy House (Or is it House Of Balloons / Glass Table Girls, I'm confused) Girl Crush and Fearless. But you got this. I'll save those for later on, but they fit too......

Look, this chapter is pretty intense in places, I've tagged things that happen, just remember that it's just this chapter, next chapter is pretty fun, actually, it's the market chapter, as well as August's party <3 Also there's actually some fluff I think you've been waiting for (Pah I think, I KNOW) in this chapter, little Wilmon crumbs

Book playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Notes:

I want to write them arguing not this stuff argh

My cat helped edit this, by that I mean he walked all over the keyboard whenever I stopped petting him and kept drooling on me.
Oh yeah on the subject of computers, mine fucking broke. I'm entering end-of-term exams and my computer offed itself, just wouldn't turn on first period. I only got this one the day before Easter, and I'm avoiding all homework.

Writing Erik just isn't the same after season 3. What a fucking cock waffle.

 

I'm sorry....

 

Also, please don't murder me ... TW wounds and talk of abuse.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Wednesday ~

 

Wilhelm leaves lunch a little early, as he’s feeding his bird, which Simon has generously named “Kristina’s Minion”, “Sentient Liver Bean”, “Fugly” (really creative), “Your Spirit Animal”, and “My Future Dinner.” Felice suggested calling her “Sunny”. When Wilhelm had asked why she'd shrugged, and said "It suits her, I just know, trust. Wilhelm much prefers Sunny over Fugly, funnily enough, so he’s started referring to her as Sunny.


Simon informs him he is going to tell the entire table he’s "feeding his baby", and then grumbles when Wilhelm asks him to go with him to feed her. He gets up anyway.

 

Wilhelm takes some egg from the potato salad on Simon's plate, as Google told him baby birds can eat rice, soggy biscuits, bread dipped in milk, and egg yolks. They may have meant soft-boiled egg yoke, which is way runnier than potato salad egg, but the school doesn't offer those, likely because they stink, frankly, even if they still taste good.  So this is going to have to be good enough. The Housefather is too busy listening to Vincent ramble to care that Wilhelm and Simon walk out of the room, but he did eat his lunch today. 


~ Thursday ~ 


Erik
PR is posting an article about your privacy being breached bc of the people taking photos of you at school violating the whole paparazzi in public thing and posting photos that lack any real news value and are just being kind of creepy and im so relieved because it rather horrible watching my little brother's high school life through semi grainy photos instead of him texting me
AKA 
Text my u fucking loser i miss talking to u
7: 23 am
What r u up to nowadays? 
Ik ur busy saving baby birds but like TEXT ME
7: 30 am


Wille
Have you ever heard of punctuation?
I’m busy doing school things
I’m glad PR is doing that, but I’m not if it will stop people taking pictures
7: 30 am


Erik
Wille Hillerska isn’t a public space and the photos they are taking are invasive and unnecessary, there’s no news behind them which makes them useless so people are making money off of you and Simon for no reason which is illegal
7: 30 am


Wille
There is news though
7: 31 am


Erik
What the fuck is the news here? What you’re wearing to school? That you’re in your Snow White era? 
7: 31 am


Wille
That Simon and I are friends, two of the three openly queer kids at school, and we have a feud which people are going insane about. The rumours about us being a couple are trending on Twitter. Our goddamn ship name is trending on Tik Tok. Wilmon. That’s the news, Erik, and it's pretty big news. I'm the Prince of Sweden and he's Sara Eriksson's little brother.
7: 32 am


Erik
Doesn’t matter bc PR is still going to post this article and hopefully scare the photographers off
7: 32 am


Wille
The people who posted photos are anonymous, they wouldn't be scared of an article claiming than an insider source says xyz. 
7: 32 am


Erik
Idc im mad bc ppl didnt do this to me and i rly dislike googling ur name to see photos of you where ur just living ur life with ur friend and being photographed
7: 33 am


Wilhelm wants to yell at his phone, but only a little bit (he's a liar). His yelling would include some very aggressive reminding that his parents only let him come out because they realized it would make the monarchy seem more "woke" and "diverse", more likeable to the younger generations who "threaten" them. He wants to send an all-capital message telling Erik that Wilhelm thinks PR is making an article for attention, so people will see headlines "Prince Wilhelm speaks out about photos with Simon Eriksson," "Prince Wilhelm Privacy Breached at Hillerska Boarding School," click on the articles, then go find those photos and make it even more of a big deal. They'll be curious and want to understand. Or they may care for his privacy, but he doubts it.

Instead, he replied much calmer than his thoughts. 


Wille
I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the article does.
7: 34 am


Erik
Ur 16, ur life has barely started, u have a right to privacy!!
7: 34 am
Seen


Erik won’t understand, because the only thing he’s ever done for publicity has been charities, appearances, interviews and social media posts. Wilhelm came out. Does Erik understand how fucking terrifying that was? He wanted his family to know at that moment, not the whole world. He became the first member of a royal family to be openly queer, ever - and get to keep his head. Winning. His Instagram went from 100 thousand followers to 130 million in three days, expanding out of just Sweden in popularity. PR barely slept trying to keep up and manage his image by contacting different news companies with "insider knowledge" into Wilhelm's non-existent love life to steer it in the direction of sweet, teenage love with an analogous boy, and not being what his mother called a gay stereotype, and sleeping around.

 

Which Wilhelm found very offensive, not just to him, but to the entire queer community. Stereotypes can be really harmful, and most of the time, they aren't true. 


Maybe his life “has barely started”, but Erik’s the only person who cares about that.

 

Wilhelm despises the photographs taken of him and Simon, but it comes with being a celebrity, doesn't it?

 

You sign up for the photographs, the hate, the love, the popularity, the exposure. Wilhelm just didn’t get a choice of signing up, he was born into this. His parents gave him “You stay closeted for the rest of your life, or you come out to all of Sweden in an article and do interviews, your first relationship will be a stunt one and we will manage it to the very amount of times you look at each other in public. We will fully control your social media accounts, posts and DM’s immediately. At school, you will never bring it up yourself because no one likes someone who forces gay on others. If there is anything homophobic involving you, you are to sensibly stick up for the community to show we are supportive.”

 

Wilhelm sometimes wonders what the hell he signed himself up for with coming out, sometimes he regrets telling them. But then he goes to the rainbow charities and sees all the change people made because he came out, he scrolls through his DM’s and sees a fair bit of hate, but there are also people expressing their gratitude for him, and saying how proud they are of him.


He’s yet to be meet this PR stunt boyfriend, because his parents don't care if he dates a girl, as long as his first male-with-male relationship is monitored. Maybe they’ve changed their minds and they aren't going to do one. There's a dream.


~ ~ ~


Later that day, Wilhelm and Simon walk to PE together after history, and Felice is behind talking to Madi.


“Simon, you need to get over the fact Mr Grady is married and has kids,” Wilhelm sighs.


Simon groans dramatically. “He’s too fine to be a married straight man. They just don’t make straight guys as straight-looking as they used to. Maybe he’s bi - “


“Maybe he is queer of some sort,” Wilhelm interrupts with a shake of his head as they split off from the girls. “But, get this, paedophilia.” Wilhelm waves his hands as if saying something magical.


Simon rolls his eyes. “Details,” he pushes open the door to the changing rooms.


“Details,” Wilhelm repeats under his breath, amusement tainting his voice, dumping his bag on a bench and taking out his gym clothes. Simon, who normally changes behind Wilhelm, goes around the bench to change in front of him.


Wilhelm keeps his eyes on his clothes once his PE shirt is in the right way, and finds Simon doing the same thing. Which is fine, it's just that he’d normally strip his shirt and then go looking for his PE shirt in the disaster that is his bag.


Deciding to not think much of it, Wilhelm pulls off his shirt, and puts on his PE one right after, doing the same with his PE shorts. Simon changes faster than Wilhelm, for the first time all term, and is out the door before Wilhelm has finished tying his shoes without saying a word.


Maybe he’s suddenly gained some passion for PE, but it’s a little weird how fast he changed today. Does he regret changing opposite Wilhelm instead of behind him? 


He shakes his head and stands to walk into the gym. Simon’s weird, no point trying to figure him out.


The rest of PE was fine today, they did bench ball, which Wilhelm despises, and his team lost. Wilhelm noticed Miss Myles specifically choosing teams so Wilhelm is always with Felice and Simon, every time, even when Simon is standing on the opposite side of the gym to Wilhelm arguing with Josh's group, she switches Simon to Wilhelm’s team.


Simon doesn’t look particularly bothered by it, but Wilhelm doesn’t like it. 


In the changing rooms, Simon debunked one of Wilhelm’s queries and changes opposite him , but is still quick and the first one out. Wilhelm glances at his face as he leaves - it’s tense as Simon slings his bag on, maybe slightly pained.


What’s his deal? Wilhelm wonders. Yes, the changing rooms are stuffy, smelly, and a bit gross, because it's a changing room for teenage boys. But Simon’s been a slow changer all term, taking his sweet time humming along to his internal music with his soft, melodic voice. Maybe he has more hickeys from Marcus, Wilhelm thinks.


~ ~ ~


The article comes out around lunch, but no one mentions anything of it, and Wilhelm gives it a quick read. Erik is right. They were happy to mention how uncomfortable it’s making Wilhelm, even though they never asked, several times throughout the article. They claim the school is meant to be a safe environment for pupils to grow without being watched by everyone, and this is a violation even if it’s legal. 


He'd chucked his phone on the table and listened in on the conversation instead.


Could they stop stealing his voice and telling people he said those words? Calm down, he tells himself, eyes flickering over to Simon, who just laughed at something Henry had said. It’s part of the life you didn’t sign up for. “It’s a privilege, not a punishment.” That’s something Wilhelm’s mum would remind him when he was younger and crying over having to do some photo shoot before he could open his Christmas presents, or when he complained that the kids at school were too scared to be his friend after what happened to Felix, crying that he just wants a normal life. It's sure hard to enjoy something that makes you cry.


“You are so ungrateful for the beautiful life you live, Wilhelm. This is a privilege, not a punishment. You should be honoured to live in a palace and to be a part of Sweden’s Royal bloodline, but you are selfish and rude. That is disgraceful.”


Wilhelm blinks down at his lunch unhappily. He wants to go back to when he didn’t even have these hateful thoughts and he just rolled along with whatever they said, smiled and nodded and did what he was told. He hasn’t resisted anything since he came out. 


The feeling of being watched came over him and made his stomach tighten. He looks up at Simon, but he is texting on his phone with a sour expression, as he often does when texting. Wilhelm looks up at the end of the table - The Housefather is watching, dark eyes pinned on Wilhelm like he’s being paid to make sure he eats. Wilhelm resistes the urge to curl his lip and instead smiles,  then stuffed another mouthful of soup into his mouth, making his stomach churn and swirl. He isn’t very hungry right now, not after reading that stupid article.


I wonder what Simon would think of that garbage, Wilhelm wonders as he stirs the chicken noodle soup in front of him, the sounds of the other boys laughing tuned out. I need to go feed Sunny, he remembered suddenly.


“I’m going to feed Sunny,” Wilhelm tells the table and Simon nods quietly, the others all giggle like school girls, but no one orders him to sit down and eat. He considers asking Simon to come with him, but he looks pretty mad at his phone, so he decides to leave him.


He goes to the scrap bin and pours the rest of his soup and noodles in, the sound it makes as it hits the plastic insides is like he is throwing it up, splattering against the plastic lining.


Wilhelm didn’t glance back at the Housefather as he left, instead grabbing a piece of bread and hoping he saw, and would probably think it was for Wilhelm when it’s just for Sunny.


He’s still not that fond of being a parent to the little bird, who is getting more and more confident in his room and keeps pooing anywhere she can stand. She’s still super naked and gets cold easily, but walks around and tries to fly on things, chirping loudly. Wilhelm’s pretty sure you aren’t even allowed pets, so he’s hoping the boys will keep quiet. 


~ Friday ~


PE is first period today, and Wilhelm is pretty sure he’s going to walk into the gym after changing and Simon will be standing in there, already changed. He'd make a bet on it... had he not be the only one to notice and/or care about the change in Simon's changing habits. Maybe he is overthinking it. Maybe it should mean something that he's the only one who noticed...


This morning he woke up to find Sunny having dragged herself out of the little nest he makes in his sink every night. Apparently, she found it was the right time to explore. She woke Wilhelm chirping and waddling around on the floor of his bedroom, covered in her own faeces.


She shat in her bed and then got poo on herself. Wilhelm had to hold this little shitty, wiggly bird that kept chirping and scratching with its tiny claws in order to wipe all the poo off before he put her on the floor, so she couldn't fall off anything else and break her delicate little bones.


Once he’d done that, he got ready for school as he normally would, only for the Housefather to pull him aside at breakfast.


“Wilhelm, I noticed that you seem to be reluctant when eating recently,” he’d said, and Wilhelm had stiffened anxiously. “I want you to remember that you can talk to me about anything, Wilhelm. If you feel more comfortable eating outside with some friends, then you can do that, but talk to me, alright?”


Wilhelm just nods, smiling politely, feeling August’s grubby little eyes on him as he walks into the room. Wilhelm flies right out of there before August can corner him with that sly smirk, like he knows something Wilhelm doesn't, and ask him about the stupid party, again. The party is tomorrow night, and Wilhelm is planning to go, just to have a look around, as long as he doesn’t have too much homework.


But more importantly, tomorrow is the market, so Wilhelm is spending lunch today in the council room with the rest of the council. They’ve managed to finalise plans and stalls. They sent out a survey not too long ago to most of the school asking what stalls they'd like, as well as design ideas and cost.

Madi is going to run a stall with three other council members selling candles; Madi already has a bunch she made previously and is yet to use, however, that group have made more as well. Ashlee and Walter are going to have a food stall with different sweet treats, which Henry and two of Ashlee’s third-year friends who are also in the council are going to be running. They’ll make the food after school in the food tech rooms. A guy, his girlfriend and her friend - who are all council members - are running a Henna stall, where they have an assortment of designs to choose from as well as the option of freestyle, or custom designs. Then there’s a kid's face paint stall run by a second year who is very energetic and is doing entirely custom designs.


All the stalls are going to be in one row, and will all have posters that explain how all money made is going to the rainbow youth charity, which was Miss Clear’s idea, but Wilhelm saw the way she smiled proudly when Wilhelm expressed his thoughts about it being a good idea. He knows his Mother would approve as well. 


They’ve hired trucks to get the painted banners, fold-out tables, chairs and products to the market. It’s all very stressful, but it’s coming together nicely, which makes the sleepless nights and fainting worth it.


Just as Wilhelm thought, when he enters the gym after changing Simon is sitting on one of the benches picking at his nails. 


Wilhelm approaches him instantly, skin tingling from the cold that’s set in. They should’ve made a hot chocolate stall. Is it too late to make the suggestion? Wilhelm himself is going to be walking around managing things, like the set up and set down. He's not doing it alone, tragically. He was about ready to claw his eyeballs out when Miss Clear informed the council he and August would be running management together. It's like she wants him to murder August - actually...


They’ve been informed that a photographer will be following the school around again, so Wilhelm can’t frown or glare or get angry with August. Felice promised she’d stick herself to him and follow him around for support. 


“What’s with your newfound hatred for the changing rooms?” Wilhelm asks, stopping in front of Simon.


Simon had watched him approach quietly and is staring up at him, leaning fords on his pressed-together knees, hair in a little bun at the top of his head. Wilhelm impulsively boops the bun.


“Well, I have many reasons,” Simon replies, sitting up straighter and swatting Wilhelm away, seeming not as bothered as Wilhelm would’ve been. “Like it fucking stinks, like the people are sucky, like why do you care? Miss perving on me?” He quirked an eyebrow and Wilhelm just sighed.


“I did not perv on you.” Okay, I kind of did, but you have a very nice back! “It’s just strange how fast you change. You know, like I change fast, but you’re changing faster,” Wilhelm replies, also crossing his arms, stubbornly ignoring the heat in his cheeks. 


“Why do you care so much?” Simon says again, slightly tilting his head to the side. “It’s changing for PE, not a murder case. Don’t you have more important things to worry about? Like being a single Mother, or single-handedly carrying the student council, or lifting that overfilled head of yours - ?”


“Excuse you, Simon, my head is not overfilled - Overflowing with knowledge, maybe - "


“ - Or managing that anxiety.”


“Oh look, it’s Felice! Bye, Simon!” With that, Wilhelm walked away from him after booping his hair again, and Simon chuckled. He’s not an idiot, he can see that he might have a really minor case of anxiety, but screw Simon for calling him out on it, he's pretending it's not there so can't Simon do the same?  


He'd barely made it over to Felice when Miss Myles walked in and announced that they’d be doing the relays today, outside on the courts. "To warm up your muscles!" Miss had claimed. No one agrees.


~ ~ ~


“Are you okay?” Wilhelm asked, or more panted. He’s 99.999% sure his cheeks are bright red, his body is sticky all over and his hair is matted to his forehead. So much for feeling cold before, now he’s just really, really hot and wouldn’t complain if someone decided to dump an entire bathtub of Antarctica’s water on his head, or several.


Simon’s sitting on the side of the court, knees bent with a thick plaster on both of his kneecaps and on his left palm, from where he’d skidded across the ground when he tripped. His cheeks are slightly red, and his hair has been re-tied on his head by Felice, as his hand isn’t all that mobile now with the thick plaster on the edge of it.


Simon looks up at Wilhelm as he sits down next to him, exhausted after all the running. Around them, the rest of the class is all heading back towards the gym to get changed for the second period. Wilhelm can’t believe Miss Myles did this to them first period on a Friday. 


“Yeah, I’m just fucking fantastic,” Simon grumbles, picking at the edge of the plaster on his left palm with his right finger, looking agitated by it. “I’ll just be unable to do anything with this hand all day. Fan-fucking-tastic.”


“You aren’t left-handed, are you?” Wilhelm asks, staring down at him, breathing slightly easier now. His lungs feel burnt, his throat stinging with every inhale of icy air.


“No, but it’s still fucking annoying,” Simon replies snappily. Wilhelm knows Simon isn't angry at him, so he doesn't let his snapping get him agitated.


“If it’s any closure, you fell very eloquently, and didn’t even shed a tear,” Wilhelm tries for a joke, and to his relief, Simon snorts half-heartedly.


“Boys, c’mon, time to get changed!” Miss Myles calls.


Wilhelm offers Simon a hand as the last few students trickle into the gym’s open doors and into the changing rooms, leaving Wilhelm and Simon behind. 


“Won’t be the first one changed now,” Wilhelm sighs as Simon clasps his hand in his right one, and pulls him up easily. Simon winces as his knees bend, hand squeezing tight in Wilhelm’s - his mind instantly thinks what if someone has their phones out, and he drops Simon’s hand like hot coals.


Simon frowns slightly but is quickly distracted when he takes a step, hissing harshly, before pressing his lips shut and straightening his spine, stepping again, clearly holding in his pain. Wilhelm wouldn’t blame him for complaining if it hurt, he didn’t fall eloquently at all, he tripped on his own laces, stumbled a few steps, fell onto his hands with his knees following harshly, sliding fords a few inches from the speed he’d been running. It was horrible to watch, but Simon pulled himself up quickly, limping off to the side and out of the way before he could get run over.


“Yeah,” Simon grumbled as they walked slowly, Simon hobbling and wincing, Wilhelm walking next to him, slowly feeling the sweat freeze on his face and neck from the chilly air, sticky and uncomfortable. “So, how’s Sunny?”


Wilhelm laughs suddenly and Miss Myles a few steps in front of them glances over her shoulder. The teachers don’t seem able to process Wilhelm and Simon’s change in behaviour, Wilhelm almost can’t either, it’s pretty crazy, but it’s better for them than arguing, both their PR teams (assuming Simon has one, or at least his sisters) will thank them for it. It's more fun than arguing, as well.


“This morning she managed to shit herself, smear herself through it, and then climb out of the sink and put her poo all over my floor,” Wilhelm tells Simon with a smile.


“Ah, children,” Simon shakes his head as they get closer to the gym, now only a few metres away. The sun isn’t out today, and now Wilhelm’s body is cooling down he’s beginning to get cold, and is craving a nice warm shower, and his cosy, winter clothes. But Simon is still walking slowly, and it’d be rather rude to just walk away from him now. “Haven’t been told to get rid of it yet?”


“Nope.” Wilhelm pops the P, stepping up into the gym, Simon a few steps behind, wincing at the step. “I don’t know if the teachers know she’s there, or they just don’t care, but she’s in my bedroom right now, probably chirping and trying to commit suicide. Being a parent is hard, we should go easier on our parents - I’ve only been a parent for a few days and it’s exhausting, I don’t know how actual parents do it…” He nearly says how it's easier for him because he's mostly an absent father to Sunny, but he manages to stop himself. That might be awkward. Speaking of that, he still hasn't brought up what he saw last tutor or his photo of Simon and his ... customer.


Simon clears his throat as they trek across the gym. “Um, did you mean for that to get weirdly deep or like…?” He trails off, and Wilhelm just snorts, shaking his head.


“No, sorry, just kind of came out. But it’s true, our parents have their own lives to live, and yet they still manage ours, keep us safe,” Wilhelm says, and Simon just sighs.


“And wipe away our shit. Real superheroes they are,” but he doesn’t sound sarcastic with his last statement, maybe slightly … emotional? There's some history behind those words. 


“See you later, boys!” Miss Myles calls as she walks into the teacher's office, connected to the gym. 


“Bye, Miss Myles, have a nice day,” Wilhelm replies over his shoulder, while Simon pushes open the changing room door without a backward glance at their teacher. 


The changing room is mostly empty, just a few boys tying laces or packing their bags, the remnants of steam still lingering in the room, making it feel a bit like a sauna.


It then occurs to Wilhelm that it’ll most likely be just him and Simon showering... which is slightly awkward, he won't lie.


Either way, they grab their towels and portable soap bottles and quietly make their walk into the other room, where the showers are all positioned on the walls, with a big drain in the middle. The floor is still slick with water, and the air smells of different expensive soaps.


Without speaking, they both go to opposite sides of the rooms and strip off their sweaty clothes. The cold air is absolutely not appreciated and Wilhelm makes quick work of putting all his clothes in the little wall locker next to his shower head and turning on the shower to keep himself warm, huddling himself under the water as it erases the goosebumps from his skin, shoving his face under and allowing the warmth to drench his hair to his scalp.


He hears Simon let out a sharp, pained hiss from behind him, and on instinct glances over his shoulder, blinking through the water for a moment. Simon’s back is to him, but before his eyes can dart any lower on their own accord, they get frozen on his back, and the water might as well have turned to cold with the way his veins freeze. 


Simon’s back has bruises all over, from his waist to his shoulder, mostly on his right side. The bruising is dark purple and green as if something hard was thrown onto him in places, and in others, something small but pointy was hit against him. It’s not like he got beat up, with several fist-sized punches, but more like someone smacked a chair, or a fucking pan on his right shoulder, the bruising on the back half of his shoulder deep and dark, and the same on the right side of his slim waist, and then kicked the living shit out of his whole back. There are a few small cuts and nicks across his back, from waist to shoulder.


Wilhelm can’t look away as his heart begins to pound harder and harder in his chest. How long has that been there? That must be why Simon is changing so fast, and why he’s started changing in front of Wilhelm - so he can’t see the damage on his back. Does he need comfort? The sudden image of Simon lying on Wilhelm’s lap while he traces shapes onto his bruised back pops into his mind, but he shuns it.


It makes his stomach tighten and twist. Simon bends down to pick up his soap, and Wilhelm turns back around, cheeks hot but blood cold. He had been so caught on Simon’s back, that he hadn’t looked at anything else, which is a relief, because he did not want to know.


Wilhelm washes himself while he thinks, barely able to move, his heart refusing to slow. Who did that to him? And then his mind freezes. He kind of wants to fall to his knees and sob. His Dad. The phone call on Tuesday asking for Simon to come over while he was drunk, or high, or both, Simon had been begging for him to not do something, he’d been crying, stiff and unresponsive. They had PE third period on Tuesday, and Simon had been his normal self then, but on Thursday he first rushed (as they don’t have PE on Wednesday).

 

Was it his Dad who hit him with something?


He hears Simon’s water turn off, and then him padding away with slightly uneven steps, a towel draped around his shoulders like a blanket, effectively covering all bruising humming something under his breath as he goes.


Wilhelm stays in the shower until he hears the doors to the changing room close a few minutes later, and then turns off the water. Every time he thinks about Simon’s Dad he gets some strange, cold stab in his stomach that knocks the breath from him. Simon is meant to have zero contact with his Dad, and he really just confirmed that after telling Wilhelm that his Dad was his dealer, which he very well might also be.


I need to talk to Simon, is Wilhelm’s next thought, and then he’s rinsing off the soap and sliding out of the showers, changing quickly and racing off to his next class, taking deep breaths and allowing the freezing air to relax him slightly more.

 

He knows he can’t ask Simon in class; what if he cries? Or more likely, get super defensive and angry? Wilhelm can’t have him raging in front of the whole class. He wants to see Simon, just Simon, with no lies or defences. Maybe watch how he sits in his chair to tell how bad the bruising is. His mind is quick to provide a memory of Simon wincing as he puts on his backpack a few days ago.


Something glass, or China, perhaps? To make the cuts? Does Marcus know his boyfriend is being abused? Is there a chance Marcus did this? Wilhelm already dislikes Marcus, but this might just drive him to smash his stupid, thick head into a wall, several times. But Simon would leave the relationship if that was the case, right? Marcus was going to be at that game the same night Simon was seeing his drunk Dad, but Wilhelm had seen how handsy Marcus was with Simon, the way he grabbed him to kiss him to smother their argument, but Simon had fought back… But Micke is known to be a literal abuser to Simon, and he seemed angry on the phone, which adds up. Did Simon even go to that game in the end?


He bursts into the geography class as Simon is sitting down next to Alex on the left of the class, two from the front. Felice is sitting in front of them, which is annoying, because now Wilhelm watch Simon the whole time. 


Simon’s hair is still wet from his shower, bouncing around his head as he pulls out his phone, ignoring Wilhelm sitting down slowly in front of him.


“You guys took ages to get to class,” Felice commented, raising her eyebrows at Wilhelm.


“Felt bad he was limping along by himself, like an old man,” Wilhelm replied to her, and she just rolled her eyes, while Simon kicked the back of Wilhelm’s chair without looking up from his phone.


Maybe next period Wilhelm can watch.


~ ~ ~


He did watch the next period, very closely in fact, he felt a bit like a stalker. He observed how Simon never sat back in his chair; the whole lesson he either sat hunched over, or with a straight spine to stop himself from leaning backwards into the chairs back. At one point he must’ve forgotten, because he went to crack his back and Wilhelm watched as he physically winced, turning back to the front carefully, hand snaking around to press against where a big bruise is lightly, pulling his jumper out from the bruising.


It made Wilhelm want to collapse on his desk and scream. Of course, no one else noticed, a few people just glanced at him because he’d moved and caught their eye, but no one else cared that he’d winced.


When class was let out, Wilhelm sprung from his chair and stood in front of Simon, who was just about to stand.


“Whao, hello there,” Simon says, standing slowly. Wilhelm takes a step back so he can get out of his chair and resists the urge to grab Simon so he won’t run off, because Wilhelm has a feeling he will.


“I need to talk to you, right now, it’s really important,” Wilhelm says, face serious, bouncing on the spot with nerves, barely able to meet Simon's eye.


Felice and Alex watch in confusion. Simon raised an eyebrow. “Um, I have choir right now - “


“It’s super important, though. Come,” Wilhelm grabs his jumper sleeve and drags him out the door with transition. Wilhelm has the final council meeting before the market tomorrow, so maybe this isn’t a good idea... but the next time he sees Simon alone will be their tutor session on Tuesday!  That's too far away. He might die if he has to wait that long. He'll think himself into a black hole of Simon and his life.


“Wille, babes, I have to go to choir,” Simon sighs, exasperated, trailing behind Wilhelm, still limping a bit. The corridor is busy, so he pulls him outside, Simon sighs heavily - again - as they stop outside an empty classroom window, with no one around them for several metres.


“What is it? Jesus, you look like you’re going to tell me you're pregnant,” Simon says, crossing his arms. Wilhelm notes that his backpack is on his chest. 


“Uhhh...” Crap. How does he say this? How does he even start? Wilhelm wants to laugh hysterically and then give Simon a massive hug, but he doesn't think he'd appreciate either of those things.

 

He’s been so stressed to get Simon alone and ask, he hadn't even thought of how he’s going to ask. Wilhelm's brain has been spinning so fast and only now does it begin to slow down, his thoughts and feelings catching up. “Um,” Wilhelm fumbles, fiddling with his shoulder bag by his side, eyes flicking over Simon’s face.


Simon raises his brows. “Come on, I’ve got choir,” he says again, taking a small step back.


“I, um,” Wilhelm falls quiet again, and Simon throws his arms in the air.


“Can we talk about this later?” Simon asks, then pauses, cocking his head to the side as an understanding look crosses his face. “How important is it, Wille?”


The fact he’s willing to listen to Wilhelm means a little more than it probably should, but, well. “It’s really, really, important,” Wilhelm says again. “Can you wait after school?”


“We have tutoring after school,” Simon says carefully, brows still raised on his face. “Remember? Did you forget? Jesus, who, or what is this about?”
 
“Oh.” Oh yeah. Wilhelm can talk to him then. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just…” It’s really stressing me out and I’m actually worried about you for once, which is... yeah. It's not new, to be honest. “We can talk then. Okay, bye.” Cheeks burning, he turns and begins to walk towards the council room in shame, but Simon grabs his wrist to stop him, fingers warm where they wrap carefully around his wrist, the plaster on his hand soft against his hand.


“Wille,” he says firmly, stopping him in his tracks. “Is this about me, or you?” He asks carefully.


Wilhelm turns back slowly and finds Simon much closer than he expected, mere inches separating their bodies, their faces. He hopes Simon can’t feel his pulse racing in his wrist, praying his tight grip isn’t tight enough, even if it does feel like Simon’s index finger is pressing right against his pulse. He gulps, and Simon’s eyes flick to his neck, eyes hard and curious. If Wilhelm admits it’s about Simon, will he run for the hills and never return? Should he lie?


“I’ll tell you later,” Wilhelm says instead, his voice coming out as a slight whisper. Simon’s eyes flicker down to his lips when he spoke, and his stomach dropped.


Then his mind went - people are going to be watching, and he jerked back from Simon’s hold. “See you,” he says, turning and walking off again, Simon’s slight confusion and worry still on his face as Wilhelm walks away quickly, refusing to look around to see if anyone had got a photo of how close they’d been standing in the shadow of a classroom. God dammit.


~ ~ ~


English class has never taken longer. Wilhelm likes English, and even he's suffering right now.


Wilhelm can feel Simon’s burning gaze all class long as they read Crisis quietly, the only sound breaking the silence is Felice drumming her long acrylics on her notebook gently as she reads, Miss Ramirez typing on her laptop, and Simon shuffling around in his chair, restless as always.


He’s not sure how much reading Simon does, but he personally couldn’t do a lot. 


The pressure in this room is like that of being in a submarine, and he needs to get out. Wilhelm stands from his desk suddenly. He must leave this room for a moment, or several. As he walks to Miss Ramirez’s desk, he can still feel Simon watching him closely, eyes boring into the back of his head.


“Excuse me, Miss,” Wilhelm whispers as he stops by her desk.


“Yes, dear?” She replies, smiling as she turns from her laptop.


“May I go to the bathroom, please?” He asks quietly.


“Yes, you may,” she nods, and Wilhelm thanks her quietly, before turning away and walking out the door, silently praying Simon won’t ask to go to the bathroom as well, or just announce his need for a toilet and walk out like he normally does when he needs to pee.


The corridor is quiet, but the wind is still loud as Wilhelm slowly walks down the hallway towards the bathroom, past classrooms. This is the building where August lit the fire, but they’ve repaired the damage since. It’s also the bathroom where Simon and Wilhelm were during that storm in PE class, where Simon flinched from the loud thunder. 


He opens the bathroom door and finds all the stalls open and empty. He belines for the nearest stall and shuts the door, entirely uninspired by the graffiti saying “slut or prude”, with three signatures underneath “slut”, one of which Wilhelm is pretty sure is August’s.


Wilhelm stands in the middle of the stall with no ache to use the toilet, staring at his feet on the sparkling floor. How do you handle someone who you think is being abused? You shouldn’t just straight up ask, should you? Do you tell their parents that you’re worried? One of his parents is the abuser, though! Wilhelm has never been confronted with something like this before! He's about to break out Google.


“Fuck,” Wilhelm whispers, but his voice sounds really loud in the dead silence, only the wind as his company.


The door squeaks open. Spoke too soon.


“Wille?” Simon’s asks as the door falls shut. Wilhelm listens to him pacing into the bathroom slowly, slightly more confident on his feet now. He watches as his shadow stops outside Wilhelm’s stall, and he drums his fingers on it a few times. “You’re being fucking weird, babes,” Simon says.


“What if I was some random person?” Wilhelm asks weakly, crossing his arms and staring at the door.


Simon crouches, and then sticks his head under the door, peering up at Wilhelm. That would be funny for him to do if Wilhelm was in a better mood. “But you’re not.”


“And what if I was on the toilet?” Wilhelm asks instead, squinting down at him.


Simon rolls his eyes. “But you aren’t.”


“What if I was though?”


Simon sighs and then stands up. Wilhelm silently, without question, steps forwards and unlocks the door, Simon nudges it open, frowning at him from the other side. “I would’ve politely apologised and then kept peeking,” he smirks, and Wilhelm swings the door closed on him, but he's smiling to himself, cheeks pleasantly warm.


Simon chuckles, leaving it closed. “Let me try again.” He waits a beat before pushing the door open. “Hello, again,” Simon smiles. “Why are you hiding in a bathroom stall during class? It’s not like you.”


Wilhelm sighs, sitting down on the closed toilet. He’s not going to ask Simon right now, but maybe they can talk and take their minds off it. “Being a single mother is stressful.”


Simon chuckles again, the little burst of air from his nose that is laughter. He steps into the stall, closing and locking the door behind him, leaning back against it - and instantly standing straight, clearing his throat as he leans on the wall next to him with his left shoulder.


“I know. I have one.”


Yeah, so, I’m sure your single mother is amazing, she raised a shitty son but that’s probably your fault, but let's talk about your previous but potentially still abusive father who your Mother divorced and your celebrity sister claims you have no contact with. Did he throw something hard, then something breakable, kick you, and did you in response curl into a ball as is the natural human instinct to protect your vital organs, which caused the majority of the damage to hit your back? 


“Can’t relate,” is what he says instead, and Simon shrugs.


“It’s not that bad. She’s not home a lot, but she’s an amazing mother. And cook. She’s a great cook.”


“Why are you willingly telling me about your life right now?” Wilhelm asks, staring up at Simon.


Simon is quiet for a second, and Wilhelm watches his expression, the way he isn’t frowning angrily, snarling defensively, or rolling his eyes, irritated by someone - most likely Wilhelm. He’s simply looking at the body count graffiti with what can only be described as a quiet expression.


“Because I thought that maybe if I open up a little, you’ll tell me what’s got you shitting bricks,” Simon replies quietly. 


“You probably aren’t going to like what I say,” Wilhelm tells him, voice mimicking his volume. Simon’s eyes are different to what he normally sees, there’s no heat behind them, it’s just patience, worry, and confusion. He wants to know. He’s not going to like it. It makes Wilhelm want to not say anything just to keep this new side of Simon around and stop him from closing over like he surely will. But he can’t let this go unnoticed, even if Simon is trying to do that.


“Probably not, then, but you can ask, or tell me anyway,” Simon says easily, flicking a curl off his forehead. “Do you need me to pinkie swear I won’t get angry?” 


He’s joking, but Wilhelm is seriously considering it. “I’ll tell you during tutor,” he tells him.


“That bad?” Simon asks, brows raising slightly, but he doesn’t give up. “Why can’t you tell me now? What’s the difference between then and now?” 


“An hour.”


Simon rolls his eyes, amused by Wilhelm’s weak attempt at comedy. “Seriously, though, after Geo you looked super stressed, like you were going to tell me you fucking failed a class, or that your brother is coming back to the school because he’s in deep, deep, deep love with me.”


Wilhelm wrinkles his nose and chooses to ignore the serious side of that. “My brother is straight, and several years older than you. You must have a thing for older men.”


Simon snorts. “That’s funny, because my boyfriend is two years older than me,” he admits. 


Does your boyfriend throw things at you or hit you? Wilhelm wishes his brain would stop.


“That’s not too bad,” Wilhelm shrugs. “But it does confirm my earlier statement. Marcus, Mr Grady, Erik. What about my Dad?”


“Ew,” Simon wrinkles his nose shamelessly, despite Wilhem sitting right there. “Not your dad. Mr Grady’s kids' Dad, yes. Your future nieces or nephews Dad, also yes. But not your Dad.”


“Your boyfriend's future kids' Dad?” Wilhelm asks, smiling slightly.


Simon pauses for a moment. “Meh. I’ve seen better.”


Wilhelm’s jaw drops, and he bursts out laughing. “Simon! He’s your boyfriend!” He laughs, and Simon grins a big toothy smile at him.


“Sorry! Never said the attraction was physical.”


“He has the personality of a watermelon.”


“Hey, he’s nice and funny when you get him alone.”


“Yeah, I’m sure he’s lots of things when you’re alone,” Wilhelm wiggles his eyebrows, and it's Simon's turn for his jaw to hit the floor as he grins. “Care to add to this list?” Wilhelm strokes a hand over the graffiti, and Simon bursts out laughing again, a sound Wilhelm rather likes.


“Wille! You surprisingly dirty-minded Prince!” He giggles, shaking his head as he stands up straight. “Oh my God, that just got me thinking about all the rumours of you and Felix - “ Simon falls silent, slamming his mouth shut, eyes instantly growing guilty as he stands straighter. “Sorry, let’s not talk about that.”


Wilhelm feels himself freeze up, mind blank as his thoughts fly back to cartwheels and bright headlights, yelling and the shattering of bones, Malin’s firm hold and the burn of his throat. Wilhelm knows about the rumours after he came out, people surfaced photos of him and his best friend Felix, saying that maybe it hit him so hard because he liked the guy. Wilhelm and Erik know that’s exactly what was the case, but no one else.


“Wille,” Simon steps fords, and Wilhelm looks up at him.


“I had a dream about him and you, you two both got hit by the car though,” he blurts, and Simon’s eyes widen, taking that step back again. “On the soccer field, with Rosh, Felice and Ayub. Doing cartwheels together, all laughing. I told you to not but you didn’t listen. You both - you both - both - both - “ Wilhelm feels his windpipe flapping, closing over, he can’t breathe, choking on his words, repeating like a broken record.


“Hey, hey, hey,” Simon jumps fords again, falling onto his knees without hesitation as Wilhelm’s vision blurs with tears, breaks screaming in his ears, every time he tries to blink they blur memories of flashing lights and the reaction on peoples faces to the scene behind him, no one allowing him to turn around, forcefully grabbing his head to stop him seeing.


“Wilhelm,” Simon looks helpless, hands flailing, before he puts his hand on Wilhelm’s knee, shaking him as he hypoventilates, Simon’s head doubling from tears.


He got to turn around one time when being passed from Malin to his Dad, jerking his head back and seeing a blurry scene of bodies running around, ambulances, officers, paparazzi cameras and a small form covered with a white cloth that’s stained red, blood leaking around the edges. It gets picked up and his Dad is grabbing his chin to force him to look away, neck muscles straining as he kicks and screams.


Simon shuffles in between his legs, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to sit up straight, both hands holding him up. “Breathe. I’m so sorry,” Simon says.


Wilhelm can’t though, tears run down his cheeks, and he feels embarrassed, but also scared because he just can’t breathe, and it hurts, but he can’t stop it! He doesn’t know how to just breathe.


Simon fumbles around, looking worried as he squeezes his shoulder tighter and tighter. “Think about something else. What were you going to tell me? No, no, think about something happy. Think about Felice, she makes you laugh. Or Sunny, the little bird you fucking adopted, because your heart is too goddamn pure for this world and should be handled carefully, wrapped in - in fucking bubble wrap or something. It should have a "treat with extreme care" sticker on it.”


“My - my heart?” Wilhelm chokes, coughing grossly.


Simon wrinkles his nose shortly, before nodding. “Yeah, your - uh, your heart.” His cheeks turn pink as he shakes himself. “You, erm, have a very nice heart. Breathe, okay? Just, like, in and out.” Simon takes a deep breath, and Wilhelm tries to copy, hiccuping, mind numb. He misses Felix, so, so, so bad. It makes his chest ache to think about. He lets out a harsh sob. Simon’s thumps stray and press softly against the sides of his neck, holding his head steady when he tries to drop it down against his chest. Simon's other hand presses against his heart, and it soothes the ache slightly.

“You’ve got your heart on your sleeve. It’s a bit scary because I don’t think a lot of people see it, but I do. You’re kind and generous, this anxious little, floppy-haired Golden Retriever puppy who doesn’t know how to react when I say some things, but is really sensitive and likes to make people happy.” Wilhelm stares back at Simon.


No one has ever said anything like that to him before. His heart on his sleeve? “I’m not a floppy-eared dog,” Wilhelm argues, breathing better, conscious of the way his thighs are pressing against Simon’s waist from his panic, and Simon’s hands. They’re the same height because Simon’s kneeling while he sits on the closed toilet. He remembers the plasters on Simon’s knees, but he doesn’t seem bothered by them right now.


Simon smirks. “You should see yourself when you're running around in PE with your floppy hair.” Then his face drops again, his eyes become sad and falling to the floor. “I’m sorry for that, I didn’t think… But it’s kinda bad that it’s still a sensitive thing for you.”


Wilhelm sniffs pathetically. “I know,” he mumbles. “It was pretty horrible, but I’m normally fine. It’s the occasional nightmare now. I’m just super emotional today, which is why it hit so hard.”


Simon reaches behind them to grab some toilet paper, wincing slightly from his back, and then handing it to Wilhelm. He wipes his cheeks and nose while Simon shuffles back and stands. “It’s okay if it’s still a soft spot, I guess, it was like three years ago, though. But it must’ve been horrible to watch, so it makes sense - “


“You sound like Erik,” Wilhelm tells him, blowing his nose. 


Simon shrugs. “Erik sounds wise.” They go silent for a moment, but Wilhelm doesn’t agree. It shouldn’t be a soft spot, it was years ago, Malin fucking watched it all happen and she’s completely fine, but Wilhelm only heard it and he’s more traumatised than anyone else in that situation, even the driver is okay!


Simon unlocks the stall door and walks out, standing outside while Wilhelm gathers himself. “You should go back to class first,” Simon suggests when Wilhelm walks out, catching his reflection in the mirror, cheeks and eyes red.


“Sorry you had to see that,” Wilhelm says, fanning his face and glancing at Simon, who’s watching him in the mirror. His mind flashes back to everything Simon said about his heart, and how nice it had sounded coming from Simon, how he focused on it and calmed his panic attack, how warm Simon’s body was that close to his, how, yeah, he caused it, but how he stayed the whole time even though it clearly freaked him out.


“It’s all good. Sara used to get loads of panic attacks whenever she’d come home and hear a loud noise, or just in general when we were younger,” Simon says casually, putting his hands in his pockets. “Thanks, Dad.”


The thunder, Simon flinching. “Do you also…?” Wilhelm trails off. “With the thunder?” He gestures around weakly, and Simon pauses, eyes wracking over Wilhelm.


“Not really,” he says finally, not making eye contact and shuffling his feet. Lies. “I mean, sometimes,” Simon shrugs, shoulders a little stiff. “Not as bad as her, even though - y’know what doesn’t matter. You go to class, I’ll wait a few minutes, if Miss asks why you took so long just say I picked a fight.” 


“Simon, I'm not going to throw you under the bus. I’m the reason we’re even here in the first place,” Wilhelm argues back, washing his hands from touching things in the toilet stall. “I’ll say we fought…” Simon doesn’t say anything back. “But you want to get expelled.” Suddenly, he doesn’t feel glad that that’s what Simon wants, he’s not relieved or even excited that he could get expelled, and he’s a bit sad. Shit, life changes with the snap of fingers, doesn’t it? Crazy.


Again, Simon doesn’t say anything. “Ladies first,” He gestures to the door, and Wilhelm smiles, thanking him formally before walking out in front of him, hearing the door swing shut, leaving Simon inside. 


Now that he’s had a few minutes to process, he’s even more embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t want to call Simon his mortal enemy when they hated each other, but they hated each other. Wilhelm would have given a lot - he did give a lot - to watch Simon suffer. He went through threatening phone calls from his family, emails from his PR, texts from his brother and Mother, the media destroying them, the school creating rumours and using slurs, all for them to wind up friends. Or … friendly… ish.


But at one point, they’d hated the others' guts, and Simon just saw Wilhelm in what might just be his most vulnerable state. He couldn’t see, or think, or breathe. Simon could have walked right out and Wilhelm wouldn’t have blamed him. Wilhelm would’ve hypoventilated and cried for several more minutes before his body gave out and he dropped down. When you cry for a certain amount of time, your brain reacts by shooting a bunch of happy hormones into your body to counter it, so it wouldn’t have been forever, but it would’ve been much longer, and much more unpleasant if Simon left.


But Simon didn’t leave, which is strange. Week one Simon wouldn’t have followed him to the bathrooms to see what was wrong, wouldn’t be open to listening to him after school, wouldn’t have calmed him from his panic attack and actually apologised to his face with genuine emotion.


Why did they hate each other? Well, Simon is petty and secretive, but Wilhelm is more petty. When Simon goes low, he goes lower.


His mind is mentally playing Night Changes by One Direction as he slowly opens the classroom door, smiling awkwardly.


~ ~ ~


The bell rings to signal the end of English class, and everyone is bustling to get out the door on a Friday afternoon. Wilhelm heard the words “Fake IDs”, “meet my Sugar Daddy”, “baking for market day”, and “going to the shooting range to pretend that it’s Miss Ramirez’s head.” Wilhelm and Simon are going to do studying - or probably, Wilhelm will explain his concerns and Simon will stalk out like he always does when something gets too much for him.


Simon stands and lets Alex out, and then waits for Wilhelm.


He turns to Felice. “We’re going to do studying,” he says, and Felice just nods. Wilhelm knows that she knows it's their study afternoon, it's been weeks, but his nerves are quivering with what he's going to put Simon through in a matter of time.

 

Felice walks around him to get out of the desks, a hand gently resting on his back so he doesn’t back into her. It’s gentle, and she says nothing, but her hands say enough; it’s okay. He feels bad. Being at the same school as Felice is meant to be amazingly awesome, and it was a total surprise! She didn't tell him what school she was attending, making up some lie about being indecisive, when she was really going to reunite with him. But he’s wasting it. He needs to make it up to his best friend, and he also needs to ask her about Simon’s birthday.


Miss Ramirez stops Wilhelm and Simon before they can go out the door, as if Wilhelm isn’t anxious enough. 


“Sorry to hold you back boys, you look like you have plans, together,” she clears her throat and sits up straighter. Wilhelm doesn’t miss the implications, and he doesn’t like them. “I just wanted to say how happy I am that you’ve made up and are friends. It’s really great to see, but I’m hoping you won’t go too far the other way if you get what I mean.” She smiles easily as if just giving homework marks, but Simon and his big mouth have something to say.


“Miss, I have a boyfriend. We are barely even friends. I know you are referring to the bathrooms today, but I had to take a piss and so did Wille,” Simon pats his shoulder, harder than necessary, just to show off how unfriendly they are, probably. It hurts in more than just his shoulder. “We had a bit of banter in there - “


“Simon, Simon, I am not implying you two are going to start dating,” Miss replies, waving a hand as if clearing that thought from the air, shaking her head. 


“What were you implying then?” Simon snaps, frowning. So, Simon is just the same as normal, just slightly nicer when it’s just Wilhelm and Simon alone.


Miss Ramirez smiles pleasantly at them, maybe a little hesitant. “Don’t skip class together, now you're best friends.” 


“We aren’t best friends,” Simon is quuck to correct, and then just to prove his point punches Wilhelm in the shoulder, before turning and walking away, head held high with his nose in the air.


“Ouch,” Wilhelm mumbles, before turning back to the teacher with an easy smile, hoping to clean up this situation. “We aren’t best friends by any stretch of the imagination Miss, but we are no longer wishing death upon one another.”


“You wanted to kill each other and we kept you in the same room?” She asks, eyes widening almost comedically.


Wilhelm blanches. “No! Just - we really disliked each other. He was always teasing and I reacted badly. It wasn’t good - But we’ve gotten over that and we can work together without causing a ruckus now,” he smiles again, three fucking seconds away from bursting with the need to be out of his classroom and talking to Simon. The bruising has been right at the front of his brain every second since he's seen it.


“Ah, well, I’m glad!” Miss Ramirez smiles back up at him fondly. “Continue with your day now, Wilhelm! Enjoy your weekend, darling.”


“You too, Miss Ramirez. Goodbye,” Wilhelm smiles politely, before turning and walking out the room, finding Simon leaning on the wall moodley, glaring at Wilhelm the second he’s out the door as well, shoving his phone in Wilhelm’s face and making him stumble.


“You see this bullshit?” He snaps angrily, and Wilhelm’s stomach drops onto the floor and he freezes on the spot, eyes pinned on the photo. “This is why you keep jumping away from me, isn’t it? This isn't fair. I thought that shitty article was going to do something, anything!” Simon growls.

 

Wilhelm pushes the phone away, the photo of Simon and Wilhelm face to face burned into his mind, inches apart from one another, Simon's hand wrapped around his wrist.


“Nuh-uh, there’s more,” Simon says, stepping over so they’re shoulder to shoulder and flicking through some Whatsapp images. Clearly, someone was walking as they took photos, as some are a little blurry and it pans around them, right from when Wilhelm drags Simon outside, to when they’re talking, Simon looking clearly worried, Wilhelm walking away, Simon grabbing his wrist, them face to face, Wilhelm walking away and Simon frowning before he too walks away.


“Fucking hell,” Wilhelm grumbles as Simon steps away, having reached the end on the snapshot. “This is so... Who sent you those?”


“Marcus,” Simon huffs, typing rapidly. “Please tell my slightly daft boyfriend I am not fucking cheating on him with you and that you looked more anxious than I’ve seen anyone fucking ever so I was obviously worried and wanted to know what was wrong," Simon gets out in one breath.

 

"Breath, Simon."

 

Simon narrows his eyes at a text and lets out a broken laugh. "Jesus Christ. This is probably why Miss asked, you get that? I bet she saw these and instantly thought we’d been fucking in the toilets," Simon says, eyes turning to Wilhelm, but they don't look angry, not at him, if anything they look sad.


Wilhelm flinches at his words and then gestures to the open classroom right next to them.


Simon raises his brows, unamused. “What? Want me to say it louder? Miss thought we were fu - “


Wilhelm slams a hand over his mouth and pulls him down the empty hallway towards his dorms angrily. “I’m going to get so many phone calls and emails about those photos,” he tells Simon under his breath, blood pumping. “My Mother is going to rip me limb from limb, and Erik will be all funny funny ha ha about it. PR is going to explode my inbox.”


Simon begins to speak against Wilhelm’s palm, and his breath is hot and gross, so he pulls his hand back, wiping it on his pants. “Thanks. Anyway, as I was saying, you are still dragging me down a corridor towards your dorm room. That’s suspi - “


He’s cut off by Wilhelm’s phone ringing in his bag. “We still have to talk, so we’re still going to my room, and we’re only studying," Wilhelm says as he fishes around in his shoulder bag, before pulling his phone out. "Sorry, it's my Mama. Do I hang up?”


“Hang up on the Queen? Respect,” Simon nods as Wilhelm drops Simon's wrist to answer his Mother as they burst out the corridor, walking faster than is probably normal walking pace for unromantic bro pals.


“Hey, Mama, before you talk my ears off I’d like to say I was really anxious and Simon was wondering why, we were not doing anything more,” Wilhelm blurts out, and Simon just snorts.


He’s met with silence. Then he realises what he’s said, and feels all the blood rush from his face. 


There are only a few students around, but he’d still rather not throw up in front of all of them. He just told his Mum that she talks his ear off. She’s going to rip his head off.


Pardon?” Is all she says and Wilhelm is stumbling as he walks, Simon sends another text and frowns over at him.


And he doesn’t want to collapse and start saying how sorry he is in front of Simon, but, well, crap. “Sorry, Mama, I’m - I’m really stressed right now. I - I - I -" his voice cracks. "I know that’s no excuse to be rude, I’m so sorry.”


Enough is enough, Wilhelm. I’ve given you plenty of warnings. I wondered if, perhaps, my warnings weren't getting through to your naive teenage mind because you, like most rebellious kids, are ignoring your Mother. Therefore I got Erik to call and text you, but you wouldn’t even listen to your dear brother, your best friend. I asked PR to email you the next time we got suggestive photos, but then this happened. Wilhelm, what happened to you?” Her voice is cold and hard as stone on a frosty mountain, and it makes his gut clench painfully, thoughts jumbling as Forest Ridge is in sight.


“I don’t know,” Wilhelm whispers, glancing over at Simon, who's in the process of flipping off some third years making the motion of giving a blow-job with their hands. Wilhelm slaps his hand down. He’s walking to his bedroom right now with the very boy his parents told him to not interact with. Publicly.

 

Should he stick up for himself right now? Probably not, he needs to listen and make promises. He needs to listen. But… She told him to befriend Simon or ignore him. He needed to end the feud, and he did. “But I’ve changed for the better as well, Mama. Me and Simon are no longer fighting. Is it not better to have relationship rumours over rivalry rumours?” 


Again, he’s met with silence. “I am glad you are no longer publicly fighting. That does not make up for the fact you are blatantly ignoring my instructions, Wilhelm. Do you not remember our agreement?” She goes silent again, voices as harsh and coiled as a snake, ready to snap. He can feel it, the killer blows she’ll deliver that’ll probably make him crumble.


Wilhelm looks away from Simon, who's picking at the stickers on his phonecase as they approach Forest Ridge.


“That my first public relationship will be managed and orchestrated accordingly,” Wilhelm replies quietly, embarrassed, he keeps his voice quiet and head away from Simon. But he hears, and physically stops in his tracks, eyes wide as he stares at Wilhelm, who just keeps walking.


“They do what?” Simon asks loudly, glaring at Wilhelm’s phone as Wilhelm gestures for him to be quiet, and to keep walking, heart beating loudly in his ribs as they step inside Forest Ridge.


Yes. Even if you have feelings for Simon, the relationship between the two of you will never work because of the rivalry you’ve had. Your first public relationship is to be monitored from the second you meet to the second you break up by myself and our PR teams. Your … thing with Simon has been uncontrolled, wild, messy, and wrong since the beginning.” That kinda hurts, but Wilhelm isn’t sure why. Maybe it’s because she is calling the two of them interacting messy, wild and wrong when it doesn't feel like that. It can actually feel quite nice. To Wilhelm, it feels like she’s calling him wild, messy and wrong. No one wants to hear that from their Mother.


“I’m sorry, Mama,” Wilhelm whispers into the phone as they walk to his dorm, a few other boys linger in the corridor, and they instantly grab each other and start whispering at the sight of Simon and Wilhelm together.


“Oi, say it to our fucking faces you donkey cunts! Don’t go and whisper and point like we are deaf and blind; We can see you fucking talking like gossip girls desperate for the drama. Let me tell you, right fucking here: We aren’t together, we weren’t flirting, we were talking. You guys are closer together than we were!” Simon yells at the boys while Wilhelm frantically opens his bedroom door, preying his Mother won’t hear that.


“Simon!” Wilhelm hisses at him over his shoulder, throwing the door open and instantly hearing Sunny peeping. “I’m on the phone!” 


The boys are all staring wide-eyed at Simon, who just saw almost all the swear words in the book and was semi-homophobic while Wilhelm is trying to convince his Mother that everything is fine. 


Was that Simon, Wilhelm?” Kristina asks coldly, slowly, through the phone, and his blood freezes while Simon flips the boys off and then marches inside past Wilhelm. He dumps his bag off his chest onto the floor, and flops face-first on Wilhelm’s bed, and screams into the pillow. Wilhelm goes and sits shakily on the other bed, running a hand through his hair.


“Uhhh - Yeah, yes, yes. Sorry. Some boys were staring at us, and he gets a bit - uh, strongly worded, sometimes. Not normally, though. He wouldn’t have said that had he known I was talking to you, Mama,” Wilhelm says quickly, and Simon whispers very helpfully “Yes I would’ve.” 


These rumours won’t go away if you two are constantly being seen together." There's a pause, then, "School has ended, why are you still together?


Wilhelm wants to melt into the bed and die. Simon can come too, if he wants. “Mama, it’s not fair that we can’t be seen together. We have all the same classes, and we are doing a group project, and I tutor him two days a week after school - “


“Stop whining,” she snaps harshly, and Wilhelm grabs his lip in his mouth, chewing on it harshly as he listens, eyes pinned on his knees.


“I’m sorry - “


I’m hearing that a lot, Wilhelm. You’re all talk and no action. You say you are sorry and promise this and that will change, but you fail to continue through. Your promises are empty. I’ve told you I’m disappointed, but I’m beyond that now. I’ve never been so disheartened in my whole life, especially from a child of my own, from you, Wilhelm.” He can’t speak. If he was to die right now, he wouldn’t even complain. Simon is eyeing Sunny from across the room, who is chirping in the background. “Let me talk to Simon. Right now. If I hear one complaint or words of resistance I will be sending Malin to pick you up tonight.


Wilhelm wants to scream no instantly, the urge to throw his phone out the window and keep her as far from Simon as possible. He's never seen Simon as an innocent boy, but he suddenly seems like a little angel next to his Mother. “Mama - '' He goes to say, scared to let her talk to Simon. What if she gets into his head as well? What if she somehow confronts him? Can she do that? Would she do that? 


Wilhelm.”


“Okay. I’m going,” he whispers. Wilhelm doesn’t think he can stand, so he lowers the phone from his ear, staring at Simon. Simon,” he says unsurely. “Uh - she, erm, wants to talk. To… you,” he says slowly, phone on his lap, the call minutes slowly growing.


Simon freezes, eyes flying over to Wilhelm for a few seconds of silent eye contact, before he’s standing from the bed, confident as ever and marching over to Wilhelm, sticking his hand out.


Wilhelm gulps and then hands him the phone shakily, Simon's warm fingers brushing his. Simon doesn’t hesitate, bringing it to his ear and speaking. “This is Simon,” he says, voice cold and emotionless.


He can’t hear what his Mother is saying, but Simon rolls his eyes and Wilhelm whispers “Don’t make it worse. Please.” She’ll take it out on me, I don't want to go through that right now. He feels pathetic, sitting here shaking on the bed, but Simon doesn’t seem to be judging him. Still, Wilhelm takes a deep breath and scrubs his face, trying to calm himself down.


Simon squints as he listens, eyes flickering around the room. “Yes,” he says, and then rolls his eyes again. “Listen, Ma’am, I won’t say your son started this because that’s petty and stupid, but he started this… How? He split his coffee on me… No, I have a boyfriend…” Simon rolls his eyes again, and Wilhelm’s just grateful he isn’t being his normal shameless self - “I’m not fu-freaking interested in dating your son, Miss! I have a goddamn boyfriend, so you can choreograph the hell out of his relationships all you want, but I refuse to be a part of it … No, no I’m not - '' Simon silently screams at the phone. Wilhelm lays back on the bed. At least she’s not worming her way into his thoughts, but she is riling him up, which, objectively, isn't hard to do. The guys got rage issues.


Simon pauses, mouth dropping in shock. Wilhelm sits up straight. “Give it back. What did she say? Simon,” Wilhelm stands, but Simon waves him away, putting a hand against Wilhelm's chest when he tries to step over and snatch the phone, keeping Wilhelm away. "Simon - "


“First off, that’s ridiculous. I have never expressed any attraction or want for Wilhelm, yeah, there’s a photo of us really close together, so what? I’m sure he gives Erik kisses on the cheeks, but you don’t separate them… Yeah, this is platonic as well… That’s unfair… I’m not, he’s still reacting …” Simion goes quiet for a long time, pulling the phone from his ear to speak to Wilhelm. “She’s saying how mature and smart she’s sure I am,” he scoffs, before putting the phone against his ear again. “Mmhmm… Mmhmm… Yes, I will be there tomorrow… I can’t promise that. We have mutual friends, twin classes, and group project. Plus, we study together.”


“I tutor you.”


Simon waves his hand at Wilhelm again, dismissing that and turning his back to Wilhelm, cocking his hip and putting his spare hand on one.


Wilhelm guesses she’s probably telling Simon to stay away from Wilhelm... But he finds himself less on the verge of panic attack than before.


“Look, I’ll try, but we aren’t doing anything wrong. What you should be doing is figuring out who’s taking these invasive photos of us just doing daily activities. Your little article didn’t sc - “ Simon’s cut off, and Wilhelm can hear yelling on the other end.


Simon flinches back from it, and Wilhelm snatches the phone before he can stop him, listening as she speaks. “ - Speak to me that way! I will have you expelled if you cannot listen to simple instructions!” She pauses, taking a deep breath, before going quiet. “Simon, dear?


“Mama,” Wilhelm says slowly, and Simon leans back against the desk, glaring at the phone in his hand, muttering insults like there’s no tomorrow. “Simon and I can’t just never interact again - “


Yes, you can, and you will," she sounds slightly breathless as she rants, Simon clearly has exhausted her. "If another photo appears of the two of you together, I will be removing you from the school immediately, is that understood? These rumours are going too far.”


“Mama,” Wilhelm tries to say. "I'm sixteen, it's not my fault - "


Darling,” she coos suddenly. Wilhelm snaps his eyes closed. “I understand this isn’t entirely your fault, but please remember we wouldn’t even have this issue if you were not gay, sweetheart. I still love you, but it is causing more problems than being heterosexual would.” Wilhelm kind of wants to whimper and collapse to the ground. If he was alone he’d do that, but Simon's here, his gaze a physical force holding him where he is. “I’ve told Simon not to interact with you tomorrow, and if you do, and it gets photographed, that you won’t be returning to Hillerksa next term.” She says calmly, while Wilhelm’s heart is about to burst. “Is that crystal clear, my darling?” 


“Yes, Mama,” Wilhelm says shakily.


Wonderful,” he can hear the smile in her voice as she moves on breezily. “I’m proud of all the academic progress you have been making. I heard you are largely contributing to the market day tomorrow.


“I am,” he says, staring at his feet. Simon glares at the phone with enough fire to cause it to burn. 


That’s amazing, sweetheart. Are you enjoying Hillerska so far?” 


“Yes.”


Lovely. Alright, darling, I’ve got to go now. I’ll catch up with you another time. Bye, sweetie.


“Bye, Mama.”


The line goes dead instantly, but Wilhelm keeps the phone against his ear for a few seconds, exhaling several shaky breaths while Simon stares, unaware the call is over. 


“What did she say to you?” Wilhelm asks, lowering his phone and turning to Simon, still feeling stiff and shaken.


“Threatened to remove you from the school if I continued to be problematic. Basically said I need to stop being so handsy with you, especially because I have a boyfriend and it doesn’t look like I’m being loyal, and that it’ll be bad for Sara’s image if I cheat,” Simon recalls. “That shit is so fucking manipulative, Wille! Do you not see that?” He asks, standing straighter and snatching Wilhelm’s phone, putting it on the desk behind him harshly. "How do you not see it?"


“She’s not manipulative,” Wilhelm is quick to reply. “She’s just - she has to keep a good image. She’s the Queen of a country, Simon! It’s not like Sara’s image is viewed by the entire population of Sweden and thousands outside! Yes, if you cheated it wouldn’t be good for Sara’s image, but the majority of the hate she’d get would be from her fans. If I looked like I was dating someone who I hated, it would be your sister's fanbase and everybody else in this goddamn country who were hating me, and prying into my personal life! Into yours! Our fame would double! We're too young to have that spotlight on us!”


Simon glares, fists clenched as Wilhelm yells at him, eyes slightly glazed over. “So, what? You do want us to never fucking interact again? I don’t know about you, but I was kind of vibing this peace we’d made! Hillerska was just beginning to suck less, but if you want to ignore me then that’s fine. I can do that.” There's obvious hurt in his voice as he takes the smallest step back from Wilhelm, jaw clenching.


Wilhelm sighs, shaking his head and turning away from Simon. He doesn’t want to never interact with Simon again. He is really enjoying the peace they’d made, it’s made his life significantly less stressful to not be worrying about Simon all the time, and even better to have him in it with a positive influence, making him laugh and supporting him.


“No,” Wilhelm says, running a hand through his hair.


“No, what?” Simon spits back at him, his voice tight and angry, very defensive.


“I don’t want to never talk to you again,” Wilhelm says, turning back to face him. Simon blinks; he hadn’t expected that. Maybe that’s why he was being so aggressive, he was bracing for Wilhelm to reject his peace. “But my Mama … She’ll take me out of the school, and ... it’s not worth that. Then we'd be even further apart, and I don't want that either.”


Simon is quiet for a moment, before saying quietly, “It’s your choice, Wille. If you want us to never interact publicly again, will it just be in public, or will it be in school too? Or do you want to fall for your Mother’s manipulation and … Stop interacting with me altogether - public, school, alone.” 


Wilhelm feels like they are avoiding the words “friends”, “talking,” and “hanging out”, replacing them instead with “interacting.” We’re interacting. Never interact again. Stop interacting with me. He supposes that maybe Simon doesn't see them as friends, which... hurts.


He weighs his options. He doesn’t have to never see with Simon again. They can still study together, they can still have meet-ups on Saturdays, right? Because that’s an organised thing they’ve been doing for more than a month for school purposes and school purposes only. Plus Felice is there. What they have right now isn’t working in either of their favour, the public is going mad, Wilhelm’s parents are breaking out threats (and causing Simon to think they are manipulative, instead of responsible and careful) and even the teachers are getting suspicious. 


“Maybe we just... stop in public,” Wilhelm suggests. Why does it feel like he’s rejecting Simon’s friendship saying that? He’s not. “We’ll still talk during school, obviously, or like, short greetings or whatever," he stumbles over his words like a fool, avoiding eye contact.


Simon purses his lips, eyes going emotionless, face a void of feelings. He’s shutting Wilhelm out. No, no, no.


“I’m sorry, Simon,” Wilhelm mumbles. “I don’t want this to be the case either. I mean, I - I tried to fight her - “


“It’s whatever. Fuck it,” Simon interrupts, shaking his head. “It is what it is. Let's just, move on.” He brushes his hands through the air as if physically clearing something away between them, but the tension and unspoken anger is still there. “What did you want to talk about?”


That stab in Wilhelm’s gut returns in full force. “Oh.” Damn. He looks up at Simon’s hard, brooding brown eyes, his tight jaw and arms crossed. He couldn’t look less approachable. Can’t get any worse, though, can it? Wilhelm takes a deep breath. Sunny chirps in the background.


“Are you getting rid of the bird?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. “You know I don’t care about it.”


“No, that’s not it.”


Simon raises both brows. “Then what is it?” He’s getting impatient. He’s starting to act like the old Simon again, with the closed-off behaviour and the lack of patience. It hurts. Wilhelm didn’t realise how comfortable he’d gotten in Simon’s presence till he was radiating anger and agitation.


“I saw, uh,” Wilhelm scratches his head. “Your - erm - “ His heart is beating faster than is normal. Wilhelm looks at Simon’s scuffed shoes instead of his face for a second. 


“What the fuck is wrong with you right now?”


“I saw - “ Wilhelm looks back at his annoyed expression. “I saw your back.”


Silence.


It's only a second but it feels like a lifetime that they stand, Simon frozen, expression morphing into a surprised O, eyebrows relaxing and jaw going a bit slack, like he just can't believe what he's been told. Wilhelm stands before him, bracing for backlash and anger. It's out. Simon knows Wilhelm saw, that Wilhelm knows. Wilhelm's seen his abuse, whatever his horrible Father did to him. He knows. Simon doesn't have to hide.

 

Then Simon's laughing, and Wilhelm’s cheeks are going red. “Why are you freaking out about that?” He asks, shaking his head, smiling wide and - and fake. His eyes are distressed, flickering all over the room, his laugh loud and forced out his bobbing throat.


Wilhelm’s heart is beating even faster, if possible, pounding in his ears. They’re meant to be studying right now, but they couldn't be further from.

 

“Simon, I put two and two together. The night you got a phone call from someone, I don’t know if you noticed but I was in the room the whole time and heard everything you said. You told me your d - dealer, contact, whatever the person was high, and then you came to school the next day and changed quickly in PE for the first time, even though you’re normally super slow changing before and after. I’m assuming that’s so you can be late to classes, but since that day you’ve started changing faster.”


Simon just watches him, smile plastered on and stuck with glue, hands clenched into tight fists where his arms are crossed. It’s Simon's body language again, proving Wilhelm is right. “What exactly are you implying right now?” Simon challenges.


“That he hit you with something.”


For a moment, for the smallest second, Simon’s lip curls and his eyes darken, like he’s snarling at Wilhelm, about to attack. Then he’s rolling his eyes and dropping the expression, which is scarier than him being defensive. He's denying it. “That’s stupid. He would never hit me.”


Wilhelm purses his lips. No, because it wasn’t “him”, it was your Dad. I shouldn't expect that to be easy to admit. Wilhelm watches Simon, who raises his eyebrows for Wilhelm to go on. New approach, be gentle, maybe he’s anxious to tell me the truth because we aren’t really friends. Oh shit, what am I doing? Is it too late to back out now? 


“Simon, you don’t have to lie - “


“I’m not lying!” He snaps instantly, eyes wild and a smile cracking, dropping his arms and taking a step forward.


Wilhelm puts his hands up. “Who did that to your body then?”


Simon’s nostrils flare. He’s trying so hard to stay calm. “I fell down the goddamn stairs at my house. Why were you looking at me in the showers, Wilhelm?”


“Because I heard your hiss in pain so I just glanced over on instinct, like you do when you hear someone express pain, and I saw your back. I - I watched your body language for the rest of the day. It’s clearly very sore,” Wilhelm says, watching as Simon’s jaw shut tight, lips pressed into a thin, thin line. “Simon, it’s okay - “


“No one hit me, Wille! So yeah, it is fine, because I’m fine! I fell down the stairs - “


“Stairs don’t cut up your back like that!” Wilhelm yells back, voice cracking slightly. “You’d have a concussion, or an egg on your head, or sore arms and legs if you’d fallen down your fucking stairs! It was something heavy, something breakable, and something hard to go through your clothes and tear your fucking skin, Simon!”


“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! I fell down the last few steps, for fucks sake! I was carrying a - a cup of tea up - down - downstairs, at my contacts house, and I fucking slipped, dropped the cup, hit the wall and ended up on my back, on top of the shattered fucking cup. No one hit me with anything!” His voice quiets on the word “hit” as he yells, and then Simon takes a step back. “Don’t assume things. I bet you're just guessing I was hit because of my Dad, and my past, which you don’t know anything about, not really, so don't make assumptions - ”


“Was it your Dad? Is that why you’re lying? Would you keep it all so secret if it was just your contact getting angry? I think you’d take the opportunity to trash-talk them. If it was an accident then why are you trying to hide it from people, especially me, changing to facing me so you’re back towards me? But instead, you’re gaslighting me, I’m not stupid - “


“You clearly are! I’m telling you the truth right now and you’re still denying it. Fuck that, I’m leaving. Fuck you, Wille. Fuck you -” Simon turns away, snatching his bag off Wilhelm’s bed. “I don’t have contact with my Dad anymore, idiot!”


Wilhelm jumps into the doorway quickly, blood pumping, heart racing. “What if I ask Ayub if you have stairs in your house?” He dares to say. Why did he say that? Simon looks like he’s going to fight his way out of here, glaring up at Wilhelm with his bag on one arm.


“Don’t bring my friends into this, you fucker.”


“Does your house even have stairs?”


“I have stairs at my house!" Simon says in a panic. "God. I messed up the details, so what, I hit my fucking head, and it’s all a bit blurry!”


Wilhelm doesn’t want to sound smug, but he can’t help the way it comes out. “Your story doesn’t make sense.”


“Move or I’m going to fucking hit you, Wille. Seriously.” Simon growls lowly, eyes burning with rage and fear as he looks up at him. “Don’t ask Rosh or Ayub anything. Or Marcus. Or Sara, or Linda. It’s fucking embarrassing. My truth doesn’t make sense because your questions are fucked up and it’s hard to remember.”


“Why were you making tea at your contact's house?”


“I was bringing it down from his room after putting him to fucking bed. Move.”


“Simon, please, you can talk to me - “


“Move!”


Wilhelm stares at him helplessly. “Please,” he says, literally begging, arms on either side of the doorframe so Simon can’t get out. Sunny is quiet, huddling away from them in her blankets. People can probably hear them arguing through the walls, which isn’t great. 


Simon’s cheeks are pink, eyes wild and furious, fists clenched and shaking, nostrils flaring. “If you fucking wanted me to open up to you, this was not the way to do it. Nothing’s wrong. I appreciate the worry - not - but I’m fine, seriously, let it go. Your wild mind is making shit up, alright? Take a fucking nap, eat a snack and chill the fuck out.” 


“I - I - “


“I, I,” Simon mocks. “Shut the fuck up and move, you stupid Prince. I’m being serious. This isn’t funny, it’s not cool, it’s invasive and none of your business. Move, or I’ll move you.” His eyes are more harsh and threatening than Wilhelm has ever seen, ever, and it’s rather scary to be directed at him. He’s serious, his words are dark and naked. He’s serious.


But Wilhelm can’t let him leave. He needs Simon to know that he sees him, that he can talk to him, that there’s nothing wrong with telling somebody his Dad is abusing him. His lie isn’t even good. First, it’s just falling down some stairs at his contacts, then it’s carrying a cup of tea down, then it’s at his own house taking a cup downstairs. It doesn't make sense.


“Your heart,” Wilhelm says quietly, staring at Simon.


Simon blinks a few times, caught off guard. “What?” 


“Your heart is … delicate,” Wilhelm says slowly, and realisation crawls onto Simon’s face.


“Stop it.”


“You guard your heart, unlike me, apparently, I - I have mine on my sleeve,” Wilhelm continues carefully. “You keep it to yourself and the people you trust, like Sara and her crew, or your friends, and for a moment there, me as well,” Wilhelm says.


Simon’s nostrils flare, knuckles white on his backpack. “Wille, I only said all that in the bathroom to calm you down - “


“But you were in the bathroom because you saw I was anxious and wanted to know why.”


“I literally gave you a giant panic attack.”


“It wasn't too bad, and you stayed to help me through it. I’ve only seen snippets of you being yourself, most of the time it’s from a distance, behind glass, or when you’ve been out of it, but you don’t need to pretend in front of me. You can trust me."


Simon shakes his head. “Move right the fuck now. Shut the fuck up. Move.” Simon grabs Wilhelm’s jumper and tries to shove him away, but Wilhelm pushes him back first, keeping his hands on Simon’s shoulder. How many emotions does he have inside him, shoved behind thick walls, protected by lock and key? If Wilhelm was to break them down, what would happen to Simon? Would he collapse in a fit of tears? Would he scream and fight things? Would he talk for hours on end? Would he need a hug, someone to wipe his tears, to wrap his bruised knuckles, to listen as he talks? 


“Fine, don’t tell me about the bruises,” Wilhelm blurts, and Simon halts his next attack, hands wrapped around Wilhelm’s wrists tightly, rings pressing into his delicate skin where his jumper fell down his wrists. “I’ll - I’ll leave it alone. I don’t need you to confirm it to know it’s true. But can we at least not fight anymore? Please.” 


Simon's fingers tighten around his wrists but they aren’t prying Wilhelm’s hands off his shoulders. He looks almost scared, eyes big and filled with unspoken emotion, his bottom lip gnawed between his teeth tightly, like he’s holding all his words back by force.


“Please,” Wilhelm says again, quietly, his hands on fire where they touch Simon's shoulders. “I’ll let it go.” He wants to negotiate. I’ll let it go if you tell me who really did it. I’ll let it go if you promise to never fight me again. I’ll let it go if you promise to be open with me. I’m not going to tell everyone your secrets. You can trust me. 


But he has a feeling the best he’ll get is Simon coming to school on Monday like nothing happened. He’s too drained after the talk with his Mother and Simon to try and negotiate anything more than pretending it’s fine.


“You swear to let it go?” Simon replies, voice hard, but quiet as he stares up at Wilhelm, grip vice-like. 


Wilhelm gulps. He can’t… How can Simon expect him to keep quiet … “I promise. But if I see new marks - "


“You say nothing, alright? This stays between us,” Simon whispers. “You don’t tell anyone.”


Wilhelm stares back at his brown eyes, filled with secrets and pain. Wilhelm just wants to help him, he doesn’t want to make him more anxious. 


“Okay. I… Okay,” Wilhelm nods. Simon lets go of his wrists and Wilhelm drops his hands. Simon looks unsure as he turns back to Wilhelm’s room, and Wilhelm feels more stuck than before he asked Simon about his wounds. So, he knows his Dad did hit him with something, that much is clear, but Simon is … Very complicated. To say the least.  Wilhelm won’t press, at least not right now. 


“Are you ready to study?” Wilhelm asked slowly, turning to look over at Sunny, who shook and stared back up at him.


“Honestly? Fucking no. I won’t be able to focus on fucking anything for hours, shit,” Simon grumbles, breathing the last word to himself, running a hand across his forehead and over his hair. "I'm sorry I called you a stupid Prince, I swore so much. I'm not very good at ... reacting."

 

"It's okay," Wilhelm says quietly, watching Simon stare out his bedroom window, putting his bag on his desk but not opening it. Wilhelm slowly reaches his hands towards Sunny, scooping her delicate, small body into his grasp.


“I bet she’s going to give you chlamydia,” Simon whispers as Wilhelm turns towards him, Sunny shivering in the palm of his two hands.


“Hush. Yes, sparrows can carry chlamydia, Sunny hasn’t been alive long enough, or interacted with enough other birds to get it,” Wilhelm replies, stepping towards Simon.


“Don’t bring a Chlamydia petri dish towards me.”


“I’m going to my bed.”


“You put that thing on your bed?” Simon squarks - ha, squarks, birds, anyway - in horror, stepping away. “Oh my God, ew, I lie on that bed!”


Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “She’s clean,” he sighs, letting Sunny bounce off his hand onto the soft sheets, chirping. “Quiet down, you’re scaring her, Simon. Speak quietly. Like talking to a baby. Look, she’s shaking.”


Simon grumbles, stalking up next to Wilhelm and putting a hand against his back softly as he peers down at Sunny, toddling along the bed slowly. “You’re a baby,” he mumbles at Wilhelm, squinting at Sunny.


Wilhelm snickers, rolling his eyes. He’s never been more relieved when being called a baby.


~ ~ ~

 


Wilhelm deemed the day too emotionally draining and skipped dinner. He’s seriously not hungry. There isn’t a drop of hunger in his stomach. He can’t even stand the thought of food without wanting to be sick.


He feeds Sunny, and when dinner time strikes, he grabs a pen and paper, scribbles on it that he’s gone into Bjärstad for dinner and that he’ll be home within the hour, and sticks it on his bedroom door, praying no one will go and ask Headmistress Lilja. Then he jumped out the window and jogged all the way to the lake.


It’s nice out, a bit chiller than is comfortable but it's bearable. The wind nips at his cheeks and the tip of his nose, his breath condensing as he jogs through the thin, gangly trees towards the lake. The trees are long and thin, their branches reaching for the sky, displaying the setting sun on its canvas, autumn just slipping away and giving way to winter, everything dying. How lovely.


The sunset is beautiful, and the sky is fairly clear tonight, which means it’ll be even colder. The sun sets across the lake in beautiful splashes of pink, red and orange. Wilhelm snaps a picture and puts it in his “Sunset and other pretty things” folder, walking fords slowly until he’s at the edge of the lake, the water lapping softly at the leafy, stony shore, the warf just next to him.


There’s no sound tonight. It's just him, the trees, the sky, and the water. The trees rustle softly in the delicate breeze that tickles their thin branches. The water is calm this evening, coming up to the tips of his white shoes, and then falling back. The sky is clear, open and beautiful.


It’s random moments like this that make Wilhelm think of Felix. He feels pain in his chest suddenly, for no real reason. Just thinking of Felix makes him ache. Refusing to give way to his emotions, Wilhelm sits down on the shore and takes deep breaths, the cold seeping through his clothes like a disease.


Wilhelm rubs a hand over his chest anxiously. Felix didn’t deserve that. They were young and stupid, and if that car hadn’t been there, it would’ve been something hilarious to tell the kids once they’d both grown up, an example of what not to do at parties when intoxicated. God, Wilhelm regrets it all so much.


Anytime he’s asked the question “If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?” During a game of 20 questions, or truth or dare, his immediate first thought is him and Felix. He would’ve never let his or Felix’s lips touch a cup, bottle, or shot of alcohol. He’d go back and take all those bottles and throw them in the bin. He’d give himself a firm talking to about underage drinking, school, and his future. And about buying coffee and watching where he’s walking.


If Felix was alive, Wilhelm wonders where he’d be today. What would Felix look like three years later, when puberty has hit and he’s lost some baby fat, when his voice deepens and his muscles grow? Would he and Wilhelm have stayed friends, or would life have let them drift apart? Would Wilhelm have ever come out of the closet? Would he be at Hillerska? Would he have met Simon and got entangled in his life?


Probably not, because the second Wilhelm stumbled, Felix would’ve hoisted him upright and giggled about how clumsy he is as they sit together. Simon would've glared at them from his chair, if he'd noticed at all, and they wouldn't have talked. 


But, Wilhelm will never get to experience that. Felix is dead. His body is in a box in the ground of a cemetery in the outskirts of Stockholm, where his family is originally from. The palace paid for the whole thing, and it was massive. Wilhelm had never felt more uncomfortable, wanting to burst at the seams with emotions he was feeling, but being told by his Mother to not cry, hearing her whisper to his Father how ridiculous it is that he caused this and then cried about it. Erik’s hand was heavy on his knee the whole time.


Wilhelm felt tears prick in his eyes, the breeze rustling his hair, like Felix used to do when brushing Wilhelm’s finger from his line of sight. “Much better,” he used to say in his soft, baby voice. Even at 13, Felix’s voice was pretty squeaky, but soft when he spoke quietly, like he’d do when fixing Wilhelm’s fringe.


The pain was too much, and he had to physically double over to stop his chest from imploding, heaving breaths towards the ground, forehead buried in his knees, the fabric of his jeans rough on his forehead, arms curling inwards, between his chest and legs until he’s folded himself small enough to be kicked around like a toy.


He misses Felix so much. So, so, so much.


Wilhelm brings out his phone with blurry eyes, and scrolls through his contacts until he finds the name “Felix”. His family never got rid of any of his accounts, so Willhelm can still go find his Instagram and scroll, his Twitter. Apparently, they left his bedroom in the mansion Felix was raised in, though the parents never stay there. Ever since they lost their only child, they’ve been travelling.


They stayed for the funeral, Felix's Auntie kissed Wilhelm’s forehead and his parents left for Italy the next week, their house still full of furniture, photos of Felix, his things and his memory. They said nothing to Wilhelm, they didn't tell him it wasn't his fault, or that it would be okay, or asked how he was doing. They stared at him without emotion. He's pretty sure his Aunt only kissed his cheek because he was a Prince.


Wilhelm doesn’t let himself dwell on the last text he sent him, which was just apologising profusely for everything that had happened that night, and instead dialled him, sniffling pathetically.


A tragic, sorrowful part of him prays each time that the line will pick up, Felix will apologise for taking a prank way too far, and Wilhelm won’t even be mad. He’s sobbed that to Felix’s grave more than once. “I won’t even be made if this is a joke. I just want you back.”


The line rings, and rings, until he goes to voicemail, and Wilhelm feels his soul die just that little bit more. 


Hey! It’s Felix! Sorry I missed your call, I’m probably busy hanging out with my dope best friend, Wille! If you are my best friend, then I’m probably texting you my apology right now. I’ll text you later, whoever you are because I hate phone calls! Bye, have a great day!” Wilhelm cries harder, clutching the phone against his chest until he’s sure it’s imprinted into his skin. Wilhelm was in the goddamn room when Felix made that voicemail, if you listen hard enough, you can hear Wilhelm giggling where he’s lying next to Felix on his bed in the palace. 


Wilhelm never used to understand when people said they’d do anything to have a dead person back until he lost Felix and realised he would do anything. He’d pay any amount, he’d run away from home and never return, and he’d give up his life as a Prince if it meant he got to live with Felix. Wilhelm wants something to numb this pain, or help him move on. He used to want to burn in the suffering he caused, but it's too growth painful, he can't keep himself here. Wilhelm wants out, but he doesn't know how.

 

Notes:

Y'all ever think about ditching your best friend because maybe this isn't what you want in a friendship? But then you hang out with them and it's amazing, you hug them and you've never felt so safe, and everyone says they care about you so, so, so much but it just doesn't feel like it. Tralalalala

 

No going back now, after this chapter, after Simon.... I wrote what happens from Simon's POV first, which I might put later on for some s p I c e.

So, what did y'all think of season three? I'm not going to lie, the more I think about it, the more I don't like the ending. I feel like Felice and August's eating disorders are extremely unresolved and honestly ignored in the end, like a trip to NYC can't solve an ED. As well as Sara's relationship with the other girls. I get parts of it are meant to be open-ended, and I can live with Sara and the girls being unresolved to a degree, in my head, they forgive her since Felice has. But the eating disorders is just annoying. They must get better, right, because Felice is going off into the sunset with her best friends and August is becoming Crown Prince. Being the Crown Prince isn't a good thing - it fucking gave Wille eating anxiety. Ajfsklfjre. I'm glad Wille and August made up, honestly, them making up and Wilhelm abdicating is what I wanted to happen.

Don't get me wrong, loved the ending (Fuck you Erik, I'm heartbroken) I miss my show like my child has left for war, I watched the last episode and cried even though it was happy, and then cried watching the BTS movie. Argh. It's complicated, I'm still processing it. I don't want another season, honestly, I feel like where they left it is good, but they needed another 10-15 minutes to resolve a few more things.

It's fine, anyway, how did you guys go with season three, and this chapter? It's intense, I know, crazy. The next chapter is fluffier!!

Also, my sister knows the entire plot of this fic, be jealous xoxo

Chapter 11: #FeliceTakesAction #BcSheDeservesMoreTimeInThisFic

Summary:

You know I’m not your friend without some greenery
Walking wearing fetters
Peter Wilhelm should know better
- All the good girls go to hell, Bille Elish

Circus music plays in my head for all of this chapter and the next chapter. The fact it's next chapter as well is hilarious, you'll find out soon enough I've finished editing it I'm just waiting to update it xoxo

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Notes:

My goal was to make my author notes smaller..
Ps I failed
THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE LAST CHAPTER IT MEANS A LOT THANK YOU <3

Y'all tragedy has struck
As a broke student talking to teenagers/young adults (?) Both (??) Y'all must know the pain of being broke and buying a new gum flavour only for it to suck asscheeks. Like, this bitch tastes like that cheap grape vape from someone's ass-itching pedo uncle, it loses mass faster than I can chew and starts tasting like a musty toenail in like five minutes. I want my gum back.

Plus though, I got "SIZZLIN' Chipotle Sour Cream" flavoured Pringles, which are boss. 10/10, go try. I'm trying to be more positive and not just complain all the time, so there's my positive. Pringles.

I was a bit high editing this chapter so bear with me
Mkay, so, this chapter is a little silly, a little sad, and a little ......
(That's a gay silence. Obviously.)

I apologise for the last chapter, it was proper sad :)

It was my birthday earlier this week, my parents got me this digital drawing pad and I may or may no have been making some fanart for this book. Depending on how much I like it depends on whether or not you'll ever see it. I'll probably post it on my Tumblr.

SPEAKING OF FAN ART, we have two more amazing pieces of art. Y'ALLLLL. I could cry. It honestly means so much that you put time, effort and thought into these things, it's admirable and you're all so skilled. You didn't have to! But you did. Love you guys

 

Simon

 

Simon
Thank you Rayneedshelp for these two! The detail!! Chefs kiss. #Simonneedsahug I love the arrow point to the drugs aofhrkflrjf

If anyone else has fanart they want to share, my Tumblr is linked on my profile :) <3 Thank you Rayneedshelp

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Saturday ~

 

It’s all hands on deck Saturday morning. Wilhelm wakes up at 5 fucking AM to meet the council in the staff room, where Miss Clear has set out an ordered in breakfast for the council because the kitchen staff aren’t up yet to cook for the rest of the school. It consists of McDonald's and leaves the staff room smelling of cheap takeout and grease. 

 

They went over plans and chugged coffee made with a bit too much caffeine, stuffing their mouths with hashbrowns and chicken nuggets. It had Wilhelm’s hands shaking and heart pattering, and he loves coffee, but even that much was too much for him.

 

The market starts at 8 am sharp, and at 6 the trucks pull up to transport everything.

 

Felice walks out of Manor House around 6:30, stiff looking half asleep. She’d done her make-up and hair, tying it back in a red bandana to keep it out of her face, wearing a long white coat and boots to keep her warm. It's a very cold evening, the sun hasn't risen, their breaths are fogging up the misty air, and their noses and cheeks are pink, gloved fingers fumbling over their equipment.

 

She wanders over to Wilhelm, who helps carry baking from the staff room to the van waiting at the front of the school in big, plastic boxes with little indents for cupcakes.

 

“Hey, Felice. How are you this morning?” Wilhelm asks as she walks next to him, yawning into her glove.

 

“I’m not even conscious, babe. How much caffeine is in your bloodstream right now?” Felice asks in return, blinking slowly. Wilhelm chuckles - SMACK. He turns around and finds Felice blinking in confusion, hand on her forehead. She walked into the truck. "I'm all-goods," she throws a thumbs up and grins, head cocked to the side.

 

Wilhelm snorts and steps into the van, places the cupcakes he's holding onto one of the shelves, and then jumps out next to Felice. “Probably too much. Madi’s worse, though,” he snickers, directing their attention to where Maddi's carrying the base of one of the stalls across the ground all by herself ,while August trails behind her insisting she needs help. 

 

Felice chuckles. “Well, what can I do to help? I didn't just wake up this early to stand around and look good.” 

 

“Could've fooled me," Wilhelm grins.

 

"Oh, stop it you," Felice smacks his arm affectionately. Wilhelm links their arms with a grin, kissing her cheek softly.

 

"Help me carry cupcakes?” Wilhelm asks, already walking them back towards the staff room.

 

"Sure thing honey-bunches." 

 

Felice isn’t the only student out before the hours. Henry is still wearing his dressing gown as he follows Walter around like a lost puppy while Walter stresses and pulls his hair, Henry leans his head on his shoulder and holds his jacket sleeves so he doesn't get left behind at. Vincent and Nils are peering from the staff room doorway, sipping on steaming coffees and nibbling cold hashbrowns they aren’t meant to have. Several students are peering out windows or getting ready to travel into Bjärstad on public transport or Ubers, aware that there will be photographers there. 

 

Felice walks with him into the staff room, past Nils and Vincent, who have nothing to say to them. Wilhelm doesn’t really have an issue with those two, it’s just August, who isn't even that bad anymore. When they’re without August, they might as well just be two other students, their gazes barely lingering on Wilhelm before falling away. 

 

They weave through the students, tables and boxes, unblinking their arms. Wilhelm picks up a container labelled cinnamon apple muffins, Felice taking one with banana dark chocolate muffins.

 

“Hey, is Simon gonna be there today?” Wilhelm turns around and finds Joshua leering back at him, walking around without a shirt and grey track pants.

 

“Why? Planning to wear that to show off?” Wilhelm retaliates. "Packing light I see."

 

“Planning to freeze your nips off?” Felice adds, raising an eyebrow at him, shifting her container. 

 

Joshua rolls his eyes. “I was only going to say you should be careful, Wille, there’s meant to be photographers about.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and then turns and begins to walk off.

 

Which, no. What did that mean? Scratch that, Wilhelm knows what that means. He means what did Joshua try to imply by saying that...? Whatever - 

 

Wilhelm quickly puts his cupcakes on top of the ones Felice is carrying, stalking forward to grab Joshua’s wrist and pull him around, face to face. He’s smirking, satisfied.

 

“What does that mean, Josh?” Wilhelm questions, narrowing his eyes at him.

 

“Wilhelm,” Felice warns, approaching the two. "Testosterone going strong this morning, relax. I don't want to deal with a fight."

 

Vincent and Nils look over from the doorway, confused by the sudden outburst this early in the morning. 

 

Joshua gives him an innocent look, cocking his head to the side with the smuggest expression in his stupid, beady little eyes. “I’m just informing you. Why so defensive?”

 

“I know there's going to be photographers. Are you taking photos of Simon and me?” Wilhelm growls, tightening his grip on Joshua’s wrist, making him wince slightly. 

 

“Maybe,” Joshua wiggles his brows at him, leaning in so his hashbrown breath chokes him.

 

“Wille, it’s obvious he isn’t; he’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” Felice warns, still holding both the containers. “Come on, we don’t have time for him right now. Or ever. Life is too short for nitwits."

 

Wilhelm gives his wrist a final squeeze, prays it hurts, takes his cupcakes back from Felice and shoulders his way past Joshua, who only snickers in response. Wilhelm's ears burn.

 

Wilhelm stalks past Vincent and Nils. "Simon's anger rubbing off you you, eh?" Vincent jeers.

 

Wilhelm glares at him as well. He isn't wrong, but maybe it isn't a bad thing, he's just sticking up for them. The pair then turn around to question Joshua, and Wilhelm doesn’t bother to stop to correct the lies he’s surely telling the two right now.

 

“How do we know it’s not him, Felice?” Wilhelm asks Felice as they approach the truck a few minutes later.

 

“Do you really think he’s dumb enough to admit that?”

 

“Babe, I wouldn’t be surprised, considering how funny he finds it.”

 

It brings Wilhelm back to his conversation last night with Simon. He's... Had more awkward departures after tutoring. They didn't do any real work in the end and talked for a little bit before Simon suggested he just go home and they forget about this tomorrow. He made a weak joke about a bad one-night stand, but it just made things awkward.

 

Which is the plan. Forget. It'd be nice if Wilhelm could do that.

 

See, normally he'd drown himself in school work, extracurriculars, clubs and councils - anything to keep his thoughts off whatever he's afraid to ponder. It doesn't work for Simon. He's immune to whatever Wilhelm tries to distract himself with. Making coffee, oh, Simon steals my iced coffees all the time. I don't actually mind. Feeding Sunny, oh, Simon thinks I have a big heart for adopting a baby bird, which makes me feel strange. Doing his homework, oh, I should write notes on this so I can explain it to Simon when he inevitably gets around to it in two weeks and asks. 

 

“Everyone!” Miss Clear calls with a megaphone over the courtyard everyone’s standing around. “We are leaving in 10 minutes, so if you aren’t in a car, with everything packed in 10 minutes, you and whatever you forgot is being left behind! There will be photographers from the second you get out of those cars, so be on your absolute best behaviour, please! Make your school look good! It's time to go!”

 

~ ~ ~

 

By 8, everything has been set up and the Hillerksa students are all buzzing with excitement, using the few minutes before the market officially starts to go around and look at most of the other stalls. 

 

There’s lots of food: pastries, cakes, scones, dumplings, pikelets, and sugar cane juice even. Wilhelm bought himself and Felice one of those because he’s never had fresh pressed sugar cane juice before. There are only things as well, bags, buskers, face paint, sewing, crotched things, clothes and more.

 

It’s definitely not the kind of market Wilhelm has attended with his family and schools, with white horse carousels, pristine white marquees offering massages, custom-designed cotton candy creatures and pony rides. It’s on a big field towards the edge of Bjärstad, it’s slightly muddy from the less-than-ideal weather, deep, mucky tyre tracks from people driving their cars, trucks and even a few tractors to transport their stalls and products as Hillerksa had done. The air smells of freshly cooked bread and smokey meat, you can already feel the excitement in the air. Some of the stalls aren’t nearly as well put together as Hillerska’s, some are just tables in front of the back of a van that contains products, and others are vans themselves, with windows on the side. 

 

Wilhelm and Felice sipped on the sweet sugar cane juice they got from a nice guy as they look at Wilhelm’s clipboard with all the stalls, the stall owners, their products and how much each was being sold for. The sun has risen properly now, warming up the dewy ground and chilly cheeks.

 

"I don't think this is a real job," Wilhelm tells Felice. "What am I meant to actually do with this? Advertise? No thanks." Wilhelm scoffs, tucking it under his arm.

 

August is standing a few feet away talking to the photographer, continuously glancing over at Wilhelm, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before August kidnaps him to take photos, as if he's a cardboard cut-out that can be passed around.

 

 “I think she wanted to give you a job that felt important without being tiresome." Wilhelm sips on his juice angrily. "This isn't like the markets we used to attend,” Felice says in between sips. “But I prefer these vibes. People aren’t just selling these things for the money here - that sugar cane vendor wanted to share his culture with us.”

 

Wilhelm hums against his straw. He had indeed. He'd spoken to them for ten minutes in a mixture of English and Swedish, as he isn’t fluent in either, but they pieced it together. “He was nice. We should go visit him again later. And I think I’d call this more a fair than a market, considering I saw some inflatable bouncy castle being set up a few rows away, and there’s probably a hundred or more different stalls around and they aren’t just things.”

 

“True, true,” Felice agrees.

 

“Markets open!” Miss Clear calls from a few stalls down, where she’s stood next to the cupcake stall Walter is standing behind like he's going to battle, Henry napping on the floor behind him. 

 

“Hey, Wille, the photographer wants to take some photos,” August materializes, and instantly squashes Wilhelm’s excitement. Alright, August hasn’t been bad, bothersome definitely, but not as bad as he was before he hit Wilhelm all those weeks ago. He's getting some brownie points for himself, minus the strange glances he's continuously giving Wilhelm, like he knows something he doesn't.

 

Wilhelm sighs. It’ll look good in the news, his Mother would approve. “Okay,” Wilhelm agrees, grabbing Felice’s sleeve before she could step away. “Don’t you dare leave me here,” he hisses to her, dragging her back as the photographer hurries in front of the three to snap photos before they get swarmed. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

"Everything is going swimmingly," Felice says when lunchtime rolls around.

 

The only issues they’ve had are getting told off by Miss Clear for trying to escape August, the face paint stall running out of yellow face paint, Walter not being able to deal change, and a certain curly-haired pupil trying to steal a cupcake.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm laughs under his breath at the sight, a light feeling taking over his insides. Wilhelm walks after him and Simon skips away calmly, with the air of someone who thinks they managed to sneak behind Wilhelm and get a cupcake, back towards Rosh, Ayub and Marcus, who are watching the Henna stall, unaware Simon had slipped away.

 

Felice laughs quietly as she follows Wilhelm as he walks behind Simon, glancing around to make sure the photographers are occupied, which they are; one is currently buying a hot dog and the other two have disappeared somewhere.

 

“Where are you going?” August calls Felice and Wilhelm, before following with muttered annoyance.

 

Wilhelm jogs a few steps - “Hello there,” Wilhelm steps in front of Simon when he's a few meters away from his group, and for a moment he looks surprised before he grins mischievously.

 

“Hey, Wille-Billy,” he smiles innocently, the cupcake now behind his back casually. He rocks on his heels, grinning at Wilhelm in a way that makes the lightness in his stomach flutter, the morning light catching on the sharp edges of Simon's face and softening them, making him look years younger and much happier. “How’s the market going?”

 

“Mmmhmm, wonderful, Simon,” Wilhelm replies breezily as Felice plucks the cupcake from Simon’s hands behind his back, and hands it to Wilhelm. “Forgetting to pay for something?” Wilhelm laughs.

 

Simon smirks, taking it out of Wilhelm’s open palm and taking a huge bite without hesitation. “Don’t think so, no,” Simon replies through frosting and cake, batting his eyelashes up at Wilhelm, who smirks back at him, strangely endeared. 

 

Felice shakes her head, rolling her eyes as August storms up to them. “Wille, we have a job to do.” I think this important not important job was more for August than me, Wilhelm thinks as he turns to his cousin.

 

Simon wrinkles his nose at August as if he literally stinks, and takes a step away, ever so slightly closer to Wilhelm, brushing their shoulders together. “Yeah, Wille, go do your job, nothing going on here,” Simon smiles sweetly at Wilhelm and Felice, before turning around them towards his friends. 

 

Ayub turns when Simon speaks, and his eyes instantly jump to Felice and Wilhelm. “Pookie! Felice!” Ayub bounds forward and wraps them both in a tight hug at the same time. Simon stops and turns back around, returning to Wilhelm's side without a word. "Simon! Hug us!" Ayub grabs Simon's jacket and drags him into the hug. Wilhelm lifts his arm to hold around his neck, feeling him wince against his side when Ayub wraps his arm around Simon's back. He slides his arm down under Ayub's to keep it off Simon's back, but Ayub doesn't notice, to busy rambling to them. “It’s so amazing to see you two! The stalls your school set up are so not as pretentious as I was imagining and are actually really cool! The Henna artists are amazing and everyone isn't nearly as mean as Simon says they are!”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” August questions.

 

Rosh and Marcus have both turned as well, and Marcus looks vaguely uncomfortable as he watches them both, Simon nibbling on a cupcake as he steps out of the embrace with a shaky breath, which he still hasn’t paid for. 

 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying,” Wilhelm replies, patting Ayub’s back before pulling back as well. They all ignore August, who huffs like a toddler. “Have you bought anything?” He throws a look at Simon, who looks away pointedly, looking up at the sky and then sideways.

 

Marcus frowns at him. “What are you looking at?” He whispers.

 

Simon snaps around to look at him, still looking amused and happy. “Nothing,” he sings, offering the other half of his cupcake as he walks over to stand by his boyfriend's side. Marcus takes a bite. 

 

Meanwhile, Ayub is going off - “I wanted to get face paint but Simme complained it would take too long but proceeded to get distracted by Henna and now he has a cupcake and managed to find both of you - oh and you, what your name?” Ayub turns to ask August. “I’m Ayub, nice to meet you.”

 

Ayub sticks out a hand, oblivious. “I’m August Horns of Arnes, prefect of Forest Ridge, Wille’s cousin,” August introduces, shaking his hand.

 

Ayub’s eyebrows raise, but then Marcus is speaking (shudder).

 

“This is disgusting, how can you eat this, Simon?” Marcus snaps, causing everyone’s eyes to fly over to look at him, surprised as he turns and dunks it into the bin next to the Henna stall.

 

“That’s so rude,” Wilhelm says back venomously. He didn’t even make them, but he split one with Felice and knows they are actually very nice, maybe a little bit dry but that might have just been his unlucky side, definitely not gross enough to announce it and throw it in the bin instead of offering it back to Simon, who was clearly enjoying it.

 

“Why? Did you make it?” Marcus retorts, raising an eyebrow.

 

“No, but you could at least have a little bit of respect. My friends worked hard on those,” Wilhelm replies, clenching the board at his side.

 

They’re standing in the spare space between two stalls, so they aren’t in the way of anyone, but the tension in the air is still thick, and people glance over anyway.

 

“Your school doesn’t even need to be here, you’ve got plenty of money, and shouldn’t be stealing customers off small businesses that need them,” Marcus exclaims, crossing his meaty arms across his chest.

 

Simon’s gaze flickers between Marcus and Wilhelm, a smear of frosting on his upper lip that he doesn’t seem aware of. Wilhelm wonders if Marcus knows about the damage on Simon’s back, if he’s aware his boyfriend got hit, if he'd cared if he knew, if he noticed his reluctance to put any pressure on his back. He catches Wilhelm's eye and gives him a pleading look. Wilhelm takes a calming breath.

 

“We aren’t doing this for the school, everything is going to a rainbow youth charity,” Felice snaps back at him. “Which you would know if you read any of the signs around the place. Who gave you the right to be so snotty when we’re just trying to help the community?”

 

“If you’re trying to help the community, why do you need three separate photographers to go around and take pictures of your good deeds? It’s attention seeking,” Marcus says, glaring over at Felice.

 

“It’s for the yearbook,” Wilhelm explains cooly, taking a deep breath. “So we can look back and remember the fun, cool things we did as a school this year.”

 

“You’re being really classist right now,” Felice finishes. It feels like some kind of wall was just built between Felice, Wilhelm and August and Simon, Marcus, Rosh and Ayub. You can't see the wall, it isn't physically there, but you can feel it, they can feel it.

 

Marcus scoffs in disbelief.

 

“Marcus, stop,” Rosh interrupts. “We didn’t invite you so you could argue with our friends. They’re donating everything to charity,” She points at the sign of the Henna stall. “ “All profits go to Rainbow Youth”. Read instead of getting all defensive. Ayub and I are going this way, you should probably stay over here. Simon, you do whatever you want.” The wall cracks.

 

Rosh grabs Ayub’s wrist and tows him across the stream of people to the face paint stall, but Ayub no longer seems so interested in it.

 

Simon puts a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “You alright?” Simon asks him, and Wilhelm literally scoffs, causing Simon to look over, but he doesn’t look angry, just apologetic.

 

“Let’s go this way,” Marcus turns and stalks away from Wilhelm with a final glare, and Simon doesn’t hesitate to follow him, not even glancing back at Wilhelm.

 

“What’s his fucking issue?” August scoffs, shaking his head.

 

“At least we can all agree on that,” Felice sighs. “What do we do about Simon?” She asks Wilhelm.

 

“Leave it. It’s only four dollars,” Wilhelm shrugs. “I don’t want to face Marcus again.”

 

"I didn't mean the mon - "

 

“Is that Simon’s boyfriend?” August asks as Wilhelm turns away. He sounds surprised.

 

“Yes,” Wilhelm replies. “So you can stop with the dating thing.”

 

August shrugs. “...It was always a joke, no hard feelings.”

 

No hard feelings my ass. August has no idea about the struggle Wilhelm’s been through because of his joke.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Balloon animals!” Felice yelled suddenly, making both Wilhelm and August jump, as they’d been watching a pie-eating contest with cringed expressions. 

 

Felice grabbed the sleeve of Wilhelm’s jumper and towed him away from the pie eating contest, which he wasn’t complaining about, to a stall across from it where a young woman and a young man were creating balloon animals.

 

“You’re not seriously going to get a balloon animal, are you?” August asks in exasperation. It turns out Felice was right. Miss Clear dismissed them from their job a little while ago. It makes sense, the job isn’t needed at all, the stalls are perfectly fine, and it’s not like they can go run down to the shops to go buy some more yellow face paint when it would take them at least an hour to do, so they’ve been spending their time walking around buying things for their fellow students who can’t leave their stalls, and exploring the rest of the market.

 

Wilhelm briefly saw Simon and Marcus, Marcus was ordering a coffee from a van and Simon was off to the side chatting with two young girls, but he didn’t see Wilhelm’s group as they passed by a few meters behind. Wilhelm watched as the girls clearly asked for a photo. Simon had smiled and accepted. Wilhelm hopes Simon is having a good time. Marcus is pretty basic for buying a coffee when there are so many other options of things he could get. Wilhelm hopes it’s a really gross coffee and he wasted his money.

 

“Maybe I do want to buy a balloon animal, what are you going to do, stop me?” Felice snaps back at August, rolling her eyes. They stopped at a stall selling pride flag embroidered tote bags, and August stood to the side trying to not look totally awkward while Wilhelm and Felice found their respective flags.

 

The photographer had a field day taking pictures of them and the two stall holders, an elderly woman and a teenage nonbinary person, were more than happy for the business they got from Wilhelm being at their stall.

 

This has been a small issue;  Wilhelm himself is attracting a bit of attention. He’s already been stopped more times than he can count to have a photo taken, and he’s starting to wonder if his parents knew the scale of his market/fair thing, and if they would’ve issued some security. Someone asked him where his boyfriend was, and Wilhelm had to keep a straight face as he clarified he and Simon aren't dating, and that Simon has a boyfriend. The girl looked like she didn't believe them as she asked for a photo with her blue and green phone case.

 

“No need to get so defensive,” August replies, sighing as he turns away. “I’m just bored of following you two around all day trying to keep us on track.”

 

“You don’t have to. You can go,” Wilhelm says to August, standing with Felice in line for a balloon animal.

 

August bristles. “Don’t tell me what to do.” August’s patience is clearly running thin. Oh well. Womp womp, Wilhelm thinks.

 

"Womp womp," Wilhelm says. 

 

“You sure you won’t be too tired to go host a party tonight, August?” Felice asks, smirking quietly. “You look pretty tired.”

 

“I’ll be fine, thank you very much. I am not tired, just bored of watching fat people stuff themselves with calories they don’t need and watching pathetic gay guys cry over cupcakes,” August snaps back.

 

“That’s rude,” Wilhelm replies with a hand on his hip.

 

August sneers at him. “I’m going to go find my friends. Don’t get in trouble. Goodbye," he turns around but pauses, looking back. "I’ll see you at the party tonight.” With that, August turns on his heel and marches away, clipboard firmly clasped in his hands, stomping - and slipping slightly - through the mud and disappearing into the crowd.

 

“That fuck he’s gone,” Felice sighs in relief.

 

“I know,” Wilhelm replies, shaking his head. His own clipboard is now in his tote bag, with the unlabeled flag embodied in the form of a small flower field, from left to right in the middle of his bag. Felice’s is a roughly shaped rainbow, with gaps in between the colours of the lesbian flag. Wilhelm thinks their bags are very cute, and if you didn’t know the flags, you wouldn’t notice it was for pride flags.

 

“What animal are you going to get?” Wilhelm asks, peering at the wooden sign sitting next to the station.

 

“Hmmm,” Felice hums, craning her neck to see. “I’ll get a purple and white dog,” she decides. “Ten bucks, alright. Let’s pray they take card.”

 

Wilhelm looks around the two people in front of them. “They do, no worries.” He watches as they stick a blue balloon to a pump, press a button which causes the long, thin, wrinkly balloon to inflate, and then twist it around another balloon a few times, before handing a dog over to a little girl, who squeals with excitement while the father steps forwards to pay.

 

He can’t imagine his own parents buying him a balloon animal. He’d ask for a balloon animal, and get a beautiful, intricate, giant balloon wreath which he wouldn’t be allowed to touch and would be put on display until it deflates. 

 

Wilhelm recalls one time when he wrote a letter to Santa asking for a “miniature pool for my Ninja Turtles to swim in, that won’t make a big mess in the kitchen, so Mama won’t get mad”, and woke up Christmas day to four life-sized Ninja Turtle’s doing actual flips and tricks around his bedroom. It’s safe to say that’s the worst Christmas he ever experienced. He didn’t even get a tiny pool, and he threw his Ninja Turtle toys out his bedroom window into the garden below.

 

Felice got her purple and white dog, tucking it safely in her bag before they continued on their way through the market. 

 

Miss Clear asked for them to be back at the cupcake stall - which has kind of become the command centre of his Bjärstad-based, pro-gays mission - by 3:50 at the latest, for pack up at 4, to be back at school by 6 for dinner at 7. Miss Clear doesn’t know it, but every student is also preparing for tonight's party, celebrating August’s return. Even though no one really missed him, they just wanted a party.

 

Passing by a flower stall, Wilhelm halts when he sees a familiar figure standing alone in front of a colourful array of petals, sniffing flowers with his hood up. Simon. He’s wearing his black, baggy ripped jeans, that show more skin than they cover and are dangerously close to dragging on the muddy ground, with the same purple jumper with the orange spots from when Sara came in, with an oversized black bomber jacket, which he’s pulled over his loose curls, a black shoulder bag resting against his waist as he smells roses like some eloquent fairy tale. 

 

Wilhelm doesn’t think before redirecting his path towards him. The photographers left Wilhelm and Felice when they stopped to watch the pie-eating contest, clearly August and Wilhelm’s expressions were not yearbook-worthy. 

 

“What’s he doing all alone?” Felice voiced Wilhelm’s thoughts as she followed him.

 

Wilhelm came to a stop next to Simon, looking down at the colourful flowers in front of them.

 

Simon glances over at him and smiles when he realizes who is it. “Hey, again, Wille,” he says, still holding the rose between long, delicate fingers, twirling it slowly and smiling up at Wilhelm from under his giant hood.

 

“Hello. Why are you alone?” Wilhelm asks, looking at a bundle of flowers costing fifteen dollars. It's overpriced if you ask him, but he always thinks flowers cost more than they should, considering how fast they die. But he’s not a florist, and it’s not really his money he’s spending, so he buys the overpriced flower and they die within a week. Perhaps he’s not looking after them right, but he doesn't care enough to learn how to look after them.

 

“Did you drop your horrible boyfriend yet?” Felice asked, peering around Wilhelm.

 

Simon narrowed his eyes at her, readjusting his hood so it covered more of his face and glancing around. “He is not a horrible boyfriend. I’ve already said this. He's just weird because I'm not big on PDA and he doesn't know how to show affection without touching. When we’re alone, or with people he knows he’s normal. Crowds make him tense.”

 

Wilhelm only hums. “Couldn’t he at least try and be nice to us?” He asks, picking up a small sunflower, how this florist managed to grow such a pretty plant in winter he isn’t sure. It must be dark magic. 

 

Simon sighs. “So maybe he’s a little bit of a hater towards everyone at Hillerska because I transferred there and left him behind, some people take a while to change.”

 

“Ayub and Rosh don’t have a problem with us,” Wilhelm points out in a mumble. “It’s because of the rumours, isn’t it?” 

 

Simon doesn’t reply. Which is a reply in itself, really, he could at least accept that it's Wilhelm's fault his relationship with his boyfriend is rapidly declining. Wilhelm's noticed, it hurts somewhere in his chest that he can't place, but he's not pretending they're fine like Simon is.

 

“Does he seriously think I’m going to steal you from him?”

 

Again, no reply.

 

“Shall I buy you this rose to freak him out? What harm can it do, he already hates me,” Wilhelm smirks, taking the rose from Simons's fingers carefully and then offering it back to him with a small bow. Simon finally cracks another smile.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Simon chuckles with pink cheeks, giving the light blue rose another sniff before taking it back to put with the rest of the pretty flowers. “But I think he’d break up with me on the spot if I told him you bought me a rose.”

 

“I’ll buy you a rose! I’m a lesbian, so, no homo,” Felice pipes up from behind Wilhelm again. “Oh yeah. Hey, y'all. I’m still here. Feeling left out. As usual. ”

 

“Sorry,” Wilhelm takes a step away from the stall, so they stand in more of a triangle and Felice isn’t stuck behind Wilhelm.

 

“I’m alright, I don’t want a flower right now. I do quite like flowers, but Marcus is allergic, so he’d never come into my bedroom again,” Simon sighs mournfully.

 

“What a shame that would be,” Wilhelm deadpans.

 

Simon pokes him in the ribs without hesitation, making Wilhelm yelp and swat him away. “Do you guys know where Rosh and Ayub are? Now Marcus has decided cleaning stables is more interesting than spending today at a fun market with me, my friends give off the impression I have the fucking plague and will hang out with me!”

 

“Yeah, you really aren’t selling this whole “Marcus is a good person thing”, Simon,” Felice admits with a quirked brow. Wilhelm sighs, shaking his head and looking around for photographers. The market has emptied slightly, but Wilhelm is still quietly grateful Simon's keeping his hood up, his identity hidden.

 

“He’s better when we aren’t in public,” Simon reiterates, gazing back at the flowers like they’ll help support his empty words, and emotionless stare when he talks about his boyfriend. Seriously, they better be the most lovey-dovey couple in private, because Wilhelm is sure a couple paid to stage a relationship would seem more into each other than Marcus and Simon. Simon looked happier talking to some girls who recognized him than he did standing with his boyfriend.

 

“I’m not sure where they are,” Wilhelm says honestly. He hasn't seen Rosh and Ayub since they walked off to get face paint hours ago. “Text them. Us five can go enjoy the rest of the day as a group - or if you want to just be with your friends, you know, that’s cool too, I - we, we don't want to invade on your group hanging out, hang out. You know what, it's fine. It's fine.” Wilhelm has the urge to fan his cheeks because why are they so hot suddenly?

 

Simon pulls out his phone, side-eyeing Wilhelm meaningfully. He doesn’t say anything, but Wilhelm gets the message after a moment of awkward silence. They aren’t meant to be seen together in public. Wilhelm hasn’t told anyone that’s what they talked about, and Simon doesn’t seem to have either. He had seemed rather hurt about it last night, so Wilhelm is quietly surprised he didn't go trash talk Wilhelm to his friend. That brings his brain back to the beginning of term when he talked badly about Simon to his friends at dinner and Alex told Simon, who confronted him the next day. They were different people back then.

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily. The last thing he wants to do is leave Simon - hanging out with him is fun! “Actually, Felice and I should get heading back to the cupcake stall for pack up. We’ll be needed for that.” How Felice ended up as a coordinator with Wilhelm and August, he isn’t sure, but he’s also not complaining. Ride or die, he supposes.

 

Simon puts up no resistance, walking off to go find his friends, and Felice and Wilhelm turn and go the other way.

 

“Isn’t it crazy how much he’s changed?” Felice blurts when Simon is out of earshot.

 

Wilhelm hums in agreement. “I know, right? I was literally just thinking about that. Like, beginning of the year he probably would’ve shoved those flowers through my eye sockets and walked off.”

 

“Okay - “ Felice pulls a face. “Maybe not that bad, but yeah, he’s definitely softened. Did he only hate you because of the coffee situation? Like, is that seriously the only reason he hated on you? Because he seems to think you're pretty chill now. I even saw a bit of blush. You two twinning as tomatoes."

 

Wilhelm thinks back to that argument they had ages ago when they first smoked together. Wilhelm had asked why Simon hated him so much, but he’d been ignored; Simon had walked around him into the bus shelter and Wilhelm had stomped off in response.

 

It’s clear the coffee situation isn’t the only reason for his dislike. The day they got the detention, Wilhelm asked again, “What did I ever do to you?” And Simon called him “so stupid”, and “entitled,” simply because he’s a Prince. Because he lives a life he never asked for... But that can’t be the reason for hating him, Wilhelm can’t help he’s a Prince, and Simon must understand that.

Is it because Simon is trying to use Wilhelm to get himself expelled? That’s it, right? Simon's trying to get a rise out of him all the time … but Wilhelm has asked if he hates him for being a Prince and if he is just using him for attention to get expelled, and Simon replies that that wasn’t the only reason he hated him, then refused to elaborate, again.

 

Clearly, Wilhelm is missing something, and Simon is either too embarrassed or too scared to share it.

 

“I don’t think so,” He sighs. “We had a fight - “

 

“What a surprise.”

 

“ - Ha. Yeah. So, we fought, and … He said that he hates me for reasons that aren’t the coffee, or me being a Prince. I’ve asked multiple times, but he never tells me, always goes off to smoke or something,” Wilhelm recalls. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, but I’d give an organ for him to tell me.”

 

Felice nods, unphased. “It’s weird. I used to think maybe he just held a grudge, but the more we learn about him, and the closer we grow, I’m starting to think it could be a little more personal. Maybe you guys met when you were younger and you don’t remember who he is,” Felice suggests, and Wilhelm turns to look at her sharply.

 

“He would tell me that, wouldn’t he? Oh my God. That would be extremely awkward. But it’s not like he expects me to remember every single person I ever met. Right? That would be outrageous. I meet hundreds of people a year for meet and greets, or charity things, or the occasional interview, or street encounters - “

 

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Felice assures him with a slightly amused smirk, putting a hand on his arm and turning him into a row of stalls he was about to walk past, which is where Cupcake Command is. “Maybe he’s just all fuck the monarchy.”

 

“He was fine with Erik.”

 

“Yeah, to piss you off and get Erik's attention.”

 

Wilhelm sighs in defeat. “I’m done thinking about him, it gives him a headache. You know what else I’ve been thinking about?”

 

Felice glances over at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re thinking always gives me headaches, babe.”

 

“Joshua isn’t here, is he? He didn’t even show up today, which means if there are any photos of Simon and I that look particularly incriminating, it wasn’t him.”

 

Felice gives him an unamused look.

 

“Which means it could be anyone else who was here today,” Wilhelm finishes with a sigh. “But we could gauge the angle it was taken because if it was just a random citizen, they wouldn’t be stealthy, they’d be like the people who come up and ask for photos. But if it’s taken from a distance, or from behind something, it might be a student.”

 

Felice stops them, pulling Wilhelm in between two stalls a few down from their schools. She puts her hands on Wilhelm’s shoulders with a hefty sigh, looking sad.

 

“You don’t have to say it,” Wilhelm says before she can speak.

 

“No, that's not what I was going to say,” Felice replies. “Wille, you are a Prince - ”

 

“Felice, I know. I belong to the country and people are always going to take photos of me - “

 

“No, no, see, this is why I’m telling you because you haven’t even thought it yet,” Felice interrupts, shaking her head. “I love you, babe, and you are very smart and you know a lot, but you need to get the fact you can't read people like you can read books into your pretty little brain.”

 

“...Okay?”

 

“Ya. Anyway. The photos taken of you and Simon are putting his relationship on the line." Damn. "Look, I don’t like what Marcus and Simon have any more than you. To me, it’s bordering on toxic and one-sided, but that doesn’t mean we should continue to stand let the rumours of you and Simon stick a wedge in between them. Yet alone you're friendship! You two could be amazing friends!” Felice says, brown eyes sincere and slightly sad. “And I know it’s been less than a term, but I’m tired of watching my best friend get photographed with a boy he could barely tolerate on a good day and people claim that you two are in love. Sure, some of the fan art I’ve seen is really fucking adorable and I do keep sending you cute one-shot fan fics I read, but I’m not trying to ruin your life. Some people are calling you guys the biggest gay scandal since Larry Stylinson, for Christ's sake."

 

A woman walking past stops and turns to stare at them. "Do you two want a Bible?" She shows them a woven basket filled with mini Bibles. Wilhelm notices a shiny cross necklace around her neck. "You must never say the Lord's name in vain, child."

 

Felice blinks in confusion.

 

"Yes, please," Wilhelm smiles sweetly, stepping forward to take a Bible she offers him with a pleased smile. "Have a good day, Ma'am!" He waves as she nods, and departs.

 

Felice shakes herself. "Right, ahem, so. It’s clear you two are trying to avoid each other in public - yes, I got that off just today. Every time you saw Simon you would look around for photographers before approaching him, apart from when he and Marcus were buying coffee, where you just stared at him like you kinda wanted to swoop over and take him away. When you two were standing together you looked like you were committing actual crimes with how you kept looking around - ”

 

“Felice,” Wilhelm interrupts, dropping his mini Bible into his bag. “I love you so much, but get to the point.”

 

“I have a plan to stage some photos tonight and find out who the photo taker is. I'm done watching you two suffer and feeling fucking helpless about it.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Is that everything? Good, great, excellent. Are we missing anyone?” Miss Clear asks, hands on hips, looking around the mostly deserted field. It’s nearly 5, and they have everything packed up, same with all the other stall vendors. A group of them are sitting around in fold-out chairs drinking beers, and others just hanging out stalls and chatting, offering any leftover product they can’t save for next week to people for free, or with some bargain.

 

“No one important,” Wilhelm replies where he’s stood with Felice and Madi, waiting for Miss to finis the role.

 

“We’re missing August,” Madi replies helpfully.

 

“He’s in the bathroom,” Walter supplies. 

 

“As I said, no one of importance.”

 

“Thank you, Wilhelm. Alright darlings, start getting into cars, but we won’t leave until August is here. No one run off, please!” Miss Clear calls, before turning to a group of girls who then depart to also go use the portipoties. 

 

Wilhelm turns to Felice. “Do you think he’s going to show?” He asks her, chewing on his nails anxiously.

 

“I mean, if he’s with Ayub, then totally,” She looks around at the mostly empty area they’re in, but there are no signs of them. Wilhelm's eyes linger on where the cupcake stall was.

 

“Who are we waiting for?” Madi butts in, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Simon. We’re planning how we’re going to figure out who keeps taking photos of Simon and I,” Wilhelm tells Madi. "Ooo, cute braids."

 

“Thanks! Can I help?” She asks excitedly, still vibrating from all the caffeine and sugar she’s consumed, her two French braids dotted with mini flowers that weren’t there this morning.

 

Felice glances at Wilhelm, who shrugs. He trusts Madi, and he’s 110% sure she is not the one taking photos. Why would she? If she wanted to prove they were dating, she'd kidnap them and force them to cuddle or something horrifying like that, for self-satisfaction. 

 

“Sure. The plan is to go back to Hillerska, have dinner, and meet in Wilhelm’s dorm to go over the plan before the party tonight. We just need Simon to meet us here so we can tell him the plan before he goes home,” Felice explains to her. "As we don't have his number, and he's not going to touch his school emails on the weekend." 

 

As if on cue, Ayub calls out “aayyyye, what’s up Princey Poo?” Before slinging an arm around Wilhelm’s shoulder.

 

Wilhelm chuckles, getting his balance and putting his arm around Ayub, patting his chest with his other hand. “Hello, again.”

 

Simon appears on Wilhelm’s other side, followed by Rosh a second later. 

 

“Rosh, Ayub, this is Madi,” Felice introduces them to each other. “Madi, meet Rosh and Ayub.” 

 

“Hiya,” Madi says, waving.

 

“Hey,” Rosh nods and then turns to Wilhelm and Felice. “What are you two planning, exactly?”

 

“Uhh, well that’s the thing,” Wilhelm says. “We don’t exactly have a solid plan just yet, but we're getting there! We want to figure out who’s been taking photos of me and you, tonight, at the party,” Wilhelm turns to Simon as he speaks, and he raises an eyebrow in return.

 

“But you don’t exactly have a plan.”

 

“...No. Well, okay,” Wilhelm waves his hand. “We need to find some way to figure it out which isn’t seeing someone take a photo of us, because that's not exactly solid evidence - "

 

"And it's boring," Felice adds.

 

" - And it needs to be non-incriminating for us as well, so we can’t steal anything, or hack anyone, or stalk someone," Wilhelm lists off on his fingers. "For when we tell the school who did it.” 

 

“Right,” Rosh nods. “That makes sense.” 

 

"That's tragic," Simon disagrees. "I want to do all of the above."

 

"Did you also have a kleptomaniac phase?" Felice asks with wide eyes.

 

"Phase?" Simon replies.

 

“So we need some miracle like Felice panning around the party, and getting someone’s phone on the camera towards Wilhelm and Simon,” Rosh asks.

 

“But isn’t this going against your Mother’s orders,” Simon jutts suddenly. “Like, the whole point of this is to get photographed, right? And your Mum said - “

 

“I know, but if we figure it out before someone leaks a photo there won’t be any more photos taken, ever, ” Wilhelm says.

 

"Forever," Simon says, eyes widening slightly.

 

“I hope.” 

 

“And if this all goes horribly wrong you get taken out of school and the photographer runs free and Marcus accuses me of cheating on him again,” Simon deadpans, crossing his arms. “Yeah no, horrible plan. The new plan, we use the old plan and keep avoiding each other.”

 

Wilhelm feels himself deflate slightly.

 

“I’m sorry, today was you two avoiding each other?” Ayub exclaims. “Every time you saw each other you ran over! Simon, I know you kind of suck at school but you must know what the opposite of avoiding is." 

 

“You did not tell me those were the risks involved,” Felice says, looking over at Wilhelm with a slightly hurt expression. “You’re being taken out of school for being photographed with another boy? Why?”

 

“Uhh,” Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair, glancing over at Simon, who stares back. “Because - “

 

“Because my reputation is shit, and Wille’s here is all sparkly and beautiful, so we can’t have mine corrupting his,” Simon explains. 

 

Everyone goes silent, looking over at Wilhelm with judgemental gazes. “Hey! I have no problem being photographed with Simon! I just don’t want to get taken out of school. It's my Mother and the PR team who don’t want us to get photographed together. I have no issue with being seen with you,” Wilhelm says honestly to Simon. "I mean, I did at the beginning of the year, but that's before I got to know you better." 

 

Simon shrugs. “I don’t give a shit either way.”

 

“This is off-topic,” Madi says suddenly. “Wille has no issue with being seen with Simon and Simon doesn’t care whether he is or not. That’s solved, 'kay. It’s our Queen who’s causing issues, correct?”

 

“I mean, she’s not causing problems - “ Wilhelm tries to defend.

 

“Yes, it’s our Queen causing problems,” Simon interrupts, and Wilhelm shoots him a nasty glare, which Simon ignores, arms crossed as he stares over at Madi, the hood still up. "I vote we take her out."

 

“This plan is super risky, guys. What if someone doesn’t take a photo of you two specifically, but instead you get caught in the background of someone’s video,” Rosh worries her bottom lip. “People can’t exactly be blamed for that.”

 

“Realistically, no one will be posting photos of this party on the internet anyway,” Wilhelm replies. “People don’t do that at Hillerska.”

 

“To keep your good reputation,” Rosh guesses, rolling her eyes. "How are you going to show the school who took the photo with evidence if you won't show pictures of your parties?"

 

"We'll comfort the photographer," Wilhelm makes up on the spot. "Or I'll tell my parents, they'll keep it quiet, because of good public image. They already know the school has parties after this drug scandal with Erik a while back."

 

"What?" Madi blurts.

 

"He got high at school and went skinny dipping, but you wouldn't have known because the Crown covered it up so well. And my parents hate me being seen with a boy more than they hate me going to parties." They might murder me if they find out I went to a party, but.

 

“Yes, and so the teachers don’t close off the Palace, which is where we hold parties,” Felice adds in reply to Rosh's question.

 

“The place you guys have parties is called the Palace?” Ayub asks, snickering.

 

Wilhelm cracks a smirk. “It doesn’t look anything like a palace if I’m being honest.”

 

“Yeah, there’s a wall that doesn’t even have a window in it,” Felice chuckles. “Anyway, back on track. Madi, did you have a point?”

 

“Maybe we can find some kind of similarity between photos we already have. For example, a place some of the photos are taken where someone might spend a lot of time, or a watermark from them dropping damaging their phone, or if it’s taken from a distance by someone walking by who you might've actually seen and just not suspected. They could've rotated the photo so it isn't upside down, or sideways, or something along those lines.”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s someone from Forest Ridge,” Simon says helpfully (miracles do happen). “Because of the bird photos,” he elaborates.

 

“True,” Wilhelm agrees.

 

“Children, come here! We’re leaving now! Oh - Hello, Simon. Are you catching a ride back with us?” Miss Clear asks, walking over to their group. “Hello, you must be Simon’s friend. I’m Miss Clear, his geography teacher,” she smiles at Rosh and Ayub, who smile back awkwardly, nodding.

 

“No, just talking to my lovely classmates,” Simon says, patting Wilhelm’s shoulder over aggressively. Does he always have to do that?

 

“We get it,” Wilhelm grumbles, shoving Simon away and then grabbing his sleeve so he can't actually leave, dragging him back. “Meet at my dorm after dinner, before the party,” Wilhelm whispers to Simon when Madi distracts Miss Clear with her endless questions, accidentally pulling Simon too close so his words brush against the hood of his jacket, Simon's body pressing into his side for a second, sending heat straight to his cheeks and stomach on a one way train off the tracks.

 

The groups split ways, Simon taking all of Wilhelm's warmth with him. August and the girls are all back from their gross toilet experiences. Personally, Wilhelm has been holding it all day.

 

Wilhelm is waiting for Felice to get into the car when someone grabs his arm, and he jumps, turning around sharply. “Oh, Jesus, you scared me,” Wilhelm breathes, rubbing a hand across his chest.

 

Simon rolls his eyes. “I didn’t zap your ribs, I just touched your arm.”

 

“You grabbed me.”

 

“Shut up. Take this,” Simon grabs Wilhelm’s hand and presses two coins into his palm, not meeting his eyes as his cheeks turn slightly pinker. “That’s for the cupcake,” he flashes a cheeky grin at Wilhelm, but he feels time stop when their eyes meet. Simon looks very pretty when he smiles like that; he knows what he's done, and he's amused by himself. He always looks pretty, but when his eyes light up and his cheeks scrunch ... Wilhelm prefers it.

 

Simon turns and walks away without another word, breaking the strange state of mind Wilhelm fell into and is absolutely not going to think about. He goes back to Rosh and Ayub, who wave to Wilhelm.

 

He waves back and then opens his palm to see the two $2 coins Simon left there.

 

“Hurry up, Wille,” Felice complains, sticking her head out the van door to look down the vehicle at him.

 

Simon paid for the cupcake. Wilhelm smiles to himself. He walks away, over to one of the vans that hasn't yet left because the driver is talking to Miss Clear about traffic. Wilhelm opens the boot and slips the coins into the cardboard box from the cupcake stall, hearing it clink into the other coins as he shuts the boot.

 

“Are you alright, Wilhelm?” Miss Clear asks, appearing next to him. “What are you doing? Not stealing, I hope.”

 

“No, just adding a donation to the box,” Wilhelm says. It’s not a donation, it’s actually just a fair payment. He doesn’t even have any cash on him. He’ll add Simon paying back for something he stole to his good books for him, which is starting to outweigh the bad.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Dinner takes forever, especially because none of the other boys are in on his plan. He spends the meal eyeing everyone, trying to come up with reasons they’d be taking photos to ruin Wilhelm's chance at a normal high school life. It can’t be any of his classmates, right? It’s hard to decide if it’s one person or multiple. 

 

When they’re out in public, it could very well be anyone, but there are over one hundred students at Hillerska, but they know from the Sunny Rescue Mission that it's people from Forest Ridge. Maybe it’s one person, paying others to take the photos. Who hates Wilhelm that much? That’s a smart idea... Unless the person they pay gets caught, then they could snitch on the person who paid them, so maybe it's not a good idea. It would work for now, though, since they can't even figure out who one photographer is, let alone the centre of the problem.

 

He hopes no one is doing this out of spite for something he’s done in the past - he doesn't even know what he could do to encourage this type of revenge. And it's not fair on Simon, either. Or Marcus. But mostly Simon, because fuck that guy and his meat head.

 

Wilhelm’s eyes fall on Joshua a few seats down. Joshua didn’t have an issue with Wilhelm until that one food tech lesson, and he always sat behind Wilhelm, not directly behind but at the back of the room. However, there haven’t been any photos of Wilhelm and Simon taken from the back of the class. Joshua is a possible candidate, and Wilhelm adds him to a mental list.

 

The mental list, along with everyone else in Forest Ridge. The people on his list who he doesn’t think it is include Alex, Henry, Walter, and the Housterfather. Nils and Vincent are pretty unlikely as well, along with August, who doesn’t seem that interested in ruining Wilhelm’s life anymore, which is a big plus for August.

 

The rest of his list is random boys he doesn’t know that much or who say mean things about Simon behind his back. It makes Wilhelm wonder if they trash-talk him as well.

 

After dinner, Wilhelm rushes back to his bedroom, getting into his party clothes. Which in reality is just some jeans with ripped knees - rebellious, he knows - a blue jumper, a black jacket, and his white Vans.

 

He's midway through feeding Sunny when someone knocks on his window a few times. He turns around and his eyes instantly fall on Simon, who flips him off with both hands.

 

Wilhelm chuckles, walks over and opens his bedroom window, clearing a spot on his desk for Simon to climb onto and offering a hand to help him up. Simon grabs his hand and the edge of the window, pulling himself in and jumping off the desk.

 

“Hello, peasant,” Simon greets, ruffling Wilhelm’s hair as he turns to shut the window behind him.

 

Wilhelm swats him away, smiling slightly at the name. This is weird, because it’s insulting, and Wilhelm is a Prince so really, Simon’s the peasant. But that’s kind of what makes it so funny.

 

“Hello, Sire. Ready to make a plan and execute it in the same night?” Wilhelm replies, moving around Simon, and back to Sunny. 

 

Simon has decided to wear a severely oversized purple t-shirt with black lettering, and some strange, slightly baggy, black leather pants, with his Converse barely showing underneath. His fingers are adorned in his various rings, as usual. His hair out free and flowing around his face. Today, Simon also seems to be wearing some sparkly, golden eyeshadow, and a bit of winged eyeliner, his lips shiny with gloss. He looks good, Marcus is a lucky guy. Wilhelm is sure that fan page he found of Simon a while ago would love to see this outfit. 

 

But, how is he not freezing to death? Wilhelm knows Simon gets cold easily.

 

"Are you not freezing your balls off right now?" Wilhelm asks curiously.

 

"Yes."

 

"...Do you want to borrow a coat or - "

 

"No, no. Do it for the aesthetic. Who cares if I freeze at least I look good," Simon grins and Wilhelm shakes his head, albeit amused. 

 

Sunny chirps at Simon, uninterested in the soggy bread Wilhelm is trying to feed her.

 

“Hi, you flea-carrying, rat-looking, hacky sack cutie,” Simon says, turning his nose up at Sunny, who only chirps back. “Anyway, yeah, I’m ready for this plan that we don’t even fucking have. I think this is a terrible idea, by the way. Your Mum is threatening to take you out of fucking school the second a new photo of us is taken and leaked. Like, she wasn’t fucking with us, was she? She was dead serious. Listen, Wille, I don’t hate you anyone, and I don’t want your Mum pulling you from school while I’m half the problem. That won't sit right in my conscious.”

 

“Bold words from someone who was making us both look bad to get expelled,” Wilhelm replies, giving up on feeding Sunny, who would much rather chirp at Simon, who keeps wrinkling his nose at her in disgust.

 

“Hey, I was only trying to make myself look bad, you were collateral damage,” Simon reasons, sitting down on Wilhelm’s bed heavily.

 

“Do you still want to get expelled?” Wilhelm asks, leaning back against his desk and looking over at Simon, who’s got his legs pressed together, leaning fords against his thighs, twisting his rings around his fingers, nails painted black.

 

Simon doesn’t get a chance to answer, however, when there’s knocking on the door.

 

"Felice," Wilhelm guesses, and is cut off by even more aggressive knocking, which sounds a bit like someone hitting the door with a hammer repetitively.

 

“That would be Madi,” Wilhelm says as Simon snorts, pushing himself upright to go to the door.

 

“Wille, I want to see this bird!” Madi's voice unmistakably yells, hammering on the door.

 

Wilhelm opens it, and she barely catches herself from punching him in the face. “Show me the bird, Prince Wilhelm of Sweden,” Madi threatens, shoving him aside and squealing as her eyes fall on Sunny. “So cute! Oh, my Goood!”

 

Wilhelm chuckles, and Felice rolls her eyes. “Looking good, Wille,” she pats his chest, walking in past him and greeting Simon similarly. 

 

“Hey, Wille?” Henry asks, and Wilhelm stops shutting the door, peering out at him again. Henry’s hair is wet, clearly just showered, cheeks slightly flushed. Wilhelm has his ideas. 

 

“Yes?” Wilhelm replies, keenly aware that Henry just saw Madi and Felice walk into his room, and heard Felice greet Simon.

 

“What are you guys doing in there?” Henry raises an eyebrow. “Before party shots? Can we join?”

 

“No, no, we’re just meeting up to go to the party together,” Wilhelm lies quickly. “Simon probably has shots, actually.” He doesn’t have a backpack, so unlikely, but whatever, it’s less suspicious to try and hide the fact Simon’s in his room, right? He hopes. He prays Henry isn’t the photo taker.

 

“Ah, okay then,” Henry looks doubtful, and maybe slightly hurt.

 

Wilhelm chews on his lip for a second, looking awkwardly at Henry, before sighing heavily and stepping closer, lowering his voice. “Do you know who keeps taking the photos of Simon and I?” He whispers, Henry leans in, eyes widening as he listens to the tea.

 

“No. Why? Do you know? Is it someone we know well? Is it Alex? He doesn’t shut up about you two being suspicious,” Henry blurts out quickly, eyes comedically wide.

 

“What? No? I mean, I don’t think so. No, we don’t know either,” Wilhelm shakes his head. Well, Alex just went up his list. “But we’re trying to plan to figure it out tonight. Do you … Do you want to help?” Wilhelm asks.

 

Henry pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Do you guys have a plan?”

 

“Uhh - no,” Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat.

 

Henry stares at him. “Look, man, if you need help, Walter and I are up to it. We don’t agree with how you guys are being outed - “

 

“We aren’t together.”

 

“How you guys are being framed then. So we’ll help if you want us to, but if you don’t have a plan - and no pre-party shots, pfft,” Henry snorts, shaking his head. “Good luck on that one my friend.” Henry pats his shoulders and turns to go back to his room.

 

Wilhelm sighs, retreating into his bedroom, where Madi is sitting on the floor with Sunny between her legs, petting her gently. Simon is on Wilhelm’s bed with his legs crossed, talking to Felice who is leaning on Wilhelm’s desk.

 

“Alright, guys, we have to plan,” Wilhelm says, clapping his hands together. He reaches down and carefully takes Sunny from Madi. Sunny chirps, falling over in his hands but scrambling upright to chirp again. “Ouch. Okay. Claws. Shhh. Shh… Here. Shhh. Shut up, Sunny. Eat that.” Wilhelm deposited her in the sink, nudging the soggy bread towards her and dusting his hands off. “Planning.”

 

Wilhelm then notices Simon’s furious expression and the fact he’s holding Felice’s phone, scrolling through something. Then Felice’s furrowed brows as she watches Simon. 

 

Madi clears her throat, standing upright slowly and glancing from Felice to Wilhelm. Uh oh.

 

“Don’t tell me you guys are all bailing on me,” Wilhelm says, feeling a sense of hopelessness curl in his chest. 

 

“No, no, of course not,” Felice is quick to reassure, standing straighter as well, like Madi. “It’s just, um, I might’ve figured out who took the photos,” Felice says, itching her neck. Felice looks pretty, wearing a black pencil skirt, a tight, black, long-sleeved shirt with silver lettering on it, a black, fluffy off-the-shoulder coat and black lace-up heels, hair done in half up half down, straightened carefully.

 

Wilhelm’s brain takes a moment to process what she’s said, freezing, the blood he didn’t realise was rushing freezes in his ears and everything is just a bit too quiet.

 

“I’m going to actually murder him,” Simon laughs, sounding a bit hysterical as he hands Felice her phone. He looks up at Wilhelm. “You’re fucking cousin,” he seethes.

 

Notes:

SIMONS POV IN LIKE A CHAPTER AND A HALF TIME WHOOOOOO(fear)OOOOOO

Watch out August, we're in your ceilings, walls, and under the floorboards <33

Ooo la la Felice is foreshadowing back there god damn - and not where you think ;)

The word gonorrhoea is stuck in my head for literally no reason. Don't ask.

Where I am we call those kinds of markets flea markets, I don't know if that's universal, but those are the only kind of markets I've been to, and they normally aren't nearly this big, they're like car park size (It's a big car park though)

By the way, my sister thinks is fucking hilarious how jealous y'all are that she knows the plot of the fic, she said she feels like a celebrity lmao, so keep it up 👏👏

The amount of times I go to write lol or lmao after a line in the fic is so stupid. I swear you'll catch me forgetting someday lmao

Are there any 1D/Larry fans here?? Bc the references I'm making - I pray aren't going over all of your heads

Chapter 12: King Fuck Nugget If Alone

Summary:

By saying that I'm drunk, I really shouldn't have called
I'm a little bit plastered, you call me a liar
Now I'm fallin' in faster
This could be a disaster
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) disaster
- Disaster, Conan Gray

TW for physical fighting and vomiting and getting cut (No SH) xoxo
Link to playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Notes:

Sorry had to attend another funeral, I'll try update a bit more consistently

Chapter Text

"What?" Is all Wilhelm can muster up, because, well ... What? Wasn't Wilhelm and August just starting to get along? Less bullying, no snide comments about Simon, and half as much arguing? It might not seem like the kind of upgrade to warrant the cold feeling of betrayal, but it's been Wilhelm's entire life. His earliest memory of August is him pushing Wilhelm into the fountain while he was feeding the fish at August's house at August's fifth birthday party, in front of all August's friends and their relatives. He doesn't remember anything else from that day, apart from being uncomfortable in August's too-big clothes and embarrassed.

 

"I'll explain," Felice walks over to Wilhelm with her phone, a cautious look on her face. Wilhelm's eyes jump to Simon, trying to gauge how he feels. Simon glares at him. He's looking at Wilhelm like Wilhelm knew who took the photos and kept the knowledge from him on purpose like Wilhelm is the bad guy - He's angry. He always reacts very strongly, Wilhelm reminds himself firmly, as Felice situates herself at his side. Wilhelm tries to force himself to calm down, the anger leeching off Simon like a virus.

 

"So, when we went to dinner just before, Stazia was excited to show me a photo on August's Instagram from him during the market. She claimed August was "the most sexy thing" she'd ever seen. She zoomed in on his abs before I kindly reminded her I could give less fucks about August's abs, and she lost interest," Felice bats away the memory, which, fair, Wilhelm would hate for someone to say that about August to him, he'd rather swallowing lit firewood. "But the part she zoomed in on had a few little red dots and it got me thinking about what Maddi said with watermarks from damaged phones."

 

Wilhelm chews on his lip as Felice pulls up August's Instagram. She clicks on the post Stazia must've been talking about, zooming into the bottom corner, a few millimetres under August's stomach. She writes, that there are a couple of red, discoloured pixels on the photos. Without a word, Felice changes to a Google page, where she's searched "Wilhelm and Simon photos". The photo under inspection is them at during the Sunny Rescue Mission. Felice zooms into the same spot and - yup. Wilhelm lets out a shaky breath.

 

"But that's just one, one day - " He's cut off by Felice scrolling to the next picture; Simon and Wilhelm outside the classroom window, zoomed in and slightly blurred. The same pixels, in the same corner, of the same colour. "Ah, fuck." Wilhelm sighs heavily, rubbing his face.

 

"Yeah, your fucking cousin has issues, Wille. He needs to be put in his place big time. What a prick!" Simon shouts, smacking Wilhelm's desk.

 

"Whao," Maddi jumps back a step, surprised, and Sunny falls silent.

 

"Okay, relax, abusing my desk won't get us anywhere, Simon," Wilhelm says, gently pushing Felice's phone away, and taking a deep breath. Felice watches his face closely, clearly gauging his reaction, ready to give him support. "We - we need a plan, still - "

 

"Why, though? This proves exactly what I'm sure we were all thinking!" Simon yells. Wilhelm doesn't miss him subtly running his thumb over the palm he hit on the desk. "We need to just deck him, make sure he knows he knows it's him so he stops because this isn't fair!" 

 

"Chill out, Simon!" Wilhelm yells back. "Jesus Christ - "

 

"No, shut the fuck up! You're so fucking scared of him you don't even want to confront him! I guess you must not care if he keeps ruining our schooling, since you hate me anyway," Simon gives Wilhelm a fierce look, words shooting out his mouth and stabbing into Wilhelm like machine gun fire.

 

"Simon..." Wilhelm frowns. "I didn't say that. You know that's not how I feel so why are you getting mad at me right now? We're on the same side with this - "

 

"Are we?" Simon takes a step towards him and Wilhelm's brows rise in surprise, the bullets tearing into his heart. Of course! Wilhelm wants to scream, he wants to shake some sense into the guy. "You guys looked real cosy today; taking pictures with the photographer and strolling around together."

 

"I was assigned to work with him, I didn't get a choice!" Wilhelm defends desperately. Calm. I need to calm down. Mediate this situation. "You know that I don't like him, Simon. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have chosen to work with him. Please think for a moment instead of getting angry," Wilhelm puts a hand on Simon's arm hesitantly, his skin cold to the touch. He watches Simon's jaw tick, eyes fiery. Simon is clearly hurt and reacting strongly, as he always does. 

 

Wilhelm lets out a breath. Simon didn't snap back. They're good, Wilhelm kept them calm. He feels a little bubble of pride in his chest. He did that, he calmed Simon down and made him see reason through his anger. Simon always explodes outwards instead of looking inwards at the situation and realizing Wilhelm isn't the person to be mad at right now.

 

"So, what should we do now?" Maddi asks hesitantly. Wilhelm squeezes Simon's arm gently and lets go. Simon mumbles something and walks over to Sunny, petting her gently.

 

"Tell someone," Felice suggests. "Make sure an adult knows and can take action."

 

Wilhelm itches the back of his neck, finding comfort in watching Simon gently pet Sunny's head, not calling her a fleabag or Chaymedia petri dish.

 

"Can we double-check it's August?" Wilhelm's voice comes out a croak, making everyone look over at him with confusion. He clears his throat. "I just want to be triple sure." Wilhelm braces for impact, for Simon to whirl around and yell in his face, but all he gets is silence from Simon

 

Everyone turns out to be painfully understanding. They create a quick and simple plan and clamber out Wilhelm's window. Felice and Maddi see Fredrika and Stella walking into the woods, so they jog to catch up, leaving Wilhelm and Simon to walk together several meters behind in silence.

 

After a few minutes of silence, Simon speaks up, swinging his hands as he walks. "I'm sorry for going off at you. It's just, I'm so tired of people fucking with us. I'd rather they just left us alone but if anything, they should be congratulating us. We're two famous people who are being true to ourselves. We aren't pretending we're straight to avoid the hate, and this kind of attention - We're literally just existing, but people have problems with that." He throws his hands up with an air of helplessness.

 

"Amen to that," Wilhelm mumbles, but Simon barrels on like he never spoke.

 

"I'm just so mad at August because honestly, what did we ever do to him?" Simon glances at Wilhelm as if he has answers. He has a few ideas... "From day one he's been trying to get a fucking rise out of me and I could see that you'd given up sticking up for yourself around him, which pissed me off even more because I've seen things online about you never being afraid to speak your mind for our community. But with August it's different. I knew it wasn't my place but I just - I wanted to protect you from him, but you held me back. Just before, in your room, it felt like you were trying to make excuses for him when this is just blatant homophobia. So I went off at you. But it wasn't fair, because I see you weren't trying to protect him, but your relationship with him. He's your family, and you don't want to have to admit they're hurting you..." There's a pause in which Simon takes a shaky breath. Wilhelm reaches across the darkness with a quivering heart, finding his shaking hand and squeezing. He doesn't have to say it, Wilhelm's mind is doing that for him, very helpfully resurfacing images of the bruising on his back.

 

"Thanks, Simon, you're well forgiven. And I was never trying to protect him," Wilhelm says to the ground, stepping over a fallen log with his hand still around Simon's, his grip matching tightness. He pauses briefly for Simon to step over after him, swallowing. "I suppose I was trying to protect you from him because I know how he can be. He's bullied me for as long as I can remember. I knew he was, like you said, trying to get a rise out of you, and I knew it wouldn't end well. I knew you must've known what he was trying to do, with getting you to fight him, but I never understood why you kept fighting. I guess I started to believe you wanted to argue with him just for the sake of a fight."

 

He can hear the music now, feel it every time his feet make contact with the ground and it reverberates up his legs, making his insides pulse, and stomach hot and messy. 

 

Simon doesn't speak, but it's not as scary as Wilhelm imagined, because Simon is still holding his hand, so things must be okay. Wilhelm knows if Simon were mad, uncomfortable, or wanting to convey a message to Wilhelm he'd drop his hand and walk away. Wilhelm knows because he's learning about Simon now, he doesn't always like learning, but it's different with Simon.

 

"Just tell me one thing," Wilhelm asks gently, knowing they're nearly at the Palace, where they can't trade quiet secrets and gentle hand-holding. "Did you want to get expelled because I was there?" 

 

"No," Simon quickly replies, but he doesn't meet Wilhelm's eye as he says it. 

 

"You don't need to lie to me," Wilhelm mumbles, untangling his fingers from Simon's gentle grip. He can feel the nervousness as Simon is quick to let go, but his hand hovers in the same spot as Wilhelm's tucks into his pocket, hesitant to drop until it does. "You wanted to leave because you missed your friends and hated me. It's fair. Makes sense. Only hurts a little bit that you won't tell me the real reason."

 

"I told you I got bullied at Marieberg, yeah?" Simon blurts.

 

Wilhelm nods. He remembers Simon casually dropping that bomb on him a couple of weeks ago.

 

"That isn't the only reason I changed to Hillerska. They accused me of arson when the gym caught fire from 2 year-fours smoking, but because of my history of being caught smoking, getting into fights, and my Papa, they assumed it was me. Because obviously, blame the queer, Venezuelan kid who was late after changing from PE and not the two kids who were seen close to where it started - " Wilhelm blinks and stops walking, grabbing Simon's arm to stop him as well. It causes Simon to stop his ramble and gather his thoughts for a few moments. Simon did just say he's been caught smoking, and got into fights. Plural.

 

"The only reason I wasn't straight-up expelled is because Marcus saw the kids smoking - or at least he says he did- and he told the Principal. Plus, having Sara Eriksson's brother finish school at the same school she graduated from is good for their attendance, and reputation. It's a miracle for anything good to come out of kids living in Bjastard. The kids got suspensions and I got a warning, which sounded more like "don't fuck up your sister's reputation" than "we did it because we know you aren't a pyromaniac.". Mama decided to transfer me to Hillerska for the new school year without telling me because she knew I'd fight her on it, which I did, I was so mad when I found out I wasn't going to finish high school at the same school as my two best friends. So, obviously, I was determined to get expelled from Hillerska so Mama would have to put me back at Marie Berg since there aren't any other options." Simon runs a hand over his hair. "I mean, that's assuming she won't just let me be a dropout, which I wouldn't mind either. Sorry, I shouldn't be dumping this all on you I just - I wanted you to know that you aren't the reason I wanted to get out of here."

 

"Not the only reason," Wilhelm supplies.

 

Simon doesn't meet his eyes as he nods. "You ... Were mean. From all I'd heard about you, I figured there was no way you had accidentally spilt your coffee on me. You seem so well put together in the papers, so it must've been a personal attack, I thought."

 

Good to know all that hard-earned PR was only for it to backfire on me. Where does Marcus come into this, Wilhelm wonders. They say they got together a few months before school started this year in August, so it's likely they were together right at the end of school, in the last few months or weeks and - Why am I directing their relationship? Simon smears leaves through the dirt on the floor. He probably thinks Wilhelm is mad at him. 

 

"I didn't know that your Mum pulled you out," Wilhelm admits with a shrug. "Rumour was you set your school gym on fire and that's why you got expelled. I should've known better than to listen to rumours. Probably didn't help you spread the rumours," Wilhelm nudges Simon's shoulder gently, rocking him on his feet slightly. Simon looks up at him. "Just so you know, spilling that coffee on you has been the worst part of my whole entire fucking year." He feels his cheeks heat all over just thinking of stumbling on his bag and falling onto Simon, the dead silence and Simon's burning reaction.

 

"Whao, did you just swear because of me?" Simon says, slight amusement in his voice. Wilhelm rolls his eyes.

 

"I do swear, y'know? Mostly internally," Wilhelm shrugs, smirking back at Simon.

 

"Internally?" Simon repeats, his own smirk growing.


Wilhelm pulls Simon into his chest and grumbles "Shut up, Simon. It's not a good look for a Prince to be swearing, especially not at you, because of our situationship. My family is Christian, we don't swear."

 

"Oh, but you just did. Naughty, naughty, Wille," Simon laughs, wrapping his arms around Wilhelm's waist and rocking them as he laughs.

 

"Thanks for sharing," he slings his arms around Simon's neck. "Anything else you want to share while I can still hear my own thoughts? Oh, wait, I got a few things. I like the orange Sour Patch Kids, a crime I know." Simon giggles, pressing his cheek against Wilhelm's shoulder. "I hate anything watermelon flavoured, it's like drinking straight sweetener. The texture of velvet makes me want to chew on glass."

 

Simon lets out another laugh. "If that's all your sins, I think you'll be all good, babe."

 

Wilhelm feels butterflies explode inside of him like a bunch of fireworks, on crack. Wilhelm hums, unable to do anything else, hugging Simon against him.

 

"I don't have the fact you spilt coffee all over me," Simon admits suddenly. 

 

Wilhelm blinks, not expecting the sudden admission. "Uh - why?"

 

"Because if you hadn't been being this anxious bean and tripped over my bag, we would never be here, and ... " Simon gulps. "My life would be significantly more shitty." Situationship. Babe. 

 

"That... " Wilhelm thinks for a moment, staring back into Simon's eyes, completely hypnotised by the brown cased in golden eye shadow, sparkling and glittering in the darkness like flecks of gold themselves. "Is very true. I guess that makes me glad as well."


"Even after all the shit?" Simon questions quietly, eyes shining. Wilhelm can hear the insecurity in his voice.

 

He finds himself smiling. "Yup. Even after all the shit."

 

Simon's grin lights up the moonless night.

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

The party is effectively in full swing. Effectively, as if Wilhelm had some part in making it. In August's dreams. Wilhelm hovers in the corner with his unopened beer from Nils, and judges everything that moves, including that pink streamer that's stuck in Simon's hair which no one, including Simon, has noticed or bothered to remove. There's music pounding, people dancing, drinks flowing and a thin haze of smoke at the top of the room, swirling in an almost hypnotizing way with the flashing lights.  

 

Simon dances in the middle of it like he was born there, moving his body like a professional. Wilhelm watches quietly for long enough to learn Simon is content dancing alone, he loses himself in the music, closes his eyes and doesn't look at anyone else. If someone moves over to him, he won't stay to dance with them. Maybe he's too sober right now, or maybe he won't at all and Wilhelm is horrible for thinking like that. He can see how Simon got so rumpled before, people do touch him, grab his hands, shoulders, waist, and hips. Boys, girls, thems, some people Wilhelm knows and some that don't. The way people act in school becomes irrelevant the second they land on the dancefloor. Apparently, no one talks about it either, since this can't be the first time it's happened and there's been no word of how gay Vincent is acting right now.

 

He definitely isn't sober, though. They've been here just less than an hour, and Simon's already gone through a beer, and two vodka cruisers and is holding a bottle of Champagne all to himself. He's visibly sweating as he moves in the crowd, in and out of Wilhelm's line of vision. 

 

Wilhelm glances at his own beer, unopened and sweating in his grasp. He picks at the cap. It's going to go warm if he keeps holding it so tight. The last time he drank wasn't at a party, it was at the football field, which was more public than this, and debatably more stupid than drinking at a party. Screw it, I don't think I can talk to August sober right now. He tells himself, before reaching to the table next to him for a bottle opener, struggling for a few seconds, and then cracking open the beer.

 

The cap hisses and then falls to the floor, the sound absorbed by the pounding base. Wilhelm brings it to his lips and takes a sip, barely managing to contain a physical wince at the taste. Sour, and bitter, and how he images feet would taste. Immediately no. He takes another sip.

 

"No, gross, no," Wilhelm hides a reaction behind his hand, sticking his tongue out and wrinkling his nose. It makes his insides warm, but not in the way drinking a hot beverage does, more like there's acid in his stomach, bubbling and strange. 

 

He looks up, hoping no one saw his pathetic reaction - he's 16, for God's sake! - But no one's paying him any mind. Simon talks to Nils on the dancefloor. He finds Felice at the drinks table, mixing something orange together with Maddi, giggling and falling over each other. Walter and Henry passionately making out against a wall - Ayyyeee, good for them! Wilhelm mentally cheers' them, raising his beer slightly and taking another sip - still crap. He looks back for Simon, and can't find him. August is on a couch, talking animatedly with Vincent while a couple makes out next to them on the couch, all handsy and erhk, get a room. Vincent looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, continuously glancing over a corner of the room. Wilhelm follows his line of vision - Simon.

 

Wilhelm recognizes him, hunching over a table with a rolled paper against his nostril. Wilhelm bites the inside of his cheek as Simon stand straight and grins at Nils, who goes down to sniff a line after him. People fade in and out of Wilhelm's vision, blocking and unblocking the two as they stand together, snorting, laughing, talking, and repeat. It's uncomfortable to watch. Wilhelm wants to swoop over and snatch Simon away. They ... They have a plan to finish! Unfortunately, Wilhelm thinks Simon is completing his part of the plan by doing drugs with Nils.

 

Simon agreed to figure out what class August has last period on Friday, because if the room is the same block as theirs... Well, it isn't confirming anything they don't already know, but Simon is right, Wilhelm doesn't want to have to accept that August is still out to get him, because it hurts. He wants to get August in trouble so badly, but at the same time wants to sweep all the drama under the rug so Wilhelm can focus on school and be out of here ASAP.

 

Wilhelm takes a few more sips of his beer, waiting for Vincent to leave August to continue his part of their plan: take a selfie with August, and get him to send it to Wilhelm. It's simple, easy to say and understand, but ultimately rather nerve-wracking. Deli by Ice Spice starts playing and every cheers loudly, jumping to the beat and belting the lyrics. Wilhelm purses his lips in silent judgment. 

 

"I think you're just bitter." Wilhelm turns to find Simon wobbling over to him. On instinct he grabs Simon's arm to steady him, helping hold him upright. 

 

Wilhelm's brain catches up to the conversation and he frowns. "What?" He yells over the music, not sure if he heard Simon right. Biter of who, of what? He's just standing here drinking his beer, waiting for his moment to get August to incriminate himself.

 

"I think you're bitter," Simon repeats, words slurred. A bit of white powder glows on the tip of his nose in the flashing lights as he stares up at Wilhelm with massively blown pupils, eyes equally wide and glossy, lips chapped and parted.

 

Again, Wilhelm just frowns. "Here - " He brings up his arm, pulling a bit of his sleeve over his thumb to wipe the drugs off Simon's nose gently, Simon jerks back slightly, before realizing what Wilhelm is doing and relaxing again. Wilhelm hoped Simon didn't think he was about to hurt him. He carefully wipes it and lowers his arm. "What do you mean I'm bitter? I'm just standing."

 

"Bitter of everyone having fun," Simon says after a long moment of just staring up at Wilhelm with wide, shining eyes. "You don't have fun at parties anymore, but I think you can. Not all parties are bad because one went wrong. You - you don't have to drink to get drunk," Simon slurs, looking at the half-drunk beer in Wilhelm's grasp. "You can drink for funzies."

 

Wilhelm blinks back at him. He hates when Simon blurts random wise words like this, like, where the hell did that come from? "I know you don't have to drink just to get drunk," Wilhelm mumbles.

 

"What about being bitter? Was that smart, what I said?" Simon sways on the spot, then leans forward until his forehead lands on Wilhelm's shoulder, his arms hanging limp from his body as he leans against Wilhelm. His body radiates heat as it presses into Wilhelm's, contrasting the cold wall against his back. He puts his hands on Simon's waist softly, just because he can. His breathing has turned very light and short, afraid of dislodging Simon, his heart speeding up.

 

"I ... " Simon sighs a happy sound. "I think you might be right. I never thought about it like that. I don't like parties because of what happened, yes, but I don't want people to not have fun at them."

 

"I know that. You sacrifice your own happiness for every else's," Simon says quietly as Ice Spice goes on about panties in the background. Wilhelm almost can't believe this guy leaning on him right now. He's wasted out of his mind, pupils challenging the size of the bloody moon, but is calling Wilhelm out on things he doesn't dare to consider thinking.

 

"Of course, I'm a Prince, the country comes first."

 

"You should come first. Not in a weird way, in a mental health priority way," Simon mumbles to the floor. 

 

Wilhelm snorts and seems to wake Simon from some half-sleep. He stands upright, inhaling and blinking like a confused toddler. "Sorry," Wilhelm says, and then sighs. "Let's not talk about this, did you get August's class?"

 

Simon blinks up at him slowly, cheekbones more pronounced in the changing lights. "We shall talk about it, Wille. Why don't you let yourself enjoy parties?" 

 

Wilhelm groans and rubs his face with his spare hand. "I don't know, and can we not? You're not even sober, you won't remember any of this."

 

Simon shrugs. "Maybe, but we can still talk. Ayub tells me I get wise when I get wasted, which is a synonym."

 

Wilhelm smiles, amused. "No, that's alliteration."

 

"No, no," Simon shakes his head, squinting as he tries to think. He squints so much his eyes are closed. He snaps his fingers as his eyes flare open, "it's a hyperbole."

 

"No, it's still alliteration, the three W sounds. Wise, when, wasted. A hyperbole is an exaggeration, like we have tons of homework we should be doing."

 

"Like you are very pretty?" Simon blinks innocently as Wilhelm's stomach spontaneously learns acrobatics. 

 

He swallows and finds his mouth is suddenly rather dry. "Uh - Er, uh, yeah, yes. You are too. Very pretty."

 

Simon beams as if Wilhelm has given him the best news imaginable, like all homework is cancelled. This causes more internal feelings Wilhelm thought had died. 

 

"Thank you!" Simon says. He sighs and then slides down the wall Wilhelm is leaning on until he reaches the floor, tilting until his head rests on Wilhelm's thigh softly. Wilhelm looks down at his curly head, wide eyes blinking around the party peacefully.

 

He thinks back to Simon's questions as he puts his hand on Simon's head with a light touch, feeling the soft, silky strands under his palm, watching Simo's eyelashes flutter to close his eyes softly. Why do I hate going to parties now? He wonders as he looks up, softly curling his fingers to stroke Simon's head. Well, there's the obvious answer: his best friend died at his 13 birthday party, right in front of him, so there are definitely some bad memories attached to the concept of birthday parties, or welcome parties, or welcome back parties.

 

It ... It feels like he's betraying Felix to attend a party. It felt like everyone was leaving Felix behind them when they stopped talking about him every time they saw Wilhelm. It feels like he's been forgotten by everyone except for Wilhelm, and it feels like a personal attack on Felix. If he goes to a party, he's betraying Felix. He swore over and over and over and over that he'd never attend another party, or drink, ever again. 

 

"I have my answer if you want to hear," he tells Simon, looking back down at him. 

 

Simon opens his eyes and looks up at him. Wilhelm detangles his fingers so he can slide down the wall to sit next to Simon, their shoulders pressing firmly together. "I want to hear," Simon whispers, pupils slightly smaller than before.

 

Wilhelm puts his beer aside with a sigh, leaning his head back and watching the party as he speaks. "At my thirteenth birthday, one of my friends offered to bring in some alcohol for us to drink. We thought it was an amazing idea, so we encouraged him. He smuggled in a single bottle of Vodka, but only Felix and I ended up drinking any. Or, rather, I stole it from them and told Felix they said we two could have it all. We got drunk in the palace garden around the time my party was meant to end, and because Felix wasn't with his parents they started looking for him, and then they realized I was missing they knew we must've been together. We were inseparable, best friends until we died." Wilhelm snorts miserably, half expecting Simon to make a joke, but he's quiet, staring patiently at Wilhelm. 

 

He clears his throat of the thick feeling and continues. "I knew this secret escape at the back of the hedge maze that Erik showed me a couple of years earlier that leads into an empty side road, and we thought it would be funny to escape our parents for a bit longer. I lead the way, we got a little lost in the maze, it was pretty dark and we'd never been drunk before." Wilhelm feels his heart beating faster as he talks, every word increasing the tempo, like suspenseful music.

 

Simon seems to somehow know the panic ensuing, reaching around to put his arm around Wilhelm's neck, pulling him down gently so his head lands on Simon's shoulder with a soft thud. He smells of sweat and oranges, and it's strangely appealing. Wilhelm leans into him slowly, relaxing his torso to lean more, finding a strange amount of warmth and comfort from the simple gesture of leaning on Simon. No wonder Simon does this all the time, he feels safe with his head on Simon's shoulder.

 

"We were talking about things we think we can still do while drunk when we got out of the garden. Malin had been following us in the maze, my security gua - "

 

"I know who Malin is," Simon mumbles, voice the same quiet as Wilhelm's.

 

"... How?"

 

"Uhh," Simon's throat vibrates as he hums. "Everyone knows that. Continue."

 

Wilhelm blinks at the sideways party for a moment. Sure, he decides. Maybe. She's pretty cool. She deserves a Wikipedia page. "Yes, so Malin was following us but had stopped calling out ages ago. I guess she figured since we weren't replying there was no point, and looking back, we probably made enough noise that she could follow us anyway."

 

Simon snorts quietly.

 

"We got out, and Felix started going on about showing me something. I just thought he looked soft and he tried to do a cartwheel." Wilhelm breathes in sharply. "This - this car came fucking speeding around the corner faster than either of us could react and - and then Malin jumped out behind us, and I was confused, and scared, and then ... " Wilhelm trails off. The party lights flash red, like the ambulances. Blue like the police cars. Red, blue, red, blue. The driver floors the brakes in Wilhelm's brain, metal screeching as Felix shrieks in panic and then pain -

Simon squeezes him around the shoulder, breaking Wilhelm from his daze. "I know the rest."

 

Wilhelm clears his throat, nodding. "Yeah, yeah, right. Ahem. From the moment I realized he was hurt, I knew I would never drink again, or go to a party." Wilhelm blinks and a tear drops from his eye, sliding over the bridge of his nose. "Because I feel like I'm betraying my best friend if I do." Another tear.

 

Simon wraps both arms around Wilhelm, leaning his head against Wilhelm's, fully enveloping him. "Oh," Simon simply says, holding Wilhelm as he breathes shakily. "I take back what I said awhile ago, about this being a soft spot. I wouldn't expect anything else and yeah, you should probably talk to someone 'bout it, but I ... Fuck, I'm too high for this. I don't want to call it a soft spot, 'cause I know if someone referred to my trauma as my soft spot I'd feel weak and belittled, but that's what it is. Like, if you punch me there I'm going to crumble. It isn't our fault, but it's there."

 

"I get what you mean."

 

" 'Course." There's a brief pause in which Wilhelm blinks his eyes clear and sighs again, inhaling the smell of oranges and cigarettes. "So, going to parties feels like betraying Felix, but how? His death wasn't your fault."

 

Wilhelm sits up, Simon letting him go so he can do so. He notes that Simon's pupils have decreased in size again. "Yes, it is."

 

"Were you driving that car?" Simon raises his eyebrows higher than Wilhelm knew he could.

 

"No, obviously, but I stole the alcohol for us and snuck us out and let him walk on the road - " Wilhelm feels himself beginning to hyperventilate again. 

 

Simon shakes his head. "Yeah, you did do that, but you didn't offer to bring the alcohol, you didn't bring it to your friend's thirteenth party, you didn't find that escape on your own, Erik showed you, and you don't control what Felix does, where he walks, what ... gymnastics he shows you. How were you to know that car was going to be speeding? You were just kids, drunk off Vodka and adrenaline. It wasn't your fault."

 

Wilhelm feels his bottom lip quivering, like a child. It takes him back to the Church at the funeral, refusing to let the tears fall, even as they boil so high they blur his entire vision. 

 

Simon's face cracks, smiling sadly as his head cocks to the side. "Wille ... You know it's not your fault, right? You didn't kill him."

 

"I blame myself because I don't want to blame others. I don't like being angry at people."

 

"Not allowing yourself to be angry leaves no room for boundaries and self-respect, babes," Simon points out. 

 

"What's going on down here?" They both look up to find Felice standing above them, eyes wide with her hands on her hips. "Sorry, am I interrupting some ... therapy? Are you bullying each other or bonding, what is going on right now? Oh my God, did I interrupt you're bonding?! I'm so sorry, I'll just slip off, please, continue, the plan can wait, my sweet darling gays - "

 

"Felice," Wilhelm laughs, shaking his head. He wipes his eyes as Simon questions, "Sweet darling?" 

 

"She used to call me Flower in intermediate," Wilhelm tells Simon and he blinks back in surprise.

 

"Hey, I don't judge pet names, my intermediate boyfriend called me Dolly. Not doll, I could live with doll, it's kind of cute, I could vibe - but Dolly."

 

Wilhelm grins his face tight from tears. "I too don't judge. Is this Marcus or...?"

 

"No, no. This was a ... a one-week relationship. One of those, y'know?"

 

Felice nods solemnly.

 

"I've never dated," Wilhelm admits.

 

Simon nods. "I know that, but Felice seems to make up for it."

 

"Right, Felice," Wilhelm looks back up at his friend, who smiles back at him with a cheeky glimmer in her eye. "What's happening?"

 

"I was coming to check up on the progress of our plan, but you're crying on the floor in the corner of the party to the backing track of Drake and his gigantic shlong," Felice says casually, and then looks from Simon to Wilhelm, and back.

 

"Oh, right," Simon sighs, slapping his mouth a few times and swallowing thickly. "Anyone got any water? I'm parched. Also, yeah, progress. August was in G1 last period on a Friday. Fucking bingo."

 

Wilhelm feels something inside him crack even more at the larger confirmation. They were in G10, opposite ends of the corridor. August must've gone out the other end to Wilhelm and Simon. 

 

Felice leans over to the closet table, picking up a few bottles to see if they've been opened. "Did you get a photo, Wille?" She asks, handing a sealed bottle to Simon as she crouches in front of him.

 

"Uh, no, Vincent was with him." Wilhelm can't see August from his position on the floor anymore. "Is he alone? I'll do it now to get this nightmare over with, and then we can go home. I'll tell my Mama."

 

Felice stands up with a grunt and glances around for a few seconds. Wilhelm sees the moment her eyes land on August because they narrow and she purses her lips. "Yup, King Fuck Nugget is alone, literally all by himself on a couch - wow, that is sad. I mean, it's sad that you two are crying on the floor but at least you're together, he's just straight up alone - "


"Felice! Felice come dance, it's your song babe!" Stella yells from across the room. "Feliz navidad, la la la, la la - Felice, c'mon!" 

 

Felice flips her off. "You guys good? When you've got the photo come get me and we can go back to school," Felice does a thumbs up with both hands and Wilhelm mimics it, nodding his head.

 

"See you soon, feliz navidad," Wilhelm grins.

 

"Go suck a dick, Wille!" Felice calls over her shoulder as she moves towards the dance floor, Stella, Fredrika and Maddi all cheering for her.

 

"Alright, I'll go now," Wilhelm uses Simon's bent knee to support himself standing. 


"Have fun," Simon snorts, sipping his water and blinking lazily. "I'm gonna sit right here, and maybe take a wee little nap, so don't take too long, I don't want to get roofied."

 

Wilhelm smiles fondly down at Simon, who tilts his head to head to smile back at him. "I'll be right back." Wilhelm doesn't want to walk away, but he forces himself to turn from Simon and find August, sitting on the couch on his phone, a beer tight in his grip. He looks pretty lonely, which he deserves. 

 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his anger, or at least channel it into something more useful than unfilted rage and betrayal. He allows the music to drown out some of these thoughts, releasing his breath and sitting beside August.

 

August looks up, surprised, as Wilhelm shifts his weight on the couch to face August. It's a rickety old thing, and it creaks under his weight as he settles, stiff as a board, next to August. Wilhelm wouldn't be surprised if dust swirled out of the couch. 

 

"Hey," Wilhelm greets, running a hand through his hair and smiling. He wants to throw the fuck up, all over his face. The betrayal runs deeper than any knife could reach, he can't believe his own family, his own blood would do this, and for what? Revenge? It's pathetic. He's pathetic.

 

"Hi," August replies, a smile growing on his face. "What's up? You enjoying the party?"

 

"Oh, yeah," Wilhelm nods a little too enthusiastically and quietly hopes August can sniff out the disgust poorly hidden in his words or is at least questioning the situation. "Had a couple drinks, feeling a bit lightheaded, a little dizzy." He can't entirely remember what it's like to be drunk, but he hopes August gets the message. "But, hey, uh, Mama really liked the photos we took together today - "

 

"Oh, really?" August beams. "I knew she would!"

 

"Ha, yeah," Wilhelm bites his tongue for a second, eye twitching. "Well, she really, really did - it's great for my image, y'know? Makes it seem like despite the drama with silly old Simon, we're still close."

 

"Right," August nods along, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

 

"So, Mama asked if we could take more photos together, to, y'know, feed into the idea that we're best friends," Wilhelm says pointedly. Because we aren't best fucking buds, in fact we're not even close. 

 

August's smile only grows. "Oh yeah, of course! Sure! Yeah! Do you wanna do a selfie thing on your phone - " August gestures around, leaning from side to side and posing. Wilhelm could gag.

 

They didn't talk about this, how is Wilhelm going to get August to take the photo on his own phone?

 

"Um - no, no, we can't do it on my phone," Wilhelm says, shifting his weight on the couch again, shaking his head and avoiding August's eye as his head spins to try and fabricate a lie.

 

"Why?" August frowns, hands lowering to his lap.

 

"Simon - Simon stole it. He ran off with it somewhere - " As if on cue, movement catches in the corner of Wilhelm's eye and he sees Simon at the drinks table, throwing back a red solo cup of something. "Oh, there he is," Wilhelm comments off-handedly. "I don't even know if he still has it, so can we just take it on yours and you can DM it to me? I'll send it on to Minou and all of the palace's PR teams so it can be confirmed before posting it."

 

August grins again, too lost in his own ego to think about logistics, like how Simon would've got his phone, why Wilhelm didn't get it back before finding August, why Wilhelm is asking for a photo at a party, or why his eye keeps twitching.

 

August whips out his phone and opens the camera. He slings an arm around Wilhelm's shoulder to pull them together for a selfie. He smells of alcohol and sweat, his breath gross and hot against Wilhelm's ear as he grins at the camera. Wilhelm forces his own smile, trying to not lean away from August.

 

He presses the photo button a few times before leaning back. Wilhelm jumps up, then smooths out his shirt to try and appear casual. "Alright, I'll go get my phone back now." It sits heavily in his pocket. He turns to the alcohol table, but Simon is gone. "Uh - did you see where Simon went?"

 

"Yeah, he walked down the hallway," August snorts, typing on his phone. "He's such a fag, isn't he? He wants to get in your pants so badly it's embarrassing, always clinging onto you and acting like he needs saving from his boyfriend. I wouldn't be surprised if he sucks dick for cash. I'd be even less surprised if he became a prostitute - "It's like because August thinks they're friends, he's shit-talking people to Wilhelm now.

 

Wilhelm walks away without another word, anger boiling his veins so hot his cheeks feel warm with rage. He doesn't trust his quivering, clenched fists to not land somewhere he doesn't want them as he stalks off towards the hallway, August laughing after him, unphased.

 

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he passes the alcohol table, and he snatches a bottle of something that's mostly empty, taking a careless sip of it as he moves. The nerve August has to say all of that about someone he doesn't even know! Wilhelm hates August, but he'd never trash-talk August as he just did to Simon, right in front of Wilhelm. Is he so stupid that he hasn't noticed their friendship? What an idiot. What a prick. 

 

Cold air slaps him in the face as he crawls out of the Palace, blood boiling and head spinning, his stomach uncomfortably warm from the alcohol, threatening to throw it up. He ignores the feeling and blindly throws back the bottle against his lips, feeling the liquid burn a mark down his oesophagus, curling in his stomach.

 

Wilhelm whips out his phone to see he has three DM's from August. He opens them, clicks on the attachments, and zooms in on the corner with squinted fuzzy eyes. Sure enough, the discoloured pixels rest just above the arm August used to take the photo, staring back at Wilhelm, practically mocking him. 

 

"Wille?" 

 

He looks up and finds Simon standing there with his phone out, the screen lighting up his face. His eyes move to the bottle, to the phone, to Wilhelm's expression. "Hey, what happened?" He steps closer to Wilhelm, eyes continuously jumping to the bottle.

 

Wilhelm sighs, handing him the phone. He puts the bottle down because he knows what is running through Simon's head, turning away from it to run his hands through his hair. "It was him. It was him," Wilhelm chants.

 

He notices two girls standing off to the side, staring at Wilhelm and Simon. 

 

"Yeah, well, we already knew that," Simon shrugs, offering Wilhelm his phone back. 

 

He snatches it, glaring at Simon. "That doesn't make it any easier!"

 

Simon puts his hands up as if under surrender, mumbling an apology under his breath.

 

Wilhelm scoffs, turning away, not in the mood for Simon's bullshit tonight. "I gotta tell my Mum," Wilhelm says to himself, pacing towards the woods, and then back towards the Palace.

 

"Can y'all piss off?" Simon snaps at the girls.

 

"Or what? You don't make the rules here, Simon," one of the girls snaps back.

 

Wilhelm can't be damned for them, he phones his Mother's number and pushes it against his ear. It's only ten, so his parents are still awake, probably ignoring each other and watching TV, but really they're doing separate things on their devices. His Dad is probably playing Candy Crush on his iPad, and Kristina is likely replying to emails on her phone or sleeping in her armchair. 

 

The line picks up after a few rings, and Wilhelm lets out a sigh of relief, his heart beginning to pound.

 

"Hello, darling," she says, sounding slightly distracted.

 

"Hi, Mama, listen, I've got to tell you something - " Wilhelm stumbles over his words, running a hand through his hair and pacing some more. He stops by the bottle, and glances at Simon, who's arguing with the girls (Wilhelm knows he'll win the argument, he always does) Wilhelm takes a few quick drinks and puts it back down, coughing at the burn. "August - "

 

"Aren't you going to ask how I am instead of just complaining some more?" Her tone of voice is sharper than a knife, judgemental and harsh.

 

Wilhelm releases a breath, nodding to himself. "Sorry, sorry, Mama. How are you?"

 

"I'm alright, I was better before you called, though. However, the photos you took today with August were spectacular. PR thinks it's great, I think it's great, your father thinks it's great. We're all very proud, it's the least you could do after trashing your image all term with Simon. Simon isn't good for you or your image, he makes you act out, but August is calm, he's good for your image. We won't have people speculating about you and Simon if you and August are a new, blooming friendship."

 

Wilhelm takes another prolonged sip.

 

"Stop that," Simon hisses at him. "You - it's - you could throw up."

 

Wilhelm mouths sorry, and he means it. He isn't trying to cause Simon more stress, he's just trying to relieve some of his own.

 

"That's great, Mama," he choked out, turning away from Simon as one of the girls asked Simon "What business do you have here? It's not like you two are dating or anything." To which Simon literally laughed out loud, doubling over, much to the girl's disgust.

 

"Yes. I'm thinking we continue to feed into this thing with you and August. We can make it seem like he's guiding you through your first year at Hillerska like you're his little brother. He can be helping you get back on the right track after all the drama with that Simon - "

 

"Mama it was August." He can't take it any longer, he's going to explode if he doesn't tell her right now. Wilhelm's hands shake as he's greeted with a confused silence.

 

"He - He's been taking the photos of Simon and me all term. Felice figured it out because she remembered something my friend Maddi mentioned earlier about watermarks on photos and she recalled one of her other friends, Stazia, showing her this picture of August that had these dead pixels. Felice looked into the photos and found the dead pixels that matched the pixels in the pictures of me and Simon. Now we've figured it out who's been doing it, we should act, we need to do something, we need to expel him - or - or can we arrest him? Is that too extreme? I mean, he's been ruining my Royal image for the whole term..." Wilhelm realizes now his Mother is silent. He swallows thickly, trying to think of something he said wrong, but he spoke too fast, he can't even remember what he last said. "Mama?"

 

"Wilhelm, darling," Kristina starts. "Thank you for figuring it out."

 

"Oh, it wasn't me, it was Felice," Wilhelm throws a thumb over his shoulder, even though she can't see him. Relief and pride surge through him, lightening his stomach. It's off his shoulders now, his Mother will take the actions required to get back at August. August is going to get what he deserves, maybe even worse, because Wilhelm knows his Mother tries to be rational, but things can get intense when it comes back to her children. 

 

"Who else knows, sweetheart?" Kristina asks. Wilhelm hears the sound of her moving in the background of her words.

 

"Uh - Felice, Maddi, and, um - " Wilhelm turns to look over at Simon, who managed to get the girls to go away and is now standing with his arms crossed, hip cocked to a side, watching Wilhelm with a slightly dazed, out of it expression. "That's it." He doesn't want to make his Mother mad while she's proud of him. 

 

"Alright. Can you make sure they don't tell anyone else, please, Wilhelm?" The Queen continues with an even tone of voice as if addressing one of the members of her court.

 

Wilhelm fumbles slightly, a bit confused. "Okay ... Do you want to post an official article, or...?" A bit of dread worms its way into his gut, making it cold. His eyes draw to the bottle, the flavour souring in his mouth when his Mother doesn't speak. "You are going to punish him, right, Mama? Did you - did you already know?"

 

"No, we hadn't figured it out yet. It's hard to track down the original photo when there have been so many reposts, but we narrowed the location of posting to a public library in Bjärstad, off one of their desktops. But so many people use the laptop in a day, however, we had a suspicion it was someone from your school - "

 

"Yeah, no kidding, Mama! Are you going to tell him off?" Wilhelm gets desperate, hands sweating as he bends to grab the bottle and he brings it back to his mouth. Simon frowns from the side, stepping slightly closer. The air is evading Wilhelm's mouth and nose, anything that makes it to his lungs is too thin, making his head feel light. "Mama? He's ruined my life! He - he destroyed the plan for my fake boyfriend, tarnished my reputation and invaded my privacy! Most importantly he betrayed my trust, not that I had much in him in the first place! How are you just going to let him get - "

 

"Do not yell at me, Wilhelm! No, I will not be telling August off publicly. Tomorrow morning I will call him and give him my opinion and orders, but in no way shape or form can the public know what he has done. It will make us look unstable like we don't trust each other. We need to appear like a close-knit family, not like backstabbing, unstable teenagers. All of the drama with that Simon kid has left the faith people put in the monarchy wavering, if they knew what August had done it might just be the last straw for them." 

 

Wilhelm chugs more of the alcohol, stomach twisting and burning, throat on fire. 

 

"Wille," Simon steps forward to lower it from his lips, but Wilhelm turns from him harshly, blocking his grip on the bottle. 

 

"It's not fair, Mama!" Wilhelm yells like a child, head blurring from the alcohol. He stumbles a few steps before catching himself on unsteady feet. He might throw up. "He's the scum of his Earth!"

 

"You should not talk about your family like that!"

 

"He's not my family!" Wilhelm's raised voice cracks from the volume, hand tight around his phone. "He's never treated me like family, so I'm going to treat him the same!" 

 

"Wilhelm, I will take you back from school - "

 

"How will that look for my reputation, though, Mama? Removing me from school because of the drama with Simon? The public might even think something is actually happening between us," Wilhelm taunts, feeling manic and off his rocker, swaying on the spot, his brain a pile of mush in his skull.

 

"You aren't speaking clearly. Stop being rash. Slow down and talk to me like a normal person and not this irrational, emotional wreck - " Wilhelm hangs up and pushes the bottle against his lips.

 

"What did she say? Wille, stop, you will throw up - " Simon snatches the bottle from him. Wilhelm attempts to shove him back but Simon janks it sharply out of his grip. "Stop that." 

 

"She's not going to do anything," Wilhelm tells him miserably, throwing his hands up and down.

 

Simon frowns in confusion. "What? Why?"

 

Wilhelm's phone begins to ring again and he glares down at it, throwing it impulsively fast into the woods. "Fuck her. Fuck you!" He screams at his phone.

 

"Wille, you good, mate?" 

 

His blood turns to lava, vision tinting red, lungs heaving as he turns to August, standing a few meters away.

 

"Nah-ah, piss off, August, this is a bad time," Simon says, stepping in front of Wilhelm. His phone rings in the distance. Wilhelm steps around Simon, feeling both the urge to protect him from August and also beat August to a pulp. He shoves August as hard as he can without warning. August stumbles, caught off guard, falling onto his butt on the muddy ground.

 

It's all a blur to Wilhelm. He's standing, then he's jumping down on August and throwing clenched fists at his face and chest. August yelps out, trying to block Wilhelm with his hands, withering under him as Wilhelm hovers over him.

 

His eyes are blurry, head pounding and useless as he shoves August's hands away from his face and hits him again.

 

Simon yells and grabs his arm, pulling Wilhelm half off August but he shoves Simon away with a pained grunt, but that is enough for August to get his bearings and shove Wilhelm the rest off the way, crawling away.

 

"Wille?! What - ?"

 

"You're a horrible person!" Wilhelm yells, his own voice distant to his ears as anger blinds his senses. His stomach churns threateningly. He can taste the bile sizzling unpleasantly in the back of his throat, but he doesn't stop yelling, standing from the ground shakily. "And you're going to get what you deserve!"

 

"Stop, Jesus fucking Christ!" Simon yells.

 

"Wille!" August cries out as he kicks his leg at Wilhelm, landing a kick to his stomach.

 

Wilhelm stumbles and falls onto his side,  his stomach is retching, he's gagging, and then there's puke splattering on the ground in front of him. He coughs and leans on his side, scrambling up to his knees, cheeks flushing hot as his stomach retches again. He doubles over, coughing and pained.

 

Behind him, Simon stands up shakily, taking deep breaths with his hands over his eyes. August stumbles to his feet. Wilhelm coughs and spits some puke-tasting spit, tears pricking from the vomiting as he looks back at August, panting. His lip is busted, a bruise is forming on his right cheekbone, hair is dishevelled and covered in mud. The bottle Wilhelm had been drinking from lies abandoned to the side, his phone ringing in the distance. 

 

"Fuck you," Wilhelm breathes, his voice a croaky whisper, throat scraped raw and tinged a sour taste.

 

"Fuck off," August stands weakly.

 

"You deserved that," Wilhelm says, standing up slowly.

 

August backs away, wiping the mud off his hands onto his pants, laughing wildly. "You're actually fucking insane, Wille. Did you even want to take a selfie with me?"

 

"Of course not, August! You've bullied me since I could walk, pushing me around every chance you got, you've been taking photos of Simon and me all term," he gestures to Simon behind him. "And - Simon?" Wilhelm does a double take. Simon's walking towards the bushes, taking deep breaths and mumbling something to himself. "Simon, are you okay?"

 

"The fuck? No," Simon grumbles loud enough for Wilhelm to hear.

 

He isn't angry any more, and with the fading adrenaline, he becomes conscious of the burning in his stomach, where August kicked him, and his raw knuckles. His gut fills with dread as he looks back to August, who is stumbling back towards Hillerska.

 

It's a mess, everything is a complete fucking mess.

 

Wilhelm looks to where Simon is bending down in the bush, searching for something. Wilhelm realizes it's his phone and even more guilt and shame guts him. He's such a horrible person, he must look just like Simon's father. What does he do? Does Simon want a hug, an apology, for him to be left alone? Wilhelm watches miserably from where he stands as Simon stands up, holding - holding Wilhelm's phone.

 

Simon walks over slowly, taking deep, measured breaths, tripping on a branch, or tree root, or his own feet every now and then. There's mud smeared along his right hand and arm, as well as his butt and legs, from where Wilhelm pushed him. Wilhelm's entire being is covered in the mud, making him shiver.

 

Simon stops in front of him and offers his phone, his hands shaking. He doesn't look Wilhelm in the eye. Maybe he needs a reminder Wilhelm isn't that monster.

 

"Thanks, Simon," Wilhelm says quietly, gently taking his phone from Simon's grip. "I'm sorry I did all of that, I should've listened to you," he says carefully, watching Simon's chest rise and fall faster and faster as he tries to keep himself together. "I won't do it again." 

 

Is this helping, or is it making it worse? Wilhelm tries to put himself in Simon's shoes, imagining what he's been through, but he still doesn't know what he'd want if someone reminded him of it.

 

"I'm sorry," Wilhelm whispers, pocketing his muddy phone, which has stopped ringing. Simon steps back slowly, and Wilhelm lets him. "Can I help you somehow?"

 

Simon shrugs, nostrils flaring, his eyes darting to the bottle.

 

Wilhelm gets an idea. He walks over to the bottle and picks it up, turning slowly to Simon. "Do you want to smash it?" Wilhelm asks, swallowing the dryness in his throat, nearly gagging again at the gross taste.

 

Simon looks up at him, breathing deeply, before nodding.

 

Wilhelm grins, walking back over to him. "Okay, let's go further into the woods so no one gets hurt." He puts an arm around Simon's waist, but he flinches away, and Wilhelm's heart aches as he lets him go. He isn't even entirely sure what he's been through, but he wishes he could take that pain, those memories, that past away from him. No one deserves that, especially Simon, who can be so silly and fun - and surprisingly wise - when he isn't hiding behind his walls, poking with his verbal swords and spears. 

 

Wilhelm walks them off the path and then lets Simon lead the way, giving him the bottle to hold as well, just for maximum comfort, or trust. He keeps his distance from Simon, trying to give him space. He notices his breathing even out and eventually, he can't even hear it because he's breathing normally, and he stops tripping over things that aren't there, clearly back in his own head.

 

Simon stops in a small clearing, and Wilhelm can hear a car go past a little further away from them. Wilhelm thinks they walked for about ten minutes, in dead silence, Simon trying to fight a storm inside his head and Wilhelm trying to not collapse with dread. His Mum has stopped calling, which isn't a relief at all, if anything it's adding to his worry. It's like the quiet before the storm, and he just can't believe he did that.

 

It felt like hours though, drowning in his thoughts, in his fear, chewing his lip until it bleeds and picking the cuticle on his thumb dry. "This good?" Wilhelm asks.

 

Simon ignores him, shifting his grip on the bottle. "Step back, I don't want to hit you," Simon mumbles without looking at him. He sounds mad. Wilhelm frowns, but steps back anyway, leaning against a tree and relieving his aching stomach slightly. 

 

Simon takes a step back, as if doing shot put, and then steps fords and hurls the bottle at the tree. It shatters again a tree, glass sprinkling the ground and glittering in the dark. Forbidden confetti. Wilhelm feels a few stray pieces hit his shoes and pants, but nothing cuts him.

 

He stays quiet as Simon walks over and picks up a fairly large piece that survives the attack, and hurls it at another tree, and it splinters off into smaller, more delicate, sharper pieces. Like Simon. Every time he breaks he shatters a little bit more, he becomes even more quick-witted and harsh, being pointy so no one can get close again. Wilhelm hopes he'll let him back in. 

 

Wilhelm leans on the tree and watches Simon walk around, throwing any big pieces and stomping all the little ones with his shoe, grunting and yelling incoherently.

 

"Simon - " Wilhelm steps forward to intercept when he sees Simon is going to throw a shard of broken glass at a tree that's only a few feet in front of him, but he's too late.

 

Simon cries out in pain, stumbling back and grabbing his face with quivering hands.

 

"Oh - shit," Wilhelm walks over quickly, moving to stand in front of Simon. Simon's hurt and it was his fault, he suggested this. Wilhelm prays his eyes are okay and pulls his hands from his face carefully. There's a small piece of glass embedded in his cheekbone, still sticking out. It's only a few millimetres thick, but the cut around it is already red and irritated. 

 

"I'm so sorry," Wilhelm whispers, breath ghosting over Simon's face. 

 

Simon blinks up at him, eyes slightly glossy and red. "Why?" He asks simply, voice quiet, eyes shining. 

 

"For everything," Wilhelm admits, taking a step back and running his hand through his hair again, catching on mud and a few leaves, shaking them out. His knuckles sting with every movement he makes. "Reckless drinking, snapping at you, shoving you, suggesting this and getting you hurt - Simon!"

 

Simon plucks the glass from his skin with a wince, examining it before flicking it away. "I am mad at you. You're just as bad as him, getting wasted when you're mad and fighting him. He did this at the beginning of the term, and now you've done it. I'm not impressed, I'll admit, I don't think he deserved that." He's barely spoken for the last ten minutes and now Wilhelm's getting a telling off. He looks away, trying to not get angry again. "But," he pauses, glancing up at Wilhelm. "You didn't deserve that either, and it's been an emotional day, I just wish you would've not ..."

 

"Reacted the way I did? Defending us?" Wilhelm supplies, staring at the cut on his cheek.

 

Simon gives him a look. "Don't do that. Don't." 

 

"Do what?" Wilhelm asks, genuinely confused as they stand together in a small clearing, shattered glass all around them as they argue. 

 

"Defending us," Simon repeats bitterly, something strange in his eyes as he looks away. "You weren't defending shit, you lost your temper, you let him get under your skin, you knew what you were doing when you'd drink when I'd tell you to stop. You knew it'd get you drunk, maybe not that you'd fight August but if - if - if I've - I may not be the smartest person in the world, I know that, but if I know anything it's that drinking and then getting violent won't solve any problems. It just creates more and I know I drink and I'm a fucking hypocrite, but I just - it's - I don't want you to - you mean - I don't - "

 

Wilhelm opens his arms as Simon's breathing speeds up, his hands flailing uselessly, eyes blinking fast. "It's okay. I'm not mad, I get what you mean."

 

Simon collapses forward into his arms, melting against his chest. Wilhelm feels his heart speeding up as he holds him close, arms wrapped around his back securely. "It's okay. Just breathe."

 

"Fucking - You know it's not that easy," Simon chokes into his shoulder, hands clenching in Wilhelm's clothes, shivering in his grasp.

 

Wilhelm snorts out a laugh, nodding. "Sorry, it's just instinct to say. Should I start going on about your heart?"

 

Simon laughs, pressing his face into his shoulder and shaking his head. "Yeah, no, I'm good, that's alright." He sighs, a shiver jolting through him before he relaxes again. "Thank you, for suggesting the bottle thing. It was very therapeutic, actually," Simon admits.

 

"You're welcome," Wilhelm grins, rocking them back and forwards softly. "I'm glad it worked and that cut wasn't for nothing."

 

"It'll heal," Simon says, leaning back and smiling up at Wilhelm. His eyes are still a bit glossy, lips bitten red and cheeks flushed, blood smudged around the cut. "What about your battle wounds?" He picks up Wilhelm's hand and tuts, blowing on his busted knuckles, making Wilhelm jolt in pain. Then he runs his thumb carefully over the wounds, which is a strange, tickling sensation that cools the pain slightly. "I can fix up your hand if you want," Simon offers casually, still holding his hand gently, so carefully between his own.

 

Wilhelm stares at him. "Even after I ... y'know..."

 

Simon shrugs, then nods. "Yeah, you're not him, so, it's fine. I think it must also, like, cement the fact that you're not him in my brain."

 

Wilhelm feels a bubble of pride in his chest and he nods back at him. "Okay, yeah, sure. Let's go."  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13: “I’m realistic?” “Negative!” “Rational.” “Hopeless!”

Summary:

We've still got a sanctum, home
Still a home, still a home
It's not too late to build it back
'Cause a one-in-a-million chance
Is still a chance, still a chance
And I would take those odds
- Train Wreck, James Arthur

Link to playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
I'm not going to add Track Wreck to the playlist, just because it's a bit too sad and I don't need that in my life right now as I'm writing this. I think I tagged crack, so I gotta commit. I also know its an old ass song, but the lyrics came to mind, you'll see, I'll rant in the notes at the end.

It's getting intense

TW for mentions of abuse, Marcus' texts and Simon pays someone else a visit (Manipulation from 2 people), little PTSD

Notes:

I have a surprise a bit into the chapter that I think you're gonna like (No spoilers but it's not what you think, well, maybe, depends if you've been reading the author notes, I teased it a few chapters back. Theeeeeeere you go)

 

Whoever in the comment said to add chilli and cinnamon in my hot chocolate, bless you and your family and your hot chocolates, because it was amazing (Minus the fact I'm lactose intolerant and we had no oat milk so ... yeah, I'll leave that up to your imagination)

Guys. GUYS. Guyyyyysss. I'm talking to this girl. Oh my God, I know! Me, talking to people voluntarily? Crazy. I know her irl she lives in my area but we're only talking online because there's a two-year age gap and my friends are insane and I don't want them fucking this up for me. I'M SINGLE AND SAD, OKAY? LET ME LIVE I DON'T THINK IT'S GOING ANYWHERE ANYWAY BECAUSE I'm demi, and I only develop feelings for someone I know really well (AKA, my friends. Cries) So, yeah. Crying myself to sleep hugging my five-foot teddy bear my Nana got me.

She also likes Young Royals, such a green flag.

Also, you guys are actually so amazing, you are genuinely the best, fucking ever. You are all so, so, so incredibly kind, thank you for everyone's kind wishes for me after the funeral, it is so deeply appreciated <3 You are all so kind, funny, sweet, and patient when I take forever to upload.

I finished editing this chapter the day after I posted the last one, but I didn't want to over-upload and give myself burnout, you need to know that your guy's comment motivated me so much that I edited this chapter, all 12,607 words in a day.

 

Thank you Blakesfish for this amazing digital drawing, you're amazing, thank you so much <3

 

(More fan art at the bottom (I see you Ray). I cry y'all are too amazing!)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

~ Sunday ~

 

When Wilhelm awoke on Sunday morning, everything was quiet. His head aches, his stomach is queasy, his is mouth dry and his tongue is more like sandpaper than a soggy muscle. He blinks a few times, eyes full of crust. Simon's gone, but the window is still open a crack, causing the curtains to blow softly in the breeze. 

 

As the cold wind hits his face, everything rushes back to him, and he flexes his bandage-wrapped hands.

 

They returned to his room last night and Felice had appeared from the bushed behind them looking frazzled and incredibly angry. She'd demanded to know what had happened and then got even angrier. 

 

"You pushed Simon?! He was just trying to help, Wilhelm, for God's sake! Are you mad...? You were drunk?!" 

 

She had stalked off without allowing Wilhelm time to fix anything, apologise, or stick up for himself. He'd climbed into his room with Simon. They'd sat in silence on the spare bed as Simon wrapped his hands. Wilhelm had offered if he wanted to sleep over, but Simon declined and climbed back out the window. 

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily, and pain flares in his abdomen. What a disaster last night was.

 

His next thought is to go find Felice so they can talk about everything that happened last night.

 

I punched August, multiple times, in the face, where people could've seen us fighting. Screw people being able to watch, we were alone apart from Simon, but they'll see the marks on his face!

 

He grabs his face in his hands.  So, so, so screwed. His Mother betrayed him, she's not going to stick up for him. He’s not ready to talk to Felice about what he did yet, and Simon is, well. Well, Wilhelm isn't good at talking about his feelings, and Simon's probably just as hungover as Wilhelm, so he shouldn't bother him.

 

Wilhelm’s next instinct is to call Erik. He grabs his phone and does exactly that. He has to scroll further than normal to find his name in his contacts and ring him when he'd normally be at the top.

 

For a few seconds, there’s nothing but the ringing of the phone, and Wilhelm’s light breathing to be heard. Sunny is awake but quiet in her little nest, watching Wilhelm over the basin edge - 

 

“Good morning, Wille! To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning phone call?”  Erik chirps through the phone brightly, and Wilhelm can hear the happy smile on his face.

 

He can’t smile, though. “It was August, August who had taken all those photos of Simon and me to make it seem like we were dating, nearly getting me taken out of school in the process! I thought August liked me! We weren’t arguing nearly as much as we used to and he was even being a little bit friendly! Turns out, he’s been trying to ruin everything ever since he got back from suspension."

 

"Wait, what? Really? August?"  Erik blurts, confusion lacing his words.

 

Wilhelm nods instinctively. "Yes, it was August, he's been sneaking around trying to - I don't even know, make it look like we're dating because of ... I don't even know why he's done that. But anyway, Mama said she won't punish him because it'll look bad for the throne, like, who cares? This crosses so many lines and the public should know!" Wilhelm's never spoken so recklessly to his brother, he always tries to sound put together - cool, calm and collected. But he's lost it.

 

"Can you believe that?" He continues furiously, sitting up in bed and throwing off the covers, skin burning. "Because it'll worsen my image after the stuff with Simon as if Simon was actively hurting my image." Wilhelm scoffs. "It's like she doesn't see me as her son, but more of a chore she has to keep in line. I don't want to cause problems, and I'm not trying to, it's  August starting drama, but I'm the one who gets yelled at, who has to stay away from Simon? It's not fair, he's my -my friend." 

 

Wilhelm pauses, waiting for Erik to say something, but he's quiet. "Are you still there?"

 

Erik takes a deep breath.  "Wille, I can see what Mama's saying. Put yourself in her shoes - A bunch of the older, more influential people in Sweden turned against the monarchy when you came out."  Wilhelm's stomach drops. What? He didn't know that, he thought most people were happy. " They started saying it's unstable, that Mama's losing her touch as a good ruler, some people are being sexist and saying it's because she's a woman,"  Erik speaks slowly, delicately, trying to get Wilhelm to see the reason without hurting his feelings.

 

Wilhelm stands from his bed, frowning deeply.

 

"That's - that's not my fault - "

 

" I know, Wille. But then this ... drama, this feud, this tension you have with Simon reached the public... Lots of people love it, they're digging into it, rooting for you, but it's not how Mama wants the public to see you. It's why you agreed to do a PR relationship as your first relationship, not because it'd be a homosexual relationship, but because it's your  first  relationship, and Mama doesn't want people tearing apart someone you  actually  love."

 

Wilhelm hangs up on his family for the second time in 24 hours, without even saying goodbye. What is even happening? He needs to get out of this room before he pukes out his stomach and all his other organs.

 

“Sorry, Sunny,” he whispers as he frantically changes into jeans and his Hillerksa hoodie, pulling on his vans and throwing a piece of gum in his mouth, he jumps out the open window. Who does he go to? 

 

Erik tries to call him again, but Wilhelm denies the call. Erik texts him an apology, and Wilhelm leaves him on read, legs carrying him towards the bus stop, where he collapses on the seat and kinda wishes Simon was there, smoking next to him quietly.

 

So, his cousin was taking photos of Wilhelm and the other gay kid at school to try and make them look like they were dating, even after they both explicitly said they do  not  like each other. Then his family won't give August the punishment he deserves for causing the second biggest scandal of Wilhelm's life, even though Wilhelm got beaten into the ground (not literally) for causing the first one. He punches August, and Felice has never seen such aggression from him it actually scares her. Wilhelm reminds Simon of his Dad and nearly gives him a panic attack, tries to get him to vent his feelings only for him to get hurt, but he still offers to help Wilhelm. He doesn't deserve his kind soul. 

 

Who is he meant to get comfort from? Henry? The  fuck? Wilhelm’s coping strategy is normally to cry until he’s numb and then tell himself to suck it up and face the issue.

 

Wilhelm is pulling out his phone to text her that he wants to talk when he hears someone walking on gravel, and he looks up.

 

“Oh. Hi. I was just about to text you,” Wilhelm says, surprised that Felice is currently standing before him, hands tucked in her pockets, looking down at him with a tight expression.

 

“Erik text me,” Felice explains shortly, sighing out condensation. “Told me you rang him raging about August, hung up, and then denied his call and left him on seen. He was worried you were going to do something stupid, like beating up August. His words, not mine.” She deadpans, and then sighs again, shaking her head.  Here we go. “I know what August did was wrong, I’m on your side, remember? What I don’t support is violence, no matter who it is against, fighting doesn’t solve anything, if anything, it makes situations worse. It can escalate them.”

 

Wilhelm hangs his head, guilt burning in the bruise across his gut. “I know. I should've listened to Simon when he told me to stop drinking. I got so wasted because of what my Mum was saying, I wasn't seeing straight, in any sense."

 

Felice nods, sitting down next to him.

 

"You know I would never hit you, right? I'm not normally a violent person," Wilhelm asks, looking over at her.

 

Felice nods, smiling at him. "I know, Wille. You're gentle and soft, but I think that anyone can be violent when provoked or put in a specific situation. Even the softest people, like loving mothers, would tear someone's throat out to protect their families. It doesn't excuse what you did, nothing will, and you're going to have to deal with those consequences face-on, but it explains them."

 

Wilhelm nods back at her. "I'm currently hiding from the consequences of my actions," he admits sadly, fiddling with the bandages around his knuckles.

 

Felice snorts out a laugh, watching his twitching hands. “I told Headmistress Lilja we’re going into town today,” she explains. “So we’re going out for a bit. We can go shopping, or just sit at the park and hide from Hillerska for a few hours. How many weird looks have you got from breakfast?”

 

Wilhelm hesitates. “Not many,” he lies. He didn’t even get breakfast. He still feels a bit queasy from last night. “On that subject, Simon’s birthday is next Friday, and Ayub wants us to help organise a surprise party for him, at his house,” Wilhelm moves on quickly, looking over at Felice.

 

She looks back at him. “Really? So that means we really are friends with him then?” Felice grins fondly, looking out ahead of them, her eyes glimmering with happiness. “That’s good. He needs some friends at Hillerska. Plus, he’s nowhere near as bad as we both thought he would be.”

 

“I don’t think he’s changed, actually, I just think we’re starting to see the real him who lives under the mask he put up at school, and in front of us,” Wilhelm replies. He thinks that that’s true, Simon was protecting himself from school under the layers of mean, snappy comments, for some reason. Why…? Well, Wilhelm is still trying to work that out.

 

A few minutes later the bus pulls up, and they both board it, comfortable in each other's presence once more, gossiping about what they're going to get Simon.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“You know what I just realised,” Wilhelm whispers to Felice as she picks up a scented candle from the shelves of Ikea.

 

“What?” Felice replies in a whisper. “Sniff this one, argh.”

 

Wilhelm sniffs it. It smells like someone set a garbage can on fire using toilet cleaner. “Disgusting. Is that I didn’t ask permission to be out.”

 

“No, I asked Headmistress Lilja for you, I told you that babe," Felice says over her shoulder, opening another candle and sniffing. “Ooo, caramel and smoke swirl is nice.”

 

She offers it to Wilhelm, and he sniffs. “It’s too sweet. No, I mean from Minou and Jan Olaf, my PR team, the palace doesn’t know I’ve left the school borders. What if someone recognizes me and makes a post? They’ll see it! I’m already walking on very thin ice after hanging up on my Mother and Erik, and all the Simon stuff, but honestly, they can go blame August for that and not me,” Wilhelm hisses, just in case the two old ladies with hearing aids are listening to them right now. Those two old ladies should know August is the cause of all this. “They have internet scanning bots that look over the internet for my name to see what the gossip is about me, or what the latest pictures are to try and control my public image - “

 

“I’m sorry, Wille, okay? I was just trying to do something nice for you so we could go out and relax, I didn’t mean to make you so anxious. I’m sorry,” Felice frowns over at him, still holding the caramel candle.

 

“No, no, I wasn’t blaming you,” Wilhelm is quick to say, even more anxious. “I - I was just saying in general. It’s my fault, really, I should have thought about that before agreeing to go out. Let’s just, let’s go back right now, we both have our presents for Simon so it’s fine.” Wilhelm’s bag is heavy with the gift he got him.

 

“I’ll buy him this as well, and then we can go,” Felice sighs and turns towards the counter. “You can go order an Uber or something.”

 

Wilhelm trails behind her instead, head down, trying to look casual and not at all suspicious. How much trouble will he be in for leaving without permission? He could’ve sworn Erik didn’t need to ask permission to leave the school grounds from his PR team.

 

Wilhelm called them an Uber which took them directly to Hillerska, and he made sure to tip nicely, hoping the middle-aged guy who kept asking what they had brought wouldn’t recognize him. 

 

Wilhelm and Felice didn’t talk on the car ride back, the conversations that needed to be had were either confidential or not something they wanted to have in their current, upset-with-each-other mindsets.

 

“Thanks for bringing me out,” Wilhelm tells Felice, remembering now how he hasn’t fed Sunny all day, and it’s currently lunchtime. He’s going to have to go face the other boys now, and their questions, August’s probably nasty side eye, and whatever other bruises he’s sporting. Wilhelm’s knuckles are even more sore today, and he’s sure they’re really swollen. He should ask Simon if he’s meant to change the dressing on them today, or if he leaves it. Wilhelm doesn’t even have his number, he’s got Ayub’s. Surely Ayub would give Wilhelm Simon’s number.

 

“I really appreciate it. I’m sorry about, like, everything I did to upset you,” Wilhelm admits.

 

Felice shrugs. “No one’s perfect. If you need me, get me. I’ll see you later, Wille.” She turns and walks off towards Manor House with her abrupt exit, making it clear she is upset with him but is trying to not show it or take it out on him.

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily, angry at himself for probably worsening his and Felice’s relationship. Did he have to freak out like that in front of her in goddamn Ikea? Couldn’t he have realized before the bus pulled up, or could he have expressed that a little less anxiously? Isn’t Felice normally better at dealing with his anxiety? Maybe he's worn down her patience with him, is he about to lose another friend? The thought of losing Felice makes his chest tight and his eyes burn.

 

He makes his way back to Forest Ridge slowly, walking through the front doors and dodging the eating area, as well as the common room, heading straight for his bedroom and shutting the door behind himself.

 

The bag is heavy, so he’s grateful to drop it on the floor at the foot of his bed and get the piece of bread from last night for Sunny, who’s chirping loudly, has been ever since he opened the door.

 

Honestly, it’s a bit annoying right now, when all he wants is some peace and quiet, and to collapse on his bed and scream… No no, he has homework to do. Feed Sunny, do homework, and by then it’ll probably be dinner, so suffer through that, come back to his room and continue with homework and extra homework until he falls asleep.

 

Wilhelm wets a bit of bread, breaks it off and offers it to Sunny. She leans forward and nips it from his fingers in her delicate beak, big, black eyes blinking up at him as she cranes her neck backwards to swallow.

 

She hasn’t grown all too much, but she’s grown in confidence, going as far as voluntarily snuggling closer to Wilhelm’s hands whenever he picks her up, which he does now, going to sit on the floor leaning against his desk.

 

He places Sunny on his thighs, and she slips into the small dip where his legs press together.

 

Wilhelm smiles softly at her, putting a hand under her side to help her upright. She clambers onto his hand, flapping her little wings a bit to help herself.

 

“Yay, you can use your wings,” Wilhelm coos quietly, petting her head when he brings her closer to his face - Something warm and slimy hits his hands, and then his jeans. The urge to drop Sunny is so strong that he nearly hurls her across the room at record speed. He whimpers. “You just pooed on me.”

 

Sunny chirps.

 

Wilhelm gags and Sunny startles, fluttering to the floor and shooting under his bed as he dry-retches towards the floor, hand dripping with slimy, green, baby bird shit.

 

“Oh my God - “

 

He jumps to his feet, flying to the sink and throwing out the t-shirt to wash his hands - there’s a knock on his door.

 

“Uh - just a minute, please,” Wilhelm croaks, frantically scrubbing his hand with soap, all too aware of how the poo has soaked through his jeans and he can feel it on his leg. It's warm.

 

“It’s the Housefather, Wilhelm,” calls an elderly voice, croaky and wise.

 

Lunch, crap. “Sorry, I was just about to come to lunch. No need to worry about me, I’ll be there soon,” Wilhelm says as he struggles out of his jeans, launching them into the laundry hamper and grabbing a fresh pair from his cupboard. Sunny is still under his bed, now chirping quietly.

 

He zips up the clean jeans, runs a hand through his hair and opens the door. 

 

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, Wilhelm nearly bowling into him about to walk out the door.

 

“Oh?” He composes himself, smiling forcefully at the older man and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Have I done something wrong?”  Again? I swear to God -  

 

“I’m afraid so, Wilhelm. Do not fret, it’s a simple fix. May I come in?” Says Housefather Gordon, bushy eyebrows raised. He’s not asking. Who even says fret anymore? I have to tell Simon he said that.

 

“Yes, of course,” Wilhelm steps back inside his room cautiously, picking up Sunny’s bed/Wilhelm's shirt off the floor and throwing it into the laundry basket while Housefather Gordon is closing his bedroom door.

 

Well damn, what is going on? Is he being expelled? OhmyGodI’mbeingexpelledrightnowaren’tI? His fight with August reached the teachers slower than he thought he would, he was expecting his Mama to pull up herself, throw him over her shoulder and march right back out of the school while Wilhelm prayed to be shot in the head. He'd been imagining all the consequences he's going to receive throughout the day, and how he was going to handle them (His plan is run away and live in New Zealand, no one will find him there)

 

“How was your morning in Bjärstad, Prince Wilhelm?” Housefather Gordon asks, clasping his hands, eyes not so subtly flickering around the room.

 

Wilhelm tries to not frown, or cry, nodding and standing with a straight back. “It was good, thanks. I brought a friend his birthday present - I ate out, actually, which is why I wasn’t too keen on lunch,” he forces a calm, easy-going smile, nodding along to his words.

 

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” the older man smiles, teeth crooked and also forced. “I’m sure you are confused by my arrival.”

 

“Just a little,” Wilhelm chuckles.  Please don’t expel me. I’ll do anything.

 

“It’s just, that I was informed by another student,” Headmaster Gordon says slowly, eyes looking around the room curiously again. Sunny’s gone quiet, scared of the stranger's voice and probably smell as well.  That you punched your cousin August and you’re expelled. We know he beat you up pretty bad and then tried to frame Simon for arson and has been taking photos of the two of you behind your backs for nearly two weeks, but you’re expelled because being gay is wrong.  “That you have a baby bird in your bedroom, that you’ve been looking after for a while, Wilhelm, without permission.”

 

His mouth forms to a silent O, eyes nearly straying to his bed before he stops himself. Sunny is quiet. He’s speechless, and kind of wants to scream in relief. 

 

“Do you?”

 

“Uhhh - Who - who - who told you this?” Wilhelm asks, chuckling to try and hide the anxiety. 

 

“That’s not important - “

 

“Was it August? Because I have  a lot  to say about him - “

 

“Wilhelm, is there a baby bird in here or not?” Headmaster Gordon interrupts, voice stern and strict, eyes pinned to Wilhelm’s.

 

He gulps. “I mean - I - it’s winter, Sir, I couldn’t just let her die in the cold, or get trampled by students - “

 

“I understand, Prince Wilhelm,” he interrupts again. “But the bird needs to be gone by tomorrow evening at the latest. I don’t mind how you deal with it, SPCA, letting it go free, putting it down, as long as tomorrow evening when I come for a check-up, it is gone. Where is it now?”

 

Wilhelm waves a helpless hand at his bed. He has to get rid of Sunny. “She ran under it. She’s a she.” Wilhelm mumbles sadly, which is a bit pathetic, because it’s just a bird, but he’s grown attached to her, strangely enough, and it is strange. Because she’s a bird, and she probably doesn’t care for Wilhelm at all, and if he threw her out the window, she’d probably just hop away and probably ...  die .

 

Housefather Gordon just nods simply, looking a bit uncomfortable telling the Prince to get rid of a bird that he’s not even meant to have. 

 

“August told you, didn’t he? Did he tell you anything else?” Wilhelm asks cautiously, running his hand through his hair casually. 

 

Housefather Gordon shakes his head, frowning again. “No, just wanted to inform me that you had a pet in your room without permission, being a good head student, I believe. I was disappointed, I have to say, in you, Wilhelm, you seem like such a good student. Simon isn’t causing problems, is he?”

 

Wilhelm sighs. A month ago, he would’ve jumped on the opportunity to snitch, but now it’s not even true. “No, it’s not Simon. Me and August just aren’t on very good terms right now.”

 

Housefather Gordon simply nods. “Alright, well, I’ll be seeing you at lunch, Wilhelm. I’m, uh, I’m sorry about your bird, but pets aren’t allowed inside dorms when they aren't for support reasons. You know the rules.”

 

“I do. Sorry, Housefather.”

 

He nods again, before turning and leaving, closing the door behind him.

 

Wilhelm wants to throw up on August’s bed, put hair-removing cream in his shampoo  and  conditioner, and burn all his homework and notes. He’s had enough of August.

 

He throws himself onto the ground in front of his bed, looking under to where Sunny is sitting at the very back, looking half asleep and peaceful. Sunny wasn’t hurting him, how did he even find out about her? He must have snooped in Wilhelm’s room. He did see Wilhelm walking towards his dorms the day he got Sunny. It’s not like Simon, Felice or Madi told August either, he knows they’re on his side.

 

What is he going to  do? 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Dinner that night is tense. No, Wilhelm does not go to lunch because  fuck  August and he can’t stand to see his face. However, when he walks into the room for dinner that evening, he feels a little pleased at the sight of August’s busted face. His top lip is split and swollen on the side, his opposite eye purple, blue and green, and the eyeball itself is red and angry. Yes, it’s horrible, it’s worse than what he did to Wilhelm, but he’s malicious and vengeful and he’s happy he hurt August.

 

None of the other boys engage with Wilhelm more than the basic greetings and asking where he was today, and how the party went, but not bringing up the whole fight he had with August. 

 

Wilhelm's no fool, he knows August would've spread the gossip like wildfire. Even if August didn't tell anyone who beat him up, Wilhelm's loud absence and their continued tension would've been enough to figure it out.

 

But it appears no one told a teacher, and he remembers how angry he was last time when no one spoke a word of the abuse he faced at August’s hand, but he supposes this is how August felt, relieved no one told a teacher. He wonders what August is telling people what actually happened.

 

~ Monday ~
~ Simon

 

“I used to just use water, but then puberty hit, and I got breakouts all the time, especially in summer, so now I use a cleanser in the morning, plus a moisturiser and an SPF, and in the evening I double cleanse with two different cleansers, and another moisturizer,” Simon explains over the desk in front of him, his stomach pressing against the edge to lunge over to Felice and Madi at the desks in front of him.

 

The chair next to him is still depressingly empty, and no one is quite sure if Wilhelm is going to show up today. Simon hopes he does.

 

“My Mother has been buying me skincare since I can remember,” Felice mumbles and Madi wrinkles her nose.

 

“I have a similar routine to you,” Madi says to Simon. “Just add in primer and make-up, plus some face masks on the occasion, if I'm feeling extra crusty.”

 

“Oh my God, real. I love clay masks,” Simon nods, and the other girls agree.

 

Just then, Wilhelm walks in through the doors, carrying a compartment drink holder with four large cups in it. His eyes linger on Felice and Madi, who are sat together today, before settling on Simon.

 

He feels his insides convulse when those eyes fall onto him, and he doesn’t even bother to tell himself off, because he gave up on that years ago, just let the feelings sweep him away.

 

“Good morning,” Wilhelm greets, as he usually does, sitting down next to Simon. Today he’s wearing black slacks with a sensible blue jumper, a white collared shirt sticking out the edges and his boring Vans. “I got these for you guys,” Wilhelm says, but Madi and Felice aren’t paying attention, so he’s only really speaking to Simon, who doesn’t mind one bit.

 

“What’s this? Did you drug it?” Simon asks as he takes a cup from the compartment holder without really asking, because that’s what Wilhelm expects, right?

 

“You’d drink it anyway,” Wilhelm shrugs. 

 

Simon snickers, taking a sip. He knows Wilhelm would never drug him. It’s the same drink he stole from Wilhelm that one day, that had him lying awake at night realising their lips touched the same things, multiple times. “I would. Thanks for the drink, but why? Or you are doing some more charity work because in that case, you can have it back.”

 

Wilhelm shrugs again, leaning over to put one on Felice’s desk, and the other on Madi’s. “It’s a thanks and a sorry. For Saturday.”

 

Madi and Felice stop their conversation to look back at Wilhelm, and Simon already misses the attention Wilhelm had given him. Felice smiles softly at Wilhelm, shaking her head as she picks up the drink. 

 

“Thank you, Wille, but you don’t have to apologise. We all understood where your anger came from, but we would’ve liked you to talk to one of us before exploding.”  Before you shoved me over like I meant nothing. I do though, to you and everyone else, I guess.  Simon doesn’t disagree with Felice’s statement, but as someone who is very sensitive and reactive, he can say it’s not easy to think about stopping your feelings when they’re rolling hard and strong like Wilhelm’s were yesterday. 

 

“But it’s hard to think about stopping and going to find someone to talk to about your emotions when you’re in the moment though, right?” Simon asks, leaning against the wall with one leg facing Wilhelm and the other towards the front.

 

Wilhelm nods, his deep, adorable hazel-brown eyes locked into Simon’s, which Wilhelm probably just considers polite but it  feels  strong. “Yes, it is.”

 

Madi clears her throat, and Wilhelm turns his gaze to her, settling in his seat with his coffee. Simon takes a deep breath, as subtle as possible. He wants to lean over and put his head on Wilhelm’s shoulder and feel his body warmth again, to hold his hands, to check the bandages he put on that Wilhelm is still wearing, but he’ll do that later. The thought makes his heart flutter, bringing back the way his hands shook as he took out the medical supplies, telling himself it’s all platonic and necessary for Wilhelm’s health, nothing more. 

 

“You guys know we raised nearly five thousand dollars on Saturday? The sales we made, plus the donations from the public and our families was nearly five thousand dollars,” Madi announces, smiling proudly.

 

“Really? That’s amazing!” Felice beams, and Wilhelm’s face splits a smile that makes Simon grin as well. It’s nice to be able to smile at him now, Simon used to make himself scowl or roll his eyes. Well, at some points, he felt that was the right move to keep himself safe, but he feels safe enough to smile around this group now, he trusts them probably more than they even realise.

 

“That is amazing! And it’s all for charity,” Wilhelm looks so proud, his hair flopping near his eyes and making Simon want to brush the soft locks behind his ear delicately, but Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair to get it off his face instead, grinning his cute little crooked smile at Madi. Simon wants him to look at him like that, dammit.

 

“Yup, Miss Clear is really happy. She’s going to transfer everything online so it’s safer - “

 

“Hey, Wille, you could always give your chick to the kitchen, that way it won’t be going to waste.” 

 

Simon turns around to look at Joshua, sitting in the middle row, a desk back. His friend starts making fucking stupid chicken noises.

 

“What?” Simon questions, frowning deeply at the two douchebags. What about Sunny? How do they know about that little demon that Wilhelm adopted? "With those noises, you should be going to the kitchens, I think."

 

“Be quiet, Joshua,” Wilhelm replies, voice firm and hard, turning to face the front again and sinking in his chair slightly. Simon makes sure to give both the boys nasty looks as they snicker before turning to Wilhelm for answers.

 

“What?” Simon says again. “What about Sunny?”

 

“August snitched about her, and I have to get rid of her,” Wilhelm grumbles down at his drink, scowling, which, yeah, he’s frowning, but he still looks so cute. “And he’s also spreading the rumour that you and Marcus beat him up at the market. Agnes told me at the cafe.”

 

Simon physically recoils, stomach sinking. “Fucking dick,” Simon growls eloquently. “He needs to be put down, that motherfucker. What’s he afraid of? Sunny pecking out his eyes?”

 

Wilhelm turns his head slowly to look over at Simon, brows raised judgmentally. Simon squints at him, suspicious. “As much as I’m enjoying no longer being the subject of your attacks, I’m pretty sure that is exactly what you said Sunny would do to me in my sleep.”

 

Simon goes quiet, sipping on his coffee, and staring straight ahead. Look, okay, alright, Wilhelm is right, Simon had trust issues with that bird and that has nothing to do with the fact Wilhelm was already giving it more attention and affection than he’d given Simon  ever  and he’d only known it for five minutes, and more the rabies it carries. He sighs once he finishes drinking. “Shut you, you Golden Retriever looking spoiled twat.” And the delay doesn’t need to be talked about, thank you  very  much.

 

“Says you, you 3 foot-looking overgrown poodle,” Wilhelm retaliates, then pauses. “Did it take you a solid minute to come up with that insult?”

 

Simon smirks around the coffee lip, lips still pressed against the opening. “That was surprisingly creative, but I’ll have you know, we’re basically the same height.”

 

“We really aren’t.”

 

“Shawty,” Madi snickers and Simon throws her a glare.

 

Moments later, Mrs Ramirez walks in the door and everyone jumps up to greet her. Simon thinks it’s so stupid, so he stays planted in his seat, as he always does, and the teacher doesn’t even bother to ask him if he’s feeling alright or why he’s still sitting. He sips on the drink Wilhelm brought him and looks across the class at her until everyone sits back down.

 

“We have four weeks left of term, which means you should all be getting to the end of your books right about now.”  Aw shit . “So I’m going to go around the class in a moment and ask how it’s going. If you have fallen behind, you need to get up to date, next week is your last week to read, and then you will spend two weeks creating your presentations, and presenting. The last week can be fun things. Yes, Henry?”

 

“Can we have a teachers versus students water fight?”

 

“No. Simon, are you awake?” Simon snaps his eyes open. He’d been leaning against the wall, still, trying to listen to the conversation the two boys behind him were having.

 

“No. I’m in a deep sleep.”

 

“Wonderful. Get your books out and read, everyone, I’ll come around now,” Mrs Ramirez gives a tired smile, and Simon almost feels bad, except for the fact school is stupid, this school is even worse and she barely even tries to be nice to him anymore.

 

Wilhelm is surprisingly slow getting his book out today, taking another sip of his drink, sighing, and then picking up his bag from off the floor to rifle through. He’s really unobservant, Simon discovered while observing him, which is not stalking, as Sara said it was, he’s just watching. Wilhelm is interesting to watch, especially when he thinks no one is paying attention to him. He’s good at keeping up a calm, or unbothered facade during conversations or when someone is addressing someone physically near to him, but in moments like now, when the class is getting their books out and the teacher is questioning students, his mask slips a little and he frowns as he looks, nibbling on the inside of his lip. Sometimes, he even talks to himself, or mumbles as he does work, writes notes, or studies. It’s weirdly endearing, to be honest. 

 

He places his book on the table and pulls out his notebook and his mechanical pencil. Then he looks over at Simon and his empty desk. “Get your book, Simon. I know you’re behind.”

 

Simon scoffs. He is behind, by several chapters because they haven’t had a meeting since the pizza parlour with Marcus, which was an absolute disaster and Simon hates to think about it and him. “I don’t have my book.”

 

Wilhelm gives him an unamused look, and instead of telling him to get the book out, he grabs Simon’s bag from under the desk himself. Simon jolts forward instantly and snatches the bag back before Wilhelm has even grabbed the zips, heart skipping a beat at the sudden panic of what’s in his bag.

 

Wilhelm looks confused for a split second before his expression morphs into disgust, and then acceptance. “Get your book out,” he says, turning to his own and opening it up. 

 

Simon hates how he saw the disgust on his face. He thinks Simon is  disgusting , what he does is disgusting, the fact he deals, how he takes it, the abuse. The mere thought that Wilhelm knows about the abuse makes him want to puke, scream, and kidnap him to keep him silent. Wilhelm accepted that it was Simon’s dealer who abused him, which is a relief, he doesn’t know it was actually his Dad who grabbed the very vase Simon brought his Dad several years ago, and smashed it on his back after shoving him into a wall and throwing a beer bottle at him. 

 

He blinks out of his trance of memories when Mrs Ramirez appears next to Wilhelm’s desk, smiling down at them.

 

Simon sits up straighter and opens his bag, pushing aside a plastic bag full of smaller plastic bags with cocaine in them, a scrunched-up piece of maths homework he forgot to give Wilhelm, a pack of ciggies, three vapes, and two packets of his Dad ADHD meds, pulling out Crisis and flopping it on his desk while Wilhelm says they’re all plenty up to date and will be done by next week. Speak for himself. And Felice.

 

Mrs Ramirez doesn’t seem interested in interacting with Simon, so he smiles sweetly at her as he makes a show of opening his book to a page he’s most definitely not fucking on, and bringing it up to block her face.

 

Once she sighs and moves on, he shoves his bag onto the floor and drops the book to his desk, looking over at Wilhelm.

 

“I’m behind,” He admits.

 

Wilhelm gives him his signature “I fucking  know ” look. For a moment he just stares at Simon, clearly debating something with that big brain of his. Simon smirks, because, well, big things. Wilhelm sighs heavily. “What are you up to, Simon?”

 

Simon smirks even wider because it’s getting easier and easier for Wilhelm to cave and help him with things. Not that things that really matter, like his  life  or his feelings after PE, but school work, which Wilhelm probably thinks really matters. 

 

“Like,” Simon flips the book open to the page he’s actually on. “Here.”

 

“Chapter Seven.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“I’m on chapter seventeen.”

 

“Did I fucking ask, you dick wad?”  No need to flex. We get it. You’re psychotic about school work and your parents are horrible and pressure you like you’re the one and only heir to the throne.

 

Wilhelm sighs heavily and slides his notes over to Simon. “Copy these. You really,  really   need to read this book, because I’m not going to do the entire presentation just me and Felice, you need to contribute.”

 

“I’ll read the first slide, the book title and all that basic shit.”

 

“So, “We read Krisis, by Karin Boyer, made by Wilhelm, Simon and Felice”,” Wilhelm guesses, raising an eyebrow.

 

Simon smirked. “Yeah.”

 

“No.”

 

“You suck.”

 

“Copy my notes, and let me read. I brought you coffee,” Wilhelm turns to his own work, taking a sip of his drink as he finds his place on the page.

 

Simon smirks at him as he drags the notebook over to himself and flips back a few pages without looking. “And I’m so endlessly grateful for the caffeine.”

 

“Yes, now shush.”

 

Simon looks back to the notes, over the jam-packed lines of tidy, perfect handwriting in pencil, with bullet points highlighted and the titles in capitals, so perfect, like Wilhelm. 

 

He lets Wilhelm focus for a little bit, flicking through the notes and copying the shortest ones into his cheap, two-dollar notebook with Wilhelm’s mechanical pencil, sipping on his coffee more than writing.

 

“So, what are you going to do about Sunny?” Simon asks, flipping the notebook shut and sliding it back to Wilhelm.

 

He looks back at Simon, brows furrowing suddenly. “I don’t know. Genuinely. I don’t know.”

 

Simon purses his lips… He could … No. Simon shakes the thought. “Yeah, I mean, I could - my house is big - I mean, not as big as yours, obviously, but I could look after her, for a bit, or, until she’s old. However long you - you need.” 

 

Wilhelm stares at him like he just ate Sunny whole and insulted his Mother - again. “Or not, it’s, sorry,” Simon is going to shoot himself in the head, and then everyone else who just heard him stumble over his words like a pathetic, love-sick teenager… Which, yeah okay -

 

“No, no,” Wilhelm hurries to say, frown lifting off his face, which is both a relief and a curse. Simon wants to dissolve back into nothing. “Did you just offer to be helpful, for once? Volentually?”

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I can be fucking helpful when I fucking want to be,” Simon snaps, embarrassed.

 

Wilhelm pats his shoulder in a friendly manner. “I know, trust me, I know.” Simon’s mind rewinds back to when Wilhelm fainted in the gym. Simon had been so confused, and he’d also felt guilty. Was Wilhelm so overworked because he was stressed from all the pressure Simon put on him? Is it his shitty parents? He'd been genuinely worried for his longtime celebrity crush who’d just dropped to the ground like someone had started shooting, motionless and eyes closed.

 

“Seriously, though? You can do that?” Wilhelm clarified, looking over at Simon.

 

He kind of wants to slap himself because he’s such a fucking idiot. God. His Mother will smile and say it’s okay, tell him he’s being kind and helpful, but she’ll be the one home with it when she’s not working, she’ll be waking up to it chirping if she hasn’t already left for early shifts at the hospital.

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I guess,” Simon says, and Wilhelm beams.

 

“I want to hug you.”

 

Kiss me . “Do not touch me.”

 

Wilhelm nods, still grinning at him though, and he might as well be the sun, right? The brightest thing in Simon's life for more than a decade, a constant bright spot in the dark corners of his house, the shadows of his mind. Simon smiles back softly, looking down at the notes to hide what is probably a disgustingly fond expression. “Yeah yeah. Get over yourself. I owe you.” 

 

“For what?”

 

“Just let me tell myself that and not like I’m just doing a favour,” Simon grumbles to his notes.

 

Wilhelm gasps, and Simon instantly looks back up at him. “What now?”

 

“Are you doing me a favour, because we’re friends, Simon?” Wilhelm looks so cheeky right now, nothing like the boy who first purposefully split his coffee on Simon - waaaait. What?

 

“Friends?” Simon repeats.  Be casual. Be cool. You didn’t get  friend-zoned  so hard it would’ve been nicer if he just punched you. Calm. Calm and fucking cool as a fucking cucumber in fucking summer under a fucking fan.  He wrinkles his nose. “Hardly.”

 

A momentary look of hurt crosses Wilhelm’s face.  NOT THAT COOL YOU PRICK OH MY GOD HE’S SAD FUCK.  “Hardly,” he repeats under his breath. “Okay, uhm,” Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. He smiles one of his charming, flawless smiles at Simon that covers all his emotions but doesn’t reach his eyes. “After school, come to my dorm with me and I’ll help sort out her move. Thanks, seriously, for the - uh,” he thinks for a moment, before settling on his words. “For the favour.” Even though Simon said it’s not a favour.

 

They both go back to their books with a tense silence, and Simon hates himself that little much more.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Simon has choir at lunch and Wilhelm has his history club, but they wouldn’t have seen each other anyway, not until fourth period in PE.

 

Today the sky is clear, but it’s fucking winter. The teachers apparently don’t know it’s winter, and just because the skies are clear, doesn’t mean it’s going to be a nice day to be outside. In fact, it’s even colder than normal, and everyone is shivering and rubbing their arms and legs as the teachers take them outside onto the field no one ever uses to play fucking football.

 

Simon doesn’t mind watching Rosh’s games, because it’s fun to scream and cheer for his friends and then get wasted behind a shack to forget the adorable, bubbly Prince who you had your arms wrapped around so tight you were sharing body warmth I mean  what .

 

He walks next to Wilhelm, while Felice, Madi, Stella and Fredrika walk a few paces in front of them, chattering as they always do.

 

“I like to watch football, not play it,” Simon grumbles.

 

“Had a dream you played football,” Wilhelm mumbles back. They both have their arms crossed, rubbing at their arms to keep warm.

 

“I know. You told me and had a panic attack,” Simon replies. 

 

Since period one, the awkward tension in the air cleared. Simon hopes Wilhelm can see how obvious it is that they’re friends. They’re literally walking to their next class together talking about something that isn’t schoolwork, or arguing. It would be a milestone if they hadn’t done it several times before. 

 

He isn’t anxious to make friends, Rosh and Ayub are good, then he’s got his Mum and sister, and his boyfriend, that’s all he needed. But he makes an exception for Wilhelm, a reluctant one, that involved a lot of squinting and analyzing, trying to figure out what’s his motive before realizing Wilhelm’s just a dweeb and a bit of an idiot, and he’s really just confused why Simon acts the way he does.

 

Wilhelm hums in response as everyone forms a circle around Mrs Miles, who is holding a football under her arm, and a whistle dangling around her neck, breath condensing in the air.

 

“We’ll be playing just a basic game of football, alright? Nothing messy, no super fancy moves, we’ll ignore the lines, if it goes out, first one to it just continue with the ball, got it?”

 

The class grumbles and replies. Simon glances to his side to see Joshua wrapping his arms around Stazia’s shoulders from behind, whispering in her ear, probably trying to keep her warm. She smirks, looking over her shoulder at him and giggling.

 

Simon rolls his eyes, eyes flicking over at Wilhelm, who’s listening to Mrs Miles's instructions, at least one of them are.

 

“Split yourselves evenly on each side, I don't really care for positions, as long as the teams are even.” The loosest, barely football football game ever.

 

Simon, Wilhelm and Wilhelm’s friends all turn and walk towards the side of the pitch without the bibs, all grumbling in annoyance about the game and the weather.

 

Joshua goes to the other side with all his friends. Simon’s side ends up with what Simon would describe as the nerds, plus Henry and Felice’s. It consists of Alex, Walter, Wilhelm, Simon, Stella, Fredrika, Madi, Felice, Anne, Henry, and a couple of others. The other side has all the sporty people. Including Joshua and his entire group. Shit. 

 

“We’re going to get destroyed,” Simon says as he stretches out his arms slightly, crossing an arm over his chest and using the fist of the other hand to push it towards that arm. 

 

“Don’t be so negative!” Wilhelm says, giving him a light shove, causing him to stumble a step. “We’ll smash them right out of the park!”

 

“No, they’ll smash our faces into the grass,” Simon replies with an eye roll. 

 

“You’re so pessimistic! Be happy!”

 

“I’m realistic?”

 

“Negative!”

 

“Rational.”

 

“Hopeless!”

 

“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel.” Just to prove his point, Simon flops himself down on the grass on his back. The cold instantly soaks into his skin, they’re just lucky it isn’t snowing. A shiver runs through his body.

 

To his surprise, the Prince flops himself down next to Simon and looks up at the clear sky next to him.

 

Simon turns his head to look over at him, frowning. “What on Earth are you doing on the ground with me?”

 

For a moment Wilhelm watches the sky, his beautiful jawline sharp and angular as he smiles softly at the sky, before looking over at Simon, which is even more beautiful, his face lit up with a grin and the bright sun. He gulps.

 

“What? Am I not allowed?”

 

“No?”

 

“Too bad. I’m royalty, I’ll go wherever I want,” Wilhelm grins at him, and Simon finds himself smiling back.

 

“Sure, just not in the winning team today,” Simon smirks and Wilhelm’s eyes flick to his lips for the smallest second.

 

“Boys! Get up! We’re meant to be playing football, not napping!” Mrs Miles yells across the field.

 

Wilhelm jumps up instantly, clearly embarrassed as both being called out, teased, and caught by the teacher. “Sorry, Miss. We’re ready!” Wilhelm smiles over at her.

 

Simon watches from the ground.

 

Wilhelm looks down at him as Mrs Miles blows the start whistle. Wilhelm and Simon are close to the goal, just a few meters in front and to the left. “I hope everyone runs me over.”

 

Wilhelm laughs, offering Simon a hand. “C’mon, let’s go help our team. We can at least try to win.”

 

Simon takes his hand without hesitation, wrapping his fingers around his cool hand as Wilhelm does the same, heaving Simon upright and patting his opposite shoulder. For a moment their chests touch, just the briefest encounter as Wilhelm moves around Simon to go help, but it still feels like he’s been both electrocuted and blessed.

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

They lose, but Simon’s mood has definitely been lifted. 

 

Joshua runs past Simon at one point and literally pushes him over, and he eats grass. Delicious, he's always wanted to be a cow. However, Mrs Miles saw the whole thing happen and Joshua got himself five minutes of sitting on the sidelines of the game, in silence, in which Henry actually managed to score, making it 1 to 5.

 

When Joshua came back on, Simon watched while guarding Stazia as Wilhelm got close to Joshua, who had the ball, and tripped him up with a single ‘misplaced’ looking foot, that could easily be mistaken for lack of skill. 

 

Mrs Miles isn’t watching, apparently, so she just shrugs when Joshua and his team accuse Wilhelm of a foul move. Wilhelm smiles his charming, slightly smug grin and offers Joshua a hand, and even Simon can see from his position in front of a seething Stazia that the grip is so tight, that both of their hands go a little white in the short encounter. Joshua mumbles something and Wilhelm drops his hand and promptly walks away, which makes Joshua fall back onto his butt and Wilhelm’s team cackle. 

 

It came back to bite them in the bum when they won with ten to one, but Wilhelm tripping Joshua was still the best part of the game. The lovely, hard-working Prince sabotaging the other team's best player,  coincidentally  right after he pushes Simon over? Pricelessly hilarious. 

 

But Simon still wonders - “What did he say?” Simon asks as he walks with Wilhelm back to the gym to change for last period.

 

Wilhelm sighs, looking over at Simon. His forehead has a thin sheen of sweat on it, a few pieces of hair stuck there, cheeks pleasantly flushed and pink lips parted as he breathes heavily. Simon has heard other girls in class talking about how hot it is, and he doesn’t disagree.

 

“Take a wild guess.”

 

“You were defending your boyfriend?” Simon guesses.

 

Wilhelm hums. “More like “it’s just a game, I have nothing against the twink faggot”.” 

 

Simon’s brows raise slightly. “Oh, how original.”

 

“Hope he bruised his tailbone.”

 

Simon looks over at Wilhelm, who is staring all broody-like at the ground in front of him as he walks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’ve corrupted you,” Simon smirks. Wilhelm looks up, horrified. “No need to panic, dear Wille, I’m extremely proud.” Simon pats his cheek because he can’t resist and it feels appropriate.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t look so proud. “You haven’t. I’m a good kid.”

 

Simon smirks even harder. “Why did you trip up Joshua again?”

 

Wilhelm’s cheeks go slightly more pink, and it’s not from the PE. He looks away from Simon. “It was a total accident.”

 

Simon raises an eyebrow, even though Wilhelm isn’t looking at him. “Mrs Miles might be blind, but I’m fucking not,” Simon chuckles. “It’s fine. It’s cute.” He didn’t mean to let that slip, but Wilhelm’s cheeks go even pinker, and Simon’s chest can’t seem to breathe air anymore.

 

“He deserved it,” Wilhelm mumbles, and Simon grins.

 

“Agreed.”

 

Wilhelm speeds up to go walk with Felice, and Simon is okay to watch his backside as they walk, by himself. At the beginning of the year he really wasn’t expecting to make friends, in fact, he wasn’t expecting to be here for that long at all. He’s made his decision though, whether or not he’ll stay, he’s just preying he made the right one.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Mar
Wyd this avo ;)
4:33 pm

 

Simon
I'm gonna be out tonight
Sry babe
4:34 pm

 

Mar
Y  r u  always busy when  i  want to see u?
Are you avoiding me?
4:34 pm

 

Simon
No,  i  just am busy at those times  marcus
U can come to Rosh’s game  tmrw  night?
4:34 pm

 

Mar
Okay  we’ll go back to mine after ;)
4:34 pm

 

Simon
Would it be okay if  i  went home after the game?
4:35 pm

 

Mar
Fine,  u r  avoiding me,  ill  hang out with my boys for the rest of the week
4:35 pm

 

Simon
Im  sorry  ill  go to urs  tmrw  after the game
I was going to do homework but  ill  do it later  its  fine
4:35 pm

 

Mar
No, u made ur decision, ur prioritising that horrible school over me and  its  not fair,  thats  not how you do long-distance relationships 
4:36 pm

 

Simon
Ill  go to your house after the game
4:36 pm

 

Mar
No
4:36 pm

 

Simon
Pls  im  sorry babe
4:37 pm

 

Mar
Fine
4:38 pm

 

Simon
Love u
4:38 pm

 

Mar
Ilyt
Lets  not argue
4:39 pm

 

Simon
Okay
4:39 pm

 

Simon lets out a heavy breath, slipping his phone back into his pocket and pressing the bus-stopping button. Sunny chirps from where she’s sitting on Simon’s lap, in a shoe box, Wilhelm’s t-shirt pressed into the box for something familiar and comfortable, little air holes poked in so she won’t suffocate.

 

Simon can’t believe he agreed to his.

 

He swings his backpack on one shoulder, so it’s not fully resting on his sore back, and picks up Sunny in his hand carefully, feeling her move around the box a little bit.

 

The bus rolls to a stop the block over from his house, and Simon stands, walking down the aisle and pressing his bus card against the reader. He’s careful when stepping off the bus to not shake Sunny, which is so stupid, like she’ll care, but he does it anyway.

 

He’s at the edge of the town area of Bjärstad, it smells of barbecue from the smoked meats restaurant across the road, weeds are growing in between the cracks in the pavement, a street lamp is flickering slightly, but there’s electricity council worker currently fiddling with the cables. 

 

Simon doesn’t live in the nicest area of Bjärstad, but it’s not the oldest, grossest, creepiest area either, not like his other house, where his room was cramped and they had no backyard. 

 

Sometimes he misses his old house, but then he remembers the fist-shaped dents in the furniture, walls and doors, the alcohol stains on the carpet, the burn marks from cigarettes being stubbed on anything that won’t catch fire, the way the whole place stunk of cigarette smoke and alcohol, and then he’s grateful for his clean home where it’s just him and his Mama who live their most of the time.

 

They have a room for Sara, where most of her childhood things are that they took from the house when they fled, or that Sara’s moved out of her current apartment when she buys new stuff, but Sara rarely stays at their house, so they keep the door shut and try not to miss her too much. 

 

Their spare bedroom Simon converted into a music room, or as his friends call it, the hangout room. It connects to his bedroom through an arch, and it has a piano, some bean bags, a small TV Sara gave them from her apartment, and a TV stand with cupboards which they’ve filled with CDs, DVDs, vinyl and tapes. There’s a bookshelf with photo albums, Simon’s school books and all of Sara’s comics and some of her old drawing books. After a week in the house, the light bulb in the music room burst so they decided to instead string up a bunch of yellow fairy lights around the room, the walls and the ceiling to light it up.

 

He turns into a side street and makes his way down there, past his old principal's house, which he once egged with Ayub and Rosh. Simon makes sure to flip off the house, even though he can’t see the old fart looking out the window at the moment. It’s his tradition.

 

A few minutes later he turns down another side road, and his house sits at the end of the cul-de-sac, two stories of brick and lots of trees. It’s an average house, but when Rosh and Ayub saw it they claimed it might as well be a mansion.

 

It’s not even close to a mansion, not compared to the real mansions he knows the kids at Hillerksa live in when they’re not at school.

 

Linda's car is missing from the driveway again, but he knew it would be today, she works 3 12-hour shifts three days a week, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. She took this Friday off though because it's Simon's birthday, so she's working the Saturday instead. She works part-time at their local vet clinic as well, from 10 till closing at 5 on Tuesday and Thursday, leaving the whole weekend off for Simon-Linda time. And cleaning time, and sleeping in, and shopping, and hanging out with her friends. So, it started as Simon-Linda hangout time, but it's become time for them to both recharge now, separately.

 

Simon unlocks the front door and steps inside, wiping his shoes on the "Welcome" mat before kicking them off towards the small coat room they have, which is only Simon’s shoes that he doesn't wear and some of their cleaning things (Since he only really wears his Converse.) The only other pair of shoes in there is Linda’s gardening shoes, Simon’s dress shoes Linda brought for him to wear to Hillerska, Simon's old sneakers he grew out of, jandals for summer that Sara gave Linda for her birthday, and the white, fluffy slippers Simon puts on top of his socks, so he won't freeze his feet on the floor.

 

The bottom floor is all shiny wood, and the second floor is all some old, grey carpet that’s not very soft. The house is dead silent as he puts down his bag and Sunny’s container to hang up his puffer jacket, but he's used to it, humming an Ariana Grande song under his breath to break the silence. It's a contrast to the loudness of his old house, and while he prefers the silence, he's still not used to it.

 

Simon then walks in the opposite direction through the small foyer and past the big, open window that displays their driveway and front lawn and turns left again to go up the stairs to his level of the house, his back to the door which leads to his Mother’s room.

 

He turns on the first landing 360 degrees to go up the next set of stairs into his level, where there are two doors, one on the left wall which is the small bathroom he uses, and the other is right in front of him. It's closed, and he ignores it, turning right and walking into the door at the end of the corridor, which leads to his bedroom.

 

Simon kicks open his bedroom door and hears it smack against the washing basket behind it, causing him to wince slightly, both at the sudden loud noise and the fact his wall is being abused. He always forgets that that’s there, and now his wall has little dents and scratches on it from his washing basket.

 

The big, geometric rug on the floor is soft underfoot, so he kicks off the slippers and places Sunny on his bed, which is against the same wall as the washing basket, with a bedside drawer and a cupboard in between them. His bed is double the size of his old one, and he always feels a bit lonely in it, curling up against the wall despite it being cold.

 

Sunny is so quiet Simon thinks she might've died as Simon shoves his bag under his desk and closes his door, even though he’s home alone. It's instinct and makes him feel safer. They have security cameras - thanks, Sara's paranoia - in case anyone tries to break in, Linda will get a notification, so she also knows Simon is home now.

 

Where is he supposed to put her? In the shed? What if she overheats somehow, even if it’s winter? Or if she breaks out and eats the pesticides? She’ll have to stay in his room. What if she scratches the piano? Or flies through the fucking TV?

 

Simon groans quietly, opening the lid and staring judgmentally at the little, ugly, shrivelled thing in the box. His friends are going to think he’s  so  whipped for this.

 

Sunny seems to recognize him because she chirps and stands up from where she’d curled herself into a corner, flapping her little wings.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Simon grumbles. He wants to whip out his phone and call Wilhelm, demanding for him to guide him through every single procedure that comes with keeping this little rat alive, but he refuses to seem stupid like that, and Wilhelm did explain it; feed her three times a day, occasionally put her a sink that’s got less than an inch of warm water, and whip up her poo. That’s what Simon is least excited about.

 

He loves his room, and if she shits on his laptop, his carpet, his rug, or the  piano.  She's as good as dead.

 

Simon
If she shits on my fucking piano u r going to buy me a new one
4:32 pm

 

So they traded numbers. Simon was only squealing internally a little bit.

 

Wilhelm’s probably doing homework, so Simon drops his phone onto his bed. He has to go see his Dad tonight, and he’s not bringing Sunny, so he’s going to lock her in the bathroom until he gets home and just hopes his Mother won’t investigate, not that she really goes upstairs at all anyway.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Half an hour later, Simon made her little sink bed just like Wilhelm had in his bathroom sink. The window opened a crack for a breeze, even though it was freezing, so he also turned on the heat lamp. You know, balance? Simon's passing school, he knows his shit. She needs that clean air for her young lungs, obviously.

 

He got some bread, made it all soggy and left it in a container lid next to Sunny in case she got a bit peckish, like Wilhelm would do.

 

Simon returns to his bedroom to find a text waiting for him, unlocking his phone quickly and bringing his phone close to his face to read it.

 

Wilhelm
I would 100% buy you a new piano if she pooped on it, don't worry :)
Also, I didn’t know you played the piano.
5:02 pm

 

Simon
Ima guy of much skill ;))
5:08 pm

 

Wilhelm
Many skills*
5:09 pm

 

Simon
I will throw that rat out the window
5:09 pm

 

Wilhelm
… she’s a bird??
5:10 pm

 

Simon
I will put her in the deep frier  dont  test me bitch
5:10 pm

 

Wilhelm
I would probably cry, tbh
5:10 pm

 

Simon
Lmao
5:10 pm

 

He nearly faces plants down the stairs while texting, stumbling a bit on his slippers on the last step. Wilhelm's still a polite dweeb even when he texts, Simon could scream. He put a comma before "tbh", who even does that?

 

“Jesus,” he grumbles, putting his phone in his pocket as he walks through the empty house back to the front door, backpack on his side. He slips off his slippers, and tugs his Converse back onto his feet, moments later walking into the garage and pressing the button to open the garage door.

 

He walks around the car to where his bike stands. A pile of boxes, filled with Simon and Sara’s old toys lies in the way, so he takes his bike out the back door right next to where it stood, locking the door behind him.

 

Simon clambers on, and bikes around the side of the house and down the drive, towards his Dad’s. Leaning against the garage wall are some pieces of wood that Linda brought to build a little picket fence for their front garden, but she well overestimated (Simon thinks the worker scammed her, but Linda insists it was her fault), so they have a bunch of spare planks. A small pile of sandbags sits next to it, as the new plan is to make a jumping board for the pool out back.

 

The ride takes a little over twenty minutes, and he feels his anxiety build as his old house comes into view. The garden, once well-kept and beautiful is overgrowth with thorns and weeds, a light dusting of dirty snow covers the ground, and the windows have their curtains drawn, stained grey and brown from years of cigarette smoke. 

 

It used to glow when Simon would come home from school, it was like his Heaven, but now it’s dull, all the colour and life drained from its walls. Simon shakes the sounds of children giggling as they run around the small front lawn from his head, and walks up to the front door, backpack tight in his iron grip.

 

His Dad insists they talk, and Simon doesn’t want another family emergency during Sara's rare visit home where he spam-calls Linda and threatens to find her, Simon and Sara again, so he’s going. It really encourages Sara to come back and see Simon, who misses her like he lost a limb every second she's not here.

 

Simon knocks on the door a few times. It’s quiet inside. His heart jumps into his throat and he gulps it back down, taking a shaky breath as he knocks again. Don't be a pussy, Simon. No one likes a pussy... Okay, well, you don't like pussy, so don't be one - 

 

Then he hears heavy footsteps and light grumbles before the door opens a crack. It wasn't even locked. Simon isn't surprised, it wasn't locked when he lived there as well if his Dad was the last one to come home.

 

“It’s Simon,” Simon says to the eye peering through a slit in the door, old, faded and wrinkled around the edges. “You wanted to see me,” he explains cautiously.

 

Micke throws the door open. “Simme!” He cheers, his voice rough and raspy, like he hasn’t spoken in days, throat dry and lungs thinner than paper.

 

He throws his arms open and pulls Simon into a tight hug and he nearly chokes on the smell of sweat and cigarettes, tense as a board as he pats his father’s back awkwardly, tears stinging in his eyes, from the smell or his feelings Simon isn’t sure, he’ll blame the smell though.

 

“I’m so glad to see you,” Micke says into his shoulder, giving him another squeeze, which hurts his back. 

 

“Yeah,” Simon whispers, wiping his eyes before he forcefully pulls back. “I stopped in town and got you some bread, milk, eggs and apples,” Simon says, patting his backpack, empty of any drugs, which is good, because his Dad takes it without asking and wanders back into the house. His clothes are ratty, grey track pants that are a little too small at the ankles and a black jumper with several food and beer stains.

 

Simon doesn’t close the door behind him, nor does he even put the kickstand down on his bike, it’s facing away from the house on the ground because it’s rare for Simon to just walk out the door.

 

He follows his Dad into the kitchen slowly, which is covered in empty bottles, empty food packets, cigarette butts, food and generally just grime. Simon picks up a few bottles and places them in an empty cardboard box while Micke rummages through the bag, clearly looking for drugs Simon doesn’t have, he doesn’t even have a cigarette or a lighter on him like he normally would. He learnt that the hard way.

 

“Do you need anything else?” Simon asks as Micke dumps his bag on the bench, breathing hard. Simon gulps, standing on the other side of the counter, beer bottle clutched in his tight, sweaty fist, reminding him how he threw a vodka bottle at trees a few nights ago, Wilhelm standing still as a statue behind him, watching. The cut stings lightly at the memory. When Linda asked how he got it he said he walked into a tree, and she believed him with a sad glance. She knows he goes out to parties and gets drunk, but she doesn't seem to know how to confront him about it.

 

“Dad?”

 

Micke doesn’t say anything, just goes for another rummage in Simon’s bag. 

 

“Do you need a cig?” Simon whispers, slowly putting down the beer bottle. “I can get you one.”

 

Micke mumbles something, so Simon turns and goes into the lounge, finding the TV playing some random movie in a different language. An ashtray lies on a little table next to the couch, overflowing with grey dust. Simon picks up a packet of cigarettes and finds it has two left. He grabs a lighter and turns back to take them to the kitchen, but his Dad is standing in the doorway.

 

“Are you fucking stealing from me?” He growls, eyes blinking slowly, jaw grinding.

 

Simon’s heart drops with the items he’s holding, which clatter to the floor and skitter away under the couch. “No - no, I was going to give it to yo - “

 

It's too late, Simon knew it even as he tried to explain.

 

Micke lost his patience and understanding long before they ran away, and Simon hates himself for not learning. You never touch his drugs, he gets aggressive. It’s a thin wire you have to walk across, and Simon almost always falls off, screaming and crying. But it’s hard to just abandon this man. Simon can remember moments when he was nice... They're fuzzy little memories, but Simon loves people maybe a bit too hard, and if he’s learnt anything over the years, it’s that those who get close to his heart are really hard to pry away, no matter how much he tries and pretends and tells himself to let them go.

 

His father jumps forward and Simon throws himself over the couch quickly, stumbling into the wall and running full speed away, not waiting for an explanation -

 

"I promise, Papa! I wasn’t stealing - “ Simon sprints past him on instinct, head already spinning, he runs right out the front door - 

 

“I’m sorry! Simon! I just wanted to hug you!”

 

Simon looks over his shoulder cautiously, shaking from head to foot, his Dad stands in the doorway, expression sad as he leans on the doorway, breathing hard. Simon slows to a stop. Micke puts a hand over his heart, panting, doubled over and oh shit.

 

“Help me, help me,” Micke chants, falling to his knees, clenching his shirt between his fists tightly.

 

Simon’s frozen, staring, eyes wide as his Dad wheezes on the doormat. He’d been chasing him not even a minute before, eyes wild and clearly angry, he'd been jumping to conclusions and wasn't ready to listen to Simon’s reasoning - as a good Dad would’ve. 

 

But now he’s kneeling on the floor suffocating from running a few steps.

 

Simon jumps into action, running over and sliding to his knees in front of his Dad. “I - What do you need?”

 

Micke coughs and retches. Simon is shaking as he hesitantly puts a hand on his Dad's shoulder, but he feels like a thousand cockroaches scuttle up his arm and he immediately retracts it. Then he stops, his breathing still ragged but it always is, a string of saliva dribbling from his mouth disgustingly. His lungs sound thin, rattling in his chest. “Inside,” Micke whispers.

 

“Okay, okay,” Simon agrees instantly, slinging his arm under Micke’s and shuddering, helping him stand, his shoulder aching as he fits them through the doorway, Micke leaning heavily on him and speaking.

 

“So good to me, Simon,” Micke whispers brokenly, words slurred and raspy. “Always so kind. So good. Bring me - me food. I just wanted a hug.”

 

Simon takes a breath through his mouth that tastes of sweat and dust, before helping his Dad sit down on the couch, his heart clenching in his chest. “I’ll get you some water,” Simon explains, blinking rapidly. The door is still wide open, and a freezing breeze comes in through the door. “I’ll be right back, I’m going into the kitchen to get you a glass of water, alright, Papa?”

 

“A beer. Get me a beer. You can have one as well, Simme, you can have a beer,” Micke mumbles, eyes closed. He smiles to himself, like giving Simon a beer is the best thing he's done. Does he even know Simon's birthday is this Friday? He's turning sixteen, he can't even legally have a beer. Is it normal for people Dad's to give their kids beer on their sixteenth? Rosh and Ayub's parents allowed them a can each, under supervision. Simon gets drunk unsupervised all the time, so it's not really a big deal to have a beer with his Dad, maybe it'd even feel nice, normal, but ...

 

“You should have water…” Simon whispers. “Please have some water, Papa.”

 

“Beer.”

 

"Papa - "

 

"Beer!" He yells, then coughs raspily into his fist, pounding his chest.

 

“Alright. Okay. Okay. I’ll be right back.”

 

But Simon knows as he turns away that by the time he’s back with a beer in a minute, his Dad will be unconscious on the couch. He always is. It never starts the same, some days his Dad is waiting outside for him, and other times he throws open the door and drags Simon inside, already beating him as Simon scrambles to get free, eyes squeezed shut. Sometimes he doesn’t answer the door because he’s passed out on the couch. But Simon only ever leaves two ways: running out the door in near tears, or quietly because his Dad’s not awake.

 

Simon walks into the room with a beer a few moments later and finds his Dad as he expected, head lolled backwards, snoring loudly and unevenly, limbs limp against the cushions.

 

He puts the beer on the coffee table next to his ashtray, which he picks up and empties in the bin. Simon goes around in silence, picking up all the old food packets and putting them in the bin, all the bottles in that cardboard box. His heart beats loudly in his ears the whole time, so hard he fears it may wake his Dad, blood souring. 

 

Simon takes a deep breath before peering into the hallway, down to his old bedroom. There’s light coming from down there, which means the curtains are still open like they were the evening Linda came into Simon’s bedroom at nearly 1 am, whispering that he pack a bag of clothes right now, not even letting him close to the window or curtain as she grabbed his yellow backpack and started shoving in clothes while he frowned in confusion, 13 years old with his cheek stinging from where his father slapped him hours before.

 

Simon turns away from the haunted hallway, images of Linda and Simon slipping from his bedroom into Sara’s old one and then into the kitchen. Micke is exactly where he was in this very moment; unconscious on the couch. How poetic. Simon wants to scream until his brain loses oxygen and he can't think anymore. 

 

His phone buzzes him from those memories, and he pulls it from his pocket, returning to the kitchen to get his bag off the counter where it's been pulled open, all the proper food still inside. 

 

August
I need some more of those ADHD meds. I’ll pay you double whatever you want if you can get them to me by tomorrow morning.
6:04 pm

 

Simon looks up and around at the kitchen, eyes falling on the meds drawer. With a glance at his Dad to confirm he’s still sleeping, Simon pulls it open slowly, wincing at every scrape of the old wood and rusted metal, his heart skipping a beat. He finds several different packets of meds. He grabs his backpack and drops a packet of ADHD meds into his bag. His Dad probably won’t even notice, it's not like he takes his pills for his ADHD anyway. His eyes fall on a bag of white powder half under a dirty tea towel. Simon puts that in his bag as well, and then promptly leaves.

 

Simon
Seven hundred
6:06 pm

 

August
Make that $1,400
6:07 pm

 

Well, that’s not what Simon meant but it’ll work fine. He's not about to complain about ripping August off. August probably wants to get high after getting his ass handed to him at the party by Wilhelm. Simon doesn't like to think about it, it makes him uncomfortable thinking about Wilhelm beating August up, even if he personally thinks he deserved it, he'd never fight someone, he doesn't want to look like his pathetic father any more than he already does. I hate myself so much.

 

He’s just about to get on his bike and go home when he gets another text, this time from his Mama, and for a split second, he freaks out, glancing back at the house, like she’ll know that Simon is here right now, going behind her back once again.

 

Mama
Why is there a bird in the sink?
6:11 pm

 

Simon
Babysitting for the Prince, why are you home early?
6:12 pm

 

Mama
I worked five till five today, mi amor. And, what???
6:12 pm

 

Simon
I'll be home in 20
6:12 pm

Notes:

You got Simon's POV:)))) Don't worry, it's not the last you'll see of Simon

 

Thank you Rayyneedshelp for these two fan art. If anyone wants to send me their art, you can contact me through my Tumblr, which is also @s0urcandy112112321. If anyone cares, my user is that one vocal warm-up: one, one two one, one two three two one, one two three four three two one, one two three four five four three two one, one two three fo - and so on. If you know, you know.

Rayneedshelp has sent me fan art before, and I'm so endlessly grateful for your support <33

 

 

SO. I chose Train Wreck because we can see Simon is still desperate to work with his Dad, he's still trying, that place used to be his sanctum, his home, and he wants to rebuild it. A one-in-a-million chance is still a chance, y'know.

You are all amazing, thanks for being so patient.

Next chapter is insane so brace yourself. No joke, I'll be listing trigger warnings left right and center
Okay maybe that an exaggeration, but it is crazy

Chapter 14: Is He The Donkey To His Shrek?

Summary:

You're enough, you're enough, you're enough, you're enough
Somehow these little words, they're changing us
You're enough, you're enough, you're enough
So let our shadows fall away like dust

Link to playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
It's a different account but the same playlist, I made a new Spotify account for fandom things.

 

TW for child abuse, blood/injury, manipulation

 

Wilhelm's POV today guys :)

Notes:

You get fluff, congrats <3

I've got a migraine so bad I spent half an hour at three A.M. this morning crying on the kitchen floor for my Mum to help me bc it hurt so bad but we gotta update for the fam <3

My cat is watching me type and he hates it lmao he's about to attack me HE JUST TRIED TO STEAL MY CHEESE. What a bitch (I love him more than I love my family)

I'm so glad you all enjoyed Simon's point of view last chapter, it was so much fun to write how he's feeling from HIS perspective because now I'm sure you all see him in such a different light. Those who said Simon really annoyed them at the beginning are feeling guilty right about now hahaha, it's okay, I didn't mind y'all hating him, it just means I wrote him well.

ALSO. Update on the girl I was talking about last chapter, we went on a date, and it was amazing, but I don't have a crush on her :\ She's asked me out again and I'll happily go but texting her is kinda like a chore, so.
There's so much drama in my friend group atm, I was telling my Mum about it and ended up snapping and having a panic attack. I'm so done with them bro.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Tuesday ~

 

“I really, seriously don’t understand why I need to know how to find the angle in a fucking triangle when I have less than no interest in being an architect, or a builder, or a psychopathic pyromaniac!” Simon announces, throwing Wilhelm’s mechanical pencil down and flopping onto his back, arms folded across his chest with his feet kicked out over his homework, nearly kicking Wilhelm’s laptop in the process.

 

“You might change your mind,” Wilhelm tries to reason absentmindedly, busy typing his plans on the planning document for the parents' day lunch.

 

“Trust me, I won’t.”

 

“But you might.”

 

“No, Wille, I won’t.”

 

Wilhelm shrugs and then looks up at Simon, who’s still in the same position, glaring at the ceiling. “Do you want help, Simon?”

 

“No.”

 

Wilhelm translates that from Simon’s language into his language and it equals yes, so he picks up Simon’s worksheet, on which he's doodled several penises. Simon’s done well, he’s on question seven out of twenty, which, no, doesn't sound impressive, but it’s been twenty minutes and normally he stalls for at least half an hour, texting or going through Wilhelm’s stuff or talking or complaining.

 

“You’re doing good!”

 

Simon huffs, but there’s a small smile on his face he tries to hide. 

 

“Seriously, you are. I’ll help you, come here,” Wilhelm says, cracking his back as he puts his computer on the bed behind him and picks up his mechanical pencil, twirling it around his fingers, appearing calm and casual so Simon doesn't feel embarrassed or belittled. Wilhelm's learnt he's quick to get defensive around Wilhelm, so to prevent that he's become more aware of his own body language around Simon, and it seems to be working.

 

Simon sits up slowly and crawls next to Wilhelm, peering down at the paper with narrowed eyes, as if it might bite him.

 

“You have the length of two of the sides and the inner angle for one,” Wilhelm explains, pointing to these points on the paper. He glances at Simon, who looks back at him, brown eyes curious and waiting. He's open to learning, he's listening. “Get it?”

 

“Got it.”

 

Wilhelm can’t help a smile that spreads across his face, looking back at the paper when a fluttering feeling explodes inside his chest, making it hard to breathe. “Uh - yeah, good. So, using these, you can figure out the angle of this one, as you did in all of these other answers, it's just that the numbers are just more confusing.”

 

Simon goes on to solve the other 14 with Wilhelm's help before declaring that that is enough maths for today.

 

“Alright, fine,” Wilmhelm shrugs, cracking his back after being hunched over a worksheet for nearly an hour. “How’s it going being a parent?” He asks with a smirk, leaning back against his bed.

 

Simon snorts a laugh, moving to sit in front of Wilhelm again, crossing his legs. “My Mum was so confused when she found a bird in the sink when she got home last night, so I had to explain that you adopted her a few weeks ago. She’s stopped checking the news since Sara got famous, so she hasn’t seen any of the photos of us, she’s just heard rumours at her job's. But she works at the vet part-time, so she actually knows a lot about animals and she took Sunny in today to do some checkups.”

 

Wilhelm feels like he learnt so much in that one monologue. He recalls when Simon got really drunk at his welcome party and just rambled. Initially, Wilhelm thought Simon was a drunk talker, but now he’s releasing maybe he’s just like this all the time when he’s comfortable. 

 

“That’s handy,” Wilhelm says. “She didn’t poo on your piano?” 

 

Simon chuckles again, eyes dropping to the homework between them briefly. “No, I haven’t let her just wander into my room. Oh -, but she did nearly get eaten by the Roomba this morning." Wilhelm snorts. "I took her downstairs to the kitchen to feed and put her in the box on the bench but she fucking flew out, and onto the floor, and the Roomba nearly ran her over," Simon gestures as he speaks. "I kicked it away, though.”

 

“Like a real hero," Wilhelm smiles.

 

“Exactly. She should be so grateful for me,” Simon sighs heavily. “What would you have said if she had gotten eaten?”

 

Wilhelm snickers as he thinks, leaning back on his bed. “I’d probably cry, to be honest, and then maybe laugh, because death by a little floor vacuum is hilarious.” Wilhelm’s bursting with questions, like what is his Mother’s other job? Do you trust your Mother not to get Sunny killed while taking her out? Why does everyone say you’re “so poor” but have a piano, a two-story house and a Roomba, none of which are cheap?

 

“Ha, death by Roomba,” Simon snickers. “It would be me - “ A buzzing sound cuts Simon off. He reaches into his pocket. "It's not something you hear every day..." He freezes as he reads the contact name.

 

“Who is it?” Wilhelm asked, frowning. Simon looks back up at Wilhelm, calculating something before his thumb swipes across the screen. He hung up.

 

“It’s - it’s just spam,” he says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Random number,” Simon mumbles, arms reaching his head as he stretches.

 

Wilhelm purses his lips. “Yeah, sure. You do realise you aren’t very good at lying, right?” Wilhelm accuses slightly harsher than needed.

 

“I’ve got to go. I’m going to Rosh’s game tonight,” Simon says, standing up from the floor abruptly, ignoring Wilhelm, who frowns up at him from the floor. “Thanks for the help today, and all the other days.” His words are short and sharp, and he doesn’t make much eye contact as he packs up the finished and unfinished homework, dropping Wilhelm’s pen onto his desk once he stands.

 

Within another minute Simon’s out the door, which just further proves the fact that wasn’t a spam caller. Wilhelm wonders what Simon does in his afternoons when he’s not with Rosh, Ayub or Marcus. When he’s not dealing drugs, when he’s just chilling at his house. Does he play the piano? Does he have a sports hobby, like skateboarding or football? Does he enjoy cooking, and if so, does he make meals for himself and his Mother? Does he mindlessly scroll TikTok for hours until dinner? Is he out exploring Bjärstad by himself? Does he like painting, drawing, swimming, or gardening? 

 

The more Simon he sees, the more he wants to know about him. He wants to know it all.

 

On Friday, he’ll be at Simon’s house, and while he doesn’t plan to snoop around his bedroom, if he ever ends up in there, going to his house will surely give him a little more insight into his life, won’t it? He wasn’t so sure Simon would want him there, and he still doesn’t think Simon himself would invite him to his birthday, but he’s pretty sure Simon won’t mind that he and Felice are at his surprise party.

 

Simon technically left at his normal time tonight, just much hastier than normal. They seemed to have a good conversation going, laughing and joking. Normally he dordles, jokes, packs up slowly, chatters a bit more and then leaves, but tonight is up and out.

 

Wilhelm cleans up his room some more, tidying up his desk while he waits for dinner to start since there's no point doing work for five minutes. Wilhelm slips from his room to dinner and returns, starting on his homework and planning for the parent's day lunch. He chucks off his shoes and climbs onto his bed. It's only Tuesday night but it's probably going to be a long one. He bites his nails, and curls up on his bed, the main lights in his room are off, the computer screen illuminating his face along with the red of his LEDs

 

Having Sunny gone has already given him more time to do homework and the ability to wake up later once more, but he almost misses her. It's like his kid has gone off to college. He kind of misses her being in his room, probably chirping (she's always talking), thinking Wilhelm is her Mama - since he found her, made her warm, fed her and cleaned her up. But now she’s with Simon. He’s at Rosh’s game right now, so Sunny is likely with Simon’s Mum at the moment. 

 

Wilhelm hopes they can trust her. From what he's heard, she's an amazing woman, and Simon said she's a vet so there's clearly a passion for animals and their welfare somewhere inside her.

 

Anyway, parents day lunch - 

 

There’s a knock on the window and Wilhelm just about jumps out of his skin, eyes flying over to the closed curtain.

 

“Wille?” A shaky voice croaks, followed by another thud, but this one sounds like someone’s head against the class. “Wille,” again, a little more worn out

 

What? 

 

His mind flies at a hundred miles an hour. Wilhelm slips off his bed slowly, feeling rather scared. Is this some psycho? Is August being a douche? Who is that? He knows rationally he shouldn’t open the curtains, but he has a feeling that he needs to, that it’s a good idea, that it’s the right thing.

 

He flicks on his light, and then he hears a sob. Someone is crying out there, which is even stranger because who would come to him crying? Felice and... That’s it. It doesn’t sound like Felice though, and she does share a room with Maddi so it seems slightly random to journey across Hillerska to get his comfort when Maddi is right there.

 

Wilhelm slowly lifts the corner of the curtain and feels his heart skip a beat, stomach dropping, staring down at the figure who is sitting on the ground, back leaning against the brick wall, legs curled against their chest with their forehead resting on their knees, arms wrapped their thins - curled into a small. A dark blue bike lies a few feet away from them, on its side in the grass.

 

Wilhelm quickly clambers onto his desk and pulls the curtains back, pushing the window open over their head - 

 

“Simon? What - what’s wrong?” Wilhelm breathes, frown deep and almost painful as he stares down at his quivering form on the ground, his heart beating loudly in his ears, blood roaring.

 

Simon looks up at him slowly, and Wilhelm feels his eyes widen. Simon’s pretty brown eyes are red and wet, his cheeks stained in with messy tear streaks. His hair is frizzy like he’s been running or someone grabbed it. His nose has dried blood all around it, swollen slightly, face blotchy from crying and the cold.

 

“Oh, hi,” Simon sniffles, wiping his eyes, and Wilhelm sees blood on his palms. He says it like he wouldn't expect Wilhelm to be in his own room.

 

“Come in, get in, right now, come here,” Wilhelm demands, offering a hand and scooching back on his desk.

 

“Yeah,” Simon croaks, choking out another sob which makes Wilhelm’s heart clench painfully, like someone has a physical grip on the vital organ, making it hurt every time Simon is. 

 

Simon goes to stand, sniffing and crying - he lets out a pained gasp, pressing a hand against his stomach and curling over further on the ground, sobbing against his knees. “Sorry - sorry, it’s just - I’m - I’m fine - “

 

Wilhelm jumps out the window next to him, socks soaking up the cold moisture instantly, but he doesn’t care. “I told you not even a day ago you’re a terrible liar,” Wilhelm teases weakly, offering his hands to help Simon up. He can guess pretty well who that caller was, but he won’t say he knows, he doesn’t even know why Simon is here. He’ll ask later.

 

Simon sniffles and takes his hand, not meeting his eye as he does so. Wilhelm feels something slightly sharp and prickly dig into his palms as he gently helps Simon up. Glass, Wilhelm realizes, there’s glass in Simon’s hands. Wilhelm is going to murder his Father, seriously, this is not okay.

 

Wilhelm expects Simon to turn and go through the window, but instead, he’s letting out another cry when he's fully standing, doubling over in pain, onto Wilhelm. His forehead lands on Wilhelm's shoulder with a thud and on instinct, Wilhelm puts his arms around Simon and finds himself hugging Simon to his chest.

 

Simon never seemed small, his attitude and personality always took up a lot of space in a room, which was fine, a little annoying and obnoxious at first, but now Wilhelm thinks he knows why it was so obnoxious, because Simon feels really small right now, curled into Wilhelm as he sobs, bleeding and clearly bruised, broken, abused

 

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Wilhelm whispers, eyes pinned on his window as Simon shakes against him, his head curled underneath Wilhelm’s, his arms pressed against his chest, gripping his clothes like it’s the only thing holding him up. Wilhelm shivers from the cold while Simon shakes from his broken cries. Wilhelm doesn't know what to say to make this better. 

 

Wilhelm feels heartbroken and simultaneously furious. He wants to hurt someone, but also cradle Simon like a goddamn baby, to keep him safe. He said he was going to Rosh’s game, but it’s clear he’s gone to his Dad’s again. However this time, he came to Wilhelm for comfort and his heart can't take it, slamming against his ribs like a drum, he's sure Simon can feel it through his chest.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Simon whispers brokenly, voice raw and soft, but he doesn’t move. “You were just - just the only one I wanted to see - I just need - needed you.” Simon knows Wilhelm knows, and he came to Wilhelm because … He wanted his comfort. He could’ve gone and hid in his bedroom, fixed himself up and come to school like he did last time, but he came to Wilhelm. His heart might burst.

 

“It’s okay,” Wilhelm just says again, unsure what else he can say to make this better. “It's okay. Let’s go inside. I’ll help," Simon nods against his shoulder, forehead digging in harder. "I promise. You’re safe, I've got you.”

 

“I know,” Simon sniffles again, before pulling himself away and pressing the backs of his hands against his eyes, letting out another rough sob that sends another stab into Wilhelm's chest. Wilhelm has no idea what he’s gone through, but it looks like a lot, and it looks horrible. He must be so strong.

 

Simon climbs into Wilhelm’s bedroom, and Wilhelm figures out something on or in his stomach area hurts a lot, and his mind does a great job at painting the image of why.

 

“Where did you tell Rosh and Ayub you were?” Wilhelm whispers as he closes the window and curtain, blocking out some of the cold Simon sits on the other bed, wiping at his eyes which are still leaking as he shivers

 

“Here. With you,” he replies shakily, voice barely a whisper in the dark room.

 

Simon goes to great effort to cover up the fact he visits his father, lying to his friends, and surely his Mother as well, threatening to physically fight Wilhelm when he tries to confront him on it.

 

“What do you need?” Wilhelm asks, already going to get that med kit Simon used on him a few days ago. His knuckles are healing, he stopped wearing the bandages on them, they’re still bruised and split.

 

Simon shudders. “Bandages, disinfectant, tweezers, a cloth, cotton pads, paracetamol and a fucking cigarette," he lists off bitterly and without hesitation.

 

“Well, I can get you most of that, just not the last two,” Wilhelm admits as he approaches with the med kit, glancing at Simon’s crumpled face. 

 

Simon nods, slinging off his backpack, which Wilhelm notices is fully on his back for the first time in a while.

 

Wilhelm sits cross-legged on the bed facing Simon, and he mimics the position after prying off his shoes. He’s stopped crying now, but his face is still shiny, eyelashes clumped and breaths hitched. 

 

Simon doesn’t make eye contact, just turns over his hands so Wilhelm can see his palms and fingers. His right hand is worse, small pieces of green glass are dug into his skin, causing a bit of bleeding and swelling. It looks like he applied more pressure with one hand than the other. Wilhelm can almost hear the crunch of when he must've fallen on shattered glass.

 

He gulps and opens the kit. He’ll ask later. 

 

Wilhelm takes out the tweezers and a cloth, glancing up at Simon. “Do you want me too…?” He trails off, gesturing to the stuff.

 

Simon looks ashamed and embarrassed. He nods, hanging his head and closing his eyes.

 

Wilhelm nods as well, picking up the tweezers and taking Simon’s hand shakily, his rings are cold but his hands are warm and soft. Wilhelm leans down so he can see better, and goes for the first piece of glass, trying his very best to keep his hand steady as he pinches it, and pulls it out slowly.

 

Simon bites his lip and closes his eyes, his body tensing.

 

Wilhelm wipes it on the cloth. It’s small, barely a millimetre long, but sharp and now red with his blood. His stomach churns uncomfortably and he looks away, to the next piece, and then the next, and the next, until one of Simon’s hands is clear. 

 

“I think that’s all good,” Wilhelm breathes, three seconds away from throwing up the dinner he ate. The cloth has a bunch of little green pieces of glass all over it now, stained red. Simon’s hand is bleeding with little pinpricks of blood in places, it looks very, very sore. It appears some of the bigger pieces he’d already pulled out himself, as there are some cuts already there, but these smaller ones got pushed in even further, likely when he was biking.

 

Simon nods, placing that hand palm up in his lap and offering his other silently.

 

Wilhelm can’t wait any longer, halfway through cleaning out his other hand, which is much worse than the other he asks.

 

“Was this your Dad again?” He whispers.

 

Simon is quiet, and then sniffs a few times, blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry, I keep crying, it’s so fucking embarrassing - God, all of this is.  I’ll leave soon, I promise, I’ll stop bothering you- ”

 

“It’s okay, it's okay,” Wilhelm says again, I think you need a good cry, to be honest. "You don't have to leave."

 

“If week one Simon saw me now, he’d want to … “ Simon trails off, and Wilhelm feels slightly offended by that.

 

“Simon, I’m not judging you right now. I don’t know what you’ve been through, and I know I have no right to know, but I … I can see why you’re crying. You’ve been through some horrible stuff, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t crying,” Wilhelm mumbles, pulling another piece of glass out. 

 

“If week one Wilhelm could see us right now, he’d probably not believe it, because logically, looking into the future and talking to past selves isn’t possible, so he just wouldn’t believe it at all, because time travel isn’t a thing,” Wilhelm jokes weakly. He isn't even sure that made sense, but he can't be damned to care.

 

Simon snorts, which surprises Wilhelm because that might be the last thing he expects Simon to do tonight.

 

“Yeah, I can see that. How did your planning for the parent's day lunch go?”

 

Oh. Only then does it occur to him that Simon sucks at lying, but he’s flawless at changing topics, right from when Wilhelm asked if it was his Dad he began crying, which may have been a genuine response, but then he went on to talk about week one Simon, then parents day lunch.

 

“It went well,” Wilhelm says as if he spent more than twenty minutes on it before Simon arrived. “What did your Dad want?”

 

“Wille… ” Simon whispers, closing his eyes again. "Can we not right now?" His voice sounds as worn down and utterly exhausted as he looks.

 

“But - I - what’ll happen is you’ll stay the night here - don’t even fight me on that -  and when I wake up you’ll be gone and I won’t get another moment alone with you till Friday - at tutor, on Friday. I know I promised not to bring it up,” Wilhelm pulls the tweezers back and looks up at Simon, whose teary eyes stare back, pleading and begging him to stop. Wilhelm gulps. “But I refuse to sit here while he hurts you. You need to stop seeing him, there can’t be anything good coming out of this.”

 

Wilhelm steels himself. He’s ready for an argument, for a fight, for Simon to resist and claim he just doesn’t understand his situation, for him to try and run away from their fighting - again. He’s prepared to fight back, to physically hold Simon here until he understands that this is self-destructive and not right. That this is child abuse and this is illegal. But what he wasn’t prepared for was Simon agreeing.

 

“Okay,” Simon says, wiping his eyes with his hands, and taking a deep breath that sounds satisfying, the first proper breath after a big cry. 

 

Wilhelm blinks, turning his head to the side, frowning. “Wha - what? … Okay?

 

“I’ll stop visiting him,” Simon says easily, nodding. “It’s the right thing to do. I can find another dealer or - or something."

 

“You’ll stop?” Wilhelm repeats numbly, still frowning. That was much easier than expected.

 

Simon nods. “Yeah. I should’ve sooner. I will.”

 

Wilhelm examines his face closely. He looks back at Wilhelm, smiling softly ... but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His heart drops and he physically slouches in disappointment. 

 

“You’re lying - “

 

“No, I’m not,” Simon interrupts, just a little bit too forcefully, blinking rapidly as he sits up straighter, more defensive. “I’m serious.”

 

Wilhelm clenches his jaw. Simon is stiff where he sits, and he doesn’t mean a word he says to Wilhelm, blatantly lying to his face. And it hurts, Wilhelm understands why he's lying but it still hurts.

 

“Wille, I swear, I won’t go see him again.”

 

“You can’t promise that. You can't promise me anything - you won't.”

 

Simon looks broken, his face crumbling, as if he’s losing something, maybe a trust Wilhelm doesn’t think they even had, not after Wilhelm broke his promise of not asking about Micke, and now Simon is trying to make empty promises right to his face so really, what trust do they have in each other? It hurts to think like that but it's the truth.

 

“I won’t go again. You just assume I’m always lying but I’m not,” Simon says, eyes boring into Wilhelm’s. Maybe he’s telling the truth…? “I won’t. It’s not worth it.”

 

Wilhelm stares back for a moment. He assumes Simon is always lying because he always is. How can you blame him for that? The only time he’s ever been completely honest is when he was drunk at the welcome party, rambling on about how much he misses his sister and his family.

 

“Okay. I believe you,” Wilhelm says eventually, and Simon smiles slowly, relaxing again.

 

“Good,” Simon mumbles. “Now hurry up with this, it really hurts.”

 

“Beer bottle?” Wilhelm asks as he picks up the tweezers, taking Simon’s hand in his. He’s going to believe Simon because he needs to for his own sanity, and maybe Simon is a little bit right, maybe he should trust him for this time.

 

“Yeah,” Simon sighs in response as he pulls out another thin shard of glass. “Threw it at me but hit the wall, then I fell over on it, like an idiot.”

 

“Lucky it didn’t go in your eye,” Wilhelm reasons. “You’d be blind.”

 

“Couldn’t have gone in my eyes,” Simon mumbles. 

 

Wilhelm freezes because that response feels loaded with secrets. “Why?” He asks slowly.

 

“Because he grabbed my hair as I was falling,” Simon whispers, so quiet Wilhelm could barely hear, but it makes his blood freeze and there’s no way he just misheard that. That sounds … horrible. You’re body being pulled in two different directions, gravity pulling the mass of your body down while your head and your delicate neck are being yanked in the other.

 

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm replies, unconsciously rubbing his thumb over the back of Simon’s hand, instinctively wanting to comfort this boy however he can.

 

Simon doesn’t reply, but Wilhelm sees a tear land on the mattress in between them, and it kind of makes his own eyes sting as well. He wants to wipe away Simon's tears, to bundle him into his arms and keep him safe, but he doesn't want to cross any lines. 

 

For a few minutes, they’re quiet. The room isn’t tense, per se, but you can feel in the air that Wilhelm has questions and that Simon is tired.

 

Wilhelm holds himself back because Simon said he came here because he knew he needed Wilhelm. Is that the whole truth? Did he know Wilhelm would be enough of a pushover to not ask a question?  “You’re safe.” “I know.” At the time he hadn’t processed what Simon said, but looking bad… It makes him feel all fluffy inside, happy that Simon is safe with him, that he knows he’s safe. When did that happen?

 

Following Simon’s instructions, he wraps Simon’s hands in bandages. 

 

"You have to do it tighter than that, Wille."

 

"I don't want to hurt you!"

 

"You won't, but right now they'll fall off if I breathe too hard."

 

"Fine.“

 

Wilhelm wraps it tighter and tucks the end under the bandage. "Is there anything else you want help with?” Wilhelm asks, letting go of Simon’s hand. He immediately pulls his sleeves, which had begun to slide down his wrists, up to his fingertips.

 

Simon sits up straighter and pulls his jumper up his stomach, to his ribs, and Wilhelm feels his eyes burn again, his stomach becoming queasy. It’s not a good look, it’s quite hard to not flinch or make Simon pull his shirt down. Simon’s abdomen is covered with dark green, purple and blue bruises, swollen and angry.

 

“What do you need for that?” Wilhelm croaks out, the urge to run his fingers over the bruised skin strong, but he holds back, imagining that no matter how light his touch is, it will hurt.

 

“Painkillers,” Simon whispers back, dropping his jumper. He still looks ashamed, which doesn’t sit well with Wilhelm at all. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. Simon got abused, he didn’t ask for that, he doesn’t have to avoid eye contact like he hurt someone like this is shameful or something he should be embarrassed about. It’s not. 

 

"I don't ... " Wilhelm trails off, throwing his hands up weakly.

 

“I know. It's okay,” Simon replies. “Maybe I have some leftover... " he rummages through his bag as Wilhelm stands up. "You want an orange?” Simon asks randomly.

 

Wilhelm actually does a double-take. “What?” He questions, frowning. 

 

“Do you want an orange?” Simon repeats, placing it on the bed next to him.

 

“Uh, no thanks.” 

 

“Okay,” Simon says, dropping the slightly squishy-looking fruit back into his bag. He takes a slow, deep breath, dropping his bag off the edge of the bed back to the floor. "You can ask questions," Simon says, leaning back against the wall, wincing at the new position it puts his stomach in.

 

Wilhelm watches him. The tear-streaked cheeks, the red eyes and nose, dishevelled hair, wrapped hands and tense back.

 

“Do you want to watch Netflix?” Wilhelm asks. Simon doesn’t need questions, Wilhelm thinks it would do him good to talk to someone about this, but Wilhelm isn’t that person for him. He wouldn’t mind if he was, but he knows Simon isn’t that comfortable with him. “I’ve got Disney, Netflix, Paramount Plus, and YouTube - if you know any actually interesting accounts on there. It's so dry nowadays.”

 

Simon stares at him, clearly not expecting that before he smiles softly and shrugs. “I mean, sure, yeah, why not? What are you watching right now?”

 

“Nothing. I've been too busy with school to watch anything,” Wilhelm says, picking up his laptop and sitting down next to Simon, back leaning against the wall. “What do you want to watch?” 

 

Simon looks over at him with a strange, unreadable expression for a moment, before blinking and clearing his throat. “Ahem. Uh - I - I dunno.”


“Great British Bake Off?”

 

Simon snorts, which turns into a wince, but he covers it with a forced smile, eyes pinned on the screen while Wilhelm watches him. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Wilhelm nods and clicks onto Prime. That’s what they watch for the rest of the evening. Simon criticizes their dishes and mocks their mistakes, slowly coming out of his quiet shell as the night goes on. He is visibly still in pain, every time he shifts his position he winces, occasionally pressing his hand against his stomach to soothe the pain.

 

“Is he fucking stupid? The instructions literally fucking say to add it in bit by bit and wait till that amount is fully mixed in before adding the next bit, not to dump it all in because it’ll fuck up the egg whites - argghhh, fucking idiot. How did he even get in this show? Who’s dick did he suck?”

 

“He’s just incompetent, not a slag. We know this.”

 

“I would so win that competition.”

 

“Sure, you would.”

 

Simon eventually falls quiet, and Wilhelm figures he’s got lost in his thoughts, so he quietly leaves him to it, until the woman on screen burns her cupcakes into charcoal and Simon has nothing to say about it. Wilhelm glances over at him to find Simon’s eyes closing, his eyelashes fluttering like the broken wings of a butterfly. Wilhelm watches as his eyes slip closed, long eyelashes fanning against his dark cheeks delicately, and for a few seconds there they stay, relaxed, before they flicker open again, and then close, his head lolling onto his shoulder at an awkward angle.

 

Wilhelm finds himself smiling at him. Simon just fell asleep right next to Wilhelm, his hands lying limp in his lap, head to the side away from Wilhelm. You have to be pretty comfortable to do that, right? Wilhelm has never fallen asleep next to August like this, nor can he remember falling asleep on either of his parents - he's never been comfortable enough, only on Erik or Felice. 

 

He turns the computer so it’s fully facing himself, and pauses the episode they're on, changing tabs to continue doing some homework, making up for the lost hours he spent watching Bake Off as a distraction for Simon.

 

Not even 10 minutes later Simon’s phone starts ringing from his pocket and he wakes up. 

 

Wilhelm looks over as Simon begins grumbling, Simon reaches into his pocket, sitting up from where he’d fully fallen over, shoulder seemingly squished at an awkward angle, but he’d just kept sleeping so it mustn’t have been that bad.

 

Simon squints at the screen, shoulder pressed against Wilhelm’s but not acknowledging him.

 

“It’s your Mama,” Wilhelm says, fingers pausing on the keyboard to glance at his screen.

 

“Oh,” Simon rubs his eyes. “Oh shit. Oh fuck.” 

 

Simon swipes the answer button, clearing his throat from the throatyness of sleep. “Hey, Mama," he grumbles, itching his head.

 

Wilhelm hears frantic talking on the other end of the phone, sounding like scolding.

 

“I’m with my study buddy, Mama,” Simon says, flexing his spare hand, and watching it as he speaks.

 

Wilhelm returns to his homework as Simon says something in Spanish. “...Si, Wilhelm…” Wilhelm turns his head to look over at him. He knows what “si” means and he knows who “Wilhelm” is. 

 

“Me?” He whispers, pointing to himself.

 

Simon gives him an unamused look. “No, my goldfish. Yes you, you egg,” Simon says, moving the phone away from his mouth.

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes, but there’s no real mirth behind it anymore.

 

“Sorry, Mama,” Simon says after a few seconds. “Si…” More Spanish Wilhelm doesn't understand. “Si… Si… ‘Kay… Adios, Mama.” Simon hangs up and chucks his phone down, looking at Wilhelm’s screen. “Whatcha doing?” He asks, curling his legs up, wincing as he moves.

 

“Planning for Parents Day Lunch,” Wilhelm explains as he types away.

 

“You’ve been doing that all fucking day,” Simon helpfully points out, as if Wilhelm didn't notice.

 

“There’s a lot to plan. What was your Mama angry about?”

 

“She thought I was at Rosh’s game and was a bit annoyed I hadn’t told her I was staying the night, she, uh, normally works nights, so we were planning to spend her evening off together,” Simon says, pulling his sleeves over his hands.

 

“Oh. You can leave, if you want, I won’t stop you,” Wilhelm tells him. He was planning to have a long chat with Simon tomorrow morning, but he supposes it can wait. 

 

“No, I told her I’m standing here tonight, in my study buddy's dorm at school.”

 

“I tutor you.”

 

“We do study, though.”

 

Wilhelm shrugs. “Sure, you can call it that.” He glances at the time on his computer, it’s just past nine PM. “What time do you normally go to sleep?”

 

Simon looks back up at him, pausing for a second. “It varies greatly.”

 

Wilhelm won’t ask. “Great, and I don’t sleep till midnight. I’m going to keep doing homework, you can do whatever. Do you have your homework?”

 

“I’m not doing my homework. Let’s do something fun,” Simon says as Wilhelm stands from the bed with his laptop, snorting at Simon.

 

Wilhelm lets out a sigh as he sits at his desk, placing his laptop in front of him and turning to Simon, who literally pouts, putting out his bottom lip like a child asking for candy. “As much as I’d like to do anything else, I have to do this for Parent's Day,” Wilhelm explains. "I'm trying to prove school work won't kill me after I had my jobs revoked from the market."

 

“I thought you liked homework,” Simon says, shuffling to the edge of the bed and dangling his legs off, which - hilariously - don’t reach the floor.

 

“Ummm,” Wilhelm glances around his room for a second, thinking of the right words to describe how he feels about schoolwork. “I don’t like the homework, but not doing it isn’t worth it.” Why he’s telling Simon that he doesn’t know, it feels big to admit he doesn’t like homework.

 

“Here I was, thinking you were some kind of homework freak, who seems super chill and super cool, but you’re actually this dweeb who doesn’t know Jack shit about marang or cooking, who hates school work and his family - who are not so perfect, not like how the media shows it - “

 

“Okay, I get it, you can stop.”

 

“The Royal Family has layers. Like an onion. You ever watched Shrek? Onions have layers.

 

“I’m doing school work now,” Wilhelm announces, turning to his laptop and tapping the screen a few times to get it to respond, scooching his chair in.

 

“I personally really like Shrek, I think it’s such a childhood staple. I think I’m a bit like Shrek, you know?” Simon asks, swinging his legs again.

 

Wilhelm snickers to himself. “Yes, I do.”

 

“Shut the fuck up. I mean how he acts,” Simon explains with a huff.

 

Wilhelm thinks about Shrek for a moment, looking up from his screen at Simon silently for a second. “You mean how he’s cold, and mean, and independent, and is scared of love," Wilhelm lists off on his fingers. "But he befriends a donkey who changes his life. You're like him in that sense?” 

 

Simon grins. “You wanna be Donkey?”

 

“I’m going back to my school work,” Wilhelm replies, turning to his computer definitively… But the thoughts linger. Is he the life-changing character in Simon’s story? Is he the Donkey to his Shrek? He nearly snorts at the thought. Ridiculous. But… But funny. Simon is funny.

 

Wilhelm recalls when Sara had come in, and Simon had been outside making the photographer, security and his sister all laugh, but then was so cold in class. Normally, Wilhelm is never wrong when he judges people on first interactions, but he was so wrong about Simon. All those months ago he spilt his coffee on Simon ... how did they get from there - arguing every second of every day, to here? 

 

Simon eventually gets bored of trying to get Wilhelm to react, and sits back against the wall, playing Minecraft on Wilhelm’s phone after using a photo he had of Wilhelm to unlock the face recognition. Simon could’ve called the Queen, posted something inappropriate on his social media, or gone through his gallery, but no, he brought Minecraft on Wilhelm’s phone and played for the next four hours as Wilhelm did school work. Wilhelm wasn’t even angry, to be honest, it kept Simon quiet and the card he threw at Simon was, like all his cards, funded by the palace.

 

The only bothersome thing was Simon complaining about being attacked, or murdered, or his tools breaking. “Fucking zombie, fucking - oh my God it’s a creeper - there’s three! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God - I’m dead. I’ve died. Willlleee, I lost everythingggg! I had diamonds!" 

 

"Oh no," Wilhelm vaguely sympathisers. "I'm sorry for your loss."

 

"What if I cried?"

 

"Don't do that - “ A knock on the door cuts him off, and they fall silent instantly.

 

Wilhelm freezes, mid-way through handing in some extra work for early finishes Mr Grady had assigned today.

 

He stands and runs a hand through his hair, glancing over at Simon, who just stares with wide eyes, Wilhelm’s phone sideways in one hand. Why does it feel like they’ve been caught doing something wrong? You’re allowed to have sleepovers with people who are at school but aren’t residents, you just need permission. Wilhelm preys it’s his friend and opens the door a crack.

 

“Why are you still awake?” Wilhelm whispers at Henry, who’s in his grey track bottoms with no shirt and slippers.

 

“I’m a room over Wille, I can hear Simon.”

 

Wilhelm feels his eyes widen, and Simon shuffles around on the bed behind him. “Oh.”

 

“Hi,” Simon whispers over Wilhelm’s shoulder. “Slumber party in your room, hmm?”

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes at Henry. “We were studying, and he refused to leave,” Wilhelm lies at Henry, who just blinks at them, eyes flicking to their clothes, which they were both still wearing during school. He looks very confused, but mostly irritated, as if he’s not surprised… Which doesn’t bother Wilhelm as much as it normally would. They're friends, they hang out, like friends.

 

Simon only hums, his body warm against Wilhelm’s back where he’s hovering.

 

“It’s a Tuesday night,” Henry whispers in confusion, rubbing his eyes. “What… You know what, I don’t care. Simon, no one cares that you keep dying in Minecraft,” he gives Wilhelm a pointed look, probably saying “Not studying”, or maybe “I heard you read him your card details and I’ve stolen them, also, gay”. “You don’t have shitty luck, you’re just a shitty player.”

 

“I had diamonds, Henry, diamonds .”

 

“And I have no fucks left, so, good night, you gaybos.” With that, Henry turns and walks into his open door where Walter is grumbling.

 

“Go spoon your boyfriend,” Simon hisses down the hallway, leaning even further over Wilhelm’s shoulder to get his words across, his chest fully pressed against Wilhelm’s back, and he finds himself staying deadly still, absorbing Simon’s warmth.

 

Henry flips him the bird and then closes his door gently. The boys decide to go to sleep after that.

 

~ Wednesday ~

 

Wilhelm rolls himself over, shoving his face further into his pillow, feeling all relaxed, warm and happy in the soft confines of his bed. He distantly wonders what woke him up, but his brain is already 90% asleep, the covers bundled against his chest like a stuffed toy he would hug as a child…

 

A grating sound makes him wake again. He shifts slightly, pushing his face into his pillow and sighing …. Slipping off again … More grating. Wilhelm brings his hands to his eyes, mind slugging along like a sloth as he rubs his eyes, before squinting in front of him.

 

Simon is crouched on his desk, one hand on the curtain the other on the desk to keep himself stable, wearing the same clothes he arrived in and not the track bottoms and random shirt Wilhelm gave him (even though he insisted he has actual pyjamas like a normal person and not a heathen, even though he doesn’t tend to use them either) His backpack and shoes are on. He's leaving.

 

“No,” Wilhelm mumbles, shoving the blankets over his face. “We need to talk,” he says into the sheets, suddenly very aware of how stupid he must look, pillow creases on his cheek and mused hair.

 

Simon sighs, but Wilhelm hears him clambering off the desk, and sitting on his desk chair. “You talk in your sleep.”

 

Wilhelm peeks his eyes at him, before sitting up fully, disgruntled. “No, I don’t," he replies, clearing his throat from sleep.

 

Simon smirks, eyes flickering all over Wilhelm, making him want to cover his sleepy form in covers and fall asleep again, allowing Simon to leave. But he won’t. “Yes, you do. You literally asked me why I was bothering you after waking me up talking about bald men,” Simon deadpans.

 

Wilhelm blinks at him. He’s never been told he sleep talks before. Simon is a liar. “I do not,” he says definitively. “I sleep like a baby.”

 

“Yeah, waking up every second with something random to say that no one else understands,” Simon snickers, amusement dancing in his beautiful, dark eyes.

 

Wilhelm huffs at him, embarrassed to be called out. Does he? Wilhelm doesn’t remember waking up at all once he fell asleep, maybe everyone else has just been too polite to tell him he sleep talks. How embarrassing, honestly. 

 

“It’s fine, it’s funny,” Simon says, cocking his head to the side and smiling. His hair is in two French braids that he did last night, whipping hair ties out of his backpack,  brushing his teeth with his finger and Wilhelm’s toothpaste. 

 

“Stop, stop, we’re meant to be talking about you, not me,” Wilhelm tells him, sliding his legs out of bed and instantly getting assaulted by the cold. See, normally he’d sleep in his boxers since he can get quite hot during the night, but he thought that would be inappropriate to do with someone else in his bedroom. Wilhelm’s bed is just his duvet and pillows, but Simon has three different blankets Wilhelm pulled out and threw at him when he kept complaining he was cold, along with a pair of thick, fluffy socks and one of Wilhelm’s jumpers. Simon is slim but must radiate heat like a freezer would.

 

“But you’re so much more interesting,” Simon flirts, batting his eyelashes, and, well, Wilhelm feels himself flush like a horny teenager at that, which is so much more embarrassing than asking Simon about bald men in his sleep. “Let’s talk about you, Wille,” Simon continues, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on his knee, chin resting in his upright palm. “Hmm?”

 

“No,” Wilhelm replies, thankful his voice comes out hard and commanding, forcing himself to frown at Simon and not flop over on his bed and wait for his cheeks to pale again.

 

Simon huffs out a sigh, dropping the facade and leaning back in the chair, allowing Wilhelm the ability to breathe again, his intense, unwavering gaze gone. “Fine. Whatever. Say whatever the fuck you want and then I’m out of here.”

 

Wilhelm glances at the window and notes that the sun is rising. Yeah, Simon does need to get out of here before someone wakes up and sees him leave - that'll look suspicious. Ignoring the fact Henry and Walter already know he's here, Wilhelm's neighbours on the other side likely know as well ... 

 

“Okay. First, I…” Wilhelm trails off, suddenly more anxious to speak. He runs his hand through his hair and over his neck. Last night, when all their emotions were so much more raw, it would’ve been easier to tell Simon this. He looks down at his bitten nails and dry cuticles, the nail polish wearing off. “I do want you to know… that I’m not angry you came to me last night. I’m, uh, actually happy. So, yeah, good job, or, yeah.” Wilhelm clears his throat and Simon rubs his face, Wilhelm can’t decide if it's to stop him from crying again or because he’s trying to hide how awkward he feels. “I can’t imagine it’s easy. But I’d always rather you wake me up at 3 am and tease me about sleep-talking in the morning than you be alone. I don’t know why you keep going to your Dad, I’d ask, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t tell me why…” Wilhelm leaves the end of his sentence open for Simon to fill in the blanks, but he’s met with silence, which isn’t surprising. 

 

“But, it’s none of my business,” Wilhelm puts his hands up in surrender, and Simon lowers his hands, his expression surprisingly fond, which almost makes Wilhelm do a double take, grab Simon’s face - gently, because he’s learnt Simon is very fragile - and examine him. His pretty hair, beautiful face, sharp, angular features and soft-looking lips. Wilhelm blinks, mentally shaking himself. Focus. “You can always come here if you need the support.” Wilhelm finishes, nodding to himself and staring at the ground, preying for Simon to save him from this awkwardness.

 

“Just for support?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly slow, a smirk faint on his face.

 

“Alrighty, you can go now, there’s the exit,” Wilhelm flushes again, throwing himself backwards onto his bed.

 

“Wille,” Simon chuckles, standing. Wilhelm lies on his side, facing his bedroom wall, the sheets tight in his grip. 

 

“Yes?” Wilhelm replies, voice maybe slightly snappy. Is Simon incapable of having a serious conversation? Does he have to flirt and make Wilhelm feel awkward?

 

“Wille,” Simon repeats, and his name sounds strangely pleasant on Simon’s tongue. He feels Simon coming closer, standing over him next to the bed. Then he feels the gentle weight of Simon’s hand on his shoulder and he feels himself tense, his heart jumping in surprise. “I just …” Simon pauses, his hand running from his shoulder down his bicep a few inches, softly, carefully. “I’ll see you later,” Simon whispers, his hands giving the lightest, barely there squeeze to Wilhelm’s arm, he can feel bandages through his clothes. He closes his eyes, relaxing into the warmth that radiates through the layers.

 

Then it’s gone, and the window closes moments later.

 

 Wilhelm blinks at his wall. Well, he isn’t sleeping now. His mind spins like he’s gotten up too fast, Simon’s touch is light, barely there, but it’s burned through his bandages and Wilhelm's clothes. Damn. Marcus is lucky if Simon is like this in their own time because he is ... a lot. He makes Wilhelm feel a lot of everything.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The school day passes uneventfully. Henry and Walter don’t say anything about Simon staying over, nor do they even make weird eye contact with each other when Simon walks in the door to fourth period with Wilhelm only a step behind him, holding Wilhelm’s phone with a concentrated expression as he plays on his stupid Minecraft again, having stolen his phone from him during lunch. Wilhelm finds it gives him the confidence to gently put his hands on Simon’s waist and redirect him from walking straight into the food collection station table in the middle of the food tech room when he isn’t paying attention.

 

Simon nearly gets Wilhelm’s phone confiscated, Mr Rogerson gives Simon pointed looks as he walks in until Wilhelm snatches his phone back from Simon's grasp.

 

“Wille!” Simon hisses, grabbing Wilhelm's arm sharply in distress as Wilhelm slips it into his back pocket, standing at their table waiting for the lesson to start. Simon stands next to him, forcing Henry to stand on the other side next to Walter, who quickly makes space for him without complaint.

 

Mr Rogerson shuffled the groups around after the Joshua incident, putting friends together after learning his class doesn't like anyone but their friends. Wilhelm ended up with Simon, Walter and Henry. Felice is with Madi and her two lesbian children. Joshua is with all his friends and Alex is with Anne and some other quieter kids who he claims are very cool.

 

Mr Rogerson starts the lesson by writing down instructions on the whiteboard in his big, messy handwriting.

 

Wilhelm watches, slightly bored, since food tech isn’t his favourite class. He’s almost zoning out, thinking about their next class, when Simon slides closer, his warm hip pressing against Wilhelm’s.

 

Wilhelm sighs and looks over at him, ignoring the shot of butterflies inside of him, squashing them because no. Simon stares at the teacher as if he's not doing anything, and then Wilhelm feels pressure in his front pocket on the side furthest from Simon.

 

His gaze snaps down to where Simon’s hand is in the front pocket of his jeans, his arm fully wrapped around Wilhelm’s waist to reach, staring at the teacher with the faintest amusement in his eyes.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm hisses, feeling heat instantly rush to his cheeks at how close Simon is, and how dangerously close Simon’s hand is.

 

“Yes?” Simon whispers, slowly pulling Wilhelm’s phone out of his pocket.

 

Wilhelm grabs his wrist and pries his hand away, eyes flicking around the class to see who had noticed, relieved to see only Felice raising her eyebrow at him. He gives her a withered look as he shoves Simon’s wandering hand again.

 

“Stop it. Focus,” Wilhelm hisses at him, shuffling a step away, body feeling hot.

 

Simon huffs, leaning on the table, but he looks thoroughly pleased with himself, hiding behind his hand as he leans his head in his palm, and Wilhelm feels how his gaze doesn’t leave his face until the lesson begins properly.

 

“Alright, can you two go get our two portions of dough,” Wilhelm asks Henry and Walter. Today they are making mini pizza's.

 

“We need four, though.”

 

“Look at the first step,” Wilhelm sighs. “It’s one per two people, they are mini pizzas. Go get two portions, please. Simon, can you - “ Wilhelm glances over at Simon to give him instructions as Henry and Walter walk off to the ingredients table and he finds Simon still staring, his gaze cheeky and amused, smirking at Wilhelm with glinting dark eyes. It makes him falter, feeling himself blush again. “Uh - can you - “ Wilhelm glances at the board to find the instructions again, blinking a few times to get his brain back online.

 

“Can I what?” Simon asks, still smirking at Wilhelm.

 

“Preheat the oven. Mmmhmm. I’ll get some flour,” Wilhelm doesn’t look back at him, turning to the ingredient table to get their flour to knead the dough. Well, this isn’t good. Wilhelm knows these feelings, but he’s going to ignore them.

 

~ Thursday ~

 

Midway through lunch on Thursday, Wilhelm’s phone begins to ring on the table next to him. Henry, Walter, Alex, Simon and Wilhelm’s heads all turn to it, Wilhelm snatching the vibrating phone off the table to stop it making so much noise, about to swipe away the caller before realizing it’s Ayub.

 

“Oh. It’s Ayub,” he says helpfully, and Simon groans loudly. “What?” Wilhelm asks, about to answer.

 

“Well, Ayub insisted we hang out today because they have a teachers-only day, but I said I’m not skipping school to hangout, and they fully didn’t believe me,” Simon huffs. “Answer it. I bet they think I’ve been kidnapped.”

 

Wilhelm raises an eyebrow, but answers either way, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hel - “

 

Wille, don't be mad but we've lost Simon! We said we would hang out with him today, just me, him and Rosh but he didn’t show up! We asked Marcus why he stole Simon but he doesn’t know where he is either! Can you help us find him because he would so come out of hiding if your siren called your way to his hiding place?” Ayub is speaking so loud Simon and Felice can hear, and Simon wrinkles his nose while Felice snorts a laugh.

 

“I would not,” Simon says firmly, to Wilhelm’s amused look.

 

“What should I try to sing?” Wilhelm asks Ayub.

 

Well, he loves his Spanish music, so maybe like, Feliz Navidad?”

 

“I feel insulted,” Simon says.

 

“Well, I have good news,” Wilhelm says to Ayub, who starts yelling for him to share in response. Wilhelm laughs. “Firstly, you won’t have to hear me sing, second, Simon isn’t a liar and is glaring at me like I shoved his Grandma out the window right this second.”

 

What?! Is he actually doing schoolwork? On the weekend? ROSH! Rosh, he’s doing schoolwork!”

 

“What?”

 

“I know!”

 

Simon sighs and snatches his phone from Wilhelm, which, honestly, he’s used to at this point. Simon becoming more comfortable with Wilhelm is both a curse and a blessing.

 

Simon stole Wilhelm’s phone from his pocket while he was putting food in the oven in food tech, proceeding to spam photos of the classroom, students, himself and Wilhelm’s desperate and pained expression at having to put their pizzas in the oven before stopping him. Ayub informed Wilhelm that Simon does do that - taking your things when he’s curious. It’s never harmful, Ayub tells him, but if he’s hungry and you’ve got food, it’s not your food, it’s yours and Simon’s.

 

During PE on Thursday the class had to sit along a wall while Miss Myles gave the class a firm telling off for filling the lockers with water so when people open them to put dry clothes in they get soaked, Simon fell asleep on Wilhelm, his head on his shoulder and side pressed against him. Which earned some looks from the rest of the class, and Mr Dryden a lot of confusing glances.

 

But it’s much nicer than arguing with him. It's more fun to have playful banter that doesn’t actually hurt than real arguing, much better than the beginning of the school year. 

 

“Ayub, I will pour Gatorade into your motorcycle's fuel tank and wipe my ass with your pillow.”

 

“Whao,” Henry says, smiling with a slightly concerned expression. Wilhelm shrugs. He threatened to piss on Wilhelm’s pillow when Sunny knocked all his skincare products off the basin in his bathroom and made some of it leak onto the floor. 

 

Ayub cackles on the other end, clearly more amused than afraid of Simon, which is fair, because Wilhelm’s learnt he’s not serious, most of the time. Simon still has his moments where he’s in a bad mood. The day he fell asleep on Wilhelm was the day after he woke up in Wilhelm’s room, and it’s clear someone else had noticed his wounds because he’d come to school in a foul mood, ignored Wilhelm the whole day apart from grumbling when he moved to stand in PE, rousing him from sleep.

 

Simon’s a mystery, but he’s starting to open up and be his real self. Wilhelm, dear he says, believes Simon no longer wants to get expelled.


~ Friday ~

 

“Can’t believe that little shit thinks we’re going to forget his birthday,” Ayub shakes his head at Wilhelm and Felice as they clip on their helmets.

 

It’s around three thirty pm, so Simon should be hanging out with Sara right now, getting their nails done by a private nail artist to avoid attention, and Rosh and Ayub just pulled up to Hillerksa on their motorcycles to drive Felice and Wilhelm back to Simon’s house to prepare his surprise party.

 

Strict orders from Rosh and Ayub were to tell him a happy birthday text and not mention anything about meeting up or having plans for the evening, anything that might give away that they’re going to turn his house into a small party.

 

“He doesn’t think that,” Wilhelm replies, flipping down the visor, everything becoming tinted a coppery golden from the class. He flips it up again. “I texted him before school as well as telling him happy birthday first period. He asked how I knew it was his birthday so I said I Googled it ages ago.”

 

“He called Wille a stalker,” Felice snickers at him.

 

“He called me a stalker,” Wilhelm confirms with an eye roll.

 

"Like Simon can talk," Rosh whispers to Ayub, clearly not meaning for Wilhelm to hear. Ayub laughs loudly at that, shaking his head with amusement.

 

They all get onto the motorcycles, Wilhelm placing his hands on Ayub’s shoulders as he reeves the engine, before shooting forwards, down the driveway of Hillerska.

 

Wilhelm had to fight more than he’d expected for permission to go out tonight, and for a moment he thought he’d have to go behind the backs of his parent and PR team, but he texted Erik for help and within 20 minutes Wilhelm had his permission email from Jan-Olaf and text from Erik saying to say happy birthday from him to Simon. His parents really weren't too sure about him going to Simon's for his sixteenth birthday, and while he doesn't like going behind his parent's back, he'd be willing to do so tonight.

 

The trees whizz past as Wilhelm holds onto Ayub, flipping his visor down so he can see. 

 

It’s a beautiful day, 16 years ago today baby Simon came screaming - probably - into the world, and not for the first time Wilhelm is grateful. He’s now realizing that yes, while Simon caused a lot of drama Wilhem's beginning to understand why. As he grows closer to Simon, he can feel a lot of the school shunning him a bit. Maybe they’re just getting tired of the Prince being around, but he knows this is only a little bit of what Simon got at the beginning, and if he put himself in Simon’s shoes, he also would’ve wanted to go back to a school with his boyfriend and two best friends, way closer to his Mother and sister.

 

A few minutes later they’re in the narrow, darker streets of Bjärstad. They stop at a traffic light and Wilhelm looks over at Felice, grinning at her through the helmet.

 

Wilhelm told Ayub and Rosh it would be safer for him to wear a helmet because, in situations like these, where people are staring at the loud motorcycles in front of all the cars at the traffic lights, he could be recognized, and that could be extremely dangerous to both Rosh, Ayub, Wilhelm, Felice, the cars driving, the people who come onto the roads. They agreed easily, Ayub also pointing out how bad it would be for his reputation if the Prince flew off and cracked royal blood on Bjärstad's poor streets. Wilhelm feared for his driving skills.

 

Wilhelm can see Felice’s eyes scrunch back, she too must be grinning at him. She waved enthusiastically, and Wilhelm returned the gesture, speeding forward moments later and nearly losing his grip on Ayub, laughing as he clung on again.

 

A few minutes later they’re slowing down as they get into a quiet part of town, passing by a bus stop, and then turning into a road of nice-looking houses, all two or more stories, with perfect, giant front gardens, and nice cars, Toyota brands and Jeeps.

 

“Simon is a humble man,” Wilhelm mumbles, not sure if anyone hears him over the rumbling engines.

 

“He doesn’t dress like he lives here, does he?” Ayub says over his shoulder as they head to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac, two stories, made of brick with a tall fence and what appears to be lots of trees. It’s not the fanciest house on the block, but, shamefully, it’s more than Wilhelm was expecting. Which kind of makes him hate himself for a moment, because he judged Simon’s house on how Simon dressed, and probably subconsciously on the knowledge his Mum works two jobs. He mentally tells himself to reset his brain and not do that again.

 

They drive the motorcycles up the drive, the garage door opens, and Linda grins back at them as Felice and Wilhelm get off the bikes so Rosh and Ayub can put them in the garage so Simon won’t see.

 

“Hello, you must be Wilhelm,” Linda opens her arms, smiling at him with a warmth Simon recognizes from Simon's face when he grins.

 

Wilhelm smiled back at her. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Linda, he didn't know if Simon had told her about how much he hated Wilhelm and if Linda would have taken that into mind, but apparently not. The woman is wearing an emerald green dress that's knee-length and long-sleeved, flowy and soft-looking. She looks tired but undeniably happy.

 

He hugs her gently, patting her back softly.

 

"It's so wonderful to meet you, I'm Linda," Linda says as she pulls back. "How was your ride here?"

 

"It's lovely to meet you, Linda. I'm Wilhelm," Wilhelm greets, smiling at her. He's not used to meeting people's parents with such warm hugs and genuine smiles, but he legitimately wants to smile at Linda because of how nice she is. They both know each other's names already and must know that the other knows their names, but they greet each other properly, which Wilhelm likes. At the end of the day, they're both just normal people. "Well, I thought I was going to die at one point, but Ayub isn't an entirely terrible driver."

 

Linda laughs and greets Felice the same way. Wilhelm can’t help but feel incredibly relieved. Linda is a lovely woman, much nicer than Wilhelm's Mum, he'd hate to have them in the same room, poison and a flower. 

 

They finish their greetings and follow Linda through the garage into an open foyer, turning right into a kitchen, where Linda insists they all try the punch she’s made.

 

The kitchen is very open-planned, with some collapsable sliding doors leading into the lounge to the right. Directly by the kitchen is the small, four-seating dining table, which has a bunch of different party supplies on it. There’s a shelf against the wall next to it that Wilhelm finds himself drawn to, eyes pinned on a singular photo.

 

It’s Simon, maybe a year younger - a little less - his hair is out and wound around his face while he grins at the camera, shirtless, at the beach. He’s bathed in golden sunlight that makes him look even tanner, skin glowing, his eyes slit from his goofy smile - 

 

“ - Punch, Wilhelm?” Linda asks from the kitchen, where the others are all standing and smirking at him, Linda just smiling politely.

 

“Oh, yes please,” Wilhelm replies, walking past the dining table quickly, back into the kitchen. “Call me Wille, please,” Wilhelm says as he takes the glass cup she offers him.

 

She smiles, turning to put the spoon back in the punch bowl, which has different fruits sliced and floating around. The punch is good, sweet and a bit sour. Wilhelm downs the entire cup as they make pleasant small talk with Linda, telling her about their days and discussing plans.

 

“Do you want a quick house tour?” Ayub asks as they place their cups on the counter, each writing their names in whiteboard marker so they don’t lose their glass, which Wilhelm thinks is very smart and resourceful. 

 

“Yes, can you do that please Ayub? Rosh dear, help me with netting out. I made sure Simon had the heating right from when he last used the pool since he likes to turn it down, but that's all I did because I’m lazy and you’re amazing,” Linda smiles, and Rosh agrees easily - how could you not? - following Linda through the lounge and another sliding door which faces the same direction as the kitchen door they came through into the backyard, which Wilhelm doesn’t get a chance to get a proper look at before Ayub pulls them back into the foyer with an excited grin.

 

“Alright, this is the foyer,” He says, gesturing around the hallway-like space, the large window facing the drive with a small garden below it.

 

“No, really?” Felice fakes interest, touching the walls. “That’s insane - “

 

“What’s that sound?” Wilhelm interrupts, looking around. There's a small table with flowers and a family photo on it in front of the window. They all fall quiet, listening. There’s a quiet humming sound coming from the direction of the stairs, at the other end of the foyer. 

 

Ayub bursts out laughing and skips over, pushing open a door to reveal a bathroom. A small, black Roomba glides out the door, and Wilhelm cracks a grin. “This is the guy who almost ate Sunny!”

 

“That’s Bartholomew the Roomba,” Ayub says, gesturing to the vacuum, which has a small rainbow sticker on it. “This is the downstairs bathroom,” he points into the room Bartholomew came from. “This is Linda’s room, it has her office and a bathroom,” Ayub points to another door on the wall next to the bathroom, which is closed. “Up the stairs!” He points to the staircase opposite Linda’s door, carpeted with railing.

 

They all bound up the stairs onto the second floor. 

 

“This is Simon’s bathroom,” Ayub whispers, and then slowly pushes open the door. An excited chirping sound emits from the room.

 

“Sunny!” Wilhelm whispers excitedly, bowling in past Ayub to find Sunny sitting on the top of the toilet, fluffy feathers having grown into her previously pink skin. Instantly she’s fluttering over to him, falling to the floor with some weak flaps of her wings and bouncing over.

 

Wilhelm kneels to scoop her up, a weird kind of fondness bubbling up inside him at the sight of her recognizing him. “Simon didn’t deep fry you!” Wilhelm whispers as she chirps at him nonstop.

 

“Jesus, he is like a mother,” Felice shakes her head from the doorway.


“It’s almost a bit weird,” Ayub replies under his breath. “Anyways, this is Simon’s bathroom! That’s all his skincare because he’s a gay stereotype, sorry, but I’m not wrong.” He points to a variety of bottles and containers on the shining basin.

 

“Fair. Skincare is important,” Wilhelm replies, still petting Sunny. His eyes fall on his shirt, which is still in the sink for Sunny’s bed, and a little container of water and food on the basin next to them.

 

“One of the best things about having so many gay friends is that while you and Simme wanna talk dicks, Rosh and Felice can talk tits with me,” Ayub says wisely, nodding to himself.

 

Wilhelm would normally correct that he really depends, but Ayub is already out the door and moving on.

 

Wilhelm follows, still holding Sunny. 

 

Ayub glazes right over a door and moves to the next, not giving Felice or Wilhelm time to pause and process it. “This is Simon’s room! I don't think we should go in here without him, just in case he’d rather show you at a different time,” Ayub winks obnoxiously at Wilhelm.

 

“He has a boyfriend,” Wilhelm deadpans. “Oh - speaking of, where is Marcus?”

 

Ayub visibly deflates, sighing heavily. “He was meant to be here to help but decided at the last minute Sara and Simon could pick him up on their way home instead, so he’ll arrive with them,” Ayub doesn’t sound thrilled in the slightest.

 

They all stare at each other, a silent agreement forming, but they say nothing because it’s not their party.

 

“This is a closet, Simon’s first home,” Ayub points to a door opposite Simon’s, pushing it open to reveal vacuums, cleaning supplies and bedsheets. “Yeah, super exciting stuff. Okay, put your baby down and let's go to the garden!”

 

Ayub bounds away, not waiting for Wilhelm to put down Sunny or for Felice to close the door closet after him.

 

Wilhelm allows them to slip away as he places Sunny back in her bed, promising her he’ll come back before he leaves, closing the door softly and feeling a lot like he’s abandoning his child at boarding school, something he’s sure his parents can’t relate to feeling at all.

 

His gaze shifts to the second door - not Simon’s, but the one in between Simon's and the bathroom. Wilhelm hesitates. It's none of his business, he knows, but he's just curious. He slowly walks over, the floor creaking slightly under his socked feet. Wilhelm turns the knob slowly, peeking inside.

 

It looks … empty. Like a spare room. How unexciting. He’s about to shut it and feel guilty for snooping, when his eyes fall on two shiny objects, sitting on a suspended shelf above a bed in the middle of the wall which would be Simon’s wall on the other side.

 

Wilhelm walks into the room, which smells of dust and is clearly unused. One is a plastic golden cup, it looks very, very old, the paint chipped and faded from the sun. It sits on an equally busted black base, the words “Best Comic 2011 Bjärstad Primary, Sara Eriksson.” It makes Wilhelm smile to think she kept her very first award. His gaze turns to the newer, shinner, bigger award. An Eisner Award, Wilhelm believes. It's the most important award a comic artist could receive. It sits on a black base also, a silver Earth inside a spinning Earth displays stands on top, Sara’s name burned into the silver plate on the black base.

 

They both carry dust and a few cobwebs, and Wilhelm finds himself confused. It’s not a spare bedroom, because they wouldn’t put such a valuable item, and such a sentimental item in a spare room, so it must be Sara’s for when she visits. This brings him to his next point of confusion, where Sara says Simon has a whole floor to himself in the new house she helped them buy, which is this one house.

 

He looks around at the empty bedroom, the closet handles have a spider living, the bed is made with the dullest sheets, the closed curtains and the smell of must. Simon says how much he misses his sister, his Mother, and his family.

 

Wilhelm’s heart hurts a little bit as he backs out of the room. Sara mustn’t even count this as her bedroom to say that to the class in an honest Q&A.

 

He makes his way downstairs, wiping his hands on his pants self-consciously like the others will know where he’s been just by looking at him.

 

Bartholomew works quietly in the kitchen as Wilhelm passes through, following the excited chatter of the others in the backyard. He tries to forget that room - Sara herself will be here in a few hours with the birthday boy and boyfriend ew. I mean, boyfriend Marcus, so there's no time to get into the family drama.

 

Notes:

ANNOUNCEMENT.

The playlist for this fic has changed https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
It's the same thing just on a different account and I'll be deleting the old one in a few days.

 

So, I've done a thing.

I brought premium on Planner 5D.
If you don't know what Planner 5D is, it's basically this app you can use to design realistic houses. I built Simon's house. If you want to get a look at it, I can probably find a feature that will allow you to look at it, I'm pretty sure there's a sharing option.

I actually don't care whether or not you guys want to see it, because the next chapter is entirely dedicated to Simon's birthday, and I'm going to link in his Planner 5D house for you guys to look at :)

But, it won't be out for a bit, because I've changed a couple of things so some things may need to be re wrote blah blah blah. Yeah, basically, the update won't be for awhile, so I hope this one had what you need.

Chapter 15: Lucky

Summary:

Now, I'm not saying that you could've done better
Just remember that I, I've seen that fire alight
- Fearless, Louis Tomlinson

Another REMINDER I've changed the account the playlist is on, https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
TW mentions of past abuse, dubious consent (no sexual content though) PSTD.

Notes:

SURPRISEEEE POV

You have a whiplash of emotions in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy <33
I've linked the Planner 5D world at the bottom, you can look at it before or after it doesn't really matter, but read the instructions I wrote with the link please.

200,000 words omg guys I can't believe you're still hanging on. Don't worry this chapter might (MIGHT) heal a part of your soul that's withering and dying because I take my slow burn very seriously.

 

I broke a nail taking out my retainer :(( Bc I re-grew my nails

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Simon ~

 

“Sara, we just drove past the street,” Simon snorts from the passenger seat of her purple Range Rover, reclining back probably further than is safe with an empty iced coffee in his hand. “You need to visit more, sheesh.”

 

Sara scoffs at him, glancing over so he can get a glimpse of her unimpressed expression. “I’m not that forgetful, gosh, Simon, do you think I’m that daft?”

 

“Yes, darling.”

 

“Shut up, you pimp."

 

Simon chokes on his drink, which doesn't taste as good as the ones from Hillerska. Or maybe it's just because it's not from Wilhelm's wallet. Simon wishes he could spend his evening studying with Wilhelm in his room. He never thought he'd rather be studying with him than spend time with his family, but ... here he is.

 

"We’re going to pick up Marcus, he’s going to have dinner with us, for your birthday,” Sara explains, eyes staying on the road as she flicks on her indicator, turning the car carefully, the wheeling ticking as she goes.

 

Simon purses his lips, the cold from his coffee seeping into his bones and making him tense.

 

“Alright.” 

 

This is the only dinner he's had with his mum and sister in weeks , and he doesn't want Marcus there. He’d rather go out for lunch with Marcus for his birthday if his boyfriend suddenly wants to spend time with him. He’s not avoiding Marcus, per se, he’d just rather ... he'd rather do something else with him. Marcus has a rather pathetic spice tolerance, and while that’s not something Simon looks for when trying to find a boyfriend, it definitely puts a damper on his relationship when Marcus comes over for dinner for the first time and refuses to eat anything Linda made because it was too spicy.

 

Sara doesn’t notice his discomfort at this development of Marcus coming, turning onto his street while humming quietly to the music.

 

“Did Mama invite him?” Simon asks, pulling out his phone to inform Marcus he’s nearly at his house, assuming the other boy knows these plans.

 

Sara hums in response, craning her neck to see better because she's only an inch taller than Simon is, she just looks taller because she wears borderline nine-inch platforms. “Is this one his house? With the flower garden?” 

 

Simon nods, sending his text as they roll to a stop outside his house on the curb, dangerously close to where they used to live, to where Micke is right now. He probably isn’t even thinking of his son, who turned 16 today. He might’ve considered if he should get Simon to bring him some drugs, not that he would. Perhaps he's wondering if Simon's down to play punching bag again. Simon got no birthday messages from him.

 

Sara's playlist sings softly in the background of the growling engine as they wait for Marcus, the silence between them comfortable.

 

Simon sighs, leaning back in the comfortable seats of his sister's car, the heated seats doing nothing to relax him. 

 

“So, when do you want a car?” Sara asks, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music.

 

Simon shrugs. He wants one right now, but he’s not asking his sister for a car. Last year, he jokingly said she should buy him a piano for his fiftieth, and then she got him a fucking piano. He'd also mentioned a few weeks before his birthday how he missed having pets, as he used to own a cat at their old house, but she died a few months before they left their old house, and then Sara brought him three fish and a big fish tank for his room. The year before she paid for them to have VIP tickets to Simon’s favourite artist's concert in Paris, bringing Rosh, Ayub and Linda for the weekend, and he was only turning 14. The same year Sara got him a basketball hoop, but that interest died pretty fast, and now it stands, basically unused out the front. It’s fun sometimes when Ayub or Rosh want to play, and it’s a nice warm day, but he’d rather play piano, game, or skateboard. She loves spending money and has even confessed to having an entirely separate bank account for money she spends on her family and friends.

 

“Next year? 17?” Sara continues, prodding him in the side cheekily, making him jump. “You’re getting so old, Simon! You must be growing fucking grey hairs, ew!”

 

Simon laughs, batting her hands away and squirming against the door next to him to escape. “Says you. You’re practically a fossil.”

 

Sara cackles as she retreats her hands, one of those real laughs, not her pap laugh. “Don't remind me. I feel so old being in my 20s while you're turning 16.”

 

The back door opens, and they both fall silent. Simon turns around in his chair, smiling as Marcus slides in, the cold hair seeping through the open door as he takes his time pulling it closed.

 

“Hey, babe,” Simon smiles forcefully.

 

Marcus smiles back quickly, handing him a brown cardboard bag with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” Written on the side in Sharpie. “For you,” Marcus replies, sitting back with a sigh and clicking in his seatbelt. "It's so cold out there."

 

“Thanks,” Simon replies, taking the bag from him with another small smile. “Open it now, or when we get to mine?”

 

“When we get to yours,” Marcus is quick to say, and Simon raises an eyebrow. Marcus wiggles his own back suggestively, eyes flicking down to the bag and then back to Simon's face. Simon tries not to look disappointed as he draws a few conclusions of what this is, using context clues from previous conversations they've had, and the way Marcus just reacted. It doesn't fill him with joy.

 

“Sure,” He puts the gift on the floor in front of him. It’s virtually weightless, with some colourful, mesh paper covering the contents. “Look, Sara and I got our nails done.” Simon turns around again as Sara pulls out of Marcus’s street. He shows Marcus his left hand, wiggling his fingernails, which are painted black, with a purple tint that you can only see when they catch the light.

 

“Isn’t that a little girly? The purple?” Marcus asks, giving his nails a small glance and then frowning at Simon.

 

“It’s a colour,” Sara pipes up, glancing at Marcus in the rear vision mirror. “It doesn’t have a gender, Marcus.” Her voice is cold, judgemental, even, an emotion Sara doesn’t show often.

 

She's met Marcus a few other times and has said more than once it's kind of rude that Marcus doesn't greet her. Marcus is shy around people, is what Simon tells her, but he's pretty sure he doesn't like Sara.

 

Simon shrugs in response to Marcus, who is giving Sara the stink eye. He turns to face the road, self-consciously pulling his hoodie over his fingers and staring out the window.

 

Sara turns up the radio from the controls on the wheel, singing along to a Taylor Swift song playing.

 

“I was enchanted to meet youuuu,” She turns and pinches Simon’s cheek at a stop sign, and he jumps away, snapping his teeth at her hand. “Please don’t be in love with someone ee-else,” Sara sings, turning away and tilting her head to the music as they drive back towards Linda's house.

 

Simon shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Just know I’m judging you.”

 

“Please don’t have someone waiting on yooo-uuu.”

 

Simon has missed his sister. She isn't always the best at reading his mood, but she knows how to lift his mood, which is often needed. Sometimes she gets it wrong and Simon doesn't want to be in a better mood, or she says the wrong thing and worsens his situation, but he knows she tries.

 

She sends Simon a thousand Instagram reels a day and patiently waits for him to reply before sending more, which can sometimes take days if he's having a bad week. Anytime she's in the city she makes an effort to drive over and see Simon and their Mother, whether it's a five-minute visit or a day. She takes them out for dinner, lunch, or breakfast - whenever Linda isn't working and Simon isn't at school. They do basic things, like grocery shopping or buying underwear, and also do more interesting things like go to her meet and greets or attend the occasional premiere. 

 

Sara shamelessly sings along to the radio until they’re pulling into the driveway, removing the keys and silencing Taylor a few seconds before the song ends. “And we’re here! Let’s get this party started, kids!” She hops out of the car, approaching the front door with a skip in her step.

 

Simon and Marcus also get out, Simon carrying the present and one of the two gifts Sara has got him, a Louis Vuitton Blossom Pendant, which Simon is pretty sure costs more than a thousand dollars. Sara is… Simon loves her, alright, but she does see her full bank account and immediately goes and dumps her money on random things that cost more than their old house, just because she can. Don’t get him wrong, it's beautiful, and he’ll wear it, it’s just not the matching bracelet he asked her for.

 

They approach the house, Marcus falls behind slightly as Sara unlocks the door and walks inside, kicking off her shoes.

 

“C’mon, let's go,” Sara encourages, tapping her foot impatiently as Simon pries off his Converse with a heavy sigh, nearly falling over in the process. “I’ve got to give you your other present! Go through to the lounge, I’ll get it from Mama’s room,” Sara says, waiting for Simon to walk ahead of her. Marcus is still taking off his shoes and closing the front door.

 

The kitchen door is shut, even though it’s normally left wide open, to let the aroma of the kitchen fill the entire house. Simon doesn't think much of it, putting both the bags in one hand, he reaches for the door handle, calling out to his Mum as it swings open.

 

“Mama-”

 

“Happy birthday!” A chorus of yells makes Simon jump, shortly followed by several bangs that have confetti raining down towards him in several different bright, glittering colours and styles. He takes a step back into the foyer with wide eyes, heart thumping, trying to process what just happened when he sees something he did not expect to see again today. Perched on his favourite chair in the lounge, looking over the back of the chair with a wide, cheeky grin, is Wilhelm, holding a now empty confetti canon. Simon stares at him, time feeling like it slows as confetti falls all around Simon, twinkling in his peripheral vision, Wilhelm's content, excited expression his main focus.

 

Sara appears next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and leading him into the kitchen as he blinks, brain a few seconds behind. “Happy birthday!” She yells, giving him a light shake with her arm around him.

 

Slowly, a grin spreads across Simon’s face, a light feeling enveloping his stomach as he takes in the room, covered with streamers that go across the roof and high-reaching furniture, some party hats sit on the dining table, a big banner reading “Happy birthday Simon!” is strewn across the wall above the couch in the lounge. The kitchen filled up with snacks, drinks and a dinner being cooked on the stove.

 

“What on Earth…?” He mumbles with a laugh Ayub scrambles forward from under the dining table and grabs him in a hug, throwing aside his confetti canon.

 

“Happy birthday, Simme! Surprise” He says, rocking them back and forth, Simon wraps his arms around his back in response, grinning into his friend’s shoulder. He's so unbelievably happy, as he squeezes Ayub back as he practically chokes the breath of our Simon. This must be a dream, how does he have people in this life who love him this much as to plan and orchestrate a surprise party?

 

“Thanks,” Simon replies.

 

Next comes Rosh, hiding behind the bookshelf by the dining table, also giving him a tight hug and ruffling his hair. “Happy birthday,” she says as they hug, patting his back a couple of times before pulling back. “You look older already, my friend.”

 

Then Felice is there, pulling him into a hug before he can even protest, which he wouldn’t have in the first place.

 

“Happy birthday! Surprise!” Felice says when she pulls back. It was a brief hug, appropriate, because they aren’t super close, but not one of those awkwardly short ones. There was love in that hug like there is in everything Felice does.

 

Rosh, Ayub and Linda are all reconnecting with Sara and Marcus in the background, so Felice joins, stepping around Simon after he thanks her again, unable to shake the grin off his face.

 

Wilhelm is wandering towards him from the lounge, grinning his goofy smile, cheeks slightly flushed in an adorable way that makes Simon want to melt into him.

 

“Happy birthday,” Wilhelm says, opening his arms and taking the last few steps to wrap Simon in his embrace. He’s warm, as always, soft and cosy in his nice blue sweater. His hair tickles Simon's nose, smelling of vanilla, and clothes of his cologne. “I’m still older than you,” Wilhelm whispers in his hair.

 

Simon lets out a laugh, squeezing Wilhelm before they pull back, shaking his head. “Whatever,” he sighs.

 

“Wilhelm!” Sara beams, practically shoving Simon out of the way.

 

“Sara, hi,” Wilhelm greets, offering his hand like the polite prince he is. It's so endearing that Simon wants to dissolve on the spot.

 

Also endeared, Simon watches as Sara scoffs at his soft hand. “No, we only do that on formal occasions. Hugs!” Sara and Wilhelm exchange a short but nice hug, Wilhelm grinning at Simon over Sara’s shoulder. Simon smiles back, trying to suppress some of the fondness in his expression, head cocking to the side at the joy on Wilhelm's face, unable to stop himself.

 

“It’s wonderful to properly meet you,” Sara says, her grin wide and ... evil, glancing back at Simon. “We have so much to talk about,” she smirks at Wilhelm, and he smiles back.

 

Okay , let me break that up,” Simon turns away from them to his Mama, who smiles fondly at him. He saw her this morning before he left for school. She made him a nice breakfast and they ate together while talking, but they haven’t done presents, she said they’d do those after dinner with Sara, and now he has four other friends and his boyfriend to spend the evening with. He feels so lucky, he doesn't deserve these people.

 

The group moves into the lounge after finishing their greetings and grabs some drinks and snacks.

 

Wilhelm settles himself back in Simon’s favourite comfy chair, and while he wants to demand he moves because it’s his birthday, and he has birthday boy privileges, he just can’t make himself make Wilhelm move, so he doesn't say anything and ignores Sara's amused expression at him letting Wilhelm get away with it.

 

Felice settled on a dining room chair she turned around from the table in between Wilhelm’s chair and the couch, allowing Linda, Marcus, Rosh, Sara and Ayub to have the large couch. 

 

Simon goes to push the ottoman further into the room, as the conversation starts up again, but feels two big hands on his hips trying to pull him down. Marcus attempts to pull Simon into his lap, but Simon catches Wilhelm’s eye before he’s even landed, and Wilhelm’s gaze is pinned on where Marcus’s hand is on Simon’s body. He feels himself go stiff and uncomfortable as he lands on Marcus’s thighs, and stands himself gently, patting Marcus’s shoulder.

 

“Not right now,” Simon whispers, seating himself on the ottoman, legs crossed underneath himself like a pretzel. He purposefully didn’t look over at Marcus, afraid to see the annoyance on his face at Simon denying him cuddles.

 

I'll fix it later , Simon tells himself, nibbling on a cracker with nice cheese on it . I’m legal now, I could give myself to him later. That thought doesn’t sit well inside him, but it would make Marcus happier and might be able to fix the growing rift in their relationship.

 

Linda brings out the abundance of snacks, which get passed around while everyone chats, about Hillerska, Marieberg, Linda's work and the new candle business she's trying to start, Sara's work and travels. Sara grabs the TV remote at one point and puts on a random 2000s Spotify playlist in the background.

 

She asks Felice to swap so she can sit next to Wilhelm, and Felice happily sits herself in between Ayub and Linda, smiling brightly.

 

Simon stands and migrates over to Sara and Wilhelm, ordering Wilhelm to "shove over or get off."

 

Wilhelm looks up at him for a moment. Sara munches on a chocolate-dipped strawberry. Wilhelm shrugs and scooches, leaving enough room for Simon to wiggle in, leaving their sides pressed tightly together, but it’s comfy, and Wilhelm is warm and soft, with no awkward tension in his body as he restarts his conversation with Sara.

 

“Anyway, what were you saying about stick and pokes?” Wilhelm asks, pulling one leg, the one furthest from Simon, up onto the chair and hugging it with one arm, casually linking his fingers around it. There's a small smudge of chocolate on the corner of his bottom lip. Simon tries to not stare or be even more endeared by it, leaning one arm on his side of the chair to lean his head on, watching them talk.

 

It takes Simon a moment to process, distracted by Wilhelm, his closeness, his warmth, his fucking presence, his words - “Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t follow through with that,” Simon scowls at his sister, sitting up straight, who grins back cheekily in response. “Arrghh, do you have to bond with all my friends by embarrassing me?” Simon grumbles, crossing his arms.

 

Wilhelm laughs at him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Look, we must trade all the blackmail and become the ultimate threat to you,” out of context, that would probably sound pretty threatening, but it’s coming out of Wilhelm’s Golden Retriever-looking ass so he might as well have been threatening to make Simon a flower crown.

 

“She's a bad influence on you," Simon states.

 

"Says you," Sara mumbles.

 

"Let's ignore her,” Simon turns his body to more directly face Wilhelm, his knee pressing against Wilhelm's further. He turns his head to look at him, curious. His heart starts to beat faster just having Wilhelm’s attention. “And talk about older siblings.”

 

“Hand me downs.”

 

“Oh my - Hand me downs ,” Simon groans.

 

Sara scoffs, sipping on her Chapmpage Linda just handed her. “Don't even lie, you liked to try on my old dressers and skirts! And you looked so pretty!”

 

Simon feels himself flush with embarrassment. Marcus would hate me if he knew I’d worn a dress as a kid. He already hates that I paint my nails. It’s okay, no one is entirely perfect for each other, and we’ll never like each other like they do in fairy tales, this is real life after all . “Whatever,” he shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant, looking over at Marcus, whose eyes are burning into him, furious. 

 

Simon snaps his head away, snagging Sara’s Champagne and receiving minimal complaints, Linda yet to notice.

 

“I wish I’d had an older sister like that,” Wilhelm mumbles, and Simon nearly choked on his - Sara’s, whatever, he’s already downed half the glass - Champagne. He doesn’t make eye contact as he says it, eyes pinned on his hands in his lap.

 

Simon is quiet, watching his expression, Sara in a similar state.

 

“Mama wouldn’t have let me anyway,” he continues, even more quietly. 

 

“She’s a bitch,” Simon decides. “They’re just pieces of fabric made to hold our dignity and bits to ourselves, they should be worn by anyone who feels comfortable in them, fucking gender norms were left in 2015.”

 

“Debatable,” Wilhelm replies with a thoughtful quirk of his brow. “Can I have that? Thanks.” Wilhelm plucks the glass from Simon’s hands and throws back the last two mouthfuls of Champagne.

 

Simon shakes his head, grinning at him as he hands back the empty glass, pulling a face at the taste and coughing. “Oh, ew,” Wilhelm chokes, covering his mouth.

 

Sara laughs at him. “Wille, my man, what a rebel, God.”

 

“You’re Mama would be disappointed,” Simon tells him, and Wilhelm just grins back.

 

“Good,” Wilhelm decides, and Simon has never felt more proud, stomach bubbly and warm from the alcohol, and something else undeniable. “Can I have water though?” Wilhelm asks, wincing again as he slabs his mouth. “Please?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Simon laughs as he stands up, handing Sara her empty glass as he passes, trying to shake the stupid grin off his face as he reaches for a glass above the coffee/tea station in the corner of their kitchen. “Iced?”

 

“Yes, please,” Wilhelm replies over his shoulder.

 

Simon hums to himself as he presses against the fridge, waiting for a few ice cubes to drop into the cup to fill it with water. He turns back to the lounge and nearly walks right into Marcus.

 

“Oh, hi,” Simon forces another smile onto his face, acting like he didn't just get flashbacks to his Dad appearing in doorways, breathing heavily with an alcohol-stained breath. “I was getting Wille some water, he just drank a couple of mouthfuls of Champagne, it was so funny - “

 

“I saw,” Marcus interrupts. Simon looks over to find his expression furious like Simon cheated or something ridiculous. 

 

“You okay?” Simon asks, the icy glass somehow freezing his entire body, his smile becoming pinned on his face, hurting . Marcus blocks his entire view of the lounge from how close he is, so Simon has no idea if his Mother is watching this, if Sara is, or if Wilhelm is.

 

“I’m going home,” Marcus snaps harshly, turning and walking out into the foyer.

 

Simon blinks, shocked. Linda is distracted by Felice, as are Sara, Ayub and Rosh, but Wilhelm is watching over his shoulder, frowning. “I - I’ll be right back,” he tells him, depositing the glass on the counter with a clink and dashing after Marcus, closing the kitchen door behind him, sensing an argument.

 

“What did I do?” He asks Marcus, stopping a few steps from him as he pulls on his shoes.

 

“You fucking know what you did, Simon!” Marcus yells, tying his laces aggressively and having to start again, making angry noises at them.

 

“ I - Do - What?” Simon shakes his head, trying to think through the anger at his boyfriend's overreaction and his embarrassment, his fear of losing him and feeling unlovable and useless again.

 

Marcus stands straight and is significantly taller than Simon. He doesn’t like how it reminds him of his Father. Instinctively, Simon takes a step back to make himself feel that little bit more safe and capable of communicating properly, but Marcus scoffs.

 

“You don’t even trust me! You think I’m about to hit you, don’t you, just because I’m mad? I’m not your shitty fucking father, Simon. I won’t abuse you, but you know who will?”

 

“What?” Simon repeats, exasperated and confused. “You aren’t making any sense, babe."

 

“That low life, pathetic excuse for a cool guy in your lounge!”

 

Simon’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Pardon?”

 

“That Prince!”

 

“I know who you’re fucking talking about,” Simon hisses, trying to not raise his voice to a level they overhear in the lounge, glancing fretfully at the door. It’s still closed. “What - Why would he hurt me? How?” 

 

Marcus is fuming, one shoe off and one on, cheeks red and jaw clenched, fists the same. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

 

“Stop being so harsh, please, just explain what’s happening so I can fix it!” Simon wants to scream, just barely containing himself, his hands shaking by his sides.

 

Marcus takes another step towards him, and it takes every bit of self-control to not turn and run back to his chair next to Wilhelm - Oh. It clicks, right as Marcus explodes. “You get yourself expelled from our school last year, conveniently right as you’re obsession with Wilhelm fucking peaks, and he’s moving to a boarding school close to us - “

 

“I understand - “

 

“No, you don’t! Let me talk!” Simon stares at the ground and tries to take deep breaths - failing . “You get expelled, and then Sara pays for you to go to that goddamn school! You claim you hate that fucker, but you are continuously photographed with him in suspicious positions and scenarios. That is so common that people at school just straight up assume you two are dating - even at Marieberg, they ask when we broke up because they genuinely believe it! Don’t even get me started on this party you went to and refused to tell me about at the beginning of the term! You’re so obsessed with the guy you go and invite him to Rosh’s game, just to make me jealous, where you dance and hold hands and probably made fucking friendship bracelets, I don't care. You go to a market day just to stare at him the whole time, and you’ve never gone to one of those markets before! Now your birthday! He’s so entitled, and he thinks he practically owns you, inviting himself to your birthday, it’s disgusting! Just because he’s a Prince he thinks everything that breathes in this country is his, you included! Can you not see the mirth in his eyes, the plotting? He’s going to lure you in, fuck you, mess you up and drop you like trash, and you’re falling for it, every bit of it. He's going to ruin you.”

 

Simon doesn’t look at him. He takes it in, listens, absorbs, winces and flinches, but never responds, standing in silence while his mind runs blank, protecting himself from the pain by just not feeling.

 

“I love you,” Simon mumbles numbly, just like he would at his Dad when he’d beat the crap out of him, when he’d been throwing up on the floor from an overdose, when he was lying unconscious on the couch, when he was running down the road with his Mama, clutching his pillow and his stuffed toy to his chest, his bag on his back, confused, tired and young.

 

“What? Speak up,” Marcus moves closer again, frowning at Simon.

 

“I love you,” Simon repeats, still staring at their feet.

 

Marcus goes quiet for a long moment, and if Simon’s eyes weren’t open, he would’ve assumed he’d left already. “You love me…? I love you. I love you so much, I’m worried about you,” Marcus cups his cheeks and tilts his head upright, closing his eyes as he leans in and presses a long, hard, chap-lipped kiss to Simon’s, not even noticing how his eyes don’t leave the ground, how his lips don’t purse or push back in response. “I’m scared I’m going to lose you to Wilhelm, and I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Simon just blinks at the ground, Marcus’s hands too big and rough on his cheeks, his breath stinking, he might as well be Micke, minus the romance. “You won’t. I’m yours," Simon says with no emotion, his hands still shaking at his sides, the backs of his eyes burning as he blinks furiously to keep his eyes clear. He can't cry. He fucking won't. His insides feel cold and fucking dead.

 

Marcus cocks his head to the side. “Yours?” 

 

Simon is numb. He remembers the light present, Marcus’s hints leading up, and Simon’s promise to give himself to him once he was legal. “Yes.”

 

Marcus growls, pushing Simon back against the wall and beginning to ravage his neck, kissing, licking, biting . Simon feels none of it, eyes on the wall behind him, hands limp at his side as Marcus’ run over his body.

 

The door to the kitchen opens suddenly, slamming shut again. Simon doesn’t look. Embarrassment colours his cheeks and he closes his eyes as Marcus is ripped away.

 

“You're a fucking manipulative twat, and you don’t deserve him,” they snap at Marcus. Simon, embarrassed at being walked in on in that situation, slides to the ground, hugging his knees and covering his face with his arms, his insides sick and curling. He's relieved, but scared - rough hands on his face, a stinking breath, empty words, lies .

 

“You!” Marcus growls. “You are trying to steal him from me! You have no right! He’s mine!”

 

“He’s not yours! He isn't your property, Marcus! Simon is a person, not a thing, you don’t own him and he isn’t yours! He's amazing, but most importantly, his body belongs to him and you can't just take it. You need to respect that!”

 

“Simon, don’t let him talk to me like this! Remember what I just said, Simon. Simon?” Marcus is yelling at him but someone is yelling over him.

 

"Leave him alone!"

 

"You have no place in this!"

 

"He's my friend! You don't deserve him!"

 

There’s banging and thumping, the rustle of clothes, then the doors slamming shut, and it’s silent, but this was always the worst part at home, when Micke would storm out, or pass out, and they were left with the aftermath of his warpath.

 

For a long minute, there is silence. Simon doesn’t move, body stiff as he holds himself, numb and empty inside, hoping Marcus comes back and takes what Simon promised - 

 

“Simon,” a warm voice says. Simon feels a calming presence in front of him, a soft hand on his arm, one on his shin. “Are you okay?”

 

Simon doesn’t reply, trying to absorb all the warmth, all the strength, inhaling the familiar cologne. Gently, Wilhelm tugs his limbs until his face is revealed, hanging down against his chest, limp and dead.

 

“Do you need a hug?” Wilhelm whispers, his voice gentle and calm, one hand on Simon’s ankle and the other his wrist from untangling his body. It's not trapping Simon or holding him down, he could curl back into a ball if he wanted, but he doesn't.

 

If Marcus had asked, it would’ve been a no, a hard no, he'd say yes anyway but he wouldn't want it. But he finds himself nodding a little bit because he genuinely wants the physical comfort that Wilhelm provides. He shuffles in between Simon’s legs, cross-legged with his thighs on top of Simon’s, pulling him against his chest.

 

It’s a bit awkward from the position, but Simon finds himself breathing in the fabric through his nose, pressed against his jumper over his collarbone, his arms making themselves loop around his waist, Wilhelm’s around his neck and head, as if protecting them.

 

There they stay, for how long Simon isn’t sure but he feels safe. He isn’t at his old house, his Dad isn’t there to hurt him, Marcus isn’t going to ask for sex before Simon feels like he’s ready, and his friends aren’t going to look at him with pity and looks that say “Why won’t you tell us what’s happening?" Linda and Sara won’t break down because they don’t know how fucking wrecked their youngest boy still is. Wilhelm doesn’t even know he knows more than any of them. He doesn't realise he's holding all of Simon's shattered pieces together with the power of his affection.

 

“Did the others hear?” Simon whispers against Wilhelm’s shirt, eyes blinking slowly.

 

“No, Marcus turned up the TV before he walked out. I was suspicious, so went to get my water and I heard …” Wilhelm is quiet, his breath shaking a little bit as he exhales. “Enough.” Simon wants to die. Did he hear Marcus going on about Simon being obsessed? About how he thinks Wilhelm will fuck him a dump him? Simon knows Wilhelm would never - he doesn’t even like him, and he probably hates him after all that with Marcus.

 

“I’m sorry about what he said, he doesn’t mean it, he’s just mad at me - “

 

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Wilhelm interrupts, voice hard and upset.

 

Simon pulls back slowly, back leaning against the wall, hands falling from Wilhelm, back to his lap. Wilhelm’s doing the same. “I’m not. He can be different.”

 

Wilhelm watches him quietly, blinking at him, his cheeks a bit red from the yelling. “Can he though?”

 

Simon doesn’t answer. He can't. He’s worse alone, even more pushy and touchy, feeling and groping. “He’s not yours! He isn't your property, Marcus! Simon is a person, not a thing, you don’t own him and he isn’t yours! He's amazing, but most importantly, his body belongs to him and you can't just take it. You need to respect that!”

 

Wilhelm watches him for a few moments, and Simon just can’t believe any of this. He can’t believe that Wilhelm, for starters, is in his house, let alone for a surprise birthday. He can’t believe the Prince he’s had a crush on since before primary school cares about him enough to go at Simon’s boyfriend, who is bigger, stronger, meaner and more pushy than he is, just for Simon. He can’t believe Wilhelm’s sitting on the fucking floor of his foyer with him, on his not-so-sweet sixtenth birthday. 

 

He should feel embarrassed, extremely ashamed and humiliated, but he just feels content. He trusts Wilhelm, he knew he was right in thinking the guy wasn’t a bad one, even though it really looked like he split the coffee on purpose, even though it looked like he was queer-baiting for popularity after his best friend got killed at his party for them allegedly drinking illegally, even though Simon was horrible and tried to push himself away from Wilhelm, he still helped Simon when he got drunk, high and now.

 

“Do you want to go back to your party?” Wilhelm asks quietly, cocking his head to the side, big hazel eyes reflecting the lights above their heads, lips red from the punch he drank before the Champagne.

 

Simon blinks and tells himself to focus. It’s hard, when Wilhelm is watching with so much naked care and worry, when Simon wants to throw himself into Wilhelm’s chest and just be held in a way Marcus never did, never could and never would. Not without misunderstanding Simon’s wants for love as a want for sex.

 

“Thank you,” Simon blurts instead of answering. Where is his fucking brain right now? His head must’ve been smacked when he sat down. 

 

Wilhelm just nods. “It’s alright. I know - I -I’m pretty sure you would’ve done the same thing for me, so,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. 

 

Simon nods as well, but he wants to scream how he’d throw himself in front of a fucking moving vehicle, how he would’ve three years ago, three months, three weeks and how he always would. He doesn't miss Wilhelm's correction from "know" to "pretty sure." Simon knows he'd do that for Wilhelm in a heartbeat.

 

“Let's go,” Simon stands up, legs a bit shaky and offers Wilhelm a hand.

 

He feels his heart palpitating when he doesn’t hesitate to lay his hand in Simons, his fingers wrapping around his palm as Simon helps pull him up, making the most of his soft, warm skin, forcing himself to drop his hand once he’s stood fully.

 

Without a word they turn and make their way back to the lounge, Simon rubbing his face to clear any signs of Marcus and his little breakdown, straightening his clothes as Wilhelm opens the kitchen door. 

 

 

~ Wilhelm ~

 

They do presents after eating a delicious dinner of traditional Venezuelan food. No one asks questions after Marcus has left, and Wilhelm is lef to assume they heard at least part of the argument. No one pressured Simon into talking, because while Simon thinks rubbing his eyes and fixing his jumper makes him look less traumatized, he'd be wrong.

 

Simon looked more dead inside than a corpse when Wilhelm came into the foyer.

 

Simon doesn't eat a lot for dinner, but no one says anything. After dinner, they all return to the lounge to do presents.

 

Wilhelm got Simon a giant purple hoodie, to "add more colour to your cupboard!"

 

Simon grinned at him, shaking his head as he took off his black hoodie and put on the purple one. It practically drowns him, but Wilhelm loves it, Simon looks so cosy in the soft purple fabric.

 

Felice gives him the face masks and candle she bought from Ikea, and Simon loves it, suggesting they do them together sometime. Felice looks overjoyed at the prospect of doing face masks with Simon, nodding enthusiastically and giving him another hug.

 

They spend the rest of the evening talking, and eating snacks, and not too long after 10 Linda decides to go to bed, kissing each other's children and assuring Wilhelm, Felice, Ayub and Rosh they can stay the night, which they find themselves agreeing to under the influence of the happy atmosphere, not that any of them even brought sleeping clothes or have permission to be out late from Hillerska.

 

Sara produces a six-pack of beer from her ass or something as they all sit around the pool, legs dangling over the edge chatting happily. The pool has lights in it that glow up at them in the dark.

 

Linda tells them that she’s sleeping with earplugs in, so they can have as much fun as they want. This means as Sara hands out beer, they’re all cheering and clinking their bottles, even though Wilhelm hates the taste of beer, he allows Simon to lean over and wind their arms around each other like he’s seen Walter and Henry do, copying Simon when he throws back the beer and takes as many gulps as he can physically handle while the others cheer them on.

 

He stares up at the stars as he lets the cold, burning, bubbly liquid pour down his throat. Felix would be happy I'm happy. The need to burp quickly becomes stronger than his ability to hold the bottle against his mouth so he puts it down and groans, untangling his arm from Simon's to flop back on the grass, his stomach aching.

 

Simon laughs at him, his voice melodic and blending into the loud pop music coming from the open doors of the lounge behind them. “How are you doing?” Simon asks, looking over his shoulder at Wilhelm.

 

He lets out a fat burp in response, and Simon snorts beer into the pool.

 

"Fuck!"

 

"Pahahaha," Wilhelm cackles, unable to stop himself, curling up on the ground as Simon coughs, his eyes watering.

 

Wilhelm loses track of the time. He thinks he might pick up Simon’s beer at one point instead of his own because it’s much emptier than he remembers his being, but he doesn’t really find it in himself to care.

 

He ends up doing karaoke against Sara, somehow, even though he despises singing, but there's another beer in his hand to counteract his self-consciousness.

 

Not even 10 minutes later he’s in a tree while playing hide and seek, Rosh giggling and hanging ridiculously from a branch a few feet away from him while Felice wanders below trying to get them to laugh loud enough she can hear.

 

Then he finds Simon throwing himself over his lap on the swinging outdoor seat, Felice and Ayub on either side of Wilhelm with Simon lying on top, and Sara’s camera flashing while Rosh cackles. His stomach is warm and full as they all giggle and shove Simon off, piling on top of him on the damp, grassy ground. More camera flashes.

 

Sara leaves the house after hugging them all and thanking them for coming, disappearing into the lounge with Simon to leave Rosh, Ayub, Felice and Wilhelm to chase a skink around the cobbled eating area in front of the kitchen window.

 

“Let's go in the pool!” Wilhelm suggests, barely dodging a hanging plant basket that he swears wasn’t there before, giving up on the skink, which they've named Jerry. Poor Jerry is probably so scared of them, but Wilhelm's convinced Jerry is playing a game to piss them off.

 

Simon is lying on the couch when Wilhelm comes into the lounge to find him to ask about going in the pool, snoring.

 

The others are still outside, and Wilhelm is drunk, his brain a blurry pile of sludge, so he doesn’t think for more than four seconds before clambering on top of Simon and dropping himself onto his chest heavily, on purpose.

 

Simon grunts out a breath, his hands instantly flying to Wilhelm’s back, before he freezes and looks down at him. “Hello?” he says in confusion, eyes wide but still clearly half asleep. “Am I dreaming?”

 

Wilhelm rests his chin on his chest, his insides are so happy, lighter than they ever are, and he knows he should be worried, he has a gut feeling that something isn’t right, but he feels so happy like he’s floating at the top of a glass of Champagne and he’s just not afraid anymore.

 

“Can we go in the pool?” He asks.

 

Simon thinks for a while, too long, in fact, but Wilhelm finds himself patient enough to just stare while he thinks about it, blinking softly every few seconds so Simon doesn't get blurry. Simon is very pretty. His jawline is sharp and defined, but not enough it looks fake, or like a Chad, Wilhelm likes it. His skin is basically flawless and shiny - glowing even, and Wilhelm wants to touch it. His eyelashes are long and dark, fanning out against his under eye as he stares down at Wilhelm with bewilderment he can’t be damned to understand. And his eyes, oh, his eyes, deep and dark, holding the secrets to the universe and Wilhelm wants to know, he’s a fool who could drown in their depth, he would happily throw himself into their pits of pain and suffering to understand Simon. Then you have his soft, curly hair that feels like something you’d only ever read about touching or seeing, perfect and defined but still natural and beautiful, and Wilhelm has been blessed enough to touch it before. He's so lucky Simon is his friend.

 

“Pool?” Wilhelm repeats.

 

Simon’s face lights up suddenly. “I have an idea,” he says, and a few minutes later everyone is racing up the stairs, Ayub carrying a plank of wood and Wilhelm and Felice hauling sandbags.

 

They all stumble to the end of the hall and into Simon’s room, which is dark apart from a fish tank in the corner, which is giant and has a few little orange things swimming around until he flicks on the lights.

 

Wilhelm likes his room immediately, but Simon walks through a wall of fairy lights that turns out to not be a wall, and they all follow excitedly. Wilhelm sees a piano and a bunch of bean bags, but Simon is opening a window and climbing onto the roof. Wilhelm's too drunk to really take in the room, swaying on the spot.

 

“Pass the plank!” Simon says, grinning as Ayub steps fords to pass it through the window carefully, to prevent them hitting anything in the room or breaking the window. The group climbs out the window one by one onto the flat roof.

 

They put the plank on the edge of the roof with the sandbags on the end, holding it firmly in place.

 

Wilhelm’s arms ache from carrying the sandbag, but he doesn’t care. DIY diving board! Simon is so smart.

 

Everything’s a little fuzzy as they strip down as much as they’re comfortable, the boys in their boxers, and the girls in their bras and underwear, everyone drunk and happy, throwing their clothes through into what Wilhelm’s heard to be called the music room.

 

“Who’s first?” Ayub asks, pushing a sandbag further onto the plank of wood.

 

From the lounge under them, Wilhelm can hear Justin Timberlake singing loudly, and he giggles, leaning his head on Simon's since he's the perfect height for that.

 

No one makes a move, swaying slightly where they stand, cramped on the roof.

 

“Birthday boy?” Ayub says, gesturing for Simon.

 

Wilhelm looks to his right, where Simon stands, looking uncertainly at the board. “Um - “

 

“I’ll go,” Wilhelm says without another thought, stepping fords, away from Simon's soft skin and warmth.

 

They all cheer for Wilhelm as he steps over the sandbags. Simon looks slightly worried as Wilhelm places one bare foot on the plank of wood, shivering in the intense winter, nighttime cold. “The waters warm, right?”

 

“That’s your biggest worry?” Simon laughs.

 

“Don’t die, Princey!”

 

“Are you sure?” Wilhelm is just off the roof as he looks back to stare at Simon, he grins at him. He feels alive, his heart pumping his warm blood through his chilly body, which he’s sure is thin and gross looking but he doesn’t care, no one else seems to care so it doesn't matter to him for the moment.

 

“Sayonara!” Wilhelm says, and everyone laughs, cheering him on, Simon cracking a grin. Wilhelm turns and takes the last few steps faster than the rest, jumping forward and up, watching the edge of the pool underneath him before he’s even jumped.

 

For a few seconds, he’s airborne, light as anything and light as nothing at all. His friends are cheering in the background as he curls into a ball and pinches his nose shut, the world blurring - then he hits the water with a stinging, short-lived pain. Water floods his vision and his eyes snap shut, his ears pulsing with the growing pressure as he sinks.

 

Wilhelm feels the warmth of the water around him, like he just landed in a big bath, his chills evaporating instantly. It's like a big, warm blanket all around him. His feet hit the bottom and he pushes upwards with all his might, allowing his body to float all the way to the surface.

 

The second he’s up, he hears them all cheering their approvals down to him, and he breaks into a grin, paddling into a circle while flicking his hair back and whooping back at them, their cheers only grow.

 

“Incoming!” Simon launches off the board and splashes down next to Wilhelm, bobbing up next to him seconds later with a big grin.

 

“Yay!” Wilhelm throws himself into Simon, causing them both to fall under the water and then float back up.

 

“Cannonball!” Ayub yells as he jumps from the board, splashing down next to Wilhelm and Simon as they giggle, accidentally hitting each other as they swim too close, water stinging their eyes.

 

“Ayub move!” Felice yells from above as Ayub surfaces and paddles around, Simon jumping on his back and making them both go under once more.

 

Felice drops down next to Wilhelm with another splash , followed by Rosh.

 

For a while they all play around in the pool, splashing and chasing each other while laughing.

 

Wilhelm attempts to get on Ayub’s shoulders while Simon gets on Felice’s shoulders. The goal is to try and push the other person off their partner's shoulders, but neither lasts more than a second once Simon grabs Wilhelm's hands and he falls sideways, making all four of them go into the water, Wilhelm’s hand tightening in Simon’s as they go under, eyes squeezing shut, resurfacing moments later.

 

Then they all take turns diving into the pool to decide who can dive the best, and they all agree it’s Simon, who clearly uses this pool a lot and can dive without a lot of elegance and little splash, going across the whole pool before needing to surface.

 

“Who can stay under the longest!” Felice suggested.

 

“Yeah!” Wilhelm agrees, feeling a bit more tired than before.

 

They all paddle into a circle.

 

“Three!”

 

“Two!”

 

“One!”

 

The world disappears from view as they all dive underwater to grab onto the handles Simon explained in a slurred jumble of words he’d glued there without his mother knowing so he could sit at the bottom of the pool and watch the sky until he ran out of breath. Sounds vaguely unsafe, but he's still here.

 

They all grabbed onto a handle, using the lights from the pool to guide them. They blur underwater, growing even fuzzier as they try to see in their half-drunken state. Simon and Wilhelm end up on the same one, the edges of their hands overlapping.

 

Simon’s blurry as Wilhelm blinks at him underwater, struggling to make out details through the half-lit pool and water. His hair is floating around his face like a mermaid in the movies, his cheeks don't even look puffed out like Wilhelm's. He looks so elegant. Simon waves, and Wilhelm waves back. Simon points upwards and then looks up at the sky.

 

Wilhelm follows suit, holding himself against the hard bottom of the pool and feeling the water fill his ears as he turns, which is rather unpleasant. The moon is big and bright, right above them, flickering and blurry, but beautiful.

 

From next to Wilhelm, Ayub shoots to the surface. Wilhelm finds his lungs aching and shakes his head at Simon, before placing his feet against the bottom of the pool and shooting upwards, inhaling the freezing air the second his face breaks the surface.

 

Panting, he looks over at Ayub and sighs. 

 

“Two singers and a soccer player,” Wilhelm sighs, shaking his head.

 

Ayub laughs. “We never stood a chance, man! I feel more sober after that,” he admits, wiping his face. 

 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Wilhelm suggested paddling in front of Ayub.

 

Simon appears next to them moments later, also panting for breath, shortly followed by Rosh, and then Felice.

 

“Yeah! I won!” Felice whoops, and Wilhelm splashes her, which immediately begins an all-out, no-teams splash war between everyone.

 

Wilhelm isn’t sure what the time is but at some point, Simon’s handing out towels and they’re all shivering as they walk through the house again to the two bathrooms available, taking turns showering and putting on Simon’s clothes.

 

He’s not sure where he is, but he does know he’s warm, wrapped in blankets and fresh clothes, on something very soft, the smell of orange coating his senses as he drifts off, eyes too heavy to be open, body too content to move.

 

~ Saturday ~

 

Wilhelm’s weight shifts to one side, causing him to wake up. The first thing he notices is the ache in his head, preventing him from opening his eyes or moving. He takes in a deep breath of contentment before he hears a door click shut... Huh?

 

Blinking an eye open, he realises where he is, what he’s doing, and who’s in front of him. Wilhelm’s body is curled, his spine aching from the shrimp-like position he’s put himself in, his forehead resting against Simon’s shoulder blades, breathing gently against his back, one of his arms thrown over his waist, the other curled against his own chest, both legs curled up and touching the back of Simon’s thighs.

 

There’s barely an inch of room left between them. 

 

Simon must still be asleep. Wilhelm can hear him breathing softly, slow deep inhales and exhales. His body is warm, soft, and relaxed - he’s definitely asleep.

 

Wilhelm rolls away, sitting up in the bed. He’s in Simon’s room, on his giant bed, closest to the wall. Blankets and pillows are abundant all over the bed, which makes it very clear Simon and Wilhelm weren’t the only ones sleeping there. 

 

The fish tank filters softly in the background of Simon’s gentle breathing, along with the echoing of laughter downstairs, and it all comes back to him. The surprise party, Marcus, drinks and eventually, collapsing into the same bed, drunk and tired. He must’ve fallen asleep right next to Simon.

 

Wilhelm rubs his face to get rid of the sleep, and the headache only grows.

 

With a pained groan, he face plants onto the pillow behind him, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, the cold pillow allows him a brief freedom of his clear hangover, before it’s returning at full force.

 

His mouth is parched, like he hasn’t drunk in days, lips dry and tight. He feels like crap. 

 

Wilhelm hears Simon take a deep breath, and then roll around. He sits up again, looking over at Simon, who’s now squinting up at him. Wilhelm finds himself grinning. Simon’s hair is on a bun at the top of his head, frizzy and falling out, his eyes, still puffy from sleeping, are narrowed in a sleep confusion, his lips parted as he breathes, lying on his stomach with his head to the side.

 

Simon blinks at him, slowly.

 

Wilhelm cocks his head to the side, waiting for his brain to wake up enough so he can speak.

 

Simon slaps his mouth together a couple of times, then swallows. “Erg. Fuck.”

 

Wilhelm snorts, which makes his headache flare. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Owwwww.” He complains, rubbing his eyes harshly.

 

Simon sighed heavily, shoving his face into the pillow under him like Wilhelm had done. “Why are you on my bed?” He says into the pillow.

 

“I don’t know. I woke up five minutes ago,” Wilhelm replies, blinking the black dots from his vision. “I think we all fell asleep here,” he adds. “And I have a headache.”

 

Simon looks over at him again, frowning once more. “Are you hungover?”

 

Wilhelm blinks. “Uh,” he swallows the dryness in his mouth. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Where’s everyone else?”

 

“Downstairs, I think,” Wilhelm says, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall behind him, closing his eyes again.

 

“What time is it?” Wilhelm’s eyes snapped open like he’d been electrocuted. 

 

“Shit.” He clambers over Simon’s sleepy form quickly, nearly elbowing him in the back in the process. “Crap.” He looks for a phone and finds Simon’s on the floor next to his bed, half under it. He snatches it up and squawks at the time, making Simon groan in annoyance. “It’s half past one! In the afternoon!”

 

A pillow hits him square in the face.

 

“Shhhh,” Simon grumbles. Wilhelm holds the pillow against his chest, staring at Simon with wide eyes as he rolls over again to face Wilhelm, pulling the blankets to his chest. “Let’s sleep... Let me sleep… Whatever. Stop panicking. It’s giving me a worse hangover.”

 

Wilhelm wants to whack him in the face with the pillow, but simultaneously get him a glass of water and drag him to school so he’s not walking in alone. Felice! Where on Earth has she gone? 

 

“I have to go to school, Simon,” Wilhelm says, putting the pillow on the bed and ripping the covers off Simon.

 

He groans again, curling into himself, pulling the hoodie of his new purple hoodie over his head with his eyes firmly closed again.

 

Wilhelm looks down at his own clothes and realises he isn’t wearing a shirt, just grey track pants. He’s pretty sure Simon’s worn these pyjama bottoms to school before, he swears he’s seen Simon wear them before. “Uh,” he looks around and finds a hoodie. He must’ve overheated in his sleep and taken it off. He reaches over Simon again, more self-conscious this time, and grabs the hoodie, pulling it over his chest quickly, feeling a flush in his cheeks.

 

He assumes Simon’s seen him shirtless before, changing for PE, but he doesn’t know, not really. 

 

“We’re so late,” Wilhelm whisper-yells, looking around the room for his own clothes. He finds one of his socks under the piano, the other one on the goddamn curtain rail , his pants in a lump on the floor by the window they’d climbed out. “I don't have permission to be out this long. I have to go."

 

“Nooooo.”

 

“Well, I’ll call myself an Uber. I’ll give them a tip if they can get me there extra time - Ouch,” Wilhelm gets one of the seed fairy lights stuck in his hair when trying to walk back into Simon’s main room, out of the music room.

 

“Relaxxx,” Simon says, sitting up slowly, the hoodie covering his messy hair as he stretches his arms in the air, looking around his room. “Shit, I need water. Fucking now.” Simon steps out of his bed and stumbles into his slippers, putting his phone in his pocket.

 

Wilhelm hunts for his shirt. Does Minou know he’s still out? He got permission to be out for the evening, not the entire night. They’re going to be in so much trouble! It wasn’t worth it, he should’ve gone home after dinner, then he would’ve been at school all morning and wouldn’t have made Simon uncomfortable from being in his bed because he probably did and -

 

“Hey,” Simon interrupts his thought process, standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, expression calm in his baggy clothes and fluffy slipper, pillow creases on his tired face. “Calm down, okay? We can get Mama to email the school and explain what happened - “

 

“They can’t know I drank! I would get murdered by my parents! I would never be able to leave Hillerska again, I - “

 

“She won’t mention it,” Simon says. “She doesn’t know it happened.” He raises an eyebrow, as if saying “See? Overreacting for nothing.” 

 

“I… the Housefather is so over drama involving me. The old fart probably thinks I'm starving myself. He probably hates me.” All this works for a good reputation for nothing. Simon doesn’t understand. 

 

“Do you ever stop worrying?” Simon questions, shaking his head. He walks over to Wilhelm, grabbing him by the shoulders firmly. “It will be okay, alright? We’ll make sure no one gets in trouble and that the Housefather knows you didn't mean to stress him, but we can’t do that if you're hyperventilating with a seed light in your hair.” Simon reaches up and brushes something off Wilhelm’s hair. He only realises it was there once the dull tugging it caused disappears. 

 

“How are you planning to do that, hmm?” Wilhelm replies, refusing to give in to the blush filling his cheeks at the stupid fairy lights being in his hair while he panics in front of Simon. 

 

Wilhelm expects Simon to snap back like he used to, or make another joke, some jab at Wilhelm, but he shrugs, dropping his hands from his shoulders to tuck them in his pockets. “I dunno, we’ll figure that out later, once we eat though. Okay? So stop worrying for one second and enjoy life. You had fun, right?”

 

Wilhelm nods slowly, then more confident. 

 

“Noddings good, yeah, solid, not very convincing but,” Simon says, a small smile cracking his face. “You’ve got to actually believe it for shit to happen.” He cocks his head to the side, his little smirk still in place. 

 

Wilhelm smiles, bashful. “I…” He doesn’t know how to just believe that it’ll all be alright when he goes back to school after being out for an amount of time that is significantly over the time slot he was given to be out. He doesn’t know how Simon knows he doesn’t believe in himself like that. What, does he just change his mindset? It’s not a switch he can simply flick when it conveniences him… Is that what it’s like for others? Is it that easy? “I don’t know how,” Wilhelm admits, headache pulsing. He wants a cup of water, a giant coffee, and somewhere to sleep, not a crisis in Simon’s bedroom, in his clothes, while he gives him advice he didn’t know Simon had in him.

 

Simon doesn’t hesitate in his words. “Yeah, I know that, but it is possible to change your mindset. It’s not something that’ll come with the snap of your fucking fingers, though. It takes time.” 

 

“When’d you get so wise?” Wilhelm asks, shoving Simon’s arm playfully, shaking his head.

 

“Hey! I’m smart, sometimes,” Simon replies, grinning at Wilhelm as he stands straight from the little shove. “Just not at school.”

 

“Simon, you are academically smart,” Wilhelm tells him honestly. “I can see that you’re learning during tutor, you just don't try in class.”

 

Simon shugs back at him but avoids meeting his eye. “Nah, ‘cause it’s more fun to steal your drinks, poke you, throw shit at you, start rumours between us.” He shoves Wilhelm back like he’d just done, grinning cheekily at him, a slight flush on his cheeks.

 

Wilhelm shakes his head, trying - and failing - to suppress a smile that just crawls onto his face, whether he wants it there or not. He can't physically not smile at Simon.  “Hey, those rumours aren’t jokes, Simon. They’re pretty serious.” He can't find it in himself to care.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” Simon says pointedly, raising his eyebrows. “Stop worrying they’ll ruin our lives, or you’ll just spend all of school trying to avoid me, or freaking out whenever we interact for one second when you really love me,” he pouts his lips dramatically, and he must know he has an effect on Wilhelm by doing that, because Wilhelm’s stomach flops around, and it doesn’t feel like the hangover effects. “Plus,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “August has been told off, so we’re okay at school. We could make out and it’d stay in the school,” Simon waggles his eyebrows. Wilhelm’s stomach does it again. It needs to stop. Simon has a boyfriend, whom Wilhelm is trying very hard to not mention, which is what he’d normally do when Simon is being flirty, or someone else being suggestive about what goes on between them.

 

“What goes on between them” instantly brings thoughts of kissing in corners, holding hands behind turned heads, sneaking out to kiss behind trees in the dead of night, and falling into the other's beds with messy, hot, teenage emotion. Wilhelm blinks and those thoughts are gone, just Simon standing in front of him grinning his cheeky little smile.

 

“And no one would know,” Wilhelm says, flirting back, letting his eyes drop to Simon’s lips for a moment, smirking back at him.

 

Colour undeniably shoots into Simon’s face, and for one glorious moment, he looks taken aback, before he slaps on a grin. “Uh - yeah,” Simon blinks rapidly, and Wilhelm bursts out laughing. He rendered Simon speechless! By flirting back for once, instead of letting himself get caught off guard and surprised! He shakes his head as he walks around Simon to chuck his clothes on his desk chair while Simon rambles behind him like he always does when nervous or excited. “I mean, I think that would piss Marcus off, but that sounds rather appealing right now, to be honest. He was such a dick last night. But I had fun last night - oh, that sounds - those implications are wrong, nope. Fucking anyways.” Simon sighs, taking a breather before turning back to Wilhelm, who fails to hide his amusement behind his hands. “Stop it!” Simon groans, whacking Wilhelm’s shoulder as he bursts into uncontrollable laughter. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that! You normally get all red, I didn’t know you knew how to flirt! Argh! Screw you!”

 

Wilhelm only laughs louder as Simon pelts him with attacks, punching his arm and back with no real vigour. Wilhelm catches his wrists, clasping Simon’s hands in his own in between them. “I know, babes, it was funny.”

 

“Flirty couple names are my thing, sweet darling baby girl,” Simon glares, cheeks still pleasantly pink.

 

Wilhelm grins at him. “I know,” he chirps, before dropping his hands and skipping off towards his bedroom door. “Breakfast, sweetie?”  

 

“I hate you.” 

 

“Noooooo, pookie.”

 

“Yeeeeees.” 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm and Simon come downstairs to find their friends sprawled around the lounge. Thankfully, they’ve kept all the curtains drawn. Just the walk from Simon’s room, down the hallway, down the stairs, through the foyer and into the kitchen lounge was bright enough to intensify their headaches. 

 

Simon beelines for the sink, grabbing two cups and filling them to the brim. He hands one to Wilhelm, who’s three seconds away from putting his head in the freezer. They both chug down their glasses before Wilhelm notices their friends as he refills.

 

Felice is lying on her back on the couch, a blanket covering her from head to toe, one hand hanging off the edge of the couch. Rosh is sitting at the dinner table, scrolling on her phone with her hoodie up and a steaming cup of coffee, and Ayub is snoring, drooling on the floor, the TV controller next to his head as something plays softly from the speakers. 

 

Wilhelm wanders into the lounge quietly, Rosh nodding weakly at him. “Good to see you’re alive. I thought you’d gone into a coma,” she says, voice croaky from lack of use.

 

Felice flicks the blanket off her face, squinting at Wilhelm. “Good morning. I was expecting you to come streaming in here like your hair's on fire screeching about school, and I was planning to throw you in the pool and lock the doors. So, good job.”

 

“Fel, girlie, I love you, but if you speak again I am going to smother you to death and sleep on your corpse,” Ayub growls from the floor, awake and wiping his drool.

 

“So, hangover Ayub is scarier than sober Rosh,” Simon says from the kitchen, the sound of pills popping coming from where he stands.

 

Wilhelm beelines for the ibuprofen he’s taken out of the cupboard, taking two from Simon’s offering hand and chucking them in his mouth, swallowing with his water. 

 

Simon drugs up his friends in each, and Wilhelm finds his phone on the armchair he and Simon had shared for a lot of the evening, on 10%. He sees no new notifications, apart from some Google Classroom reminders, Grammarly emails, and a new custom-made Spotify playlist.

 

“Linda emailed our schools,” Rosh explains from where she looking at her phone. “We’ve all caught a cold from some cheap takeout we brought for Simon’s sixteenth birthday party dinner. You’ll be at school after dinner, seven at the latest. She’s going to drop you off once she comes home and feeds you.”

 

“Where is Linda?” Wilhelm asks, glancing around the room for signs of her being here.

 

“She would’ve left for work at five,” Simon says, returning to the kitchen and opening a cupboard, chucking a loaf of bread onto the counter.

 

“Where does she work?” He continues to enquire as Simon throws bread into the toaster, and then grabs a breadboard, along with some spreads from the pantry cupboard.

 

“She’s working at the hospital until five tonight.”

 

“Twelve-hour shift?” Wilhelm blinks, surprised.

 

Simon eyes him with slight judgment, leaning back against the bench with his hands in his pockets. “...Yes?”

 

Wilhelm wipes his surprised look off his face. He doesn’t think it’s rude to ask questions, but Simon is Simon, and he might think Wilhelm is being all preppy and spoilt to be surprised someone works a twelve-hour shift after her son's birthday party, looking after several teenagers, and then plans to make them all dinner and drive them to Hillerska.

 

“She’s the best,” Wilhelm decides to say.

 

Simon smiles, turning away, nodding. “I know. Go get Sunny, she’s probably starving.”

 

Wilhelm jumps into action at the reminder of his child being alone for so long, flying up the stairs, not letting the fading headache or vague nausea stop him from jumping up the stairs and cracking open the bathroom door, already hearing impatient chirping from within.

 

“Sunny!” She hops back from the door, fluttering her wings at his arrival.

 

Wilhelm bends down to scoop her up carefully, noting how the heat lamp is on in the bathroom, likely to keep her warm overnight. An expensive price to pay for the little bird, but he’s grateful for their willingness to keep his child alive.

 

He flicks off the heat lamp and returns downstairs, babbling to Sunny as he goes. He feels much calmer now he knows Linda's already contacted Hillerska, and they can stay here for the rest of the day, so he doesn't have to worry about getting ready to leave quickly.

 

When he returns downstairs Simon hands him a plate of toast, so he sits at the dining table with Sunny and Rosh, feeding her little amounts.

 

Everyone's quiet and smells vaguely of alcohol and coffee, it's dark from the curtains being drawn, but the atmosphere is nice and comfortable. Everyone feels content where they are.

 

Wilhelm watches Simon move around the room without any tension in his body, feeding their friends, and stopping to get Sunny some water and steal some of Wilhelm's toast. He could get used to having fun evenings like last night, followed by calm mornings like right now. How he's ended up with such brilliant friends he isn't sure, but he doesn't want to lose them.

Notes:

Kinda hate this ngl

 

Did you guys see that thing with Technoblade? I was never even in the Dream Smp but one of my friends was and she cried when he died, but now he's posting a video again, like ......... Craziness, a win for them. Anyways.

I love your comments, you're all so supportive, it's unbelievable, I love it, every single comment means so much to me, it keeps me so motivated you don't even know. When you put so much time, and effort into something, it's always really daunting that no one is going to care or even worse, they're going to hate it, but you guys never let me down.

Also also, have y'all seen the presidential debate ahaha, it's so unserious, please - And the ship edits bahahaha, America is so screwed guys I don't even know anymore. It's funny, but also deeply, deeply concerning.

For anyone wondering, I have full intentions of updating my other fic at some point <3

 

NOTICE & INSTRUCTIONS:
Okay, so with this Planner 5D thing.

There is an option for you guys to edit the build when you click on the link, please don't. If someone decides to go through and fuck up the whole thing I'll be beyond pissed and you may not get another version to look at. But the version I'm allowing y'all to see is a duplicate, so I have an intact version if you mess with it. Please don't. Appreciate that I've spent literal days working on this and don't touch it. If you do something on accident, just control Z, or tell me and I'll fix it.

Speaking of working hard on things, I brought the bloody Planner 5D year-long membership to do this (I've made like 17 other houses and I have 2 versions for Simon's house for this fic as well as future houses but shhh)

Warning, I'm not fucking architect. I hated making the exterior of the house, definitely my least favourite part, along with the roof. It took too long and I put it off for literal weeks.

If you don't know how to use Planner 5D, good luck haha, using a mouse makes moving around easier, so practise moving around outside the house before entering.

 

INSTRUCTIONS:
Use your laptop when opening the design, when it opens press S to move all the way back until you can see the outline of the entire building. Give it at least three minutes to load, or the length of Perfect by One Direction (Depending on your wifi and your laptop, loading time will vary) Don't leave the tab while it's loading, because it'll stop loading, but don't look because you might get spoilers. Tralala.

Zoom in with your mouse pad, it'll bring you forwards, otherwise moving around will be harder. Now it's like you're playing Minecraft or Roblox from the eyes POV, or whatever it's called. You can look around.

Click on floor two before you enter the house so you can see the entire thing, and admire it for a minimum of 10 seconds.

Click on floor one when you're going to go inside, though, and use the fucking front door. The door won't actually open so don't click on it, just walk through the door like a ghost.

If you somehow end up floating at the ceiling level when you're on floor one, you're glitching, close and re-open it. You should be normal human height when entering. If for some reason you can't view it at all, whether it's too laggy or I mess up the link, then I'll consider screen recording a walk around which I'll link into a Drive folder you y'all to view xoxo.

So here's the link, I hope you enjoy it, be kind to it, and look for Easter eggs.

 

Don't ask me when the house is set, I don't fucking know. There are lots of photos everywhere, if those don't work, tell me immediately. I'll list all the Easter eggs I added in the next notes so see how many you can find :) There are actually too many I need help.

When you're changing floors, go to the stairs and then press floor two, which should be on the right of your screen, so it's a bit more coordinated.

If it's taking forever to load stop leaving the tab to do something else, re-load it, and try moving back and forth on the road.

I might add things in future, little things that I haven't already planned to add. If I do that I'll tell y'all though :)

Have fun my loves!
Simon's House

Chapter 16: Something Undeniable

Summary:

My eyes are caught in your gaze all over again
We were love drunk waiting on a miracle
Trying to find ourselves in the winter snow
So alone in love like the world had disappeared
Oh, I won't be silent and I won't let go
I will hold on tighter 'til the afterglow
And we'll burn so bright 'til the darkness softly clears
Oh, I will hold on to the afterglow
- Afterglow, Ed Sheeran

Playlist I made for the fic https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
TW for PTSD, anxiety attacks, physical violence, brief mention of rape, abusive relationships, and overall sadness.

Pretend I've been spelling Krisis right this whole time, 'kay? Thanks

Notes:

Ew what am I doing updating so much, what is happening (I'm really invested in my own fic, sue me) it's a short chapter though, because I want to see your reactions

Brace yourselves, this one has been building up for AGES.

If anyone is a hardcore The Nun fan, I apologise, I watched that movie once and blocked 90% of the plot from my memory.

 

Easter Eggs In Simon's House:
1. Sara's purple Range Rover outside
2. The planks and sandbags around the side of the house (DIY diving board)
3. Basketball hoop
4. Simon's blue bike in the garage
5. 2 phones on Simon's dresser (Purple is Simon's, blue is Wilhelm's)
6. The books in Simon's room sure as hell aren't his (They're Wilhelm's)
7. Bartholomew the Roomba
8. Simon's shirt on the washing machine
9. Mentioned photo of Simon in the sun on the beach in lounge
10. Cursed Lord Farquad in Linda's office
11. This fics AO3 page in Linda's office
12. Sunny in Simon's bathroom (It wouldn't let me change the colour so...)
13. 2 toothbrushes in Simon's bathroom
14. Trophies in Sara's room
15. Wilhelm's blue shirt on Simon's bed
16. 2 cups on Simon's desk
17. The millions of photos

So I hyperfixated just a little bit. Here's the link again Simon's House

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Sunday ~

 

"Horror!" Felice announces loudly, bundled up in the middle of the couch with a big grey blanket, holding the TV remote and a giant cup of tea.

 

Wilhelm was sleeping. Was is the key word. Wilhelm moved to the couch when he finished his breakfast, put his stuff into the dishwasher and collapsed, asleep in the corner of the couch. He wakes up with his head lolled back uncomfortably and mouth open and dry. He slaps his mouth together, blinking around at the room.

 

The lights are still off and the curtains remain drawn closed, the only thing illuminating the space being the TV screen, which is still far too bright, honestly, it's a hate crime against this room of queer people. Plus Ayub. Wilhelm's in the wrong mood for a TV to be trying to cause problems.

 

Wilhelm slowly processes what is happening. Felice is choosing a movie for their group to watch, Ayub is next to her under the same blanket and Rosh is still at the dining table. Simon's nowhere in sight.

 

Wilhelm blinks, vaguely registering that he wants another big glass of water, but mainly looking around the room for Simon.

 

"He's in the pool," Felice comments without looking over, flicking through Netflix.

 

Wilhelm's head snaps over to her, which worsens his headache. He feels his cheeks heat. He didn't even have to ask where he was for Felice to - wait, what?

 

"Why the fuck is he in the pool? It's like, negative 17 degrees or something, on a winter morning and he's so hungover," Wilhelm asks, his voice too loud for his head. His nap did little to nothing to help his hangover.

 

"This is barely a hangover for him," Ayub grumbles jealously, wearing a pair of sunglasses, and rocking them. "He always takes a swim after a night out if he wants to be vaguely productive and not bed rot all day. It's wise of him, but rather annoying when you're passed out in the backyard and he's swimming laps. Maniac." Apparently, Ayub's hangover doesn't stop his vocal cords.

 

Wilhelm nods absently, reaching over the arm of the couch to the curtain, pulling it open a crack to peek at the pool. Sure enough, there Simon is, floating on his back in the middle of the water. If Wilhelm couldn't see the steady rise and fall of his chest, he'd assume he was dead. Simon's lucky the pools heated ... or maybe that wouldn't bother him. It would definitely help wake him up. So he does morning yoga and swims. Wilhelm won't lie, it's surprising, but also kind of endearing. Simon's got many little quirks, the longer you know him the more you notice, but this is kind of sweet. It shows he at least tries to be productive, even if his mood gets the better of him now and then.

 

"Stop perving, what genre, Wille?" Felice asks, tapping her nails on the remote. "I'm thinking horror, but Ayub wants something comedy, and Rosh wants us to die," Felice recounts, sipping her tea.

 

"I don't mind," Wilhelm says, again, ignoring her comment as he settles back into the couch, curling his legs up and leaning his head in his hand. A few minutes later, he's drifting off again.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The third time Wilhelm is woken up this morning is to the couch dipping next to him, a warm presence filling the space, followed by something soft and comfortingly heavy across his lap.

 

Wilhelm blinks, not bothered to move his head from where it's breaking his wrist from resting on it for so long. As his eyes clear and adjust to the light, he realises Simon has curled up next to him. He sitting on one of his feet, holding a bowl of popcorn which rests on a pillow in his lap. His hair is freshly washed and springing around his shiny face, blinking at the TV screen which is lighting up his shiny face. Simon has put a blanket over them both.

 

Wilhelm sits up and his neck cracks, causing him to wince. Simon looks over at him, and then cracks his neck.

 

"Are you two communicating or something?" Felice hisses from over Simon.

 

"Shhh," Ayub whispers back a them, eyes pinned on the TV. He's lining back onto the couch though, blanket pulled up to his face. "It's getting suspenseful," he whispers with wide eyes.

 

Wilhelm looks towards the TV screen, slightly distracted by the fact Simon smells like oranges and some lavender laundry detergent from clean clothes. They appear to be watching The Nun. Oh, Wilhelm's favourite.

 

Why are they watching a horror movie while they're all hungover and tired? Wilhelm would've suggested My Little Ponies if he knew this was the other option.

 

Wilhelm's too tired to speak, so he quietly takes a few pieces of popcorn and puts them in his mouth, glancing at Simon. His eyes are glued to the TV screen, wide and reflecting the screen, chewing slowly with one hand half in the popcorn bowl. He looks so indulged in it, it's kind of funny.

 

He looks away. Stop staring at him, Wilhelm scolds himself. He readjusts his positioning so his feet are on the ground, sitting further against Simon... Which doesn't really help, but... Oh well...

 

Just as he's settled the other three all jump at the same time, Simon's hand grabbing Wilhelm's wrist. Wilhelm missed the jumpscare, but judging by the reactions it accomplished he isn't mad about it.

 

"Oh my fuck," Simon breathes, squeezing his wrist tightly. Wilhelm laughs, looking towards the screen. Someone looks to be swimming in a pool of water in some dark, creepy chamber. Fun! Simon makes a whimpering sound and turns his head against Wilhelm's shoulder, pressing his face there.

 

Wilhelm feels his stomach flip flop in response and he bites his lip quietly, ignoring the lengthy and pointed side eye from Felice. Instead, he eats another piece of popcorn and tries to ignore the persistent butterflies at Simon being so close.

 

A few moments later there's another jumpscare, causing Wilhelm to jump and consequently, Simon as well.

 

"Jesus," Ayub complains, drawing out the word, hand pressed against his heart.

 

"Amen," Felice breathes, looking through her fingers, one hand around her cup, which she still has.

 

Simon's hair is making Wilhelm's shoulder wet, but his breath is warm through his clothes.

 

After another moment, Simon turns his head sideways to face the TV, so he's leaning on Wilhelm's shoulder. Wilhelm doesn't mind, it's quite nice, he's warm, and soft, smells nice and isn't currently out to ruin Wilhelm's school reputation. He's slightly hungover but ultimately a person Wilhelm doesn't mind leaning on him. Ever.

 

Wilhelm feels content enough to lean his head on Simon's, his eyes slipping shut, his curls brushing against his face. He vaguely registers Simon's hand now just resting on his arm, but he's too far on the road to sleeping to think too hard about it.

 

~ Monday ~

 

Wilhelm is in a good mood when he wakes up Monday morning, after Simon’s party. He hasn’t managed to be in a bad mood since then, even when he came back to Hillerska Sunday evening with Felice and got asked about a million questions by his friends and other students. 

 

His Mother called him, reminding him what thin ice he walks on. Wilhelm struggled not to snap at her. There are zero leaked photos of them together! No one outside their social circle knew Wilhelm and Felice were even there. The only photo posted about it was by Sara, of Simon and her hands at the private nail salon, freshly painted, with Simon tagged and a short birthday message to him in the caption, with no implications of their plans for the evening or mentions of other people who they’d be seeing. 

 

His Mother hadn’t had a lot to say to that.

 

Wilhelm told Henry, Alex and Walter where he was, but brushed off anyone else who asked. Knowing those three it'll be around the school by the end of the evening, but at least he can say it's not his intention.

 

Simon sends him a photo of Sunny on his bed Monday morning, she’s sleeping in the purple hoodie Wilhelm had brought Simon. Wilhelm sent about a million red hearts back at the breakfast table. 

 

“So, are you guys friends now, or what?” Henry asks, sitting down next to Wilhelm with a bowl of cereal.

 

Wilhelm locks his phone and drops it to his lap. Henry raises an eyebrow. “Yes, we’re friends now. Why?” Wilhelm asks defensively, maybe a little too defensively, but he doesn't want anyone getting ideas.

 

Wilhelm thinks if Henry could move that eyebrow any further up, it would become part of his hairline. “You guys despised the others' entire being like two weeks ago. You got detention because of him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s kinda cool and I’m sure he hosts dope parties, but you’re not taking pity on him or anything, are you?”

 

“Pity friends? Why would he spend nearly a whole term hating him and being mean to take pity on him in the end?” Alex questions where he’s sat across the table, stirring a bowl of porridge with a frown at Henry's logistics.

 

“Exactly. It’s not “pity friends”, he’s a good person when he’s not pissed off, alright?” Wilhelm says. He remembers Simon yesterday morning, cheeks red when Wilhelm called him ... couple-y names, how he’d woken up nearly spooning Simon and it was one of the best sleeps he’d ever had. The memory of it makes his cheeks feel warm.

 

Henry, Walter and Alex stare at him in silence. His phone buzzes.

 

Simon
She shat on my floor wille im going to cry
Ur fucking bird has ZERO bladder control
Does my bed look like a god damn toilet???
8:22 AM

 

Wille
Yes?
8:22 AM

 

Simon
U werent saying that when u were sleeping like the dead
8:24 AM

 

Wille
Because you being in it made it so much more tolerable xoxoxoxox
Now hurry up and get to school
I’ll buy you coffee:)
8:24 AM

 

Simon
Omw
8:24 AM

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Pretty please,” Simon begs, legs wrapping tightly around Wilhelm’s waist, his cheek resting against the top of Wilhelm’s head, arms winding his neck, tight enough to hold himself up but not enough so to choke him. Wilhelm didn’t even need to hold him to keep him from falling. Simon’s body is warm and firm against his own, back, his heart beating hard through their clothes.

 

It's a flashback to when Simon got extremely high before PE and Wilhelm piggybacked him to the bus shelter. Except now, Simon is pleasantly sober and Wilhelm doesn't mind him being on his back.

 

“Simon, this is hockey, not a time for piggyback rides,” Miss Myles scolds from the sidelines. “Please get off Wilhelm and defend your goal. He’s not even on your team! For Christ’s sake,” she sighs as Simon slides off Wilhelm, picking up the stick he dropped.

 

Wilhelm smirks at Simon. “You got in trouble,” he teases, hitting Simon’s stick lightly with his own. The ball’s been down the other end of the court for most of the game, which has led to a lot of talking and the occasional score to Wilhelm’s team because Simon isn't paying attention enough to defend his goal.

 

“Yeah, what else is new,” Simon sticks his tongue out at their teacher's back as she watches the ball. “But please , you have to come,” Simon continues on with what he was asking about before Miss Myles noticed. “I won’t know peace again if you and Felice don’t go with me.”

 

Wilhelm purses his lips. He really shouldn’t. His Mother forbids him from hanging out with Simon in public outside school, but it’s only one time, they can be careful, and wear disguises…? 

 

“Simon, I really can’t,” Wilhelm says, pacing back and forth across the outdoor court as the ball passes back and fords on the other side. He wants to, he really does, he and Simon are so close now, but if his Mum found out ... He might get pulled from school, or she'll have Simon kicked from the school. Wilhelm doesn't want either of those things to happen, but if it came to it, he'd rather be taken out of school than get Simon expelled.

 

Simon leans against his stick. “I will starve Sunny for a whole day if you don’t come.”

 

“Simon.”

 

“Jokes, I wouldn’t do that, that’s cruel. I won’t distract you for all of tomorrow, and you won’t have to buy me a coffee for a whole week,” Simon tries to bargain. Wilhelm pretends to consider this, tapping his chin with faux thoughtfulness.

 

“I’ll do my homework?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“I won’t steal your food at lunch?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“I’ll read Krisis up to where you are and take notes for it?”

 

“Simon," Wilhelm laughs, amused by the things Simon thinks Wilhelm wants from him. They started making their presentation for Krisis this morning, and Simon still has finished the book. "This is stuff you should’ve already been doin - "

 

“Marcus is going,” Simon blurts, all playfulness gone. 

 

Wilhelm goes still, eyes losing track of the ball as he stops moving. Carefully, he turns to Simon, who’s sitting down in the goal, glaring at the ground in front of him. Ah . “...Okay?” Wilhelm says slowly, taking a few steps over to stand in front of Simon, who looks so embarrassed and guilty, not meeting Wilhelm's eye. Wilhelm kind of thought they were past this embarrassment about his relationship, Wilhelm knows what's happening, so Simon doesn't have to act like he's new to it. “And me being there will do what with that? It’ll only make him mad.”

 

“Yeah, but he won’t try touching me if you’re there, probably," Simon mumbles, picking at the tape around the end of his stick.

 

Wilhelm can’t see how that logic works, but he doesn’t care, because his mind is made. He’s going to go now, screw his Mum, they’ll just have to be super stealthy and mindful of cameras. He would’ve said yes five minutes ago if Simon had said that. The implication that Marcus is scared of Wilhelm, or at least not comfortable “ touching ” Simon when Wilhelm’s around both makes him happy and sad. He'll happily attend every hangout if it keeps Simon from his grubby touches. Better yet, they can break up and still hang out, just without the looming dark cloud that is Marcus, ready to shit on everyone's mood.

 

Do Rosh and Ayub not stick up for Simon? Does he not make moves like that around them because there are no photos or rumours about them dating Simon? Why am I different?

 

Simon stares at the ground, clearly embarrassed, deadly silent, body still.

 

Wilhelm nudges his shin with his foot gently, crouching down in front of him. Simon fearfully meets his eye. “I’ll go.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

This is not going to go well.

 

After shovelling down his dinner and excusing himself before dessert to go do homework, he finds himself jumping out his bedroom window and running to the bus shelter, Felice arriving minutes later.

 

“You look like you still,” Felice complains as they hide in the bus shelter, shivering in the cold. Neither of them got permission to be out tonight because Wilhelm didn’t want his Mother to find out and Felice thought it'd be exhilarating.

 

Wilhelm pulls a beanie from his pocket and puts it on, along with a scarf around his mouth and some sunglasses. Despite it being night time and it makes it even harder for him to see.

 

“Still me?”

 

Felice purses her lips, clearly trying to suppress her amusement. “Better. Let’s tuck all your hair inside the hat though, because as someone who used to analyse every single photo of her favourite closeted gay celebrities, I would definitely be able to figure out who you are. Have you worn this jacket in public before?”

 

“... Probably? It’s my generic winter jacket,” Wilhelm shrugs. “What gay celebrity are you trying to expose? You realise you probably made it worse for them?”

 

“Yeah, I know that now, but there's still not a soul alive able to convince me Larry didn’t happen. Here, have my coat. Maybe we can throw off the rumours if we’re wearing each other's clothes. I’m sure your Mother would love that.” 

 

They trade coats, Felice’s slightly tighter than Wilhelm would like, while Wilhelm’s is oversized on her, but she confirms it is cosy. Then, they tuck all of Wilhelm’s hair up under the beanie and wait for the bus.

 

Wilhelm's anxious, because his last encounter with Marcus wasn't exactly the most friendly thing. He'd physically pulled the guy off of Simon and shoved him away. He'd stood in front of Simon so Marcus couldn't get to him and Simon had slid down the wall like he'd had the life drained out of him.

 

Marcus had called him a "desperate slag ", as if he was the one attacking his boyfriend's neck while said boyfriend looked to be trying to pretend it was not happening.

 

Wilhelm didn't tell anyone what he walked into, not that Simon asked him not to, but because at the time it was his goddamn birthday, and no one likes their birthdays to be ruined by the people who you like, or think you like. Wilhelm would know. He's not even sure who he'd tell, Rosh and Ayub must know to some degree what's happening with Simon and Marcus, he doubts Linda has any idea, same with Sara. Felice isn't close enough to Simon to be able to get him to listen to her, and Wilhelm's other friends have no business in the situation.

 

He resists the urge to anxiously chew his nails as they wait for the bus, Felice scrolling on her phone quietly, leaning her head against Wilhelm's shoulder.

 

All Wilhelm wants is for Simon to be okay. He wants to wipe Marcus, his Dad, the drugs, the alcohol, August, that picture and his history out of his life so he's happy all the time. But if Wilhelm going to a football game can make at least one of those things slightly better ... Well, he'd go to a million. Maybe that says something, but Wilhelm tries not to dwell on that, he doesn't want to create another problem.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The pair approach the football field with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The bus nearly missed them huddled in the bus shelter, but the driver didn’t bat an eye at Wilhelm like he normally would’ve, nor did the few passengers on the bus, so his disguise worked.

 

Wilhelm is now paranoid about missing their stop like they did the first time, so he stood up earlier than needed for their stop and got off at the right place. They walked past a group of girls who pointed at Felice, recognizing her but didn’t even mention Wilhelm by her side as they passed quickly, not acknowledging the girls.

 

They don’t buy food, because Wilhelm does not want to take off his scarf for even a second tonight. The game is slightly less busy today, as there's a light mist in the air tonight, and it’s expected to rain. 

 

Wilhelm spots Simon, Marcus and Ayub on the sidelines and they approach the group. Marcus and Simon are standing with only a little bit of room in between them, and Wilhelm slides into the gap smoothly, pushing Simon away more than Marcus so he doesn't get mad at Wilhelm shoving him.

 

“Who’s winning?” He asks as Marcus throws an elbow into his shoulder. He winces but doesn’t allow any further reaction, not even looking at him as Simon’s body presses close against his own.

 

Simon’s expressionless face cracks into a smile as he looks over at Wilhelm. “Uh - Rosh, of course,” Simon says, squinting up at Wilhelm. “I can’t tell if you’ve really dressed for the weather, or you’re just hiding.”

 

“Both?” Wilhelm replies. He holds back a comment about Simon missing his face, purely because he can feel Marcus staring daggers into his head. He can’t blame him, though, not really. He did just very obnoxiously insert himself between Marcus and his boyfriend. Still, he doesn’t feel bad, maybe slightly embarrassed but not regretful for going between them.

 

Simon hums, opening his mouth to say something when Marcus interjects his own opinion, which no one actually gives a shit about. Honestly, someone needs to tell this guy no one cares for his thoughts, like, genuinely. He’s probably a Trump supporter. 

 

“Did your Mum tell you to cover up so no one would recognize you, Wilhelm?” Marcus says louder than necessary. Wilhelm restrains the urge to stab his heel into Marcus’ toes as hard as he physically can. No one seems to hear him though, watching the game in front of them. His blood boils quietly, cheeks heating.

 

“I’m sorry, would you rather everyone saw my face and continued to ignore your existence in favour of mine?” Wilhelm retorts, raising an eyebrow even though Marcus can’t see it past his sunglasses and beanie. “And continued to spread the rumour of Simon and I being a thing while completely forgetting, disregarding and discarding you?” 

 

Simon shifts next to him, silent but tense.

 

Marcus snorts. “Oh, so you think you’re doing me a favour by hiding from the public?”

 

“Yes? I’m trying to be respectful of your relationship by attempting to stop the rumours. So, I’m hiding who I am so people won’t realise exactly who he’s hanging out with.”

 

“There wouldn’t be rumours if you would stop clinging to him like a fucking leech, following him to every social event he’s attended this term. Does he carry your lifeline or something? Do you think you own him?”

 

Wilhelm feels a red-hot anger boil up inside him, memories of their argument on Friday night flying to the forefront of his mind like lightning, with Simon on the floor, borderline comatose from Marcus getting all up into his space, nonconsensually. He can't not say something back to get under his skin when he must know that saying that will piss Wilhelm the fuck off. “Why are you so possessive, Marcus? Are you that insecure - ?”

 

“Go Rosh!” Ayub cheers loudly, voice cracking.

 

Wilhelm gives Marcus a shove, so he’s a further distance from himself. Simon is quiet next to him, and Wilhelm doesn’t dare look over. Simon just wanted Wilhelm as a barrier, not to attack Marcus. It’s hard when he walks around looking like he’s smelt something bad and acting as if being Simon’s boyfriend is the same as owning him.

 

He’s so threatened by Wilhelm being here he’s got to attack him every two seconds to make himself feel like the top dog. Wilhelm might be slightly questioning his feelings in relation to Simon right now, but he's not treating him in a way that should make Marcus suspicious. He’s a good friend, surprisingly wise and good at keeping Wilhelm calm when he needs it. He has control over Wilhelm’s emotions as if it’s all in a physical thing he can hold, flick that switch and make him mad, turn that dial to calm him down, this makes him laugh and that can cause him to freak out.

 

The game continues, but the sidelines are mostly quiet. A gentle drizzle of rain has set down, so now everyone has their hoods up and umbrellas out. A few people have even gone home, or retired to their cars. Wilhelm blends in a little better now, as people also wrap themselves up.

 

Seriously, why couldn’t it snow instead of rain? It’s still bothersome, and cold, and wet, but it’s prettier, and if Wilhelm is going to stand here between boyfriends for the next however long this game is, he deserves something to look at. 

 

At halftime, Rosh has a quick word with her team and then jogs over to their group, cheeks and nose bright red from the cold, clothes damp and clinging to her. 

 

“Hey, you guys can go home if you want. It’s miserable out here and we’re already seven points ahead of them, so it’s clear we’re going to win,” Rosh breathes, panting slightly.

 

Are they seven ahead? Wilhelm only remembers seeing four goals, but he also keeps zoning out or getting distracted by Simon, who wrapped his arm around Wilhelm’s waist to keep them connected, his hand sliding into the pocket on Wilhelm’s side of Felice’s coat, his body radiating endless warmth, smelling of oranges and cigarettes… And it really shouldn’t be as nice as it is, the two contrasting smells.  

 

Honestly, that sounds very appealing, his bed is more taunting than anything right now. Simon’s grip is tight, not letting him go. Marcus is leaking anger out his pores, his fists clenched at his side. Wilhelm’s own arm is loosely slung around Simon’s waist because he isn't trying to get decked by Marcus. He knows he'd get decked, especially because this tight coat limits his movements.

 

The group glance around at each other, shrugging.

 

“Great, let’s go,” Marcus decides, slapping Simon’s hand from Wilhelm’s pocket, grabbing it hand in his own and pulling him away, ripping his warmth from Wilhelm’s side like he stole his own skin, leaving his body cold. 

 

Wilhelm’s about to step in as they get further away, but Simon stops them once he gets his footing a few meters away from the group, talking in a hushed tone.

 

“Uhh,” Felice purses her lips, their group watching with numb fingertips and noses, lips all chapped. 

 

“It’s all good, go home, guys,” Rosh says again, patting Wilhelm’s shoulder, her eyes continuously flickering to Simon and Marcus. “Thanks for coming out, though, it’s appreciated.”

 

Wilhelm nods, eyes pinned on the couple, barely even paying attention to Rosh's words. 

 

Marcus kisses Simon. Wilhelm clenches his jaw, fists, and all the muscles in his body. Simon kisses back, his eyes downcast while Marcus's fall close. Wilhelm watches, anger flooding his veins, as Marcus grips Simon’s hips and brings them to his own. He lets out a harsh breath through his nostrils that turns white in the freezing air.

 

“Wille,” Ayub says, tone warning. They’re all staring at him, but all Wilhelm sees is Simon looking like he’s trying to enjoy that, eyebrows furrowed as he struggles to keep up with the speed and force Marcus is kissing him with. He feels sick watching it.

 

“That looks like fucking rape,” he growls.

 

Rosh’s eyebrows raise in surprise, blinking at him. “Okay, well, it’s not, so you can rela - “ Maybe not rape, but clearly onesided. Assault . Fuck that.

 

“Wille, don’t .”

 

Wilhelm ignores them, marching over just as Simon pulls back from Marcus. Marcus’ eyes find Wilhelm’s in an instant , a satisfied, smug expression Wilhelm cannot be damned about painted all over his ugly fucking face. 

 

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, he’s not , really, as Simon turns around in confusion of Marcus’ expression, his eyes distant and slightly glassy. He's clearly fucking zoning out again, disassociating like he did in the hallway, but Marcus wouldn't notice.

 

“Hi,” Wilhelm forces a sickly sweet smile, which neither of them can see, but it comes through in his voice. “I just need to talk to Simon about Sunny for a moment, Marcus. I’ll give back your boyfriend to you in a moment, I hope you survive the next five minutes without shoving your tongue down his throat.” He grabs Simon’s wrist and pulls him away while both their jaws drop at his words. Wilhelm has never, ever spoken to anyone like that. He never thought he would, never thought he’d have a reason to, but apparently, it’s just another insane thing he does because Simon.

 

He marches back past Rosh, Ayub, and Felice, who all stare in shock and confusion. The ref blows the whistle and Rosh hesitates, before turning and jogging back to her team, glancing back at Wilhelm with furrowed brows.

 

“Wille,” Simon says, voice hollow and quiet. “Please don’t.”

 

Wilhelm stops, his grip on Simon’s wrist loose because he doesn't want to hurt him or send him into a further state of shock. He just needs to have some contact with him, so he knows they’re okay, so he knows it’s okay. He turns to look at him, swallowing thickly. Simon stares at the ground like a child expecting to be told off.

 

Wilhelm drops his wrist, which falls limp to his side. He shoves his sunglasses in his pocket and pulls the scarf down, so Simon can see his face while he talks to him. The cold makes his face tingle uncomfortable, but he doesn’t pull his mask up. 

 

“Break up with him,” Wilhelm whispers. Marcus returns to their group at the pitch, several meters away as the game starts. He wants to grab Simon's shoulders and shake him, while simultaneously wrapping him in a hug. “Please, for the love of God, break up with him. Not for me, or your friends, but for you. You … Did you even like that kiss?” His voice cracks on the final word. He clears his throat.

 

Simon gulps. “No.”

 

“No,” Wilhelm repeats, unable to stop himself. “You didn’t.”

 

Simon says nothing, head towards the ground… He’s doing what he did with Marcus, agreeing to everything Wilhelm says, to stop him from getting more mad, saying what he wants him to hear… Which is … It’s not what this is. 

 

Wilhelm puts his hands on Simon’s shoulders, very gently, squeezing to try and ground him back to this moment. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers. Simon doesn’t speak. Wilhelm gulps nervously. “You still with me, Simon? I’m sorry, I…” But the damage seems done. Simon got scared, and he shut Wilhelm out. 

 

“Can I give you a hug?” Wilhelm whispers his stomach tight with anxiety.

 

Simon nods. “Yes.”

 

“Do you want a hug?”

 

“Yes. If you want.”

 

“No, Simon,” he says gently, eyes not leaving his downcast face for even a second. He moves his hands to his neck softly, trying to get him to look up. “It’s not what I want right now, it’s what you need.”

 

Simon looks up at him slowly, eyes shiny, distant, like someone took his soul from his body. 

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm says again. “This isn’t okay. You … I care about you, alright? I can’t sit here and watch you fall apart for Marcus’ needs," Simon blinks, eyes clearing slightly. "It’s not alright. It hurts me so I know it must hurt you… I don’t know why you stay with him, but this isn’t what you deserve. I want you to be happy, and comfortable, and okay - “

 

Simon launches at him, wrapping his arms around his back, under his arms, pressing his face against Wilhelm’s shoulder. Wilhelm quickly hugs him back, around the neck. He turns his face inwards, towards Simon’s head, to hide his face from anyone else, or potential photo takers.

 

Simon holds him tight, fists clenching the clothing on his back, his face pressing hard into his shoulder, his body breathing in short, uneven breaths. "I - "

 

“Oi!” Marcus yells. Wilhelm looks up and finds him stomping over. Simon lets go faster than Wilhelm had expected, causing him to stumble at the lack of support, his warmth ripped away once again. Wilhelm's stomach drops because Marcus looks like an angry bull. What was Simon going to say? Marcus has the worse goddamn timing.

 

“It’s okay,” Simon turns to Marcus quickly, taking deep breaths. “I just needed a hug.”

 

“I can give you a hug!” Marcus roars, grabbing Simon’s shoulders and dragging his body against himself again. Simon goes. Marcus pulls him away after a second. “See? You need to stay away from Simon, alright? Keep your preppy, grubby hands to yourself. He’s going to use you, Simon.”

 

“I will actually hit you if you don’t stop,” Wilhelm glares at Marcus fiercly . He’s able to see his full face now, and the naked expression seems to only fuel Marcus more. He’s seeing red. He wants to hurt Marcus like he's hurt Simon for months on end, to make him understand how wrong that he's been doing is .

 

“Do it then, make a scene,” Marcus growls.

 

“Wilhelm, don’t,” Simon stands at Marcus’ side, eyes on their shoes. “It’s fine. I’m fine now.”

 

Wilhelm is going to scream. “No! You’re fucking not! He’s manipulative, he lies, he touches you without your consent - “

 

“Shut up!” Simon yells over him, voice cracking. “You don’t know fucking anything, Wille! Stop it! I’m not some fucking damsel in distress who needs saving from him, fuck! I chose this! I chose him! I’m happy, and - and I’m okay,” Simon finishes, eyes hard and pinned on Wilhelm, flicking to Marcus. He looks torn.

 

“You’re lying to yourself,” Wilhelm states. The rain begins to fade into a white, more solid fall. He blicks the moisture from his eyes. It’s the rain, really, the rain. “Look me in the fucking eye and tell me he makes you the happiest, that this is the best you’ve ever felt is when you’re with him, that he makes you laugh - “

 

Marcus literally growls, approaching Wilhelm with a fist raised.

 

“Stop! Marcus, I swear to fucking God, don’t touch him,” Simon yells again, shoving Wilhelm away from Marcus, which is kind of confusing. Is he protecting him? Mad at him? Trying to protect Marcus? “I do, I - I - “ Simon looks from Marcus to Wilhelm, his expression torn between them. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it. “I love him,” Simon whispers.

 

Wilhelm grinds his teeth together, his heart crumbling in his chest. Simon couldn’t look more unsure, eyes barely meeting Wilhelm’s when he says it. He can’t mean that, he can’t even keep his eye on Wilhelm while he says he loves this abusive, manipulative, touchy boyfriend. He feels like he’s running in circles trying to get Simon to see that this isn’t love. If he loved him, he would've sat next to Marcus in the pizza parlour and not plastered himself to Wilhelm. If he loved him, he would've stopped asking Wilhelm to come to their hangouts so Marcus wouldn't touch him. If this was love, Marcus wouldn't touch him when he didn't want it. If this was love, Marcus would let Simon hug other people without freaking out that he's cheating. If this is what love fucking looks like then why does Simon not believe himself when he says he loves Marcus?

 

“Break up with him,” Wilhelm says, turning to Marcus this time.

 

“Why? Because you’re jealous? Doesn’t he look jealous, Simon? Trying to push us apart so he can have you all for yourself - “

 

“You don’t even love him. You’re here for his body and probably his social status, that’s all,” Wilhelm snaps. He feels like a snowball, rolling down a snowy mountain face. He can’t be stopped, anyone in his way gets completely run over. "You can't accept that he doesn't want things because you think you own him and he should give you whatever you want."

 

Felice is at his side now, Ayub in the middle. 

 

“I refuse to believe there’s any actual love with you two. If Simon won’t break up with you because you’ve wormed your slimy little way into his brain and made him think, by some fucking madness, that he loves you, then be a good person for once in your life, Marcus, do the right thing, and let him go, so he can find someone who actually cares about him- “

 

SLAP. A sharp pain rings across his face, Wilhelm’s head snapping to the side as his face tingles, aching, hot. Felice gasps. Ayub recoils. Marcus’ jaw drops. Simon lowers his hand, lip quivering.

 

“Stop it, Wille.”

 

Wilhelm stares at him, eyes wide and wet, mouth agape as he stares at him, shock rendering him speechless, his brain catching up to his mouth, his heart slamming in his chest. He presses a hand against his surely bright red cheek, trying to keep it cool as it radiates warmth from the slap. 

 

He has nothing to say to him anymore. He was trying to help. He wanted to get Simon out of his toxic relationship, but he pushed it too far, and he sees it now. He probably embarrassed him by saying all of that.

 

Simon hit him.

 

“Go,” Simon says simply, voice wavering. His hands shake as he crosses his arms, lip quivering as his eyes fall from Wilhelm, regret and sadness clouding his face.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t speak. He wants to hurt him back, like he just did, on pure instinct, but he knows Simon is already hurting. He’s never struck Wilhelm like that, even when they hated each other. He pushed him too far. Simon hit him.

 

Marcus says nothing as Wilhelm stalks past, shoving his shoulder as hard as he can into Simons, causing him to stumble a step. He hopes it hurts. He hopes it bruises. He hopes Simon regrets it.

 

Felice follows him without hesitation, not glancing back at the others as she jogs a step to catch up with Wilhelm.

 

Tears well in his water line, making the slowly white-turning ground blur as his heart cracks and breaks, his chest physically aching. He wants to collapse to the ground and cry right there and then. He pulls up the scarf and puts on the glasses, letting the tears fall underneath the protection. A few people look his way as they walk, but most have already left the pitch in the bad weather.

 

“I can’t believe he hit you,” Felice whispers, her voice quiet and surprised. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and gives him a comforting squeeze.

 

Wilhelm sniffs, blinking rapidly. Does Simon hate him now? Probably. Wilhelm hates himself. He needs to stop doing this – chewing Simon out until he snaps, letting his emotions fully cloud his brain when it comes to that boy, causing reactions stronger than he’s ever done in his entire life.

 

But he never thought Simon would hurt him, especially not now they're friends. Wilhelm's never seen Simon hurt someone like that, the closet is probably him throwing his plate at Henry, or dumping his water on Wilhelml's head... Simon isn't an immediately violent person. Wilhelm did push him too far.  

 

They take the bus back in dead silence. Wilhelm stares out the window, eyes dry, chewing on his chapped lips until they bleed, picking at his cuticles until they sting.

 

Once they arrive at Hillerksa, Wilhelm walks away from Felice without a goodbye. She seems to stay in the same place for a few seconds, before turning to Manor House and walking back to her room, where she can rant to Madi and get comfort, get advice.

 

Wilhelm climbs in his bedroom window, and notices only once he’s prying his shoes off that there’s blood around his nail beds, smudged over his fingers, stinging in the cold.

 

He rips off all the layers, his chest heaving, unable to get a big breath into his collapsing lungs. He throws the sunglasses somewhere, and they smack against the wall with a CLASH . He rips Felice’s coat off and dumps it on his desk chair, rubbing his chest frantically.

 

“Stop, Wille.”

 

“Go.”

 

SLAP!

 

He used to think Simon would hit him, he used to be sure it would happen - that he’d reach a breaking point, snap, and strike him. It made sense to think so because they'd argue all the time and most of the time Wilhelm wanted to hit him for it. They did have a few physical altercations, but never ... But he hasn’t thought that would happen in ages. He feels like Simon just took out his heart and tore it up right before him, emotionless and cold, and shoved it back into his chest. It has to keep beating, but he wishes it wouldn't. Wilhelm doesn't know if he still wants to be in a world where Simon might hate him.

 

The world is ending because he can’t breathe. He closes his eyes, swaying on the spot, breathing harsh, uneven breaths. He sees Simon's face, blurry on the bathroom floor, his waist a comforting warmth against Wilhelm’s legs.

 

“Or Sunny, the little bird you fucking adopted because your heart is too goddamn pure for this world and needs to be handled carefully, wrapped in bubble wrap and have a treat with extreme care sticker on it.”

 

“My - my heart?

 

“You, erm, have a very nice heart.”

 

He wishes Simon was here. What he'd give to have Simon with him again right now. His chest feels like it's caving in on itself. Wilhelm doesn't even know where he and Simon stand now! It hasn't even been an hour since the event and he's already questioning their entire friendship.

 

He's hurt, in the literal and emotional sense. While he wants to reach out to Simon, he also wants to block his number and scream his lungs raw in his face.

 

He falls onto his bed, eyes squeezed shut as he curls into a ball, tears streaming down his cheeks. Simon has too much control over his emotions. There's something undeniable there.

 

Notes:

Don't lose hope agherflekfj, it's up hill from here
kind of

I tried to soften the blow with fluff at the beginning of the chapter, but I apologise don't come for me
Y'all, just a warning, its about to get crazy up in this fic
You've signed up for the wildest next couple of chapters, brace yourselves. They'll likely take a bit longer to update, but I also said that about these ones and look what happened. No, but I think they will because of how intense they are. Any who, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I doubt it xoxo

Arcade started playing when I was writing the last part of Wilhelm's internal monologue, you know, the whole "ripped my heart out" "the world is literally ending" "Argh I'm gay and crying over something that wouldn't warrant this kind of reaction had it just been friend feels". I want to add it to the song this chapter vibes with, but it's got some happiness so I'll keep Afterglow and pretend it's not about sex.

Chapter 17: Death To The Monarchy

Summary:

Are we still friends?
Are we still friends?
I said, are we still friends?
Are we still friends? (Friends, friends, friends, friends, friends)
- ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? Tyler, The Creator
Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
REMINDER THAT THE SPOTIFY PLAYLIST CHANGED, this is the new link, make sure you've got the right one. The old one has been deleted.

I also post on my Tumblr every now and then on the days chapters are coming out and/or how the chapter is going, or any random thoughts I have about it. I post about the fic there, basically.

TW: Mention of suicide, talk of toxic relationship, talk of physical violence, bullying using trauma,

Notes:

Please don't hate me
This chapter was hard to write, for lots of reasons that aren't the actual story, which I'll explain in the notes at the end, read the chapter first. Why do I kind of hate it -

Three (two?) pov jumps in one chapter oooooooo what's happening? I'm so excited for you guys to read, you're gonna freak the fuck out.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

~ Wednesday ~

 

Wilhelm hasn’t felt this empty in years. He feels like a hollow shell that keeps crying, his emotions a rollercoaster ride that no one, not even himself can keep up with. His head is clouded and he doesn't have the energy to try and clear the cobwebs so everything is coherent. He’s lost his best friend all fucking over again, except this time, he’s right there. Literally, Wilhelm can see him.

 

Wilhelm has been watching Simon where he sits in the next row, two desks forward from Wilhelm, staring at his laptop. He’s been on the same Google Classroom update for half an hour.

 

He wasn’t sure if Simon wasn't going to show up today, since he normally avoids confrontation by running away. So he was slightly surprised when Simon walked into the room with red eyes, the beginning of eye bags, looking like he hadn’t slept but had cried. His normal baggy attire only adds to his exhausted appearance. His hood is up, shadowing his face, but it doesn’t hide the bloodshot eyes he bears, the eyes that didn’t leave Wilhelm as he went to the only spare seat in the room when the Geography began half an hour ago.

 

Wilhelm was expecting Simon to text, call, or get to school early enough to talk to him, but it’s been radio silence all night. Felice told Wilhelm this morning that she got a text from Ayub asking if Wilhelm was okay, and while it's appreciated and made Wilhelm feel slightly better, it doesn't take away the itch inside of him to hurt Simon back.

 

When he woke this morning he was relieved to see the red had faded, but it’s still noticeable if you look at him for more than a few seconds. Just like at the beginning of the year, he flicked Felice a text asking her to come over with Madi’s make-up to help cover it up. But upon staring at it for a bit longer, a bitter part of him decided he wanted Simon to see it, so he sent her another message to cancel.

 

And people have been staring.

 

No photos came out last night, so no one knew where Wilhelm was, and no one's asked. That doesn't stop everyone from being able to tell that something went down between him and Simon in the 17 hours they weren't in class. They seem to be almost too scared to ask what's happened. If they put two brain cells together they'd realize: Wilhelm and Simon aren't talking, are both clearly upset and Wilhelm has a suspicious red mark on his cheek and they'd probably be able to figure out what's happened.

 

There hasn’t been a day this year where they haven’t interacted, and now they’re avoiding one another like they carry the plague.

 

~ ~ ~

 

By lunch, Wilhelm feels dead inside. He has a council meeting but is relieved by it because it means he doesn’t have to sit at the lunch table and pretend to eat. 

 

He sits, practically in comatose the whole meeting, not listening, or sharing his input. Just staring at the table in front of him with a mind that feels thick with slime and pain. Wilhelm’s in a constant state of wanting to also scream and shove him... But also hug him, to feel safe with him, to laugh together.

 

After lunch he has maths. He moves through the day like a bit of a zombie, his sentences short, mind empty, an ache in his stomach that he can't settle.

 

Wilhelm walked a bit slower than the rest of the council, trying to get some alone time to compose himself and shed a few silent tears in the bathroom stalls. Consequently, he’s the last one in class. He didn’t think about the repercussions of this until he walked in the door.

 

Felice is chatting to Madi and is oblivious to Wilhelm walking in because she’s smiling and laughing at something Madi said, Madi watches her with amusement as she continues to speak, drawing even more laughter from her friends. Wilhelm instantly feels bad for weighing down Felice recently. It’s not fair, she’s a lovely human and Wilhelm is like a black hole, sucking the happiness from her world. Like Simon. Simon’s also a stupid black hole. 

 

Henry and Walter are sitting together as well. Henry appears annoyed at the warm-up maths equation on the board and Walter is explaining it to him calmly, while Alex is with Jane and they're chatting animatedly about something on Alex's phone.

 

Not even the seats at the back of the room are available, there’s a person in every single chair. Today has to be the one day no one is skipping maths, which is perfect timing, honestly, just splendid. Wilhelm loves maths.

 

He is seriously considering walking out the door, but Mr Englund comes in the room, so he has to go and sit down.

 

Slowly, Wilhelm makes his way to the spare desk, sitting down without looking over, tense in his seat. He wants to push Simon off his chair and throw his legs onto his chair. He's angry Simon took it so far as to hit him when he could've just said something.

 

Simon stares at him, his eyes pleading and pained as Wilhelm refuses to look back, tucking in his seat and then busying himself looking through his bag for his notebook and pencil case. His bag is perfectly organised, so he knows exactly where everything is, but he pretends to look for longer than necessary just to avoid even looking in Simon’s direction.

 

Wilhelm can smell the cigarettes wafting off Simon from his seat, and it’s suffocating. It’s also a clear notation of how he’s doing. They’re both suffocating, and dying, and the lifesaver is right next to them but neither reaches out. Wilhelm doesn’t know why Simon’s not saying anything, but it hurts him. Is he not sorry for slapping him? 

 

Wilhelm spends five minutes writing the header for maths as Mr Englund rambles on and on about the upcoming exam they have. He doesn’t hear a thing, his brain is in another plain of existence that’s just him and Simon, their presences sitting side by side in a forbidden silence as he refuses to acknowledge his actions.

 

He’s snapped from his daze when something lands in his lap. He looks down at his thighs and finds a small rectangle wrapped in green paper sitting on his jeans. 

 

Slowly, he turns his gaze to Simon. He’s staring back, and Wilhelm can’t look away, trapped in his gaze, his heart physically aching and squeezing in his chest. Simon looks older, somehow, all the lines on his face more sunken, his posture more hunched and tired, frizzy bits of hair sticking out around the hood of his … his purple hoodie. Wilhelm’s heart clenches again, and he blinks furiously to keep his eyes dry. He will not cry. Simon hurt him. He won’t cry in front of him.

 

“It’s a sandwich,” Simon whispers in explanation. 

 

Wilhelm tries to not physically show his surprise. This is the second time Simon’s brought him food because he isn’t eating, how did he even know he hadn’t eaten anything today though … ? It's similar to how Wilhelm knew Simon’s been chain-smoking - how the cigarette smell didn’t surprise him at all like it used to. It hurts him to have the realization they both know each other enough they know the tells of their sadness.

 

“I don’t want that,” Wilhelm whispers back, voice croaky because he wants the food. It’s like an olive branch to heal what happened, but he can’t. He wants an apology at least, or … something that’s not a fucking sandwich.

 

He picks up the sandwich and tries to pass it to Simon’s lap under the table, but Simon blocks it with his hand. 

 

“Please,” he whispers back, his voice equally broken as he weakly shoves the food at Wilhelm. “You need to eat. I know you didn’t have lunch.”

 

Wilhelm’s nostrils flare. Oh, so now Simon’s trying to show him care? Now Simon wants to be friendly?

 

Wilhelm shoves Simon’s hand out of the way to drop the food on his lap instead. “I don’t want it,” he repeats a little harsher, breaking the intense gaze he has with Simon. There’s so much he wants to say, wants to scream, but he can’t, so he stays quiet.

 

They’re silent for the rest of the class. Simon leaves the food on his lap, almost like he thinks Wilhelm will take it or something. He's tempted, his stomach is aching.

 

Just the thought of food makes Wilhelm’s hunger build, and he suffers in silence until it reaches the tipping point and the ache fades into the background of his mind. His limbs are heavy and he’s very tired, but he doesn’t ask for Simon’s food. He doesn’t rest his head on Simon’s shoulder and sleep. They sit in silence, pencils scratching on paper, until the bell rings and shatters the tension. Wilhelm’s out the door before Simon can return the mechanical pencil Wilhelm had silently slid over to his desk so he wouldn't have to ask.

 

~ Thursday ~

 

Wilhelm knows he must be dead and is just living his life semi-conscious. He didn’t get much sleep and spent most of the night lying awake with the phantom feeling of Simon’s cold hand pressed against his when he tried to hand over the sandwich. He can't forget how much he’d wanted to collapse into him in that moment, to hug him tight, to never let him go, to apologise, to forgive him.

 

He denied his sandwich. It feels so much more. Like he denied their friendship. Wilhelm’s confused, he wants to mend what they have but something in Simon is stopping him, something telling him to keep Simon at arm's length for a bit. And he’s too embarrassed to apologise to Simon first. He keeps telling himself he did nothing wrong, that he was just trying to help his friend, but the guilt of causing that whole scene is beginning to eat him alive. 

 

Thursday morning they have food tech.

 

Wilhelm walks into the class and sees today is theory work and everyone is sitting at their tables with laptops out.

 

He sits down at his normal table, normally he'd have Simon next to him, but today it's Walter and Henry across from Walter, they're whispering to one another. Simon is sitting quietly across from Wilhelm with an uninterested expression towards his laptop, eyes unfocused. He looks dead, lips chapped, circles beneath his eyes, reeking of cigarettes, wearing the same jumper as yesterday. The purple one. Wilhelm rips his eyes away from him to open his computer and do his work, blatantly avoiding making any eye contact with Walter and Henry, who frown at the silence between them. 

 

There’s this itch under his skin that he wants to satisfy. He knows how to fix it - get back at Simon, hurt him like he hurt Wilhelm. Not physically, one because he knows he’ll lose and two… He doesn’t want to see the damage. If he can’t tell Simon’s hurting, he’ll keep going. Wilhelm wants to burst into tears. One wrong move might make his facade shatter.

 

Mr Rogerson explains today's lesson and posts a new assignment on Google Classroom for them before he settles at his desk and begins typing.

 

They only have this week, and then two more weeks before their first break. Wilhelm isn’t sure how to feel about it.

 

“Do you guys have photos of the scones we made?” Simon asks randomly, looking up at Walter and Henry. Guys would imply both of them, but Simon doesn’t meet Wilhelm’s eyes, his gaze so pinned on the two it’s obvious he’s avoiding meeting his eye.

 

"We weren't in your group," Henry supplies slowly.

 

"Oh, right," Simon hesitates.

 

Wilhelm speaks up. “Why didn’t you take a photo yourself?” Wilhelm asks, eyes boring into Simon’s. He has to look at him now; they’re having a conversation. 

 

Simon flicks his eyes over to meet Wilhelm’s, more tired than yesterday. Wilhelm wonders what’s going on at home for Simon right now. Is Marcus still pushing himself on Simon now Wilhelm’s gone and he has no competition? Marcus is the only one who thought there was competition. Has Linda, Ayub or Rosh asked about Wilhelm, and what did Simon say? 

 

“I forgot to,” Simon replies, voice waveirng slightly, clearly trying and struggling to keep his gaze. “Can you text it to me?”

 

Wilhelm pauses, and debates actually saying no … That's too petty, isn't it?

 

“No,” Wilhelm decides.

 

Simon gives him a genuinely unamused look, reminding Wilhelm of how they treated one another a matter of weeks ago. It makes him sad to think how much progress they made, just to end up back here. Where they are he isn't sure.

 

“No,” Wilhelm repeats.

 

Walter wrinkles her nose at him. “Come on, Wille, that’s so petty.”

 

Wilhelm glares over at him, and he just raises an unamused brow, like a mother. “It’s not petty. It’s going to be hard to mimic all the pain he caused, so I have to start somewhere.” It’s a low blow, but he still sees Simon flinch.

 

“I’m fucking sorry, okay?” Simon hisses across the table, blinking rapidly and leaning forward slightly.

 

Wilhelm clenches his jaw. “I was trying to help.”

 

“It wasn’t your place,” Simon replies harshly, leaning back.

 

Wilhelm tries to hold in all his words, but he just can’t, apparently, at some point recently, he reached a tipping point with Simon and his boyfriend, and he hasn’t been able to go back. “I know it wasn’t my place but I've been quiet for months. You could have said that instead of fucking hitting me.” Walter and Henry blink in surprise, Henry's jaw-dropping.

 

“Would you have stopped?” Simon retorts.

 

“Yes! But you wouldn’t have cared, because when things get tough for you all you know how to do is get violent. I wonder where you got that from.”

 

Wilhelm sees all emotions drain from Simon’s face the second the words leave his mouth, his lips part slightly in surprise, eyes expressionless as they stare at Wilhelm in pure disbelief. He feels his chest tighten, lungs constricting. Why did I say that?

 

“What the fuck,” Simon breathes, his eyes suddenly looking rather wet. He looks more than betrayed, his gaze growing distant, lost in thought. Wilhelm doesn’t know how to reply. He hurt Simon and it just hurt him back. The bullet shot through Simon, whizzed around and pierced his heart. Seeing that crushed expression on his face made him want to apologise and wrap Simon in a tight hug. It didn't itch anything, it was probably never an inch, it was the only thing he thought would make him feel better because it's what made him feel good when they used to argue. Not anymore.

 

He doesn’t get the chance to take it back, because Simon seems to have a similar mindset - get hurt, hurt them back. “That’s such a shit thing to say. I'd say you should get hit by a car for saying it, but I dunno, it might cross a line.” He gives him a pointed look.

 

Wilhelm freezes, seething with rage. Simon knows that’s a soft spot, he fucking knows that haunts Wilhelm every moment he’s alive because exactly, he’s alive and Felix isn’t. Simon witnessed a bathroom panic attack, he’s skirted Wilhelm around another one when they ran across the road to Rosh’s football match, Wilhelm told him everything on the floor of a party … But, Wilhelm knew that was Simon’s soft spot as well. They’re closer and they know what weak parts they can stab to draw blood. It’s a cruel game.

 

Neither of them should've said what they did, but the reaction they got is fueling this argument that they’re both craving. They can’t seem to stop. Months ago when they’d argue, Wilhelm thought it was annoying, but now they’ve gotten closer it just fucking hurts

 

“Wille," Walter interrupts, eyes wide. “Don’t say that, bro." 

 

"Same with you, Simon, not cool," Henry tacks on.

 

The two look over at each other, glare fierce enough to start a fire. 

 

“What are you chatting so loud ‘bout over there? Shush up,” Mr Rogerson snaps from his desk, an irritated expression on his face. He believes in doing theory work in dead silence.

 

Wilhelm glances around the room. Everyone's staring. The entire class has their beady little eyes pinned on their group, specifically Wilhelm and Simon.

 

Simon sniffs and types on his laptop. “Forget it.”

 

“Forget what?”

 

“The fucking photo,” Simon grumbles, leaning in his palm, blinking rapidly at his screen.

 

Wilhelm feels his stomach dropping, his body tense. He knows Simon is talking about the scones, but a different photo comes to mind. Simon dealing. He could get Simon so incredibly hurt with that photo, that he could get him expelled, and ruin his chances of ever getting a job if someone bothered to do a background check on him. 

 

He doesn’t reply, staring at his work without doing anything. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

By the time lunch rolls around on the second day, Wilhelm is ready to burst into tears at the slightest hurt. He feels so fragile it isn’t even funny. Simon could look at him wrong and he’d be collapsing. 

 

Simon isn’t at lunch, so Wilhelm assumes he’s outside, probably chain-smoking his problems away. Wilhelm wants to join him. He wishes he didn’t feel like total shit. He knows smoking isn’t the answer, talking it out will fix it. Wilhelm doesn’t know if he wants to talk it out with him. He tries to help Simon but he doesn’t want it, he wants to self-destruct.

 

Wilhelm once wished to spend as much of his time with Simon as physically possible. He’d looked forward to study sessions and their Crisis recap on Saturdays because it’s extra time he gets to see Simon.

 

“How’s the planning for the Parent's Day on Friday going?”

 

Simon doesn’t want Wilhelm to help him, so why bother trying?

 

Wilhelm looks over at Alexander, who is sipping on his water, watching Wilhelm with an almost cautious expression.

 

“Good. We sent out the email earlier this week to all the parents,” Wilhelm nods. A mechanical conversation Alex is only making so Wilhelm talks to his other friends. He doesn’t want to talk, he wants to forget. 

 

“That’s cool. Are your parents going?” Alex asks, biting a potato off his fork, going to nonchalance but failing.

 

Wilhelm stares down at his plate. “No,” he replies plainly. He doesn’t want to eat, his stomach is hungry but he doesn’t want to. Maybe if he gets hungry enough, he’ll faint again, and then he won’t have to think.

 

“What about Erik?” Henry asks, trying to keep the conversation going.

 

“Yeah, he’s going to replace my parents. They’re too busy,” Wilhelm pokes a potato. 

 

“Oh, well, that’s nice of him.” Because your parents are horrible people who won’t show up for their son. It’s just another reminder of the people Wilhelm ruined his relationship with. 

 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Wilhelm announces, standing up and walking away without transition. The Housefather stares as he walks away, as do his friends. He walks right to his bedroom and collapses onto his bed, sobbing his lungs out into his pillow.

 

He feels like he’s going to fucking dying, crying this hard. He knows normal friend spats don’t hurt this bad, he feels like he’s lost an organ. What hurts even more is knowing Simon is going to be at every fucking class he attends, but he’s too emotionally distant. 

 

Wilhelm wishes he’d never said anything, he wishes he hadn’t gotten angry. He wishes they’d never met and they’d never have to go through this fucking heartbreak.

 

He’s not sure whether the pillow is more suffocating than his own mind, but he smashes it against his face to muffle his broken sobs.

 

Simon deserves so, so, so much better than Marcus, and Wilhelm doesn’t know how to get him to see that any more. Simon’s falling apart and Wilhelm can’t grab all the breaking pieces fast enough, he doesn’t know how to put them back together.

 

Alongside Simon, he’s got his own issues, his grades, his parents, and his other school commitments, like Parents Day on Saturday. He hasn’t been focussing in school the last two days, and there’s a risk that might show in his exams which take place soon. Wilhelm needs to study. Yes, that’s it. His life has gotten so out of control recently that the idea of studying is almost calming. Sitting in a quiet room, his music has a background noise to keep him focused on the familiar, consistent task of writing and typing. Easy. Simple. Always the same.

 

He has the rest of class to attend, but he’ll get there early to sit at the front of the room so he can’t stare at the back of Simon’s head replaying their recent arguments in his head till he realises his eyes are getting wet and his lip is quivering. 

 

He knows ignoring it won’t make this go away, but what else is there to do? He's got to forget about it somehow if he can't fix it. He has to accept that this is them now.

 

~ Saturday ~

 

Parents Day rolls around with as much pleasure as the first day of school after break. Wilhelm wasn’t in charge of seating positions, that was Madi’s assigned job. She knows everyone and knows who will perform well sitting together and who will actually enjoy it, making it appear to the parents that everyone gets along and is friends.

 

Wilhelm asked Madi to not sit Wilhelm and Simon together, and she’d just sighed, writing something down in her notebook. Thank god for Madi being in charge, she didn’t ask questions.

 

In the morning Wilhelm gets several texts from Erik, narrating his process of getting ready and his excitement to see Wilhelm. 

 

Erik
And I can catch up with Felice and Simon!
9:30 am

 

Wilhelm is standing in the room where they are setting up the lunch, staring at the text as people move around him with chairs, tables, tablecloths, cutlery, and flowers. It’s a whirlwind of chaos and he stands in the middle of it.

 

The only reason Simon got invited is because of his celebrity status and he's in the choir. He’s a non-res, and had they not been arguing Wilhelm would probably be relieved of his exception, but they aren't friends, so he's not. 

 

Wilhelm
Yup. Sorry, I’m really busy trying to set up. I’ll see you soon.
9:32 am

 

Erik
Oh yup, alrighty , ttyl
9:33 am

 

Wilhelm lets out a harsh breath, should he tell Erik Simon and him aren’t on speaking terms at the moment? Then he thinks, what’s the actual likeness of Simon showing up? He’s renowned for running from his problems, and skipping a random event like a Parent's Day lunch is easy. 

 

He’s in the choir though, and they do have their performance of the national anthem before lunch. 

 

He decides to flick Felice a text because she’s likely to know; she and Simon are the main singers of their choir.

 

Wilhelm
Do you know if Simon’s going today?
9:34 am

 

Felice
Nice of you to talk to me babes
Idk if he’s going
Ask him
9:34 am

 

Wilhelm stares at his phone, great, does he have any friends at the moment? Felice is mad at him, Simon slaps him, Erik is clearly put off by his negativity, and Rosh and Ayub are association with Simon. Henry and Walter, he supposes. He’s probably sitting with them today, if not, he’ll rearrange a few things. He’s a Prince, it comes in handy when he needs it.

 

He spends the next few hours helping to prepare, then he walks to the car park to stand with the other students like some well-behaved dogs, awaiting their parents' arrival. Or in Wilhelm’s case, his brother, because his parents are “too busy” to show up to one school event for their son.

 

As Wilhelm stands next to Henry and Felice with his hands clasped, knee bouncing anxiously, he wonders if had his parents come they would’ve said something to Simon. This then gets him wondering if Simon would start a fight with his parents, or if he’d know to back down. He doubts Simon would, if he knows anything about the guy it’s that he’s stubborn.

 

Wilhelm sighs, wishing he could be doing this with Simon instead of Walter and Henry. Wilhelm really needs to talk to Simon. Overcome with the sudden urge to see Simon and he looks around the steadily filling car park as Henry moves away to greet his parents, Walter turning around to talk to one of the chiefs who has a question.

 

Wilhelm finds August, standing with Vincent and Nils, but they aren’t looking Wilhelm’s way. Felice is coming out of the school building with Madi, looking dreadfully towards the car park. A black BMW is coming down the drive, likely with Erik inside, another car the same is behind it. 

 

Where’s Simon?

 

Wilhelm looks for what he saw in their garage, but he sees nothing of the kind. Is Simon not going to show up today? Is he skipping because of what he did to Wilhelm? 

 

He does a double take when he finally see’s him, coming around the corner from the direction of Forest Ridge, hands in the pockets of his uniform pants, hair lose around his face, glaring down at shiny dress shoes. He looks good, the suit fits him well and is clearly kept in good condition. The shoes are out of place on his feet. The bothersome thing is that Wilhelm knows he was probably smoking somewhere out of sight.

 

Simon pulls his phone from his pocket, swiping and tapping the screen, and then he looks up. Their gazes collide with the force of two solar systems and Simon physically falters, understepping and having to compensate quickly, blinking in surprise. Wilhelm feels his stomach drop when their eyes meet and he knows Simon is looking at him, thinking about him – Wilhelm’s his main focus, gaze not wavering. 

 

Wilhelm stares back, trying to get his gaze to comprehend “We need to talk.” Simon looks away quickly, like they never made eye contact, staring straight into the car park with an expressionless face. 

 

It hurts. Wilhelm tries to push the hurt away because it’s to complicated and he doesn't have time for it. Repressing it makes him feel slightly better, but he still wants to cry to Simon. Having him diffuse the tension with his stupid jokes would help immensely, or his physical touch to ground him or distract him.

 

“Wille!” A familiar voice calls in excitement and Wilhelm turns to the cause of sound. Erik is walking towards him quickly, ignoring all the onlookers and the few other adults who reach out to greet him. Whether he’s ignoring them or unaware of them Wilhelm isn’t sure, but he’s lucky their parents aren’t here to see him failing his princely duties.

 

Trailing behind him are Malin and Lucas, at a slightly further distance.

 

“Hey, Erik,” Wilhelm says, opening his arms as his brother collides with him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him. Wilhelm pats his back, suddenly feeling very guilty for neglecting his brother these last couple of months. They’ve both missed each other, Wilhelm was just distracted but Erik was busy too, being the Crown Prince, and he still made time for calling his little brother. Wilhelm’s the worst brother. “I missed you,” Wilhelm says quietly, before pulling back.

 

“It’s so good to see you! You look so proper and nice in your suit,” Erik gushes, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder as if he didn’t see Wilhelm wearing his exact suit a few weeks prior for the student council picking. “All grown up - Oh, Felice, hi!”

 

Wilhelm turns to his find his best friend, who’s just a few feet away, passing by. She looks over, eyes slightly wide in surprise.

 

“Oh, hi, Erik,” she smiles, politely surprised, abandoning her journey towards her own two approaching parents to give Erik a short hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long,” she exclaimed.

 

“I know. What is it, three years?” Erik replies, shaking his head. “You should come over in the holidays in a few weeks, we can all play catch up.”

 

“Yes!” Felice beams, grinning at Wilhelm, who just nods, filled with joy that his best friends are getting along after three years of silence after a traumatic parting. “Absolutely - sorry, I’ll talk to you later, I have to go say hi to my parents,” Felice rolls her eyes, waving and departing.

 

“Stop, everyone is going to like you more than me,” Wilhelm grumbles, and he’s not lying, Erik is the exact cool bubbly guy Wilhelm wishes he could be like. He needs to be better.

 

Erik just laughs. Wilhelm’s eyes snap over his shoulder when he see’s Simon walking up the stairs with his Mum, talking to her with his gaze pinned on Wilhelm. He looks away the second Wilhelm looks back, turning to his Mum as she says something in reply.

 

“Simon,” Erik calls and Wilhelm wants to cry. He’d followed Wilhelm’s gaze over his shoulder and onto Simon. 

 

Simon looks up, severely alarmed, giving Wilhelm a look that clearly says “What the fuck, bro?”

 

“Erik - “ Wilhelm tries, going to reach for his arm, but he shrugs him off.

 

“Let me talk to the guy,” Erik laughs, approaching Linda and Simon with ease. Wilhelm might drop dead. He looks to Malin with a desperate expression and she just gives him a sympathetic smile, even though she knows the same, if not less than Erik about Simon. 

 

Most people are watching with wide eyes as the Crown Prince approaches Simon Eriksson, his little brother's rumoured boyfriend and nemesis for the past term. It doesn’t help with the rumours, but thank god there are no photographers out here and August is fired from his role as “Wilmon”’s pap. He's still been awfully quiet since, but Wilhelm's okay if that's how their relationship stays.

 

“Hi, Ma’am, I’m Erik. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I love your skirt,” Erik says, offering a hand to Linda, which he shakes delicately.

 

Wilhelm sulks over, standing next to Erik tensely, watching his brother charm Simon’s Mum. His palms are sweating, so he wipes them on his pants, and then shoves them in his pockets, trying to appear as calm as Erik is. He radiates calmness, so Wilhelm tries to feed off it, relaxing his face but keeping his shoulders pressed back.

 

“Oh - Thank you. Please, if I can call you Erik you must call me Linda, and the pleasure is all mine,” Linda replies, smiling politely at him. It's clear this isn't her first celebrity interaction. "It's nice to see you again, Wilhelm." 

 

Wilhelm wonders if Simon’s told Linda about their fallout, because the woman looks slightly stiff. "You too, Linda," he smiles and replies.

 

Wilhelm hasn’t been this close to Simon since he tried to give Wilhelm a sandwich. They didn’t say it but tutor has been silently cancelled, just in case it hadn’t Wilhelm went to Felice’s dorm on Friday, and they worked on their Crisis presentations from different sides of the room. Now they aren’t talking Wilhelm is realising they were doing a lot to be around one another than they needed to.

 

The two exhange basic pleasantries until Simon speaks up. “I’ve got to go with the choir,” he points towards where a few other students are leaving the main mass of people. 

 

“Oh, you sing?” Erik indulges. Wilhelm wishes he’d stop. He looks to his feet, kicking at the gravel. How did Linda get him to wear nice shoes today? Maybe Simon’s just given up.

 

“Yeah, I sing,” Simon nods in confirmation. His replies are as dull and lacking in energy as Wilhelm's. It must be obvious to Erik that something has changed between them because Simon isn't acting like he was when the two first meet.

 

“He’s a very good singer,” Linda tacks on. “He’s been singing since he was little. We have a piano which he uses all the time, and he’s a great piano player as well. Well, after he actually learnt how to play.”

 

“Ha ha, yeah, I’m going. See you,” he nods at Erik, kissing his Mother’s cheek, and barely glancing at Wilhelm. “Bye,” he mumbles as he walks past, and being barely acknowledged feels almost worse than nothing at all.

 

“We should probably go to the chapel as well,” Wilhelm nods, clearing his throat. “Shall we go together?” He adds, to be polite and so Linda doesn’t have to go alone.

 

They chat as they walk to the chapel, Erik and Linda get on well, laughing and cracking jokes, asking questions and indulging in each other's lives. Wilhelm joins in when acknowledged, or when he feels he’s feel quiet for too long.

 

A photographer snaps pictures of them in the chapel, and Wilhelm knows he’ll have to get a hold of the yearbook organizers to get Linda cropped out. Which is sad, but if he’s seen in the yearbook sitting in a chapel with Linda for a performance by his alleged boyfriend … It just looks rather suspicious. 

 

They all sing the national anthem and it’s fine, boring but it always is. Wilhelm’s thinking about lunch and how he’s not remotely hungry. In fact, he feels a bit sick after all this morning's interactions and dramas.

 

He wants to stare at Simon, his mind keeps wandering back to him and then his eyes do too, but he forces himself to look at Felice and smile, or at the ground by their feet.

 

After the national anthem, Headmistress Lilja makes a little speech about the different generations in the building, welcoming anyone new and gushing about the students. Then they go to lunch. Linda waits behind for Simon and insists they go ahead without her, and if she isn't already onto their change then she is now. Erik chats to the rich parents and Wilhelm either walks next to him while the student oogles and tries to show off, or he walks behind talking to the student. He only walks with the students he knows and is friends with.

 

He might be tripping, but Erik seems to be avoiding talking to August, who goes to approach a few times but Erik always finds a new conversation partner before August can reach him. It's kind of amusing.

 

Inside the dining room, they all go to the seats with little name plates that have their names. Wilhelm finds himself sitting at a table next to Erik, with Felice and her parents, Madi and her parents, and two empty seats. Wilhelm prays it's someone else with only one parent here today and not who his gut is telling him it is. He side-eyes Madi as he scooches in and finds her chewing on her lip, also staring at the empty seat across from Wilhelm, then up at the door.

 

~ Simon ~

 

“It smells amazing,” Linda says as they walk into the dining room.

 

Simon pulls at the collar of his suit, wishing it was a hoodie or a loose shirt, not this tight, itchy fabric. His feet feel he's being suffocated, unable to breathe in the fucking leather ass shoes. He tried to refuse his Mum, but she insisted and lately, Simon hasn’t had a whole lot of fight left in him. He wishes he’d at least brought a different pair for lunch, since no one is going to be looking his way - yet alone at his fucking feet - during it.

 

It smells kind of what lunch always smells like, just in better quality.

 

They aren’t the last ones sitting down, most of the choir have just arrived as well. 

 

Simon sees the back of Wilhelm and Erik’s heads and feels another stab to the gut. He wishes he could enjoy meeting Erik properly more, but it’s hard when Wilhelm’s there, refusing to give them time to talk. He sits too far from Simon in class, changes too fast in PE and isn’t in his dorm after school on Friday for tutoring. It’s a pretty clear message: we can’t be friends anymore.

 

Why would Wilhelm want to be friends with a non-res, drug-addicted, violent guy like Simon? Who would be friends with someone who slaps them for trying to get them to break up with their boyfriend? No one, especially not a Prince.

 

Simon regrets hitting Wilhelm so much it hurts him to think about it. He wants to peel the skin off his hands because he feels physically dirty from doing it. He went home and held Sunny in shaking hands, but he had to put her down, not trusting himself. What if he hurts her too? He stared at his hands until they went blurry with tears, and then he’d sobbed.

 

His first thought while crying was to call Wilhelm for comfort, which led to more uncontrollable sobbing into his pillows until his lungs couldn't take it, his brain too exhausted, and he'd fallen asleep.

 

Texting just isn’t the right way to deal with this, and he’s also scared … Scared he’ll see that he’s been blocked, but mainly because the conversation feels bigger than a text message. He knows it’ll span out of just Simon and Wilhelm, Wilhelm will ask about Marcus and Simon … he doesn't know. What if he never finds love again? Marcus has shown him love, but Simon doesn’t know how to find that again. His Mum chose to leave her abusive love and hasn’t found anyone since. Simon would rather be in a toxic relationship than lonely for the rest of his life. At least Marcus wants him. 

 

Regret gnaws away in his chest as he blinks, staring at the back of Wilhelm’s head. Linda leads them further into the room. Simon told Linda they had had an argument and they haven't yet talked it over, but not what about. He told his Mum he was giving Wilhelm space and not that he was avoiding him.

 

Movement catches his eye, and Madi waves her hand at him, gesturing for Simon to walk over. She’s at the same table as Wilhelm, a square table with Wilhelm, Felice and Madi all on separate sides with their families. 

 

He hesitates, before crossing the room to stand next to her.

 

“You’re sitting there.” She’s got to be fucking kidding. Madi is suddenly the biggest prankster in this shitty school, right? She’s pointing to the empty seat at the table directly across from Wilhelm. There’s no way she didn’t plan this.

 

“Thank you, dear,” Linda says politely, moving around the table to sit down across from Erik. Simon swallows hard, trying to not glare at every single fucking person as he walks around to sit in front of Wilhelm, scooching in.

 

He looks up at Wilhelm and finds him giving Madi a betrayed look. Of course, Prince Wilhelm got a say in where he sat. It burns his idea that maybe Wilhelm wanted them to sit together so they couldn't talk, clearly, Wilhelm wanted the fucking opposite. Lovely, this will make a wonderful lunch.

 

He’d rather sit at a table with August, Queen Kristina, Duke Ludvig and his own fucking Father than sit here for 40 minutes with Wilhelm.

 

Felice’s parents are chatting pleasantly with Erik, but they close their conversation so everyone can be introduced. They all say hi and Simon mindlessly introduces his mother, who smiles and shakes hands, asking polite questions to feed these oversized egos.

 

Simon barely looks away from Wilhelm, even as food is served. The guy looks like he’s going to throw up. Great, Simon repulses him that much he looks like he could throw up, chewing a potato-like it tastes of foot fungi that have been aged in soured milk. 

 

Simon himself doesn’t have much of an appetite because of his nerves and uncomfortableness, but the food is good so he eats it. Rationally, he knows Wilhelm has some pre-existing issues with food; not allowing himself to eat when he's studying and starving himself to do school work to the point he faints, so he knows the fact he's barely eating lunch isn't entirely his fault... But Wilhelm has been eating. At every meal Simon has been at, Wilhelm's eaten his whole plate, but since their argument, he's been eating less. So it is my fault -

 

“So Simon, do you have any ideas on what you’d like to do once you get out of high school?” Erik asks, cutting up a piece of pesto chicken breast with a smile.

 

Oh, Simon’s favourite question, followed by an answer which makes every old, rich, entitled person turn up their nose at him with quiet “hmm”’s.

 

“No, I’m not sure what I’ll do. But I am only 16 and I still have two years to make that decision, so, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Simon replies, preparing for backlash.

 

He hears Felice’s Mother make a quiet “huh” of disbelief at her plate.

 

“I think that’s fine.” Felice’s mother looks up. “I find it a bit unrealistic that some kids your age have their entire futures planned out before they can even legally drink,” Erik nods.  

 

Simon’s never got that response from someone before. He nods along, about to reply when -

 

“I thought you wanted to be a singer.”

 

Death to the monarchy.

 

Simon snaps his gaze to Wilhelm, embarrassment flooding up inside him. Simon doesn’t get embarrassed easily, he likes to think he’s quite tolerable to emotions like that, especially after Sara entered the limelight and everyone's opinions flooded in, but singing has always been his soft spot. He told Wilhelm once that he wanted to be a singer but is afraid his addiction and past will hold him back, but he remembered, and now he’s fucking exposed Simon’s stupid, childish dreams to this table of rich, fulfilled people. He’d told Simon that his past doesn’t define him, but he remarked on Simon being violent a few days ago. Not even his best friends believe he can change. Simon almost believed he could, for a bit, he wasn't smoking, and it barely crossed his mind when he and Wilhelm became closer... He's gone through at least three packets since their fallout. He's gotten too lazy to hide it from his Mum, smoking out the window of his bedroom, not even bothering to leave the house to numb his self-hate and guilt.

 

“He’s wanted to be a singer since he was a child,” Linda is quick to reply, clearly proud. Simon’s only outstanding feature, apparently. “He’s a very good singer, he has a beautiful voice.”

 

“He does,” Felice jumps in to say as well. “We’re in the choir together,” she adds. “He’s one of the few who can nail the high note in the actual key we’re aiming for without voice cracks - it’s really impressive!” 

 

Simon glares at Wilhelm, who glares back. 

 

“Isn’t that a little impractical?” Felice’s Mother asks, judgment behind her eyes. “Wanting to be a singer? Why even bother with an academic education when to become a successful artist you need to take off in your teens?” He hates her, he decides. She doesn't even know him but she doesn't believe in him, this is why he doesn't tell people that his dream is to become a singer when he's older. He hates himself for trusting Wilhelm, he should've listened to himself on that first day when he decided the guy was absolutely not who he'd thought he was for all of those years.

 

“Mama,” Felice hisses.

 

“Surely more practical than wanting to abdicate and become a celebrity manager,” Simon shoots back at Wilhelm the second there’s a gap in the conversation.

 

“Why are you looking at me?” Wilhelm snaps back at him venomously, cheeks turning slightly pink from the attention. “I don’t want to do that,” he says, eyes boring into Simon’s, screaming both “fuck you” and “ouch.”

 

They just keep hurting each other. “And I don’t want to be a singer. Are you trying to make me look bad because I’m sitting here with my Mum and you aren’t?”

 

“Simon,” Linda blurts in surprise, turning to him with wide eyes. “That’s very rude - “

 

“And you’re only arguing with me for the attention no one’s going to give you,” Wilhelm replies. He looks pale, his grip on his cutlery tight.

 

Simon’s gut twists sourly when he says that. 

 

“Wilhelm,” Erik says, looking at him in genuine surprise. He must’ve thought they were still friends if their interaction this morning was anything to go off.

 

Wilhelm’s finally talking to him but it makes Simon want to die as they pick and expose different parts of each other that they learnt in confidence, throwing them back in one another's faces to use as a weapon. Simon’s never letting anyone in again.

 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve said all of three words since I’ve sat down, so irrelevant next to you brother, overshadowed, forgotten, not nearly as good as - “

 

Wilhelm stands sharply, a hand over his mouth. “Excuse me, please,” he walks towards the bathrooms quickly, his face pale and hands shaking.

 

Simon stares at his disappearing form, breathing heavily, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, blood roaring through his ears. Good, he thinks, hurt. 

 

“Simon,” Linda says, the motherly rage only mums can have dead clear in her voice. “You are to apologise to Wilhelm right this instant. You embarrassed him and belittled him in front of everyone for no reason and that is disgraceful. Go, apologise right now.” She isn’t asking, but Simon isn’t opposed to getting out of here ASAP.

 

Simon stands instantly, walking towards the bathroom on quivering legs, hearing his Mother apologising to the table on his behalf as he walks away.

 

He feels in a state of shock almost, walking through the room, everyone's gaze following him as he walks out the door Wilhelm just left through. More than a few whispers and suspicious looks punch his back with sticky judgment. He wishes people would stop looking, they think they’re dating but they couldn’t be further off.

 

Simon stops outside the bathroom, heavily debating just walking straight past and catching a bus home, or to smoke his worries away outside when he hears gagging. Someone is throwing up in there. Oh God, he pushed him so far he threw up. He's the most horrible person on this Earth. His heart physically aches at the knowledge he's done this to Wilhelm, hurting him again.

 

Without hesitation he walks into the bathroom, finding all the stalls open except one in the middle, where the retching is coming from. It’s not fully closed, he just swung it shut behind himself. 

 

“Wille?” Simon asks hesitantly, guilt clawing at his insides. You did this. You caused his anxiety to get so bad he needed to throw up from it. It’s your fucking fault. 

 

Silence, then a sob and a thud.

 

He wants to rush in and help, rub his back and help him feel okay again, but Simon isn’t sure that's his place anymore. Is he allowed to do that? Wilhelm clearly doesn't want him to be friends, but Simon would happily be his friend again, even if the friend zone hurts him.

 

Simon stands outside the stall, staring at his stupid, shiny shoes. He keeps getting caught up in his emotions and hurting Wilhelm, first with the slap, then in food tech, and now. Wilhelm reacts and Simon can’t stop himself from feeding into it.

 

Wilhelm sobs again, and he can’t not go in there. He pushes open the stall door and his heart hurts at the sight before him. Wilhelm is sprawled on the floor, leaning on the toilet, his forehead resting on the edge. Which is gross, but he looks so physically weak, so Simon can’t blame him. He looks broken as he cries to the ground, shaking in his pristine school uniform, anxiety crushing him into the ground.

 

Why would he be crying if hates Simon? Maybe throwing up is really bad.

 

“Hey, Wille,” Simon says, in case he didn’t hear him come into the bathroom.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t reply, turning his head away from Simon.

 

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispers, pushing the door shut behind himself and leaning down onto his knees next to Wilhelm, putting a hand on his back and feeling every shake through it, every sob shooting through his arm and slamming into his heart. His back is warm though, Wilhelm is always warm.

 

He gulps. “I’m so sorry, Wille. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have done fucking any of that - right back to the slap.” He rubs his back softly, and Wilhelm just cries, but he doesn’t push him away. Why’s he crying so hard? Throwing up isn’t this bad…

 

He wants to bundle Wilhelm up in his arms and take him away.

 

“Wille, it’s okay,” Simon hesitates, raking a hand through his hair to get it off the toilet bowl and Wilhelm makes a hurt sound, curling in on himself. “Don’t cry,” Simon whispers, not sure what to do. 

 

“I’m - I’m sor - sorry,” Wilhelm sobs, not looking his way.

 

“For what?” Simon asks, sitting cross-legged on the ground, rubbing his back again. For pushing you to the point that the only way you could save yourself from embarrassment and exposure was to hit me. Simon regrets the way he did it, but he doesn’t regret stopping him from spilling all of that. That’s a conversation they can have in private if Wilhelm wants to so badly. Having Wilhelm bring up all of that shit between him and Marcus is one thing, but telling Marcus to break up with Simon in front of him and his two best friends, in a public seating just crossed a line Simon didn't think he'd have to deal with. He didn't know how to react and instincts kicked in and then ... 

 

“For everything,” Wilhelm cries. “For not letting us talk. For pushing you on Tuesday,” Wilhelm elaborates. “I - I got so desperate for you to get out of that relationship I wasn’t thinking about you. I treated you like Marcus does - Like I know what’s best for you. I don’t, but you do, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you and stop. I'm so sorry. I'm the worst.”

 

Simon swallows thickly because that’s exactly what he was looking for. “It's okay, I forgive you. It still hurts that you said all of that in front of them, but if you regret it, I forgive you. I’m sorry for hitting you,” he replies. "Can you forgive me?"

 

Wilhelm slowly turns his head to look at Simon. His eyes are red, cheeks streaked with tears, the part between his nose and lip shiny from snot. He’s shaking and crying, cheeks pink. He’s never looked more broken. Oh, maybe when he looked back at Simon after he'd slapped him, eyes beginning to well with tears with hurt and betrayal painted across his face.

 

Simon can’t stop himself from reaching to pull Wilhelm against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his middle and pressing his face into his shoulder, not caring for the snot or tears that'll get on his uniform. Wilhelm cries harder, arms going around Simon’s neck and holding on. They’re hugging, on the bathroom floor, two hearts beating hard and fast against one another.

 

Simon feels like he’s going to die and simultaneously is being reborn. Wilhelm holds onto him and he doesn’t let go, not pushing away or hurting him, just holding on as he needs it as much as Simon does. His heart aches and begins to pound in his chest again, but he feels better just being in his embrace.

 

He doesn’t know for how long they sit there on the ground, the vomit settling in the toilet, tears and boogers smudging on their expensive uniform. Simon isn’t sure when but at some point, he starts crying too, relief flooding his chest to the point he explodes. He hates crying, but this time he allowed himself to cry over this because he lost his best friend, the first person he’d let into his heart in years. He thought crying would help him get over it, but allowing himself to feel it hurt three thousand times worse than pretending it was all fine.

 

He cries and cries but he holds on, not letting go for a second, taking in Wilhelm’s smell and his warmth and his comforting presence. The floors are cold but he’s warm - together they’re warm, fighting off the cold.

 

"I forgive you. I forgive you one hundred times over - I could never stay mad."

 

“Can we not argue?” Simon pleads into his shoulder. “It’ll kill me if we do. Not to blackmail you, but…”

 

“No, no arguing,” Wilhelm agrees, pulling back. Simon leans their foreheads together, needing to have some kind of physical contact with the other boy. He wants to kiss him. To convey how he really feels, and how much more this actually hurts for him, but he holds back like he always does. “I hate arguing with you now, it just - it feels like someone fucking stabbing me, y’know?”

 

Wilhelm’s breath smells like throwup, but Simon honestly can’t care. He’s so close his face is blurry.

 

“I know. I hate it so much,” Simon repeats.

 

Wilhelm’s fingers curl around his and Simon holds on, his heart skipping rapid beats. He tries to breathe normally but he can't.

 

“I don’t regret getting you to stop talking on Tuesday, but I regret hitting you, so bad,” Simon chokes out, sniffing hard. “Sorry - gross. I didn’t know how to make you stop because I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

 

“It’s okay. I get why you did it now, but… We both messed up. I shouldn’t have kept going like that I did,” Wilhelm rambles on. “Because you just - you mean so much to me, I guess, and Marcus is such a horrible person to you, he treats you like you’re some kind of toy he can own, but you aren’t, because you are your own person, and you’re amazing. He can’t see that, all he sees is someone’s innocence that he can take and I fucking hate that because it’s clear you’ve already lost so much so you should be treated carefully. Normally , but carefully. I can see that you know he treats you horribly but I just don’t get why you don’t leave him.” Wilhelm pauses, leaning back and wiping at his cheeks and nose. Simon knows it’s coming and he allows himself a moment to close his eyes before - “ Why don’t you leave him?”

 

Simon can barely breathe as he leans back against the cool wall, trying to calm down before he does something stupid like kiss this boy who cares about him too much for his own good. He pulls his legs up and leans his arms on them, putting his face in his hands.

 

It’ll get them both hurt, over and over and over... Simon’s ready to deal with all that hurt if he gets to keep this boy. He’d leave Marcus for him if he asked, he’d take this pain over Marcus’ any day, all day.

 

“Because I … I think it might be partly because I don’t even know what a good relationship is meant to look like. Whatever my parents had is not it, my sister never dated and I hadn’t had anything serious until Marcus. My only way to compare relationships was through the internet.” I would follow all rumours of your dating life once we were older and would wish I was in all those random people's shoes. “And that isn’t the best source either. I found aspects of good relationships in Marcus, like the fact he likes to touch me, go out with me, and say he loves me. At first, it felt good, it felt right, but then it just felt dirty. It made me feel dirty.”

 

Simon lets out a shaky breath, and Wilhelm just watches him quietly, sniffling into toilet paper. “You aren’t dirty, Simon.”

 

He smiles sadly. “Only you would think that, Wille, you and Marcus. He says he loves me, and I just … How am I meant to find someone else who would deal with all of … me? The drugs, the family issues, my behaviour, my school situation, my history? There’s so much shit that Marcus doesn’t care about, or ignores. How would I find someone who would do that for me?” Simon doesn't know how Wilhelm just gets him to open up like this, ten minutes ago he was wishing death on the monarchy and now he's dissecting his toxic relationship with him.

 

“Isn’t it better to be single than to be with someone who makes you feel dirty?” Wilhelm asks softly, voice broken.

 

Simon looks up at him and wishes Wilhelm was his boyfriend and not Marcus. He’d be so much happier. 

 

“No,” Simon whispers. “How would I get out anyway? I have no reason to leave.”

 

“The reason is he makes you feel like shit,” Wilhelm snaps. "You don't need a reason to break up with him, if it doesn't feel right, then leave."

 

“That’s not a good reason - “

 

“Your boyfriend should make you want to live for as long as possible, not end it all miserable one day. Marcus is only with you because he wants to use you. He knows you think all of this and he knows because of it, you won’t let him go. I know it’s hard and scary, the daunting thought you’ll be alone forever, but trust me when I say people are willing to be with you despite all those things. People who aren’t Marcus,” Wilhelm says, voice choking up when talking of Simon killing himself.

 

Simon stares at him. “It’s impossible.” It’s too scary to try. Wilhelm seems to be the only person apart from Marcus who is willing to look past all these millions of flaws, but he doesn't realize he's the anomaly.

 

“No, it’s not,” Wilhelm replies. He scooches over to take Simon’s hands in his, kneeling between his bent knees. He stares into his eyes and Simon feels like Wilhelm can see his entire soul, he might as well have shared it with him anyway. There are still lots of things that haunt Simon about himself and his past, but this is one of the biggest current things. “I - I’ll help you. I’ll kill him if you need me to, just please, don’t stay with him.” His heart beats faster and faster in his chest, he's sure Wilhelm must be able to hear it.

 

Simon doesn’t want to, but he does. He’ll never find love again if he leaves, Marcus will move on and Simon will be left behind, broken and unwanted again.

 

Like he can read his mind, Wilhelm shakes his head, cheeks stained in tears. “It is possible. Marcus is too much of a horrible person to let you go, so you need to stand up and pull yourself away. Please. Please break up with him, being with someone shouldn’t feel like this.”

 

“What’s it supposed to feel like?” He whispers. He's so embarrassed that he even needs to ask that, but Wilhelm's expression doesn't waver.

 

“A million good things.”

 

“What if I don’t want to feel good?” Simon asks, voice breaking. “What if I want to suffer?”

 

“I never want you to suffer,” Wilhelm replies instantly, squeezing his hands. “I want you to be happy. I care about you so much it hurts me when you hurt Simon, I feel like I’m fucking dying when I have to watch you and Marcus interact. You make me happy and feel safe and - and I’m pretty sure you feel the same with me. Wouldn’t you rather feel that than feel dirty with him?”

 

Simon can’t take it. He doesn’t think. All he sees is Wilhelm’s beautiful, tear-streaked face and his words. "Wouldn't you rather feel that than feel dirty with him?" Wouldn't you rather feel what you feel now, with me holding your hands than the dead feeling you get from Marcus? Yes, yes, a million times yes.

 

Simon feels too much all of a sudden, his heart slamming against his ribs, mind whirling, his hands tingling. He leans forward and their lips push together, soft and wet from tears.

 

Wilhelm tenses and Simon... Simon feels like someone just dumped a cold bucket of water over his head. He feels pressure back against his mouth but he instantly rips his mouth away, head smacking into the wall with a loud thud. His dream-like haze shatters from the impact, his whole body shaking and breaking into a cold sweat, his eyes blinking rapidly as fear floods into his blood.

 

Wilhelm stares, eyes wide as his mouth falls open in surprise.

 

Simon feels tears welling. Shit. Shit. Shit.

 

He pushes away from Wilhelm and stands, his legs shaking, lips tingling, burning.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t speak as Simon throws open the stall door, tears falling down his cheeks as his chest caves in on itself. He’s fucked up. He just made young Simon's dreams come true but broke a promise to himself to never let Wilhelm know how he felt.

 

“I’m so sorry, Wille,” he choked into the room as he fell against the door, throwing it open. He needs to get out before he dies in this bathroom, lungs collapsing, body shaking. He runs out of the school doors and into the cold, sharp winds, tears falling off his chin and sobs leaving his chest in big, harsh bursts. 

 

He pulls out his phone and dials a number as he sobs brokenly, barely able to walk straight. He mended things with his best friend only to completely fuck it over a minute later. Wilhelm was telling him he deserved better than Marcus, not that they should date! Fucking stupid idiot!

 

Simon? Why are you calling?”

 

“Marcus, can - can you pick me up from Hillerska? Right now?”

 

~ Wilhelm ~

 

Hey, Wille, how are you?” 

 

Wilhelm clears his throat, chewing on the nail of his thumb as he stares numbly out his bedroom window, eyes flickering over the swaying trees as a light snow flurries down onto Hillerska. 

 

“I’m okay,” Wilhelm replies, blinking. He can still feel the press of his soft, squishy lips against his. He blinks again and tries to stop thinking about it. “Why are you calling?”

 

Silence follows his question, along with anxious breathing. 

 

“Ayub?” Wilhelm double-checks he’s still on the call, double-tapping his screen to turn it on. He frowns at the increasing time minutes.

 

Didn’t you hear?” Ayub asks slowly, cautiously.

 

Wilhelm’s mind jumps to the immediate next worst thing. He’s tired, barely sleeping, thinking and overthinking everything they’ve done as friends, does he want to kiss him again, does he wish they’d never kissed, does he wish they could kiss all the time? “Is Simon dead?” He blurts, panic immediately mounting in his chest. 

 

Silence.

 

“Ayub?” Wilhelm says louder, his heart beginning to slam in his chest. His breathing grows faster, his vision blurring with tears, his chest tightening. “Tell me he hasn’t fucking died, right now.” No reply. “Ayub, I swear - “ 

 

We don’t know, Wille,” Ayub snaps, distress clear in his voice. “ He didn’t go home on Saturday, nor did he return home on Sunday. I think his phone has died because everything goes to voicemail. We thought he might be with you but, clearly, he isn’t. Linda doesn’t want to report him missing, because it’s not uncommon for him to disappear from home for a few days, but he normally tells her he’s staying with friends, or at Sara’s, or with Marcus…” Ayub trails off ominously, letting out a harsh exhale.

 

Wilhelm’s never heard the guy sound so serious, he normally laughs or appears mostly unbothered, but he sounds worried right now. That just stresses Wilhelm out even more.

 

“I’ll try to call him,” Wilhelm says, blinking rapidly because there’s no way Simon’s dead. He’s fine. He’s probably gone to his Dad’s to hide out. A sits as well with Wilhelm as a bomb would but he'd take it any day over him being dead. He feels seriously awake now, but in the worst way, his heart beating fast in his chest.

 

Alright, if you get anything back, tell us. Linda’s going to wait until tomorrow afternoon to report him missing, she’s hoping he might show up at school. Which I think is ridiculous, like Simon would go to school. Hey, what happened to make him run off? Linda said you guys were arguing and went to the bathrooms to make up, but when you came back and said Simon would follow he just never did…” he sounds very suspicious, and Wilhelm really wants to tell him what happened, but Simon’s reaction wasn’t exactly positive.

 

He jumps topics instead. “No, I get what Linda means. With the attention Simon receives through Sara and I, him being reported missing would hit big news really fast. People would speculate crazy things - death, assassinations, runaways, kidnapping. If she can avoid putting him even further into the limelight, I get it, especially if he has a habit of running away.”

 

Yeah, okay, I get that. But Wille, Linda is the most important person in Simon’s life, he’s never ignored a call from her. He’s picked up her calls in the middle of exams - I’ve seen it! Even when he’s having a moment and decides to run off for a bit, he’ll call her so she knows he’s safe, or at least text. We’ve had radio fucking silence, so police help would be appreciated.” Ayub laughs drily, and Wilhelm wishes he could give the guy a hug.

 

“I know, and if we had a way to get professional help without it hitting the media in a matter of hours I’d support it, but we don’t,” Wilhelm thinks for a moment but concludes that calling his Mother to get the Secret Services to track down Simon who ran away after kissing Wilhelm would not go down well. “I’ll call you if I get anything. I’ll ask some of the other guys here if they saw him leave the school.”

 

Ayub agrees to contact him if he gets anything and they hang up.

 

Wilhelm immediately finds Simon’s contact and rings him, waiting anxiously by the phone, knee bouncing, chewing on his nails. He looks down at the polish. It’s almost entirely worn off now, and it feels a bit symbolic in some way. He and Simon’s friendship flourished after he painted his nails, but now their situation has gone to complete and utter crap, and his nail polish is nearly gone.

 

He looks down at his phone as the screen changes - voicemail. Wilhelm calls again. Voicemail. He texts him.

 

Wille
Are you okay? Everyone’s really worried about you
10:30 am
You don’t have to tell me where you are, just tell me you’re safe and we’ll leave you alone
10:43 am
Simon your mum is seriously concerned for your safety, you need to tell her you’re alright
10:52 am
I’m sorry about Saturday if that’s what’s caused this need for distance, but please stay safe, I still care about you
11:23 am

 

He feels physically exhausted even though all he’s been doing is sending periodic texts, pacing, and doing homework. He wants to spill his guts into the texts, but he doesn’t know if Simon’s seeing them, if he’s alone if someone’s reading over his shoulder, or if saying everything will worsen the situation. So he makes sure Simon knows he still cares, despite what happened. He isn't lying either, but he is a bit confused. What did he mean by "I'm so sorry?" He didn't even know whether Wilhelm liked it or not, he was just caught off guard. 

 

But right now he could give less fucks about the fact Simon kissed him on the lips because at the moment, no one knows where Simon is. Which is a serious issue.

 

 

Notes:

One of yall comments legit predicted the kiss i was like oop

Yup you waited SOOOO long and this is what you get xoxoxo. Im so sorry-
Next chapter is so insane I swear.

I got distracted researching Ed Sheeran's multiple houses, net worth, relationship with Harry Styles, y'know, the regular stuff.

The way you guys treat Simon is both breaking my heart and healing it. Simon's disassociation in situations that trigger his PTSD is a common response to a traumatic situation and is something I also do, so to see so many of you say you want to hug him and take him away from that situation means a lot to me for my character and myself.

I think it's something some of you can also relate to, which is why I think you guys love him so much. Some of you are hating on Siimon for the slap he delivered, and while I have the response I really wanted to share it back to those people I told myself to let y'all figure it out for yourselves. If you still hate Simon ... Let's talk about it, bc somewhere I've messed up in writing this chapter if you can't see his slap as protecting himself. Simon reacted on instinct, yes, that is instinct he learnt from his father, and no slapping someone is never, ever okay, but what Wilhelm was doing wasn't okay either. How would you feel if your best friend started telling you to leave your toxic partner in front of your two closest friends and said partner? You'd do anything to get them to shut up to. I'll elaborate more on that later on as well <33

 

I mentioned some struggles I'm facing to one of you in the comments, so I'll elaborate on that now.
I have an ex, some of y'all will remember them from the beginning of the year. We went back to close friends a few weeks after the breakup at the beginning of the year and have been close friends ever since.

To summarise a big paragraph I wrote, I got super drunk, threw up 3 times so hard it came out my nose, hot-boxed myself in a room w my ex and kissed my ex twice in one night and the hangover left me unable to write for awhile.
Anyway, this event left me feeling like my brain had been run over by a fucking cement roller and I couldn't really write, or edit. Also, fucking period coming nearly 2 weeks late, girl wtf.

 

I had most of this chapter written, and I wanted to get it out as fast as possible, but that is the struggle I ran into. I'm okay now, writing this a week later.

Sorry about this chapter <3 The next one definitely won't be out for a while because school starts tomorrow and it's a long chapter... Get excited!!

How'd we feel about the sandwich ;) Or the fact Simon's run off azsxdcfvgbhnjmk

Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
Tumblr

Chapter 18: Shattered

Summary:

I think of her so much, it drives me crazy
I just don't want her to leave me
Don't you give me up, please don't give up
Honey, I belong with you and only you, baby
- Dark Red, Steve Lacy

Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
TW CONTAINS MINOR SPOILERS: Thought of suicide, talk of dead character, talk of suicide, loss of appetite, forced throwing up, choking on vomit, implied/mentioned drinking & smoking

Notes:

Your guys reactions were everything pahahaha. The amount of comments I received was overwhelming but made me so happy. You guys motivate me to keep writing. Thank you for all the well wishing and I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long - I'll let you jump in, I doubt any of you are even reading this lmaoo. It's alg, I'm so excited to post this, so this note is short because I'm impatient too.

Super positive title for this chapter I knowwww
Make sure you have time to read it all in one setting. And you're probably going to need tissues. Love you guys, I promise.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Monday ~

Wille
I’ve asked Felice, Maddi, Henry, Walter, Alexander, Stella, Fredrika, Malin and Lucas (Erik's security). Malin and Lucas said he walked outside, and Malin said when she looked a few minutes later he appeared to be waiting for someone, pacing and looking back at the school building anxiously, he was smoking as well. She said when she next checked, he was completely gone, so she didn’t know if he walked, took the bus, or Ubered. But I think if he was waiting he must’ve been picked up because he wasn’t standing in the bus bay; he was out the front, by the fountain, and if he were going to run off he would’ve walked away instantly.
1:02 pm

 

Wilhelm is in the process of walking to fourth period, PE. He walks behind Felice and texts Ayub everything he knows about Simon's situation.

 

When Wilhelm asked if she’d seen Simon and told her what had happened - not the kiss, just that they'd argued and Simon stormed off - she'd apologised. That’s when Wilhelm knew she had put them together on purpose. To prevent more drama, Wilhelm told her it was alright. His feelings on the situation are still mixed.

 

He still hasn’t told anyone. Every night he struggles to fall asleep, the memory of Simon's soft lips pressing against his, his breath halting as his lips purse back against Simon’s, and then the cold. Simon pushed at his shoulder to get past, and the slap of his shoes on the floor as he ran. He stares at the ceiling thinking that his first kiss might have ruined one of his best friendships. His first kiss was shared with Simon. He never thought that would happen, but it deeply upsets him that something which should've been magical, and memorable is now tainted by the fact he's gone missing.

 

Simon always has extreme reactions, but Wilhelm never thought he'd take it this far.

 

The teachers ask Wilhelm where Simon is, and Wilhelm shrugs every time, adding a smile to remain polite. They don’t seem bothered, even if in recent weeks Simon has become a significantly more tolerable student. It annoys him how they all assume Wilhelm will know where he is. He wishes.

 

Every time someone asks - students, teachers, or a text from Rosh or Ayub - Wilhelm is immediately brought back to the bathroom. The moments he’s finally focussing on his work or laughing at a joke, someone mentions Simon and then it won’t leave his head for hours. 

 

There’s an empty spot in every class. Felice dutifully sits next to him, but then Maddi or Alexander sits alone and Wilhelm keeps finding his eyes straying to the empty seat.

 

After an uneventful PE lesson they have history, and Wilhelm sees Felice whisper something to Maddi and then Alex and Maddi sat together, Maddi appearing guilty while Alex is annoyed. Wilhelm thinks Felice did that so Wilhelm can’t stare at the empty chair, unsure whether or not his best friend is fucking alive.

 

Felice can’t do anything at lunch. She isn’t there to take the empty seat one of the boys Wilhelm isn’t close to leaves between himself and Wilhelm when he sits, assuming Simon will sit there like he’s done the past few weeks.

 

Wilhelm stared at the chair, debating crying on the spot or stabbing himself with his spoon. Can he live in a world Simon’s not fucking in? He stared until his eyes grew too dry and he had to blink to prevent tears. Hunger isn’t even on his radar, but he forces down a few cherry tomatoes.

 

How’s Sunny? Is Linda still caring for her even though her son’s gone AWOL? Is Sunny dead as well? 

 

The anxiety builds and Wilhelm has to excuse himself from lunch to go hyperventilate alone in the bathroom, wishing Simon was there to kneel between his legs, hold his hands and tell him he has a beautiful heart. Wilhelm’s family is Christian, but he hasn’t prayed in years. He finds himself clasping his hands, sitting on the closed toilet, praying to God that Simon is alive. Even if they’re never friends again, if they never talk again, never even look at each other - he doesn’t care anymore, as long as he’s alive.

 

He hates himself for praying – how attached to Simon has he got, seriously? He had several religious crises years ago when he came out and wasn’t sure what God would think of him, but he decided religion never really meant too much to him. He’d go to Church, pray away his sins, dip his fingers in the Holy Water and speak along with everyone else, but it didn’t do much for him.

 

He told Erik this one evening while playing Mario in their shared lounge, and Erik had said “I don’t believe in God. I never did, I just went to Church because everyone else did. It doesn’t annoy me, I just don’t feel a need to do it. I don’t feel the need to admit my sins to God; I think that if I’ve acknowledged them, and at least tried to make amends, that’s good enough. If it sits right with me, it’s nothing I need to share. Some don’t feel the same, but that’s just what I think. However, I choose to believe in Heaven for personal comfort. If I tell myself that after death there’s something and not nothing, I’m won't worry every time I get in my fast cars. I can enjoy it. Y’know? That’s just me, though, you do you, boo.”

 

Wilhelm hopes - prays - that if there is some big guy in the sky who listens, he will keep Simon safe.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm gets the text from Ayub that he’s been reported missing after dinner. Apparently, because Linda told the police this isn’t Simon’s first time disappearing without announcment, he isn’t a top priority, compared to things like kidnappings, robberies, assaults, murders or fatal car crashes that required blocked roads or redirecting traffic. Which is fair… but all they’ve done for now is send out a notice to patrolling officers of his appearance when he went missing. Linda is not pleased about it, nor is Wilhelm. Ayub said that he and Rosh had gone over to Marcus, Micke, and a few other of their friends' houses to ask if Simon was there, but he hadn’t been at any of them. So there’s not too much they can do now.

 

He immediately called Simon. Nothing. He calls again… Nothing. Again, and again, and again. He calls until his eyes grow blurry and his breaths start to become uneven, faster and faster. He blinks furiously, tapping his screen with shaky fingers. 

 

Voicemail.

 

Wilhelm hits his desk in anger, the thump making his phone jump. He just wants his best fucking friend back again! Everywhere he looks reminds him of Simon. Every class has an empty chair, every meal makes him want to throw up. The bathrooms of his lips. The library makes him think of that photo of Simon dealing. The bus stop smells like fucking cigarettes - the smell has engrained into the walls - or Wilhelm’s going insane. His bedroom makes him think about everything they have and haven’t said in there. All the memories, the bonding, phone calls from Micke, talk of abuse, studying, Minecraft, plotting to catch a photographer, scones. It hurts to be anywhere Simon isn’t.

 

His phone starts ringing. Wilhelm looks over so sharply that his neck aches, his heart skipping a beat, hope catching his breath.

 

Erik.

 

Wilhelm nearly sobs, flopping down on his desk headfirst, forehead thumping into a pile of notes, a softer landing than wood, but it still leaves his head aching enough to discourage him from picking up the call.

 

His chest feels like it’s going to cave in. He presses a hand against his sternum, his face scrunching against his papers as tears smear the ink. His phone ceases the insistent buzzing. He’s going to die, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t - 

 

His phone begins to ring again.

 

“Fucking - “ He slaps around his desk till he finds the cool surface of his screen, turning his head to swipe on the red. He doesn’t want to talk unless it’s Simon - His phone begins vibrating again.

 

He swipes on the green and presses the speakerphone, staring at the scree. Erik’s insistent calling distracted him from his panic attack, which he is now grateful for, but now he’s just tired, exhausted like he always is after a panic attack, shaky and like every deep breath is his first taste of real oxygen.

 

Sending me to voicemail? Really? ” Erik scoffs through the phone, but there is no real annoyance in his voice. 

 

“Has it hit the news already?” Wilhelm asks, voice slurred by his desk pressed against the side of his face. He stares at his spare bed, where Simon once slept. The same bed they've both sat on to bandage one another hands for different reasons. They sat there and watched the Great British Bake Off until Simon fell asleep that night when he showed up crying - like actual friends. Where did the lines blur? Wilhelm has mixed feelings about these lines blurring.

 

What? Did you do something? ” Erik is quick to ask, his voice growing closer to the microphone as if he’s leaning over his phone.

 

“... I didn’t do anything,” Wilhelm says carefully. “I mean, I did,” he sits up and rubs his face aggressively, staring out the window at the fading light over tops of tall, creepy tree's. “But what I did is not what I thought you were calling about – I - I thought something else had gotten into the news .”

 

What’s happened? ” Erik asks straight up, sighing heavily.

 

Wilhelm hates to be burdening him like this, but the opportunity to talk about how he’s feeling is more overwhelming than the guilt of throwing it all on him. “It all snowballed into today's situation, but last Tuesday Simon and I fought. He, uh.” Wilhelm goes quiet, debating telling Erik that Simon hit him. Simon regreted it and he apologised, and Wilhelm doesn’t think anyone else needs to know about it. “We both said and did some really hurtful things which left us unsure where we stood for the next few days of school. It felt like we went back to the old days, at the beginning of the year,” Wilhelm admits, sitting up and staring out the window. “We would fight, and avoid sitting by one another, and give stink eyes. But this time it just fucking hurts. It felt like I was being hurt physically and emotionally, I swear I could feel my heart dying every time we argued. I missed him.”

 

Wilhelm blinks himself from his daze, taking a deep breath. Erik stays in silence, waiting on the other end. 

 

“Parents Day lunch came around and we hadn’t made up. I asked Maddi, who organized seating, to put us apart,” Wilhelm blows out a raspberry with his lips, trying to not bring himself to tears again. Simon could be dead in a ditch right now.

 

But she put you guys across from one another. Trying to make you guys makeup, I suppose,” Erik supplies casually as if Wilhelm isn’t about to admit his first kiss to his big brother over the phone.

 

“Yeah,” Wilhelm nods, clearing his throat a few times and sitting up straighter in his chair. He can’t think about the fact Simon might be dead right now, he’ll never get this story out.

 

“Anyway - “ That might’ve been my last interaction with him. He chokes. “You saw what happened. I needed to get out of there, he followed. We talked in the bathroom and it got super emotional. We made up, basically, and talked about the argument we had. But I guess it just got …” Wilhelm gestures with his hand, even though Erik can’t see, his heart beating faster and faster every second. “Too emotional for him? He needed an outlet to express how he felt and he - he - he … he kissed me.” Wilhelm admits in a whisper, staring out the window, numb.

 

Erik is still quiet, so Wilhelm forces himself to continue because it might sound like the end of the story, but it’s not even close. He skipped the whole Marcus thing, the slap, the throwing up, the fact they were on the bathroom floor .

 

“But he rushed out right after, leaving me in there. I had to go back to lunch. I thought he was going to go back to the lunch but he wasn’t there, which is why I was out of it for the rest of the day. But, the worst thing from all that is he hasn’t been seen since he left Hillerska. Malin saw him waiting outside the school. He - he hasn’t contacted anyone to tell us where he is, he won’t reply to calls or texts, and now Linda’s reported him missing to the police. He could be dead, Erik, no one knows where the fuck he is!” Wilhelm exclaimed, his breathing speeding up the more he panicked. “If - if that was my last interaction with him - we - we kissed - “

 

Wille, it’s okay, just breathe, one thing at a time ,” Erik speaks up finally, his voice calming, which is impressive considering everything Wilhelm just dumped on him.

 

“No - it’s too much. I miss him. I miss him,” Wilhelm chants, pressing a hand against his chest, frantically trying to get a breath in but failing, his eyes blurring with tears as short, sharp breaths puff in and out of his chest. He’s going to die, he’s sure of it.

 

He’ll be okay, Wille. He’ll show up eventually - “

 

“You don’t understand,” Wilhelm sobs miserably, eyes scrunching shut, physical pain pulsing in his chest. He needs to dig his heart out to get rid of it at this point. Simon might have killed himself, or been killed. 

 

You need to breathe, okay? Relax, it’s okay. Hold your breath on three, Wille. You got me, man? One, two, three. Hold. Keep holding. ” Wilhelm holds his breath, lungs inflating miserably inside his chest without any air. “ Let it out slowly. ” Wilhelm slowly exhales, cut off halfway with a sob. “ I’m gonna text Felice, relax, Wille. I wish I was there to help you, but she’s the next best thing we’ve got.

 

Wilhelm sobs into the desk, his breathing more even but still not good enough, forehead resting against the cold surface. He misses Simon so much his heart hurts - surely it’ll kill him.

 

He’s not sure how much time passes. Erik keeps making him breathe until he’s calm and shivering with passing adrenaline, and someone is knocking on his door. 

 

Dragging himself from the chair, Erik keeps talking, unaware he’s not near his phone anymore. He feels like such a shit for causing Erik and Felice this trouble, the guilt eating at his stomach, but he still feels relief knowing she’s just through that door, ready to help.

 

He unlocks it and retires back to his desk, hearing the door open slowly, and then close. He feels dead now his panic attack has come and gone, embarrassed and emotionally drained. He just wants to know Simon’s okay, he’d take a “fuck you” text - even just a middle finger emoji. Anything that'll show he's alive.

 

“Hey, Wille,” Felice greets, walking over to him as he slumps back in the chair, leaning his cheek in his palm. He wants to face plant back to the desk but decides to save some dignity. 

 

He feels hollow as Felice talks to Erik briefly before hanging up. He might as well be dead as Felice gets him to drink some water, pulls his curtains, and leads him to his bed. She sits them both down, lying Wilhelm’s head in her lap and carefully carding her fingers through his hair. He hadn’t realized it had gotten this knotty as she untangled it with her long nails, careful to not pull any hair.

 

It’s soothing, but Wilhelm still feels like an empty shell.

 

What if Simon’s dead?

 

He must’ve said it aloud because Felice’s hands froze. He knows Ayub told her Simon’s missing, but they haven’t talked about it. Felice could probably see how badly he was already handling it. She doesn’t have an answer for a very long time, her nails scratch his scalp every now and then and it’s soothing.

 

He’s exhausted and is almost asleep when she replies.

 

“He has to be alive,” she whispers.

 

Wilhelm blinks his eyes open. “Why?” He replies, throat thick.

 

“... Wille, I wouldn’t know how to help you if he died. He’s just gone missing and you’re this affected,” Felice elaborates, smoothing down some hair gently. “But I don’t think he would, because you’re still on this Earth. I think you guys hold each other here,” Felice hums. “I think he’s alive. I think we should give him space and time to think. What happened to make him run, babe?”

 

“He kissed me,” Wilhelm says, with less hesitation this time. He feels safe with Felice in this dim room, he can tell her. “On Parents Day, in the bathroom when we made up.” 

 

“Hmmm,” she just hums back. “Did you like it?”

 

Wilhelm tries not to think about it too hard as he replies. “I think I did.”

 

Wilhelm can feel her grinning, so he rolls over to frown at her because the last thing he feels like is smiling.

 

“Sorry, I’m just so happy for you. Your first kiss!” Felice says, grinning down at him with excitement, shaking him gently on her lap. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

 

“I don’t know,” Wilhelm shrugs slightly, blinking sleepily at her.

 

“Do you like him though?” She asks, eyes wide and reflecting the little amount of light in the room.

 

“I can’t like him,” Wilhelm tells her, heart clenched in his chest. It does that a lot when he thinks about Simon. “It’s too complicated.”

 

Felice purses her lips, clearly thinking about that. “I can see that, but I think you guys would work great together, so the complication wouldn’t matter. You two being with one another would be enough that you’d manage the complicated.”

 

Wilhelm stares at her, for just a second playing with the idea of … of dating Simon. He’d have to tell his Mum and she’d definitely want to talk to Simon’s PR team and get some control over him, but Wilhelm doesn’t think he’d need that. Simon is calm nowadays when he’s around Wilhelm, or, he was . He still had moments of excitement or happiness that bothered other people, same with sad, depressing bouts - but Wilhelm doesn’t mind, it’s just how Simon functions. He feels a lot of things. Dating him would surely be chaos but it … Wilhelm … he’d be willing to deal with that, he doesn't want parts of Simon, he'd want all of him, even the scary parts -

 

But he can’t.

 

His and Simon’s past would set off so many sirens in his Mum’s brain that she’d disown him. I could disown myself, Wilhelm thinks. No, that’s insane. Abdicate for a boy I haven’t known one school term? Get a fucking grip. 

 

“We’ll never be able to date,” Wilhelm says firmly, rolling back to face his bedroom, hiding his stinging eyes from Felice.

 

“You won’t know if you don’t try.”

 

“I won’t try. I’m not - I’m not going to put him through all of that just to be with me,” Wilhelm says, voice choking up again because it hurts to know Simon means that much to him he’d sacrifice something that’d make him happy just to he wouldn’t have to suffer any more. It’s undeniable at this point that he likes Simon. 

 

“He’d be willing -

 

“No, Felice. I won’t. It’s not fair. Not after Marcus being so controlling over him, I won’t be the same,” Wilhelm declares.

 

“It’d be different with you though. You aren’t controlling him, it’s your Mum. I know if it was up to you, you’d let Simon do whatever he wants with his public image, and he knows it too.”

 

“Felice, you assume he knows all of this, but we don’t even know if he’s alive at this moment. It won’t matter whether or not he’s willing to sacrifice some freedom for me if he’s fucking killed himself, will it?”

 

~ Tuesday ~

 

Wilhelm
Hi, Sara, it's Wilhelm. Would it be okay if I went to Linda’s house today? It’s okay if you don’t want me to be there, I’d understand.
4:02 pm

 

Sara
I’ll ask her, but I’m sure it’ll be all good
4:03 pm

 

Wilhelm got Sara's number at Simon's birthday, but until now he hasn't had a reason to text her. But Sara doesn’t even ask questions, and nor does Linda when she agrees, telling Wilhelm she’s about to go out after finishing her shift at the vet to meet up with some friends, but will be home around 8, and she’ll leave the back door unlocked. Sara also gaves Wilhelm Linda’s number in case he needs to contact her.

 

He tells Felice where he’s going and she offers to go with him, so after getting permission from Housefather and Housemother to spend part of the evening out at Simon's house, they both get on a bus and travel into Bjärstad in silence.

 

They both know Wilhelm is hoping to see Simon, that’s why he sits in front of Felice when she sits down first at the window, so that he can stare out the entire ride. Even just a flash of the blue bike Wilhelm saw once, or his bright yellow bag, his hair, his hoodie. Does he even have clothes? He left school in his uniform. If he died in his uniform he’ll be seriously angry.

 

The bus gets to their stop and they get off without a single sign of Simon, walking to his house in comfortable silence, Wilhelm looking around like a hawk.

 

It’s a very cold evening, the clouds are grey and threatening to snow on their heads at any moment, but it’s quiet in this side of town tonight. Wilhelm didn’t tell his parents that he was going to Simon’s house, it’s not like he’s going to be photographed taking a bus and walking to his house. If he’s caught, he’ll just cry and scream until his Mum leaves him alone. That’s how small his fuse has gotten.

 

They walk around the side of the house, past the planks and sandbags they used as a diving board, past the pool, which has its cover on and the lights off. The trees rustle and sway in the wind, but sure enough, the lounge door is open a crack, so they take their shoes off and huddle into the house.

 

Linda’s left the heating on, so it’s pleasantly warm inside, making them both shiver from the change in temperature.

 

They pass Bartholomew cleaning his way through the kitchen, where the remanents of baking litter the floor, who they carefully step over. They put their shoes in the foyer, along with their big winter coats. The house is so quiet every step feels too loud. It feels like they're breaking in even though they have permission to be here, and waved at the security camera's in case Linda checks. 

 

“I’m going to check on Sunny,” Wilhelm announces and makes for the stairs without transition, leaving his bag on the floor next to his shoes.

 

"Okay, I'll be down here," Felice says gently, going back into the kitchen.

 

He walks up the stairs slowly, listening to every creak of the wooden under him, quietly hoping and praying Simon’s going to step around the corner and ask what the fuck he’s doing here. No one appears as he reaches the top floor, and he just smiles sadly at the blank wall at the end of the hallway.

 

He’s so, so, so tired.

 

Without looking at Sunny, he goes to Simon’s room, slowly pushing the door open. It smells of air freshener, with the undertone of cigarettes. It’s the kind of clean only Linda would be bothered to achieve, Wilhelm knows Simon wouldn’t keep his room this spotless. The curtains are pulled back as if he still lives here.

 

Wilhelm walks into the room, the carpet soft from being vacuumed. The rubbish bin is empty with a new lining, and his washing basket behind the door is completely empty. 

 

He chants in his head, over and over, that he isn’t dead, trying to keep himself from crying as he sits on his bed, made with the sheets smoothed and pillows fluffed. 

 

It’s only 5 pm but he’s tired, he hasn’t been sleeping well, if at all, crying in his bedroom in the dark, having panic attacks daily, wishing for Simon. He calls him multiple times a day, texting as well. He nearly started to send good morning and good night texts, but he wasn’t sure if that would help Simon open back up to him.

 

Wilhelm lies on the bed, pressing his face into the pillow and getting a whiff of oranges and Simon’s normal smell. He closes his eyes to stop himself bursting into tears, rolling onto his back, and then onto his other side so his back is to the door.

 

He’s drowning in Simon’s smell, and he feels like he’s dying, but he also feels better being able to have something of him for the first time in a week. A week ago today they argued at a football game. It’s only been a week but it feels like a year's worth of suffering.

 

Wilhelm slowly relaxes and unwinds on his bed, his heartbeat soothing, muscles contracting until he’s drifting into a gentle slumber.

 

~ Wednesday ~

 

He barely made it to first period, having to Uber back to school after Linda gently woke him in Simon’s bed.

 

He’d immediately apologized and felt embarrassed for falling asleep in her son's bed, but she'd just smiled, shook her head, and offered to drive him to school, telling him he has a homemade egg McMuffin wrapped in tin foil that he can eat in the car.

 

Felice went back to Hillerska last night, she sent Wilhelm a text saying she found him, fed Sunny, made both him and Linda some dinner she left in the fridge and Ubered back to school. She said she’d handle the Housefather, whatever that means. Frankly, Wilhelm doesn't care. Simon didn't magically appear in the night and he woke up miserable again. Slightly more well-rested, but that doesn't help his sadness.

 

Linda said he has enough time to shower quickly if he wants, and then she’ll drive him.

 

He took too long in the shower because he broke down crying when he saw Simon’s orange-scented shampoo, put on his clothes from yesterday and then called Simon. It rang once and went to voicemail. He frowned, looking over at his phone. He texts him.

 

Wille
How are you doing?
Undelivered

 

It doesn’t deliver. Which means … which means … 

 

Wilhelm calls him again, and it rings once before going to voicemail. He’s been blocked. For a split second, he’s absolutely crushed, his heart collapsing in his chest, before Sunny chirps at him in confusion and he realises - Simon’s alive if he blocked him. He’s seen the messages, but he’s blocked him. Wilhelm doesn’t even care he’s blocked, he’s just glad he’s fucking alive.

 

He wipes away damp eyes, bids goodbye to Sunny with a little kiss on her head, and runs down to the garage.

 

He’s never experienced such a normal morning, it must be what it’s like for other kids, but Wilhelm’s never done something like that. It was a debatably nice morning, if you ignore the fact he's at his missing best friend's house. The routine of it is nice and he'd happily do it again.

 

Wilhelm tells Linda Simon’s blocked him on the ride there, and she looks confused at his happiness to the news. Or at least, his lack of sadness. It occurs to him that maybe he is the only one who thinks Simon’s died.

 

The rest of the ride is filled with a comfortable silence and Linda tells him to call her if he needs her, or hears anything, like a mother would. He nearly cried, overwhelmed with the urge to hug the woman, but he just nodded and got out.

 

He hadn’t eaten much of the food, but he hoped she knew that wasn’t because it tasted bad - it tasted amazing, he’s just not hungry recently. She didn’t say anything when he wrapped it up and put it back in his bag.

 

Upon entering class he saw Felice had saved him a seat, and when he sat down she gave him a hug, kissing his forehead gently, telling him she loved him.

 

Wilhelm must look worse than he thought.

 

He’d had a small glance in the mirror and concluded he’d got eye bags, more breakouts, oily hair and an ugly, pale complexion. No wonder Simon regrets kissing him.

 

In second period, Henry asks Wilhelm where Simon is. He shrugged and turned to Felice, who told Henry he was sick. Wilhelm can barely think, he knows he needs to eat, but he can’t. He feels on the edge of tears every second he’s awake.

 

At lunch, Felice catches his wrist, dragging him to her dorm and bringing out two wrapped sandwiches.

 

“We’ll eat lunch in here until he comes back, so no one stares or asks you questions,” Felice had said determinedly, sitting on her bed. She must know Wilhelm’s room reminds him of Simon, but Felice’s doesn’t, it’s a safe space where Simon doesn’t haunt every corner.

 

But he’s still there, in the green wrapping around the sandwich.

 

Wilhelm nibbles on it and Felice watches quietly, pretending to scroll on Instagram. She's kept the curtains open, but it's miserable enough outside it doesn't make much of a difference, the overhead lights doing more to illuminate the space than the sun.

 

He chews a small mouthful of sandwich crust, sighing heavily.

 

“Babe, why aren’t you eating?” She asks softly.

 

“I’m not hungry,” Wilhelm admits, lowering the sandwich.

 

Felice frowns, putting down her phone. “You must be hungry, I’ve barely seen you eat.”

 

Wilhelm looks down at his stomach as if it’ll tell him, blinking softly a few times. “I’m not hungry,” he repeats, fiddling with the green wrapping around his sandwich.

 

Felice stares at him, then she asks questions. “Are you tired?”

 

“Yeah,” Wilhelm admits.

 

“Do your limbs feel really heavy? Same with your head?”

 

Wilhelm nods.

 

“Is it hard to think straight and form coherent sentences and focus?”

 

He side-eyes her, nodding again, slightly more hesitant.

 

“Do you not want to eat because you want to die?”

 

He blinks at her. “I - I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to feel.”

 

Felice gives him a sympathetic expression. “Not being able to feel won’t help us find Simon, Wille. He would hate to know you’re crumbling like this without him. It’s not healthy. You need to look after yourself.”

 

“I don’t want food.”

 

Felice sighs, glancing around the room as she thinks. Wilhelm feels guilty for putting this on her, he's being a bad best friend. “Okay, how about a shower? You can wash your hair, face and body. I’ll get us out of the rest of the school day and I’ll help you have a little reset. I’ll make you some tea and grab some comfy pj’s, and you can sleep over in my room,” Felice suggests. “It’ll be super chill, I’ll ask Maddi to bunk in Stella and Fredrika’s room tonight, she won’t mind.”

 

Wilhelm stares at her in shock. What did he do to deserve this amazing girl? He doesn’t deserve friends this wonderful after killing Felix. What if he’s killed Simon? What if he kills Felice?

 

“I can see you overthinking. Don’t do that. Go shower, use all my scented soaps, whatever you need,” Felice says, standing up. She takes Wilhelm’s sandwich and pulls him up by his hands, holding them tight. “Don’t even think of denying it, Wille, you’re my best friend. This is what friends do, lift you up when you need them. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on in your head if you don’t want to, and if you do then you can fire away. But first, a shower.”

 

Wilhelm hugs her suddenly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “You’re the best, Felice. Truly, I love you so, so, so much.”

 

Felice hugs him back tightly, rubbing his back. “I love you so much more, Wille, you’ll always be the most important person in my life, don’t ever think of leaving me.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm showers, washing his body, his hair and his face. Felice helps him pick out some skincare to help his break out, bringing him tea and track pants with a hoodie and boxers from his dorm, along with some sneakers and socks for when he goes back to his dorm tomorrow.

 

She assures him they’re both clear of classes today and the Housefather knows he’s staying with Felice. 

 

They watch Finding Nemo, and then a few episodes of Barbie Life In The Dreamhouse, but Felice has to go down to get them some dinner, so Wilhelm is left alone.

 

He decides to try to call Simon again, but it goes to voicemail and his texts don’t deliver. He texts Ayub this update and just gets a sad face in reply. He may very well be the only one who thinks Simon’s died … That’s, a bit dramatic of him.

 

He feels more clear-headed now he’s eaten the sandwich and drank some water, more fresh with a shower and washed face. He loves Felice. He didn’t realise how much he needed all this until she made him do it.

 

She returns with salmon pasta and they eat it, shoulder to shoulder on her bed as they watch more Barbie.

 

Felice doesn't make him talk, she lets him rest his head on her shoulder, shuffling under her covers on her small bed, snuggled together. Wilhelm debates talking to her but finds he doesn't want to anymore. He let his anxiety get the best of him and didn't stop to think, he just kept falling further and further into negative thoughts.

 

He knows Simon is alive, the Police are on the lookout for him. He'll show up eventually. Wilhelm would definitely rather sooner than later, but Simon needs some alone time. When he returns they can have a big long talk and hug, and everything will be fine.

 

Felice declares he needs an early night, so they brush their teeth together at 8 pm and are in bed by 9. Wilhelm sleeps in Maddi’s bed, phone charging on her nightstand.

 

Felice falls asleep instantly, but Wilhelm lies awake for a bit in the strange, new room. It smells rather sweet, not overpowering, but Wilhelm isn’t used to it. He watches snow flurry past the crack in the curtains, listening to the other girls still moving around, their chattering, doors opening, showers running, and laughter.

 

The background noise is comforting. Usually, he's the last person asleep in his house, so there's nothing to listen to but the wind outside, or his own spirling thoughts.

 

Everything will be fine.

 

He's starting to feel sleepy when his phone starts to ring.

 

Wilhelm jumps, grabbing it instantly so as to not wake Felice. He presses it against his chest and he slides from bed and out into the corridor, moving it from his chest to read the caller ID. He stumbles back, nearly dropping his phone in the process. He squints through the brightness of the corridor lights, his heart slamming against his ribs.

 

Simon.

 

Simon is calling him at nine-thirty on a Wednesday night the day he blocked him after being missing for five whole days. Simon’s calling him.

 

He swipes to answer the call, his hand is shaking so badly that he nearly can’t do it, his whole body twitching and quivering. “Simon? Are you okay?”

 

“It’s Marcus.” Wilhelm sees red immediately. He leans back against the wall, fumbling for words to say that aren’t “Fuck you fuck you fuck you.”

 

“Why are you calling on his phone?” Wilhelm asks, trying not to hyperventilate and faint. He’s shaking all over. There's laughter from the door across from him and he jumps, gripping the doorframe.

 

I…” Silence follows.

 

“Marcus? Is he okay?” He demands.

 

I hate to admit this, but I …”  Marcus' voice is quiet and he sounds vaguely annoyed. “He needs you, not me. I don’t know how to help him, he’s just crying and drinking and smoking. I don’t want to deal with him anymore. I don't know how to help him or fix him, but I know this is because of you, so you can come and get him, I don't care that he begged me to not tell anyone.”

 

Wilhelm clenches his fists. “So the second he’s not useful to you you call me? Did you hurt him?” He takes a breath to calm himself down as Marcus scoffs down the line. “Where are you? I’ll pick him up right now,” Wilhelm says before Marcus can snap back. They can’t argue; Marcus might not tell him where Simon is. He’s been crying, drinking and smoking, Wilhelm is getting him out of there if it's the last thing he does, determination filling his veins.

 

Wilhelm peeks his head into Felice’s room to grab his shoes and rushes back out the door, stumbling down the stairs with undone laces as Marcus gives Wilhelm his address and instructions to go through the back gate to the granny flat. 

 

He’s telling his Siri to find him the nearest Uber as he ties his laces at the bus stop, heart beating hard in his chest. He’s shivering but the adrenaline carries him forward, seeing the Uber just passed Hillerska and is turning around, due to arrive in seven minutes.

 

For those seven minutes, he debates calling Felice, or Simon again, but he decides to sprint full speed to his dorm, grab another coat, for him and for Simon, and run back. Thankfully, he doesn't bump into anyone in Forest Ridge. His room is dark and cold. He flicks on the light, grabbing a puffer and a wool coat. Just as he’s arriving back to the bus stop he sees a car pull in.

 

He jumps in, giving the middle-aged lady with sunglasses - It’s 9 pm? - Marcus’ address and promising a tip if she can get him there as fast as possible.

 

“This isn’t a movie, kid. I’ll follow the laws," Betty says with an eye roll.

 

“I’m Prince Wilhelm, I can tip you five hundred dollars,” Wilhelm says, sticking his head in between the two front seats to stare at her as she pulls out.

 

She side-eyes him. “What’s got your knickers in a knot?”

 

He nearly tells her everything, before remembering while she might look like a kind, hard-working mother, he still doesn’t know her. “A really good friend needs me right now.”

 

“And he’s worth five hundred dollars?”

 

“More. Undoubtably more.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Betty gets him there in half the time Google Maps says. She says she’ll take a hundred-dollar tip and give him a five-star review. He doesn’t care, thumbs shaking as he types in the number and presses his phone against her machine to pay, eyes flicking outside to Marcus’ house every second. It looks like every other house around here: a small family home, the lights are on inside, the grass and hedges trimmed, a car in the driveway. You wouldn't suspect anything.

 

He thanks her and asks if she can stay out here for a bit so he can grab his friend. She agree's, since there's no one else Ubering for the moment. He springs from the car, running around the side of the house and stepping over the small wooden gate, tip-toeing over the gravel garden towards the grassy main area. Marcus lied, he told Ayub he hadn’t seen Simon, and while Wilhelm really wants to slap him upside the head, he wants to see Simon more.

 

He’s shaking, nearly crying as he jogs across the grass to the granny flat front door. This feels like a fucking fever dream. He's just got his shit together and Marcus is calling with Simon's location. He supposes it's good timing, really.

 

The lights are on inside and he knocks on the door, hard, bouncing on the spot, his extra coat thrown over his arm, heart slamming against his ribs like a drum. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

 

Will Simon even want to see me? Marcus didn’t say Simon was asking for me, he just said he doesn’t want to deal with him any longer.

 

Wilhelm is beginning to overthink it, but he knows he’s leaving here with Simon whether he wants to go or not.

 

No one answers the door for at least thirty seconds, so Wilhelm knocks again, glancing back at the house. He sees two figures standing behind curtains and panics, grabbing the doorhandle to find its unlocked, so he quickly goes inside before anyone can see him and ask awkward questions.

 

The smell hits him instantly. Alcohol, cigarettes and sweat. It’s disgusting, bottles are strewn everywhere, there’s a half-full rubbish bin with cigarette butts, packets and alcohol bottles, tissues as well. There’s a couch facing a TV, and a small kitchen to the side. The lights are all off, just the TV illuminating the couch.

 

On the couch is a blob, covered in a thick blanket. The TV is playing something in Spanish but all Wilhelm can see is the person, who is breathing softly.

 

Wilhelm approaches, heart beating so hard in his chest. He sees the Hillerska uniform thrown over the back of the couch as he rounds it to stand at the front, heart-shattering to millions of pieces at the sight before him. Simon. He’s asleep, dark bags under his eyes, lips chapped with dots of blood, his hair in a scraggly, barely together bun on his head. There’s a bottle of beer leaking onto the floor with his limp hand above it, cigarette burns on the couch next to his face, smoke circling into the air as it burns into the fabric. Disturbingly, there's vomit on the floor to the side of the couch which looks like it's been there awhile.

 

He stares, putting a hand over his mouth so he won’t start sobbing as he looks at how wrecked Simon is. No one should look like this, no one should feel like this, ever, much less Simon. He’s already gone through so much, he doesn’t deserve this.

 

Wilhelm hates himself and he hates his Dad, and he hates Marcus. He even hates Simon a little bit. He hates everyone, he hates the world. Poor Simon. Poor him, having to deal with this.

 

He tries to make himself move, but he just can’t, staring down at him. Simon looks so destroyed; he’s frowning, even in his sleep he's upset.

 

Wilhelm picks up the beer bottle and the burning cig, throws the cig in the bin and puts the bottle on the floor upright. Simon doesn’t notice, breath puffing softly against Wilhelm’s hand, fingers twitching slightly. Wilhelm notices immediately that he smells bad, like sweat and general stench.

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm brushes his hair off his forehead, whispering his name. “It’s Wille, wake up. You’re okay. Simon,” he strokes his hair, watching Simon wrinkle his nose adorably, eyes scrunching.

 

He slaps his mouth together and sighs, screwing his eyes shut and going to roll over. Wilhelm catches his shoulder gently, stopping him from turning away. “Wake up, Simon,” he says, slightly louder. 

 

Simon blinks his eyes open, staring up at the roof. His pupils are blown over the normal size and his eyes are glazed over, brown and blinking at the cream ceiling. 

 

“Simon,” Wilhelm says, louder again, getting more distressed by the second. Is he even a functioning human anymore? Have the drugs and alcohol actually broken his brain? Wilhelm will have to call the fucking ambulance, this could be a crime scene. The smell of this place is making him feel sick and he can't get himself to take a deep breath of it to calm down. “It’s me, Wille,” he squeezes his shoulder, and Simon just blinks slowly to look at him, eyes widening. Wilhelm wants to hug him so badly, but he holds back, waiting for Simon’s high mind to process.

 

“Wille?” He croaks, throat dry. He blinks. “I’m dreaming,” he concludes in a broken voice, closing his eyes again. “No. No. I don’t want this.” He rolls over.

 

"This isn't a dream. Sadly." Wilhelm swallows hard. “I’ll get you some water.”

 

He gets up and goes to the kitchen, hands still shaking as he runs the tap to fill up a glass with cold water. Simon mumbles indistinctly from the couch, rolling around. 

 

When Wilhelm returns, Simon’s back is to him, so he puts the glass on the ground and rolls Simon over carefully, positioning him so he’s sitting up. Simon blinks, eyes opening and closing, the blanket slipping from his shoulders. He’s wearing an oversized black shirt and grey track pants with puke stains, no socks or a jumper, and his skin instantly grows goosebumps when the blanket falls off.

 

“Drink this,” Wilhelm says, sitting next to him on the couch, bringing the glass to his lips. Simon opens his eyes when the glass touches his lips, opening his mouth slightly. Wilhelm puts a hand against the back of his head to help him lean his head back, careful not to overfill his dry mouth with water, letting him swallow before giving him more. 

 

Simon turns his head away after only a bit, groaning and shaking his head. “I’m not dreaming.”

 

“No,” Wilhelm says, voice cracking, eyes burning. “Drink more, Simon. Please.”

 

“Can’t,” Simon replies, eyes squeezed closed, head turned away from the cup. “I need to throw up.”

 

Wilhelm’s own stomach drops, and he instantly puts the glass down, pulling Simon to his feet with one arm under his armpits around his torso, helping him to the bathroom. Simon falls to his knees, and to Wilhelm's surprise, jams two of his fingers down his own throat, gagging on them.

 

Wilhelm watches with wide eyes as Simon does it again, pulling them out as he throws up into the toilet. He turns away as Simon reaches into the bowl, water splattering from the sick. His eyes burn with tears, but he holds them back, blinking quickly until Simon stops, groaning in discomfort.

 

Wilhelm goes and gets Simon's glass from the lounge, giving it to his shaking hands and watching as he takes a few careful sips, then puts the glass on the floor and looks up at Wilhelm with a slightly clearer expression.

 

How do I get him for more sober? Wilhelm wonders, staring back at him, biting his lip to keep from uncontrollably crying. Foolishly, he’d imagined this reunion with a bit more hugging and maybe even kissing, not throwing up. He should’ve expected this though.

 

Wilhelm goes to the kitchen and finds some bread, bringing Simon a piece. He eats it quietly, tears falling down his cheeks silently, apart from the occasional sniff.

 

Wilhelm gets the spare coat from the couch where he left it. “Put this on,” he says when he turns and finds Simon standing in the bathroom doorway, wiping his cheeks with toilet paper. 

 

“Where are we going?” He asks, stumbling over to take the coat, avoiding Wilhelm’s eye.

 

“Your house,” Wilhelm replies, gathering up Simon’s clothes and shoes, leaving the mess for Marcus to clean.

 

He hears Simon let out a sob and he turns, finding him with the sleeves of the black puffer over his face, swaying on the spot.

 

Wilhelm bites hard on his cheek and looks up at the roof to keep tears at bay.

 

“Why’d you run away, Simon?” Wilhelm asks as Simon sobs into his coat, shivering and crying.

 

“You hate me,” Simon cries, looking so small and scared, standing in the living room in clothes that aren't hiss, a complete mess.

 

“I don’t hate you,” Wilhelm replies instantly, frowning at him. “I never hated you. I wish you hadn’t run away before we could talk about it though.”

 

Simon shakes his head into the sleeves. “I’ve got a boyfriend, we have nothing to talk about.”

 

A tear runs down Wilhelm’s cheek, a punch stabbing right into his gut at that. “Right. Well. We have to take you home, so let's go.”

 

He puts an arm around Simon’s shoulder and leads him towards the door. “An Uber is waiting. Your Mum is working, do you have a key?”

 

Simon pulls away to grab his bag, opening it for Wilhelm to put his stuff in. He notices how there are no more drugs in it, surely all in Simon’s system.

 

“Why did you come to get me? How did you even know?” Simon asks as he zips up the bag with shaking hands, tears still openly running down his cheeks, never stopping. Something inside him has broken and isn’t being fixed. Wilhelm doesn’t know how to help.

 

“Marcus called me on your phone.”

 

“I blocked you,” Simon whispers.

 

Wilhelm takes his bag and puts it on so Simon doesn’t have to carry it. “It’s okay, I’m not angry at you, I’m just glad you’re alive.” Because you clearly aren’t okay.

 

Simon just cries, a sob breaking through his chest. 

 

When they leave the granny flat, Wilhelm sees Marcus standing in the lounge window. He just nods at Wilhelm and turns away. He doesn’t even care. Wilhelm openly scoffs at him, slamming the door of the granny flat. He puts his arm around Simon’s shivering body again, pulling him into his side as they walk around the side of the house. 

 

Simon shakes, stumbling, crying. Wilhelm blinks back tears, refusing to let anything else out. He needs to be strong, for Simon. The second street lights approach he wipes his cheeks, takes a deep breath of the freezing winter air and leads them to the Uber.

 

Betty looks in the rare vision mirror as Wilhelm helps Simon in before him. Simon looks down at his lap, picking at the puffer.

 

Wilhelm watches him, drowning in his mind, before sliding over to wrap his arm around him again. Simon’s head falls onto his shoulder instantly, his body turning to press against Wilhelm’s.

 

Wilhelm shakily gives her the address to Simon’s house and she takes off without hesitation, not saying a word, just turning on the radio and humming along softly.

 

Simon sobs into Wilhelm’s shoulder, hand gripping Wilhelm’s jumper to hold on. Wilhelm leans his head on Simon’s, stroking his arm from around his shoulder, keeping him close. He feels shattered, but ultimately very relieved he’s got Simon by his side at the moment. 

 

They arrive quickly, it’s only a short drive and there’s no traffic. Wilhelm pays, thanking her.

 

“It’s no problem. Look after each other, boys. Have a good night,” she says, smiling at Simon. “You remind me of my son. He’s in rehab at the moment, but he had no one willing to support him, you’re lucky to have this prince, kid.” 

 

Simon stares at her, wiping his eyes with his shaking fingers. “I know. I know,” he replies quietly. "Thank you." He clambers out of the car after Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm walks up the front steps, going through Simon’s bag until he finds the keys. Simon takes a shaky breath and wipes his face behind him as he gets the door open.

 

Once they’re inside, Wilhelm turns on the foyer light and turns to Simon, who stares back at him, eyes wet, pupils a normal size, lips still dry.

 

He looks like he needs what Felice did for Wilhelm.

 

“Okay,” Wilhelm pulls the coat off him and hangs it up, trying to stop himself from hugging him again. “You go and shower, I’m going to make you food and some stuff to drink, I’ll put it on the kitchen table and I’ll be … In the lounge,” Wilhelm decides. “If you need me, call out, okay, Simon?”

 

Simon stares at his feet. Wilhelm doesn’t want to tell him what to do, but he thinks if it was up to Simon, he’d just go cry on his bed. 

 

“Okay,” Simon whispers.

 

Wilhelm nods, squeezing his hand, and then walking into the kitchen. He hears Simon shuffle up the stairs, and then the bathroom door closing gently, the water turning on a few seconds later.

 

Wilhelm heats up the food Felice made last night, for both him and Simon, so Simon won’t be the only one awkwardly eating. He puts it on the table and pulls out his phone, he has no new texts so he leaves it, just scrolling through his Instagram until Simon comes downstairs. He’s wearing fresh clothes, fluffy socks, slippers. His hair is bouncing around his face, not washed but at least rinsed with water. He’s carrying Sunny, hands shaking, staring at her with such concentration it’s clear he still isn’t 100% sober.

 

He sits down across from Wilhelm, putting Sunny on the table.

 

Felice made mac and cheese, so Wilhelm offers Sunny some off the edge of his knife, ignoring Simon who immediately digs into the food quietly.

 

Sunny eats it, chirping at Wilhelm and then Simon, who side-eyes her.

 

The silence is very tense, the only sound the dishwasher Linda must’ve put on before she left for work and Sunny chirping at him. 

 

Wilhelm finishes his meal first, and he waits until Simon’s done before he speaks. He’s been thinking about what he’s going to say for a while to not cause a bad reaction from Simon. He can see as Simon settles in his chair that he’s realizing they have to talk and is growing stiff.

 

“We both know we need to talk,” Wilhelm says casually, both of them watching Sunny wandering around the kitchen floor, chirping at everything and fluttering her little wings. “Where do you want to talk?” He asks. He figures if he does what Felice did - put him in a comfortable, safe space, he’ll be easier to talk to.

 

Simon sniffs, wiping at his nose, which Wilhelm notices is slightly red. 

 

“In my room?” Simon asks. “If that’s okay with you,” he rushes to say.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Wilhelm replies with a small frown. He picks up their plates and puts them in the sink. Simon stands slowly, looking uncomfortable in his house, but Wilhelm doesn’t know how to help. These are uncharted waters they’re wading through right now.

 

Simon waits for Wilhelm to pick up Sunny and lead the way out the room before following, slippers shuffling on the wooden floor.

 

Once in Simon’s room, Wilhelm puts Sunny on the bed and carefully sits around her, while Simon sits at the head, curled up, watching Wilhelm playfully push Sunny to make her chirp at him, standing back up and ruffling her little feathers.

 

Wilhelm looks up to find Simon smiling at her softly, but the second he meets Wilhelm’s eye it melts and he looks away.

 

“I’m gonna say my bit first, then you can go,” Wilhelm says. Simon nods. “I was mad at you for slapping me. I was mad that you didn’t try to talk to me and that you wouldn’t listen or do what’s best for yourself. I was mad that you’d always dismiss Marcus’ behaviour when he was mean to me or you. But I know now I shouldn’t have said all of that in front of him, Rosh and Ayub. I should’ve addressed that with you somewhere safe, not out in public. I pushed you too far because I got caught up in my emotions. I know you told me to stop, but I didn’t listen. I’m sorry for not listening and for stepping in when it wasn’t my place. I know it’s not my place to tell you what’s best for you, like I said in the bathroom, only you know that, not me or Marcus. You know he’s not good for you, I just thought you might need me to point it out so you can ... accept it, I guess. Process it.

 

“I’m sorry for pushing you, I’ll try to not do it again. I said in the bathroom I just get so heated up about it because he’s not a good person, no matter what you think. Even bad people have vaguely decent aspects to them. Think of my Mum, let me come out, but with consequence? My brother, is a wonderful guy but not good at dealing with negative emotions. Marcus, your Dad, they have flaws and also good things.”

 

Simon considers this, and Wilhelm watches him ponder with a thoughtful expression as he watches Sunny. 

 

“Do you get what I mean?”

 

Wilhelm is willing to sit here all night gently explaining things to Simon, using as many metaphors and examples as it takes to get him to understand.

 

“Yeah. Marcus is … bad, but he let me stay at his place and didn’t tell anyone. He’s never made me do anything with him,” Simon says slightly quieter.

 

“That’s because until a few days ago, you were underage,” Wilhelm tells him as gently as he can. “He might be a dick but he doesn’t want to break the law.”

 

Simon doesn’t get angry, he just looks sad. Wilhelm wants to tell him “Or maybe Marcus didn’t try anything too serious because he knew you weren’t ready and not because he’s scared of being named a paedophile! That’s a possibility too!” But he isn’t sure if it is.

 

Wilhelm goes slow, giving Simon a few moments to think this through. “What’re you thinking?”

 

Simon shrugs, blinking at Sunny to pull himself from his daze. “Just makes me sad.”

 

“That’s fair,” Wilhelm nods. He doesn’t know how to go about this situation, so he’s trying his best to remain calm and not let his emotions clog his thoughts and cause more arguments. After a moment he moves on. “I’m not mad about what you did in the bathroom, I’m just sad that you ran away instead of talking.” Simon visibly tenses, hands freezing at their action of picking at the sheets. “I know that’s how you protect yourself from getting hurt, trust me, I’ve learnt by now you aren’t good at confrontation.”

 

Simon snorts, patting the blanket to get Sunny to run over and climb into his palm. He puts her on his lap and she climbs onto his knee, jumping off immediately to keep exploring the bed. 

 

“But I still wish you hadn’t bolted. You know what I think of your coping mechanisms, I don’t need to say anything about it. I just want you to know that you are still important to me, I still care about you and nothing could change that,” Wilhelm nods, satisfied. “At the end of the day, you blocking me kind of snapped me from a daze that I’d been in and allowed me to have a mental reset before Marcus called. I thought you’d died.”

 

Simon’s head snaps up.

 

“Genuinely. So when you blocked me I realised you had to be alive to block me, not dead in a ditch. I told your Mum you’d blocked me and she seemed confused by my … Not happiness, but lack of sadness from this, same with Ayub. It made me realise I was the only one who was thinking the worst,” Wilhelm sighs, shaking his head, avoiding Simon’s eyes now. “Felice got tired of me sulking about and planned a sleepover, made me shower, eat and sleep early. If I hadn’t had that reset time, I think I might’ve bashed Marcus’s head in through the phone when he called. So, thank you for blocking me.”

 

Simon doesn’t look amused, just sad.

 

“What?” Wilhelm asks cautiously.

 

“You thought I’d die. That’s how you see me, you think I’d kill myself when something gets too tough,” Simon says, frowning at Wilhelm with hurt on his face.

 

Wilhelm’s heart drops. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility of Simon coming to that conclusion. “Uh, well, I only thought that because a while ago I did some research on addiction and one of the possible outcomes was … suicide,” He says slowly, trying to force himself to keep eye contact, but it’s hard when he’s talking about his best friend killing himself. “And Ayub said that you run away occasionally, but you always tell someone where you are. The fact no one knew where you were worried me. And your hard-core smoking all week hadn’t left the best impression on me.”

 

Simon nods. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t want to … do that, though,” Simon says, leaving the “Kill myself” implied.

 

“That’s always a plus,” Wilhelm says, and Simon forces a little smile in understanding. “Okay, I’ve said my part, you can say yours.”

 

Simon looks up, alarmed. “What am I meant to say?”

 

Wilhelm shrugs, forcing himself not to look surprised. He did not prepare for this as well as he thought he did. “I’m just trying to clear the air between us before your Mum gets home. What went through your head on Saturday? Or you can start on Tuesday.”

 

Simon itches his nose, staring out his bedroom window at the backyard as he thinks. Wilhelm wants to dive into his brain and figure it out for himself, not entirely trusting Simon to speak his mind, and struggling to keep patient and still after nearly a week of hard-core panicking, thinking of him nonstop. If he can get him rambling he’ll spill everything, and while he seems tired and has fewer walls up at the moment, Wilhelm can still see him thinking hard about what he’s going to say.

 

“On Tuesday,” Simon begins slowly. Wilhelm nods, trying not to look scared about what he’ll say. " I don’t regret hitting you, despite what I said in the bathroom." "I still hate you, I just wanted to get away from Marcus, you can leave my house now." "I hated kissing you, made me sick." “I hit you because I didn’t know how to make you stop. What you said about it being something from my Dad might’ve not been entirely off,” Simon admits hesitantly.

 

“Simon, I - “ Wilhelm goes to apologise. He hates himself for saying that, Simon is nothing like his father.

 

“I know, I know. But you’re wrong, I am like my stupid Father. I mean that seriously. I have his fucking addictions, his short fuse, his craving for arguments,” Simon doesn’t look saddened by this news, just mad. This is understandable, but Wilhelm knows he’ll never understand entirely what it’s like, he can only imagine. “Instead of pulling you away, or using more forceful words to get you to stop, I … I fucking hit you. I knew it would make you stop and my fucking brain just went “Hit him”, so I did. You were threatening me, indirectly, and that’s all I knew how to react. I needed to make a split-second decision.”

 

Simon pauses, giving Wilhelm time to process as well.

 

Wilhelm doesn’t want to admit it, but Simon’s right. He is like his Dad in places. Wilhelm adds a mental note to remind Simon how he is also like his Mum, but most importantly, he’s himself, not his Dad.

 

Everyone has parts of their parents in them, Simon just got some of the hard ones.

 

“I regret hitting you. It’s all I thought about all fucking week. I would think “shit, I need to talk to him,” but then I’d get so anxious that I’d smoke until my brain was fucked and then I couldn’t talk to you - not in that state. I stayed almost every day after school with that exact intent. I came early to try and get you before class, but I’d always talk myself down before I got there. I thought about texting or calling, but for the situation, it just didn’t seem right.”

 

“No,” Wilhelm agrees. At the time he was upset Simon made no contact, but he’s right, a text would’ve still left shit floating in the air between them, a face-to-face conversation is the right move. 

 

“Yeah, so I chickened out. I didn’t see you before or after lunch get any food from the cafe or the dining room - I sat outside looking for you, so I made you the sandwich to try and reach out, to have some … some contact,” Simon itches the back of his neck, not meeting his eye again.

 

Wilhelm swallows the thick guilt. 

 

“But that didn’t work. You got all pissy in food tech and I kind of came to the conclusion you were done, no more second chances, no more friendship, that was it. I’d completely fucked it over and you weren’t going to take my shit anymore. I understood, but gave it one last try, going to your dorm on Friday to study, but you didn’t open up. That’s when I knew you weren’t interested in us anymore. Went home with the intent of getting so drunk, but I ended up just sitting with Sunny in the backyard, hating myself. My Mum told me to take her outside,” Simon tacks on quietly, looking at the little bird.

 

Wilhelm hates himself. This could’ve been solved last week if he had just been in his dorm on Friday afternoon. 

 

“I was trying to avoid you. I was at Felice’s on Friday,” Wilhelm tells him quietly.

 

“Why were you avoiding me?” Simon asks straight up.

 

Wilhelm takes a shaky breath, steeling himself. I have to be honest. “I wanted to hurt you. I meant it in food tech, if I couldn’t hurt you in one blow I was going to chip away until you were bleeding like I was. Metaphorically. I was betrayed and hurt, blinded by anger. I got that from my Mum.”

 

Simon nods in understanding, picking at the covers. “So, that was what you were doing on Saturday? Picking at me to hurt me?”

 

He looks so hurt by it, even if he pretends he’s not. Wilhelm nods. “I’m sorry. I was mad as well, because I - I’d asked Maddi to not sit us together, and she did the opposite.”

 

Simon snorts, shaking his head at the blankets. 

 

Wilhelm thinks back to where Simon’s up to in the story and - oh, the kiss is next. Should they avoid talking about it? He watches Simon petting Sunny gently on the head and knows Simon is thinking about how to talk about it, so he prompts him.

 

“What were you thinking next?” Wilhelm asks hesitantly, heart beginning to pound.

 

Simon takes a deep breath. “Well, my Mum told me to go and apologise to you, so I went to find you. I felt like such shit when I saw you were throwing up. I didn’t believe I would be able to find something after Marcus, genuinely, and the way you kept saying that it was possible made me start to believe. I got so caught up in my feelings of hope to find better love, that I expressed it outwards a bit too much. It was all super emotional, act-in-the-moment kind of thing. I’m sorry it happened. We’re still friends, right?”

 

Simon meets his eye. They lock together, heartbeats slamming in sync. Simon doesn’t look away. He’s lying, Wilhelm realises as they stare at one another in silence. He’s lying, that’s not how he felt, he’s keeping eye contact after all of that. Why is he lying? Did he not feel me kiss him back?

 

What should Wilhelm say? How would he even say no right now without Simon thinking he’s dumping him? If he tries to convey how he really feels, will it be too much for him right now? Maybe it’s best if they just forget about it for now.

 

“Still friends,” Wilhelm nods and forces a smile. He watches Simon force one back.

 

“Good, okay,” Simon lets out a puff of air. “I panicked about it and ran off. I called Marcus to come pick me up and I’ve been hiding out there all week. I was so scared I’d messed up my relationship with you again. I thought “he’s just forgiven me for slapping him, he’s never going to forgive me for kissing him!" I hated myself for losing you after just getting you back. I didn’t want to hear what you thought, so I just hid. I told Marcus what happened and he was so mad, I needed to get drunk to forget that too. I’d get sober, and see all the missed calls and texts from you, or my friends and family, so I’d get drunk again to avoid having to face that. The days dragged by and I knew with each one I’d be in more trouble, people would be more and more angry, so I just stayed away and tried to forget it was even a problem.”

 

Simon sighs, rubbing his face aggressively. Sunny waddles over to Wilhelm, nibbling at his track pants, then leaning on his leg, curling up slightly underneath it and going to sleep. “I woke up a few hours ago choking on my vomit,” Simon blurts and Wilhelm blinks in surprise up at him. He looks mortified. “Marcus came in to find me choking on the floor on my own puke because I’d drunk so much. He slapped me on the back, and I was fine, but he demanded I be gone, that he didn’t want me dying in his flat anymore. I just cried, pleaded, and said I’d do anything, literally anything. He said he didn’t want me to be anywhere near him. I think he called me disgusting, but I can’t really remember. I passed out on the couch with a bottle of beer. I guess he got my phone open because when I woke up you were there,” Simon finishes, biting his lip. “I am disgusting though. I said I’d do anything to stay hidden there and I meant it. That’s so fucking hooker of me, but I was that desperate.”

 

Wilhelm lets them sit in silence for a few seconds in case there’s more to be said. Simon just sighs heavily.

 

That’s a lot to process. 

 

Simon woke up choking on his own vomit earlier. He nearly killed himself by accident from drinking too much and probably smoking, if the smell was anything to go off. That’s why he knew he needed to throw up the second he woke up, he’d drank himself back to sleep.

 

Wilhelm gives a few kudos to Marcus for not being creepy while Simon’s out of it, but retracts half of them because it’s basic human decency and he calls Simon disgusting. He only didn’t want it because Simon wasn’t clean. He only gets points because it’s better than he normally is.

 

“You aren’t disgusting,” Wilhelm starts. He gently moves around Sunny to scooch over to sit next to Simon, who frowns at him with a “you don’t need to lie” expression on his face. Wilhelm puts an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him. “You aren’t disgusting, Simon. You aren’t your Dad either. You do gross things, like chew on my mechanical pencils and eat hot sauce with your pasta, but you are not disgusting. Marcus is disgusting, more than disgusting. You share some things with your Dad, like your temper or proneness for addiction, but you aren’t him.” Simon is quiet. “Why do you still go to see your Dad?” Why not get that out of the way while he’s at it? “Same with dealing, your family has plenty of money.”

 

“My Dad is where I get things for dealing,” Simon says, leaning his head and body weight on Wilhelm’s side, his knees falling onto his thighs, curling up against his side. Wilhelm leans back against the headboard, Simons’ head on his shoulder. “I steal it, sell it, and give him back all the money for the stuff I’ve taken and to buy him food and pay his bills. I know the Hillerska kids will severely overpay, so I charge way more than anything actually is so my Papa can stay in a house. They don't know I'm scamming them because everyone scams them, you can tell a rich kid when you see one, and everyone knows to overcharge them. I buy him proper food, but he never actually wants it. 50% of it goes bad by the next time I shop, but it keeps him alive.”

 

“Why don’t you keep any of it?” Wilhelm asks in disbelief.

 

“Sometimes I keep little bits, just to buy myself some bandages and shit after he, uh, y’know,” Simon snuggles further against Wilhelm and he feels his heart clench. Simon can’t even say it.

 

“When he hurts you?” Wilhelm supplies, watching Sunny trying to climb onto his ankle to be able to reach them.

 

Simon hums, sounding half asleep but still tense against him. “So, you sell his drugs to keep him alive, even though he hits you and caused you and your family such a traumatic childhood?” Wilhelm sums up sadly.

 

“It’s a symbiotic relationship. I keep him under a roof with food, and he gives me the drugs I use to get through the day.”

 

“It’s not good,” Wilhelm tells him softly. “For either of you.”

 

Simon picks up Sunny and places her between his knees and Wilhelm’s legs. She curls up there and sleeps. “I know.” 

 

Wilhelm gives him a squeeze that he hopes conveys “I’m still here for you”

 

“So, next time we have a fallout, can we talk it through? Unless you kill my brother, I can promise I’m not going anywhere,” Wilhelm says with a small smile.

 

Simon nods, and Wilhelm can see him smiling. “Sure, I’ll try.” Simon goes quiet for a few minutes, and Wilhelm thinks he must be falling asleep. Satisfied where they’re at for now - they still need to talk about Marcus - he lets him, but Simon speaks up. “What happens when my Mum gets home?” 

 

“When will she get home?”

 

“She works from lunch till midnight on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays at the hospital, and at the vet from like, 10 till 5 on Tuesday and Thursdays,” Simon explains. “But will she be mad?”

 

Wilhelm thinks, tapping his fingers in a pattern on Simon’s arm absentmindedly with three fingers. “I think she’ll be very happy to see you, might even cry, but you’ll probably be grounded. And you’re reported missing to the police, so cancelling the missing person search might be a bit awkward.”

 

Simon groans and Wilhelm just laughs, trying to not jostle the two of them too much. He feels content with Simon half asleep, leaning on him more and more with every second, a sure, solid weight on his chest. Simon always gets cold and Wilhelm knows he radiates warmth, so he presumes that’s what Simon’s stealing. Same with Sunny.

 

After a while, Simon drifts off to sleep, and Wilhelm reaches over to grab his phone, setting an alarm just before midnight so he can get up, heat up some dinner, and explain to Linda what her son is doing asleep in his bed right now on a random Wednesday night. He also texts her to tell her he’s in her house, so don’t freak out if the lights are on, and then ignores the texts asking how he got in.

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

Wilhelm’s scrolling on his phone around 12:30 in the morning when he hears the garage door opening. It makes him jump more than a little bit after the house is silent for so many hours. He’s already checked Simon seven times since leaving his room a few minutes before midnight, but he’s asleep every time. He moved Sunny back to the bathroom to decrease the risk of her pooping on Simon or being crushed. Not that the boys moving, he’s sleeping on his stomach, on top of the covers, one hand on the pillow the other under his body, dead to the world.

 

Wilhelm stands up to take the bowl of preheated mac and cheese from the microwave and put it on the dining table across from him, before sitting back down.

 

A few minutes later Linda walks into the room, still wearing her scrubs and carrying a nice-looking purse, her hair in a tidy bun. She looks very tired though.

 

“Hey, Linda,” Wilhelm says quietly from the dining table.

 

“Hi, mi amor,” Linda acknowledges, putting her bag on the counter.

 

“I preheated the stuff Felice made yesterday,” Wilhelm tells her, pointing across the table. “For you.”

 

Linda smiles over at him as she takes an empty water bottle from her bag and puts it on the edge of the sink to drip dry.

 

“Thank you, Wilhelm,” she says, coming to sit down. “I don’t mind, I’m just curious, how did you get in?” Linda asks. She doesn’t ask what is he here, or how long he’s been here, or when he’s planning to leave, just “how did you get in?”

 

Wilhelm was hoping she’d eat at least some of her dinner before he distracted her with Simon being asleep upstairs. “So, a few hours ago Marcus called me through Simon’s phone,” Wilhelm explains and Linda instantly stiffens, chewing slower.

 

“Oh? What did he say?” Her voice shakes a little and she puts her fork down.

 

“Simon had been staying with him the whole time, but he wanted me to come and pick him up,” Wilhelm says.

 

Linda is silent, staring at him, eyes wide. Asking a silent question.

 

“He’s asleep in his bed at the moment,” Wilhelm continues slowly, trying to let her process and also keep himself calm because he feels like he’s the parent right now and he hates it. He doesn’t mind doing that with Simon every now and then, they support each other, but having to tell someone's Mother that their runaway son called his friend for help and not his mother isn’t fun.

 

“I won’t lie, he looked pretty rough when I came to pick him up, but he was overall unharmed. I don’t know why Marcus called me and not you, but he just said he didn’t want Simon moping around any longer. I haven’t talked to Simon about Marcus yet, we just talked about us. You can go see him if you want, I mean, he’s your son and it’s your house, so do whatever you want, but, uh, yeah.”

 

Linda is frozen, staring at him in disbelief. He can’t blame her, he felt the same when he discovered Simon’s whereabouts.

 

Then she reaches across the table to take his hands in hers, squeezing them gently. She looks down at the table, blinking. “I…” Then she stands, walking around to hug Wilhelm tightly. She smells like a hospital with the faint undertone of the lavender washing powder both her and Simon’s clothes smell like. She’s warm though, and so unbelievably motherly Wilhelm melts right into her, hugging her back. “I’m so thankful and I’m so sorry, Wilhelm. Thank you so much for looking after Simon, you are the most kind, patient, and understanding person and he cares about you so, so much,” she leans back, cupping his face in her hands delicately to look him in the eye. ”But I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, to look after him. It is my job as his parent to care for him, not yours. I’m glad you did it, endlessly grateful, but I wish that burden wasn’t on your shoulders.”

 

She pauses, sighs, and goes back to her chair, slowly stirring the cooling food. 

 

Wilhelm doesn’t think his Mother has ever said anything close to that to him. Is this what Linda is like all the time? Is this what a normal, non Queen mother is like? Wilhelm hates his life a little bit more.

 

“It’s okay,” He says eventually. Linda looks up. “I don’t enjoy it, but I’d do it happily for him. I’d do it every day if he needed me to. You have to work, and that’s okay. You’re still helping him by working. And sometimes … sometimes there’s things Mum can't be there for.”

 

Linda nods in a sad understanding.

 

“But I know he loves you. I’ve been told by everyone that you’re the most important person to him, his best friend. He didn’t mean to hurt you by running away, he was - “

 

“Protecting himself, yes. He’d do the same as a kid, go and hide in a cupboard or the bushes outside when he was in trouble,” Linda eats some more food.

 

Wilhelm can guess why he felt the need to hide when he gets in trouble, and why that instinct has remained with him. He still sees his Dad and still gets abused, so it’s not something he’s going to drop easily.

 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I’ll let him sleep, let you sleep, and give myself time to think this over. Call off sick from school tomorrow, you two can hang out here, gorge yourself on snacks or go for a swim,” Linda says. “If you’d rather get away and go to school that’s okay too, I’ll get off work and stay here with him. He and I need to have a big chat, but not tonight.”

 

“Or this morning,” Wilhelm smiles weakly, and Linda returns it.

 

She sighs but is smiling. “Yes, or this morning. Thank you again, Wilhelm, for all of this. Genuinely, but you can rest now, go get some sleep and see how you feel in the morning. You’re welcome to sleep in the spare room, or on the couch.”

 

Wilhelm would rather sleep in Simon’s bed, but he agrees on the spare room, or Sara’s room, but he’s not sure if Linda is aware he knows it’s her. She gets him some extra blankets and turns on the heater, thanking him again and again, wishing him good night as she closes the door on the hallway light, the door creaking as it shuts.

 

The bed is cold, the heater tics in the corner, and he can hear the shower downstairs, but the background noise helps him to not think of everything he’s experienced in the past week, and it doesn’t take long for him to pass out.

 

~ Thursday ~

 

He’s woken to a door creaking open, so he blinks his eyes open to squint. He notices that the room is lit by sunlight coming around the curtains and that he’s overheated and thrown the covers off completely.

 

Linda peeks her head in the door. Wilhelm smiles. "Morning," he mumbles.

 

"Good morning, Wilhelm," she says. "Are you going to stay here today, or do you want me to drop you off at school? No pressure, love, I just want to know because if I drop you off we need to leave now-ish so you'll be on time."

 

Wilhelm huffs out a yawn, rubbing his face, and blinking a few times. "If it's alright with you, I'll stay here today."

 

"That's fine, Simon's already up so I had a little word with him," Linda says, looking around the room briefly. "Thank you, again, mi amor. You're a true angel."

 

"Says you," Wilhelm laughs.

 

Linda snorts, shaking her head at him. "I'll see you later. Feel free to eat anything, and borrow some of Simon's clothes. If you want to order food there's money in the top drawer next to the sink. If you guys want to use the pool - which Simon sometimes does when he's hungover - then you need to turn on the heating about half an hour before you get in, so it has time to warm up. I think I have a courier coming today, you shouldn't need to sign anything though, but take it inside if you would, porch pirates are such a problem in this area. Help yourself to anything in the house, this is your home too."

 

Wilhelm tries to suppress a massive grin behind his hand, despite the strange feeling he gets when Linda casually says she knows Simon's hangover routine. "Thanks, Linda. Have a good day at work."

 

"Alright, bye-bye." She shuts the door softly.

 

Wilhelm sighs and rolls back to face the window, grinning into the pillow. Is that what it's like for normal teenagers? He hears kids complaining that their parents never leave them alone but Simon wouldn't mind if his Mum was as caring as Linda. "This is your home too." She's the angel.

 

A few minutes later, Simon's curly head peeks in the door. Wilhelm stretches, giggling at Simon's frizzly hair and narrowed eyes, holding a big mug of what smells like hot chocolate. 

 

“Why are you in here?” Simon asks, voice groggily as he closes the door and steps over to the bed, putting the mug on the table next to the bed and collapsing on it next to Wilhelm. Wilhelm can feel his track pants have gone up his legs in the night and ended up at his knees, so he pries them down with his toes. 

 

“Linda said here or the couch and I wasn’t about to just jump in with you when she’s parenting me into this bed,” Wilhelm replies, rolling over to face Simon, who pulls the covers up to his chin, shivering. 

 

“Morning,” Wilhelm whispers, smiling softly at him.

 

“No,” Simon promptly shuts his eyes. "I'm so tired, but I can't sleep, I'm too fucking sober." It’s far too light to sleep, but Wilhelm copies him anyway, as he’s still really tired as well. It hurts his heart to think that Simon can't sleep sober anymore, it's definitely a problem they're going to need to talk about and sort through.

 

For a few minutes, they just lay in a comfortable silence, gradually waking up as Sunny starts chirping along with the birds outside and the garage door opens downstairs, listening to Simon’s soft puffs of hot chocolate flavoured breath.

 

It’s very peaceful and the bedroom feels less haunted now Simon’s in here with him. He wonders if Simon’s ever done this before when he misses his sister.

 

Simon seems to get quickly bored of lying still, so he sighs more and more dramatically until Wilhelm opens his eyes to acknowledge him.

 

“Morning,” Simon says with a grin, a familiar cheeky light back in his eyes that Wilhelm adores. He wishes he could wake up like this every morning.

 

They get out of bed and Wilhelm goes to get Sunny while Simon gets his phone and slippers from his room, and they meet on the stairs, where Simon announces he’s starving and that they’re going to order food.

 

Wilhelm decides that today can be a chill day, like Linda said, get snacks, watch movies, swim, yoga, whatever. A day for Simon to recharge everything he lost over the time he spent at Marcus's, eat proper food and get some good rest. Yeah, they can talk about serious stuff later.

 

Notes:

Gave some more tragic backstory for Simon, there's more still to come oh boyyy, get this kid therapy.

This chapter was hard to write because they were apart for so much of it and I didn't like writing that. But yay! Reuinion, even if it's a sad one. The next chapter is more serious, dealing with this whole situation and some sadness, ofc. It's a pretty stressful chapter, actually, I just read the written summary I have for it and sheeeeeeeeeesh. Dw I see the light at the end of the tunnel, at least they've got each other again <3

Yes the slow burn doesn't stop there, I'm so sorry ahahaha, Simon's dumb and Wilhelm is a pussy xoxoxo.

Some pretty shitty stuff is going down in my life around my mental health at the moment. I don't plan to stop updating, but I'm missing a bunch of school so I need to do that in my spare time instead of writing and editing, so except slightly slower updates for a bit, please don't ask when am I going to update because I will! Trust me, I just need time <3

Also my monthly reminder I'm not pregnant is about to drop in, surpriseeee. (The only boys I talk to are the ones in my drama class. And I'm a lesbian. Anyway) So I feel a bit like I've been run over by a semi, multiple times, and then forced to take a four hour math exam.

I post updates and shit on my Tumblr
If you have any questions on anything, related to this fic or a different one you can ask them there, if you want <3
Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Chapter 19: The Sun In His Arms

Summary:

We should stick together
You're my best friend I'll love you forever
- You Get Me So High, The Neighbourhood

Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
Planner 5D house Simon's House

Notes:

Fuck y'alls comments made me cry. You are truly the kindest people and I'm so glad none of you were mad. I don't know if you noticed but I normally reply to comments quite fast, but I took a while with these ones because I - for some insane reason - was expecting bad responses, but I'm fucking delusion lmao. You guys also deserve to be so happy so you're lucky this is the chapter I've got in stall for you today. Thank you for all your kindness and patience, it's really appreciated and has given me time to breathe. And sadly catch up on school work.

 

Simon's immune to hangovers bc I say so. You can make your own little depressing head cannons about that if you want. He's immune because he's so used to it, true, but he's sober for the first time in days - that will definitely warrant a wee headache.

Thank you Blakesfish for these digital collages, as you called them, for Wilhelm and Simon. I'm obsessed, I showed my sister and she agreed they're amazing and the detail - amazing, so accurate. I know Wille and Simon would approve. Thank you so much <3

 



 



(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“Are you crying right now?” Simon says, shoving his face in Wilhelm’s with obnoxiously raised eyebrows. Wilhelm pushes him away by the forehead, making him yelp in surprise.

 

“No! Fuck off!” Wilhelm hiccups, hiding his face behind splayed fingers, watching Lilo and Stitch through the gaps between them.

 

Simon laughs, a bowl of popcorn rattling dangerously on his lap. They’re sitting on the floor of the hangout room, sharing one beanbag between them, staring up at the small TV. They lack personal space, there’s no air left between their bodies, but Wilhelm doesn’t mind. It takes a lot of self-control to ignore the persistent ache in his chest to have more, to do more, to kiss him. Especially when Simon looks over at him and his face is so close, Wilhelm can see the details in his eyes. But Simon made it clear it was feelings at the moment kind of thing, not real emotions. Not a real crush. Wilhelm tries to not think about it.

 

Wilhelm lasts about thirty more seconds before turning and hiding his face in Simon’s shoulder, laugh-crying there. Simon giggles, wrapping an arm around him, providing comfort he probably doesn’t even realise he can give Wilhelm so easily. He lets out a shaky breath into his shoulder, relaxing there.

 

“It’s okay, Wille,” Simon giggles. “I can’t believe you’ve never watched this before.”

 

Wilhelm turns to peek at the movie. Lilo is still cradling Stitch in her arms. “That’s so sad, Simon,” he whines, genuine tears on his cheeks. It’s been an emotional week, and this is one of the reasons he’s cried. His best friend went missing, but he’s crying over an old Disney movie. Insanity.

 

Simon strokes his arm and holds him for the rest of the movie, even when things turn around and have a happy ending. Wilhelm doesn’t mind, finding himself very content and comfortable where he is, occasionally eating a bit of popcorn and watching the movie sideways. 

 

They end up playing Minecraft for a few hours after that, building an entire little life. Wilhelm dies several times, but Simon cleverly makes him set his spawn before allowing him to explore, so he respawned next to their beds. Wilhelm’s is blue and Simon’s is purple and they are right next to each other in their Minecraft bedroom. He still whined when he died though.

 

Before breakfast, he’d checked his phone to find Felice demanding updates. He’d told her he’d tell her more at school but asked if she could get him off today and she instantly agreed.

Wilhelm gets bored of Minecraft after dying again, so they get up and stretch. He’d also noticed that Simon was getting more quiet as they played. He was still building in their world like he had been, but talking and laughing less, so Wilhelm called it quits for them because he knew Simon would feel too bad if he told Wilhelm he was done. 

 

“How long till your Mum is home?” Wilhelm asks, picking up the popcorn bowl and their drinks to take downstairs.

 

Simon pulls out his phone as he follows behind Wilhelm. “Like five hours,” he replies quietly, crouching in front of his backpack and rifling through.

 

Wilhelm keeps going, allowing himself some time to think as he goes downstairs to put their dishes in the dishwasher. Why is Simon’s mood dropping? Is he tired again? Wilhelm doesn’t mind if he wants to take a nap. Surely it’s not the fact Wilhelm kept dying and losing all these supplies, if that’s the reason for Simon’s anger Wilhelm is going to have some words to say including “you” “are” and “childish”. He doubts that's the real reason, though.

 

Maybe it's because he’s sober for the first time in a few days. That must feel weird, and bothersome. Irritating. Strange. He might have a hangover from hell, but that wouldn’t be surprising. Wilhelm doesn’t know how to help … Are these withdrawals? The thought of that makes his stomach drop anxiously.

 

Wilhelm rinses their dishes and puts them in the dishwasher, looking thoughtfully out the window as he listens to Simon coming down the stairs slowly. What was he doing in his bag?


His question is answered when Simon walks past him, through the lounge and into the backyard holding a cigarette and a lighter. The cig looks busted, and considering Wilhelm saw nothing of the sort in his bag yesterday it must be an old one from the bottom of his school bag.

 

He tries not to worry too much as Simon lights it up, breathing in the toxins and exhaling them. So it is being sober. He can’t handle it. He’s going through withdrawals and relapsing to his cigs.

 

It makes Wilhelm angry that this is what Simon needs. Is hanging out still not good enough? They’ve been having a good time, Simon doesn’t need this. He’s tempted to go stamp it out, but he knows a little about withdrawals so he knows that won’t go well. He remembers what Felice told him, that Wilhelm thinks it’s easy to get off drugs because that’s not his life, but this is all Simon knows and it’s not easy for him to give it up.

 

He watches from the kitchen as Simon stands there and smokes quietly, the door shut to stop anything getting into the lounge. 

 

His poor body. He’s only 16 but he’s drowning it in alcohol and drugs and so much stress. It isn’t good for him, and doing so much so young makes it even more addictive to a not fully-developed brain.

 

Wilhelm likes Simon the way he is, but if he could change anything about him he’d take away the harmful addiction. He isn’t bothered if Simon gets drunk at parties or at big celebrations - like Felice or Henry do - but using it as a coping mechanism to get through a calm, relaxed day with a friend is not good. He said “I'm so tired, but I can't sleep, I'm too fucking sober” as well, which is a major concern.

 

Wilhelm watches quietly from inside. What does Simon enjoy doing that can exhaust him enough that he’ll be able to sleep sober? Swimming? Bike riding? He skateboards, doesn’t he? Wilhelm has seen it in his room. All of those could be tiring, but is exhaustion a good way to get him to sleep? Surely it’s better than being drunk but sleeping shouldn’t be a mission in the first place.

 

Wilhelm decides to go outside, closing the sliding door behind himself. Simon’s now sitting on the swinging garden bench under the trees, smoking away quietly. He watches Wilhelm as he approaches, tip-toeing through the damp grass in his socks.

 

He scrambles onto the chair next to Simon, pulling his feet off the ground, his socks already soaked. Wilhelm rests his head on his shoulder, feeling every time he inhales the cigarette, and exhales. He smells it in the air as he blows past his face in the calm breeze. It’s a clear day, the sun shining, all the snow melting off everything, but it’s still freezing fucking cold.

 

They sit in silence as Simon smokes. He doesn’t tell Wilhelm to move, or offer it to him, or stop smoking, and Wilhelm doesn’t take it off him, tell him to stop or leave. It’s just quiet. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the smoke, focusing on the laundry detergent smell on his clothes or the warmth of his shoulder.

 

“Do you want to do something?” Wilhelm asks once Simon finishes, putting the burnt-out butt on the chair next to himself. He sits up to look at him and Simon looks back, body more relaxed, eyes blinking slightly slower. Wilhelm tries to not show his discomfort.

 

“Like what?” Simon asks.

 

“I saw you had a skateboard.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Wilhelm ends up biking while Simon skates. Worried someone will recognize him, he puts on some of Simon’s clothes that aren’t his normal style - so, black, as well as sunglasses and a scarf around his face.

 

Simon doesn’t have a helmet for either of them or padding for himself, which makes Wilhelm nervous but Simon assures him it’s fine. 

 

Wilhelm bikes behind him since he can stop faster if he needs to, and since Simon knows the area Wilhelm would hate to lead them into the middle of a bad area. 

 

“How long have you been skating?” Wilhelm asks once they stop at a traffic light, heading towards the little town area for no planned reason.

 

Simon hums as he thinks, holding the end of his board where he stands, looking across the road thoughtfully. “Like, a couple of years. I taught myself at the skate park in a week. It was pretty much know how to skate or get run over, so I had to learn fast,” Simon snorts. Wilhelm shakes his head at him. “Before Rosh and Ayub got their licences it was our only way to get around that was faster than walking. I’d skate, Rosh would bike and Ayub would scooter. They can both skate, but prefer the other things, saying it feels safer. Bullshit, just trust yourself, y’know?”

 

“You have so many random hobbies I would’ve never expected,” Wilhelm tells him as the lights turn red and they cross, Wilhelm biking and Simon skating, the steady rumble of the hard wheels on the asphalt satisfying.

 

Ha , like what?”

 

“Skateboarding, yoga, swimming, piano, Minecraft, singing and cooking. You mentioned liking flowers once,” Wilhelm lists off, looking at one of the window displays they go past. “That’s just off the top of my head.”

 

“I’m not all drinking and drugs,” Simon says, swerving around a rubbish bin smoothly at the last second, crouching and leaning and then standing straight again.

 

“I know that,” Wilhelm scoffs at him. Simon looks over his shoulder with amusement, showing he’s not mad. “I just listed all the random things you do. I don’t think I have any hobbies.”

 

“You do.”

 

“Lies.”

 

“You do!” Simon laughs, turning a sharp corner that Wilhelm nearly misses.

 

Wilhelm recovers from the sharp turn and glares at Simon. He did that on purpose. “Be for real. What?”

 

“Like … studying - “

 

Wilhelm laughs and Simon rolls his eyes, nearly hitting a stop sign on the sidewalk.

 

“You read!”

 

“I read school books.”

 

“Uhhh. You … I dunno babes. You can do lots of cool things though. Like maths, and you used to ride horses, I remember you saying. I can’t ride horses for shit, I once had a horse kick me in the stomach.”

 

“ “You can do lots of cool things, like maths ," Wilhelm mocks, peddling next to Simon. 

 

“Yeah, we need to get you some hobbies,” Simon laughs.

 

“I don’t have time for hobbies,” Wilhelm argues. “I’m too busy studying and doing homework. I’ve got my clubs and councils. I need to sleep at some point.”

 

Simon is quiet for a moment as they skate across a road, travelling past some closely packed cafes. “We’ll find you something, don’t you worry Wille Billy. For now though - Starbucks?”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Biking with one hand is much harder than skateboarding is, and he nearly crashes into Simon, a pole, a trash can, and an elderly couple. Not to mention nearly rolling onto the road while cars are driving by.

 

Simon finds this all very amusing - apart from him nearly going on an active road, he whacked Wilhelm in the back of the head for that - completely unbothered on his board.

 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Simon says as they approach his house again.

 

“Uh oh,” Wilhelm snickers.

 

“Actually die.”

 

Wilhelm blurts out a surprised laugh, seeing Simon grin from it in front of him.

 

“What’ve you been thinking about?”

 

“You can’t possibly be spending all of your time studying, that's just physically impossible. You have to have spare time at some points during your day. You made time to study with me,” Simon yaps as they go down his street towards his house. “What do you like doing?”

 

“I like to sleep.”

 

“You whore. What else?”

 

Wilhelm laughs again and Simon grins once more. Wilhelm likes that reaction. He likes it when Simon smiles, especially when he’s the cause of it. “I like to spend time with you, or Felice.”

 

Simon yawns obnoxiously. “Hanging out with us can’t be your hobby, that’s so depressing, Wille.”

 

Wilhelm huffs out a sigh, stopping peddling to sip his Starbucks. “I like planning my day.”

 

Simon side-eyes him. “What?”

 

“Like, making a schedule. A routine. Lists, I love lists.”

 

Simon thinks this over as he skates up his driveway, jumping off and grabbing his board. Wilhelm carefully bikes around the side of his house after him as he unlocks the back garage door.

 

“You can’t make that a hobby. You need something distractinger. Do you play any instruments?” Simon asks, opening the door with a loud squeak and walking inside.

 

“I can play the piano pretty well. I had to learn when I was a kid, I don't particularly enjoy it though,” Wilhelm says, getting off the bike to go inside after him, struggling slightly to lift it over the lip of the door.

 

“What about learning another instrument?”

 

“I don’t have enough time for that,” Wilhelm grunts, standing the bike up next to a pile of boxes labelled “ Simon’s toys”, “Sara’s toys,” “Legos,” and “Sara & Simon art” in Linda’s handwriting with Sharpie. He pauses to look at it, saddening slightly as he slowly takes off the scarf and glasses.

 

Simon huffs in annoyance from the foyer, already taking his shoes off. “Let me think. Let me cook.” Wilhelm hears him going upstairs to put his board away, so Wilhelm puts his shoes in the foyer and wanders into the lounge, finally able to drink his Starbucks without worrying about running over the elderly.

 

He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do as a hobby. He either doesn’t have access to something or doesn’t have enough time for it. 

 

Simon comes wandering in with his school notepad and a pen Wilhelm wasn’t aware he owned.

 

He sits next to Wilhelm, basically plastering them together without question. Wilhelm doesn’t mind, shifting so his arm is around the back of the couch behind Simon and he’s leaning more against his side. “What about journaling?” Simon questions, looking down at the notebook. Wilhelm stares at his cheeks, they look slightly pinker than normal… But he said - “At the end of each day, you write down how your day went, or something you want to work on for tomorrow, or something that pissed you off?”

 

“Sure, maybe,” Wilhelm shrugs. He feels so much right now, just from Simon’s dedication to get Wilhelm a life. And the fact they might as well be one person with how close they’re sitting. His heart is going to explode any second.

 

Simon hums, writing it down with his messy handwriting, sucking on the straw of his drink with his other hand. “What about drawing?”

 

“Huh?” Wilhelm says, tearing his eyes away from Simon’s lips, cheeks growing hot.

 

“Drawing,” he repeats idly, unaware Wilhelm was staring.

 

“Oh - I can’t draw.”

 

Simon writes down “drawing”. “Dance?”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

Simon writes down “dance”.

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes at him. “I’d rather eat bark than do dance.”

 

“Dance is fun, don’t be a hater. What about cooking?”

 

“Don’t have access to that.”

 

“Hmm, true.”

 

For the next half an hour Simon lists things Wilhelm could do as a hobby. They get steadily more insane - “Start an Onlyfans?” “Simon!” “You’d make so much money off it, though.” “I - I don’t even know what to say.” - but it’s funny, and they end up with a few good ones, never moving from their position together on the couch, sharing warmth and laughter.

 

“So I’m seeing a trend here,” Simon says, his drink abandoned on the coffee table. He taps his pen on the paper like a teacher marking his work. “You seem to not enjoy physical activities and more calming things, like colouring, journaling, photography, crochet and embroidery. Like an old woman. Or an aesthetic college student.”

 

“I’m not sure if that’s offensive or not.”

 

“I don’t know either. Well, these are good ideas!” Simon declares, grinning up at him. “I approve of them. Not something I’d enjoy, I think I’d go fucking insane if I had to sit down and colour in a picture, I’d rather eat the book, but it fits you and your whole vibe. Now you can have lots of hobbies that aren’t going to rot your brain.”

 

“Thank you, Simon,” Wilhelm says, smiling back at him.

 

Simon smiles, nodding. “But of course. Shall we Uber to the mall and buy them?”

 

Wilhelm’s eyes widen and he leans back slightly. “What - right now?” He asks. “We just got back.”

 

“And we’re going out again,” Simon apparently decides for him.

 

“That’s so risky,” Wilhelm says as Simon stands, ripping off the list and putting it in his pocket, then discarding his notepad and pen on the coffee table. How unorganised. It’s very him.

 

“Put on your disguise. It’s a school day, so the only people out are Mum’s and old people. We’ll be fine, and quick,” Simon tells him, standing in front of him. “Please?”

 

Wilhelm squints up at him. Maybe Simon just wants a distraction. To focus on Wilhelm rather than himself. And hey, if he wants to get out of the house with a goal in mind, something that’s motivating him, Wilhelm’s the last person who’s going to discourage that.

 

He sighs as Simon grabs his hands, pulling him up. “Alright.”

 

“Yay! You can book the Uber and pay, but that’s because I made the idea.”

 

“Sure.” He's so pretty.

 

~ ~ ~

 

A few hours later they return to his house, carrying a shopping bag of activities. Wilhelm also ends up paying for his hobbies-to-be, but he was expecting as much, and he doesn’t mind.

 

He brought a journal, an adult colouring book, crochet hook, wool, and normal sewing needles with colourful threads. They didn’t know what to get for photography, but Wilhelm isn’t mad about that, he knows he won’t have a lot of time for this stuff anyway, he’s just humouring Simon because he’s motivated to do something… And he’s feeding off the happiness he gets from Simon doing something for him.

 

They sit on Simon’s bed with a YouTube guide on how to crochet open. Simon mostly just plays with Sunny, snacking on the chips he pulled out of the cupboard and taking bad selfies and 0.5’s of Wilhelm while he learns, following the step-by-step instructions with the intent of making a blue beanie, ignoring Simon’s phone against his forehead. It’s hard to concentrate when Simon is giggling at the photos he’s taken and showing Sunny like she knows what she’s looking at, but he suppresses his smile and tries to ignore him.

 

That’s where Linda finds them when she comes home, blinking in confusion at the sprawl of random entertainment that wasn’t previously in the house lying on Simon’s bed. 

 

She scolds Simon for going out in “your condition”, surely implying his hangover but not specifically mentioning it. Wilhelm ignores them as Simon whines that he’s fine, listening to the relaxing voice of the guide on YouTube and the calming background music.

 

Wilhelm finishes his hat around an hour later. Half an hour ago Simon had lay down with his back to Wilhelm, talking to Sunny quietly, but at some point, he’d gone quiet and Wilhelm hadn’t noticed.

 

He looks over at Simon, his side rising and falling steadily, legs and arms limp. He’s fallen asleep. Wilhelm peers over at his face and sees his eyes closed and mouth slightly open, one hand tucked under his cheek squishing his face, Sunny sleeping against his neck.

 

He feels his heart patter faster in his chest at the sight, his cheeks heating for no real reason other than the cuteness he’s witnessing. He wants to curl around Simon and hold him tight. He looks so peaceful like this, with Sunny asleep right by him, such a contrast to how he shakily held her yesterday, as if afraid he’d hurt her.

 

Wilhelm carefully brushes a curl off Simon’s eye, back onto his head where he’s done a scraggly bun of curly hair. His hair is very soft and Wilhelm finds himself curling the hair delicately, then letting it go.

 

The thought occurs to him that he should probably go back to Hillerska soon and likely face all the questioning from people. The thought of going back makes him anxious and he leans away from Simon, back against the head of the bed, staring at his misshapen hat and the crochet hooks next to it.

 

The sun is beginning to set, casting yellow light onto the foot of the bed and lighting up the quilted blanket Simon keeps there. The room is so quiet, just Simon’s breathing and the whir of a stove downstairs the background noise. It’s so peaceful, he can see how Simon fell asleep. 

 

He should go back.

 

Wilhelm carefully leans over Simon, one arm propping himself up as he extracts Sunny from Simon’s neck, trying to not wake him. His breath puffs against his wrist warmly as he scoops her, holding his breath. Simon stirs when Sunny flutters her wings against his skin as Wilhelm pulls her away and chirps in annoyance.

 

Wilhelm leans back and pets her head gently, annoyed at himself for waking Simon when he looked so peaceful, not to mention pretty. Simon slowly wakes up despite Wilhelm’s best efforts. He’s a very light sleeper, clearly.

 

He rolls over, basically pressed against Wilhelm again. His forehead hits Wilhelm’s hip when he rolls and he mumbles something unintelligible, pushing his forehead into his hip as he stretches, and then rolls back onto his back.

 

“You can go back to sleep, I’m just going to head back to Hillerska now,” Wilhelm tells him quietly, looking down at where he lies, half pressed against Wilhelm, eye lashes fluttering as he tries to wake up. The position doesn’t look comfortable, but he looks content where he is.

 

“Why?” Simon croaks, voice thick with sleep. He sighs, stretching again, nearly hitting Wilhelm in the face.

 

“It’s technically a school day and the last thing we need is my parents finding out I’m missing more and more school,” Wilhelm tells him, resisting the urge to touch his hair again, especially because he looks so soft right now.

 

“Tell her you're sick,” Simon grumbles, blinking his eyes open to look at Wilhelm. His heart skips a beat.

 

“Uh - “ Wilhelm swallows, looking back to Sunny. “Y - yeah, that might work, but I still should be at school.”

 

Simon goes quiet, looking away from Wilhelm. Wilhelm can see him thinking, a dark look slowly overtaking his expression. Wilhelm can see him falling into a dark space. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you out,” he says, sitting up and getting off the bed without looking back at him, putting on his slippers.

 

Wilhelm blinks at his back in confusion. “Are you okay?” Wilhelm asks. Maybe he just doesn’t want me here anymore. He’s had enough. He’s probably annoyed that I woke him up.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine. You’ve done so much for me, I shouldn’t keep you here,” Simon says, turning around to shove everything into the bag they brought it in. “I’ll be at school on Friday, probably. Thanks for picking me up after everything, I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, I hope you don’t get in trouble. You can blame me if you do, I won’t say anything against it, I deserve that after everything you’ve done to save my sorry ass from situations I get myself into - “

 

At this point, Wilhelm puts down Sunny, gets off the bed and is standing in front of Simon, but he keeps on rambling, organizing and shuffling everything around in the bag. 

 

“ - I’m sorry I keep ruining your reputation and get in the way of your studying. You don’t have to do any of the things I suggested, I shouldn’t force you to do something, I’m the last person who should be telling someone how to live their life - “ Wilhelm can’t help it, he needs to show Simon he doesn’t care about everything, that he doesn’t regret it, that he cares. He grabs his face, carefully, so Simon doesn’t freak out and kisses his forehead. His skin is warm and soft and he feels Simon's breath halt at the motion, effectively cutting off his rambling, the bag falling to the ground with a thud.

 

He pulls back quickly, pulling him into a hug so he doesn’t have to see the horror Simon is surely displaying on his face from Wilhelm kissing him. “It’s okay, Simon. I’m happy to help you, always. I’ll find time to do something fun. I like spending time with you, you aren’t forcing me to do anything. You’re fine. We’re fine.”

 

Simon slowly wraps his arms around Wilhelm, then he latches on, squeezing him tight, pressing his face into his shoulder. Wilhelm rubs his back, restraining himself from kissing the side of his head in comfort again. He can’t let kissing become a common thing, it needs to stop. No more. 

 

“Text me if you need anything, anything at all, okay?” Wilhelm says as they pull back. Simon nods, cheeks pink again. Wilhelm feels his heart jump at the sight. What does this mean? “We’ll talk, don’t run off.”

 

Simon nods again, picking up the bag he’d dropped on the floor and offering it to Wilhelm.

 

“I had fun today,” Wilhelm tells him.

 

Simon looks up and meets his eye. “Me too. Thank you, Wille.” 

 

Wilhelm smiles at him and Simon weakly smiles back, eyes slightly glossy. He’s so beautiful. Wilhelm will never understand why Marcus is so horrible to him. Simon is so kind, and gentle. He acts all big and scary because people close to him have hurt him badly, and he isn’t good at letting them go but he can still feel that they’ve hurt him, so he’s scared to let others close. Wilhelm is honoured Simon’s let him in like this. They’ve come so far from when they first met all those months ago, when Simon would only smile if he’d done something cruel and Wilhelm was frowning so much he would get headaches. Now he’s got a crush on that same boy. They’ve kissed, but it meant nothing because Simon feels too big, apparently. The shit they’ve been through … and they’re still going through … No one should have to go through this.

 

He pulls Simon into a hug again, closing his eyes and memorising this moment of them together as Simon holds him tight. Memorising the sun, warm on his back and the sun in his arms. He knows he’d do it all again.

Notes:

I love this chapter agherklfgklejf
Wille called Simon his sun -
I have no idea how skateboarding works. I tried as a kid at my neighbours and crashed into their washing line. I can rollerskate but that doesn't fit Simon's aesthetic. Anyway.

Enjoy the fluff, next chapter is a bit of a filler, y'know, gotta catch up on the other things. These two have been off in their own little world for a bit, time to get a reality check. Uh ohhhhh.

I've started hyperfixating on Webtoons again. I did this years ago reading all of Heartstopper, before the TV show came out the fandom got toxic and I left. If anyone got any queer recs I'm open, because I feel like I've read all the good ones ahhhhh they take so long to update (which is completely fair and makes sense) but it's so worth it.

I post updates and shit on my Tumblr

Chapter 20: Not On My Bingo Card

Summary:

Now we're stressed and depressed
And we're going 'round again
In an emotional blender
Blender, 5SOS
Playlist based on fic https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
TW WITH MAJOR CHAPTER SPOILERS.br />
animal death, crying, mention of starving yourself,

Notes:

I hate this chapter and soon you will too

Just a little note, there's lots of talk of exams and shit in here and I have no idea how the education system works in Sweden, I'm just running off what I heard in the TV show and what's convenient for me to write, AKA, what I've experienced during exams in high school. I'm also currently studying for exams so I apologise for the slow update.

It's been three years since Young Royals came out and no one posted about it. What a cruel world.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Friday ~

 

Felice is actually an angel sent from the Heavens and Wilhelm does not deserve her. She told the Housefather that Wilhelm was really sick from the cold weather, so he's been in his room. Because he's apparently studying for exams he’s also been very stressed, so Felice deemed herself the person who would bring him food to make sure he eats because he's too sick to eat around other people, but also to make sure he’s sleeping. Basically, she tells him she's babysitting him so the Housefather won’t check on him. And it worked.

 

Late on Thursday night Wilhelm returned to his dorm and only saw one person in the corridor, who didn't even question him. In the next morning all he had to do was sniffle a bit and occasionally bust a fake cough to help fuel the lie and they got away with it, for the most part.

 

Henry, Walter, Alex and Joshua all seem suspicious, however. Wilhelm can see why, Simon disappeared and left Wilhelm in a bad mood, and then Wilhelm’s disappeared with alleged sickness out of nowhere, then Wilhelm returned in a good mood, no longer sick, with Simon on the same day. Yes, it is rather suspicious timing, but no one's actually called them out on it yet.

 

“You two fucked, didn’t you?”

 

Wilhelm chokes on his spit, turning around sharply, eyes wide. He spoke too son.

 

"What? ” Wilhelm exclaims, cheeks surely red because they feel like they’re burning up.

 

Henry raises his eyebrows at him, arms crossed across his chest. Miss Myles takes pity on them and lets them do PE in the gym today to prevent her class dying of hypothermia, so the class are all waiting for everyone else to finish changing. The gym is filled with quiet chatter, as it's first period and everyone's still rather tired, staying up late studying and dragging themselves to mock exams. Wilhelm hasn't attended any of his mocks because he knows they'll wait his time to study for the real things. Simon hasn't gone to any mocks and Wilhelm is slightly worried for his grades, but he has faith he'll pull through.

 

Wilhelm and Simon were standing together peacefully, waiting for Felice when Henry appeared from the ground (AKA, he got ejected from the pits of hell) and rather cruedly asked them if they fucked.

 

No! No, no," Wilhelm shakes his head, waving his hands, cheeks burning. "I - I was sick and Simon … “ Wilhelm stumbles, looking over at the curly haired boy, who just looks amused. They didn’t discuss the lies they were going to tell people, they definitely can’t admit that they kissed and Simon ran off to live with his shitty boyfriend for nearly a week.

 

"And Simon?" Henry mocks, grinning maliciously.

 

“Uhh - “

 

“I ran away from home,” Simon shrugs.

 

Wilhelm tries to keep his expression neutral as he casually outs himself.

 

“Damn, for real?” Henry replies, amusement dropping from his face in replacement with fascination, eyes widening comedically.

 

“Mhm," Simon nods, picking at his nails.

 

What? I have so many questions - why? Where did you stay? Why aren’t you grounded into the seventh circle of hell?” Henry asks, leaning towards him, Wilhelm has the urge to shove him out of Simon's personal space. People look over at the spectacle Henry’s causing, Simon looking back at him with an unimpressed expression, arms crossing and eyebrows raised.

 

“Mind your business, Henry,” Wilhelm scowls, stepping next to Simon. “If he wanted the whole school to know he’d tell you, but he doesn’t.”

 

Henry waggles his eyebrows at him. “Whao, okay attack dog.”

 

“I’m not - “

 

“Simon!” Felice shrieks. Wilhelm looks over at her but in split second she’s in front of them, grabbing Simon’s hand and whisking him away to the other side of the gym, leaving Wilhelm, Henry and Walter all standing in the shock of her wake.

 

Simon looks terrified, eyes wide, backing away from her slowly, meanwhile, Felice is looking at him maliciously, like she’s a villain plotting murder, looking as if she's talking a million miles an hour. Betrayal! They've both abaonded Wilhelm to deal with Henry! Where is Walter to restrait him? 

 

“Uhh,” Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair, watching the interaction cautiously. Simon slaps his hands over his face, shaking his head. Felice grabs his shoulder and continues to speak faster than the speed of light.

 

“Go save him, Mr Attack Dog,” Henry teases, nudging Wilhelm towards where Simon and Felice are standing awfully close together across the gym.


Wilhelm shoves him away, rolling his eyes as he turns to face the other way, refusing to acknowledge the jealousy. What is with him today? “I’ll bite you.”


“Ooo, don’t threaten me with a good time.”


“Eh? Save that for Walter.”

~ ~ ~

 

By the end of the school day Wilhelm is still none the wiser on what Felice dragged Simon away to talk about. Neither of them will tell him, no matter how much bribery he offers or how much he begs. Simon almost always turns slightly red and looks away, but Felice just grins and informs him she'll tell him one day when everything goes to plan. What the hell does that even mean?

 

Final period rolls to an end and Wilhelm can tell Simon’s getting tired. They still haven’t had a chance to talk about the consequences Linda dealt out for running away from home and getting totally wasted. Wilhelm’s still awaiting some telling off from his parents for missing so much school. They have tutoring this afternoon and Wilhelm’s torn because he is really behind in school (He's not, he's just not used to being up to date and not ahead. What a loser) and his lessons, so he does genuinely need to study, but he’d much rather spend time with Simo and talk to him about everything.

 

But next week is exam week and then it’s the holiday break. He’ll have to return to the palace for two weeks and he won’t be allowed to see Simon during that time. He'll ask, but he knows his parents will say no.

 

He wants to talk to Simon, but he must study - 

 

Smack. 

 

“Ouch!” Wilhelm rubs the back of his head which Simon just whacked with his sleeve.

 

“Argh, your thinking was giving me a headache,” Simon complains as they walk into the library cafe together. Simon’s got his hood over his head, tucking his hands back into his pockets. He looks so cosy and little, Wilhelm wants to wrap him up in a hug and next let go. It'd be so easy to wind his arms around Simon and hold him against his chest as they wait in line, to lean his head on top of Simon's. The urge aches in his chest. “What’re you thinking ‘bout?” Simon asks.

 

Wilhelm sighs, stopping to stand behind the third-year girl who’s taking a big order from what sounds like the entire population of their school.

 

“I want to talk to you, but we have exams next week, so I’m debating between actually studying or talking about serious stuff,” Wilhelm tells him honestly.

 

Simon shrugs. “I assumed we were going to study.”

 

“But we need to talk. Or, I want to talk,” Wilhelm admits, looking down at Simon, who stares ahead tiredly. 

 

“About what?” He asks.

 

Wilhelm looks around for any listeners. A couple is sitting at a table sharing a scone, the girl ordering and Agnes. Still, he lowers his voice. “About Marcus, mostly, but really everything.”

 

“We can talk about that some other time. Focus on studying for now.”

 

Wilhelm stares at him, smiling slowly. “Wow, I must be hallucinating. I’m the one who doesn’t want to study for once, but you’re telling me to study? The world lost its mind.”

 

Simon rolls his eyes, weakly knocking his foot into Wilhelm’s. He chuckles, wrapping his arm around Simon to side-hug him quickly. “We’ll talk later then.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Later that night after dinner, Wilhelm’s sitting at his desk, studying. Or, trying to. He’s mostly having an internal fight. Neither his Mum, Dad, brother, or any members of his PR team have contacted him about his several unexplained absences. They showed up as justified absences on his report (he checked) but they haven’t been told why they're unjustified. 

 

Should he contact them and try to casually chuck in how ‘sick’ he’s been, or should he take the blessing and run with it and keep quiet? The thing is, it’s too quiet. It’s uncanny and unnerving. Erik hasn’t even sent him any stupid Instagram reels.

 

Wilhelm’s waiting for the blow. Something must happen. They wouldn’t let him get away with a whole term of questionable behaviour and several unexplained absences without at least saying something.

 

Wilhelm taps his pencil on his paper, biting his lip. He needs to focus but can’t, not with this impending sense of doom.

 

He side-eyes his phone where it's sitting quietly on his desk next to him. Perhaps he should enjoy this. Good things can happen to him too, sometimes, not everything has to lead to doom and gloom, maybe he has just gotten lucky for once and his parents haven’t noticed.

 

That thought helps him relax and get his mind back on track for his exams. He chucks his phone on his bed to get it away from him and it lands on the plastic bag full of hobbies. He’s yet to start anything since getting back last night. The bags have been moving between his desk chair and his bed, depending on what furniture he’s using. Once exams are over for this term he’ll have all holidays to study and find a hobby.

 

~ Sunday ~

 

“Oh, idea! What if I power-chuck on Mrs Ramirez, do you still think she’d make us do the presentation?”

 

Wilhelm looks over his shoulder at Henry with a frown. “ What?

 

“Oh, you heard that?” He asks.

 

“Everyone within a one-mile radius heard that,” Felice snickers.

 

Wilhelm came to the library to do their normal Saturday Krisis session, which at this point is making the presentation they have to present on Wednesday next week. He found most of their English class there all chugging energy drinks, crying and desperately reading the books they were supposed to have finished days earlier.

 

It’s times like these when Wilhelm is relieved that he prioritised studying over his social life at the beginning of the term.

 

“Where is your husband?” Felice asks a few minutes later, nails tapping as she furiously plays Tetrys on her MacBook.

 

“Hmm? What? I dunno,” Wilhelm hums, scrolling through SlidesToGo to find a good presentation style to download and use. “Wait - husband?” Wilhelm looks over at her and she’s smirking.

 

“Text him, he’s late.”

 

Wilhelm sighs. He gives up with her, she already thinks they're married and they've only kissed once and agreed that they mutually have no feelings. "He’s always late.”

 

“Not since y’all became all friendly,” Felice reminds him teasingly.

 

“You’re actually the worst,” Wilhelm grumbles, but opens his conversation with Simon anyway.

 

Wille
Hi, Simon. How close to school are you? Felice is getting twitchy.
11:32 am

 

He puts his phone down and forgets he texted Simon until a few minutes later, when his phone buzzes again.

 

Linda
Hey, Wilhelm. I’m sorry to do this to you again. Something has happened. I think you should come over so we can tell you. I can pick you up if you like.
11:38 am

 

He freezes, reading the message a few times to make sure he's getting this right. He rubs his face, fear boiling up inside of him. “Uh, Felice.”

 

He hands her his phone when she closes her Tetrys with a defeated sigh that cuts off as she reads. “Oh, shit. Let’s go.”

 

Wilhelm takes back his phone and replies.

 

Wille
I’ll be right there. Can Felice come as well? We’ll Uber.
11:39 am

 

Linda
Felice is welcome. See you soon.
11:39 am

 

They pack up their things and fly out of the library, ignoring all the suspicious looks from their friends and fellow students. Wilhelm’s heart is pounding in his chest, faster and faster.

 

Felice says something but it’s lost in the whirlwind of Wilhelm’s spiraling mind. Linda said “so we can tell you”, implying her and someone else. Who's the someone else? Simon? Sara? The police? Is Simon dead? When he left last night after they finished studying he'd seemed fine, quiet, tired, but he hugged Wilhelm goodbye and wandered off as his normal self. They actually did some good studying for about half an hour until Simon crawled onto Wilhelm's bed and passed out until Wilhelm woke him to go home.

 

“Sorry?” Wilhelm says, looking over to Felice in the back of the Uber. She'd spoken again but he hadn't heard.

 

“I said you just can’t catch a break,” Felice reiterates. 

 

Wilhelm sighs and nods, resting his head on the cool window. It’s snowing today so traffic is heavier than normal, giving Wilhelm more time to talk himself into a twitchy, frightened mindset. The driver is quiet, but he keeps side eyeing Wilhelm through the rear vision mirror, eyes wide. Wilhelm assumes he’s been recognized but he doesn’t bother to make conversation. He's becoming such a trashy Prince. Next term can be his recovery term, he'll be a good Prince, go to appearances, listen to his parent's wishes, study hard and smile at Uber driver. One more week. One more week and things are still going wrong.

 

He still has his laptop with him but he put it in Felice’s tote bag that she brought with her. His phone sits on his lap, and he anxiously waits for any texts.

 

After a abnormally long drive, they arrive at Simon’s house. Wilhelm pays the driver and gets out of the car. The house looks normal, maybe slightly quieter, but that could be Wilhelm’s anxiety. It probably is. It's probably not a big deal, maybe Simon's just having a rough day and Linda has to go out but doesn't want him to be home alone. Wilhelm would happily sit next to him if that's the case.

 

They hike up the driveway and Wilhelm knocks on the front door, his hands shaking, heart beating faster with every second. He wipes his hands on his pants.

 

There are quiet voices and then the door unlocks. Linda stands there looking diseviled, her hair in a messy braid over her shoulder, wearing a dressing gown and slippers. She seems shaken but still manages a weak smile, hugging them both tight. Wilhelm can feel her hands shaking.

 

“Hello, darlings. Sorry to drag you away, I know today is your English study day but this felt too serious,” Linda says, brushing hair behind her ear.

 

Wilhelm keenly listens for movement sounds, trying to subtly look around the foyer for signs of Simon. He’s okay, right?

 

“What happened?” Felice asks as they take off their shoes and coats.

 

Linda quietly leads them into the lounge, where they find Simon, sitting on the couch with an old shoe box next to him, closed and omonious. 

 

Wilhelm feels his heart jump. Simon’s eyes are red from crying, his legs folded underneath himself with his arms crossed firmly, shaking.

 

Wilhelm instantly walks over and sits down, pulling him into a hug. Simon collapses against him, crying into his shoulder and whispering some broken words that Wilhelm can’t make out through his sobbing. He has his arms around his shoulder, cocooning him in, unembarrassed in front of Linda and Felice. He holds on as Simon shakes and wishes their friendship was built less around comforting each other when they cry – which seems to be frequently.

 

He stares at the box, his heart beating faster and faster as he holds Simon tighter. 

 

He looks to Felice and finds Linda with a hand on her shoulder, Felice’s hand over her mouth. Linda has told her what happened. Wilhelm’s the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on. He refuses to believe what’s happened, resting his cheek against Simon's head and closing his eyes, feeling his shaky inhales, trying to calm himself down.

 

Felice takes a hesitant step, and then another, taking a seat on Wilhelm’s other side, patting Simon’s shoulder and then waiting until Simon sits up to take Wilhelm’s hand. “Wille,” she starts, voice shaking.

 

Simon sniffs, wiping his eyes and nose from next to him, waiting.

 

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. He can hear the blood rushing through his ears.

 

“Wille,” Felice says again, taking a deep breath. “Sunny managed to get to the open window this morning. I’m so sorry, she’s died.”

 

His heart stops, his brain goes deathly silent, his hands losing their feeling, numb in Felice’s gentle grip. “Huh?” His voice echoes like he’s underwater. He can feel the weight of Simon and Felice next to him but it’s not real. How? “What?”

 

Felice looks to Linda desperately, lost on how to help.

 

Linda comes over and kneels before him. “The window we leave open a crack to get fresh air, she flew up to it and managed to fall out. I found her outside this morning, but she had passed when I found her. The wind must’ve been too rough for her to fly, and the ground she landed on had not yet been snowed on. I think she heard the bird call this morning and tried to find them… But the fall was too big and she’s too little. She’s in that box. She physically looks fine, she looks like she's sleeping, but she’s gone. I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh,” Wilhelm says, blinking. “I … I’ve never lost a pet, or anything like that before.” Only Felix. His eyes burn and tears well and he’s strangely hurt by this. She’s just a bird; she doesn’t even know how to fly, she’s like a month old. Ultimately, Wilhelm only prolonged the time until she died. “I don’t know how to react.”

 

“That’s okay. There’s no right or wrong way to react to this news; whatever you feel is the right thing. Attachment to animals can be as intense as attachment to humans. Everything you feel is valid,” Linda tells him softly. Wilhelm remembers that she’s a vet and she’s probably had to put animals down before, so delivering this news isn’t foreign to her.

 

He sniffles, looking away from her to the box. “Oh,” he says again, wiping his eyes as tears bubble up. “I guess.”

 

Simon leans his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wille.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Wilhelm tells him instantly, putting an arm back around him to hold him closer. He thinks they both need this comfort and reassurance. Wilhelm doesn’t blame Simon, he didn’t throw Sunny out the window, he was trying to help by leaving the window open enough to get her the fresh air she’d have if she lived in a tree. But he knows Simon will blame himself, so he needs Simon to know right now that he doesn’t blame him. Whether he can get that message across through physical contact or by telling him, he doesn’t want him to hate himself. 

 

And Wilhelm needs some support right now as well. Sunny might’ve been a bird but … He kind of hates himself for getting attached.

 

The immediate grief after hearing someone has died is a horrible feeling. That shock leads to feeling nothing and simutainously drowning in the most debilitating sense of sadness which leads to the sobbing you only see in movies, falling to the ground, unable to stop the tears. Why can’t he have nice things? Why must everything he touches end up hurting or dead?

 

He squeezes Simon, wishing Simon wouldn’t cry. It hurts him even more that this has upset Simon. He really doesn’t deserve to cry anymore. Wilhelm only wants him to be happy, yet, he keeps hurting him and selfishly he can’t bring himself to push him away. 

 

“Do you want to bury her?”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“I have to say, burying a bird was not on my bingo card for this year,” Simon sighs across from Wilhelm as they flick dirt over the shoe box, tears drying cold on their cheeks from the weather.

 

Wilhelm pauses and looks up at him. “Simon, that’s such an inappropriate thing to say right now. I’m not in the mood for jokes. At all.”

 

“Alright, sorry, sorry, I won’t make any more jokes. It’s just how I cope with these kinds of situations.”

 

“You don’t need to try and hide your sadness under jokes – you’re allowed to be sad sometimes. I’m not going to judge you,” Wilhelm tells him gently as he scoops up more dirt, the black shoe box disappearing under the Earth. Not after everything we’ve been through.

 

They’re quiet for the next five minutes, slowly putting dirt over Sunny until there’s a small mound and no more dirt to add. Wilhelm pats it down softly until it’s all smooth while Simon kneels across from him, fiddling with his little spade in silence. 

 

Linda and Felice went inside once they started shovelling dirt back onto the box, leaving Simon and Wilhelm alone outside, in the cold.

 

Wilhelm's only ever been to one other funeral, his best friend Felix's. The difference between these two funerals is significant. His family won't even know about this, her life was short and only affected a few people but Wilhelm misses her. She brought Simon and Wilhelm closer, made them laugh and has made them cry. She might not have been able to really care about them but she sat through one of the toughest conversations they've ever had to have and made it just that little bit easier by being there.

 

But he still feels horrible and sad. He tells himself it’s fine that he’s mourning a bird this hard, but there’s still something embarrassing about it to him. How and when did he get so attached to Sunny to the point her death makes him cry? He found Sunny at the end of September and it’s now mid-October, but it feels like so much longer. So much has happened in that time. He just wants a week of peace for once, is that too much to ask?

 

Wilhelm hangs his head and closes his eyes. I’m so sorry, Sunny. Whether you died from the fall or the cold I’m sorry you had to go that way. Ha, kind of ironic, when I found you you’d fallen from a tree and it was cold. You survived the fall last time, maybe it got you this time. I hope you’re happier now, wherever you are, up in birdy Heaven with endless amounts of worms and food that’s generally yummier and more nutritious than soggy bread and muesli bars. I hope you enjoyed the small life you had, I tried my best but this is probably for the best, I couldn’t keep you inside forever and by the time you’d be flying, it’d be mid-winter and you couldn’t survive in that weather anyway. 

 

He sniffs, wiping his nose, listening to the cold wind howling past his ears, blowing his hair everywhere. His nose is stinging from the cold. The dirt is soaking through his jeans. His heart is slamming against his ribs.

 

Wilhelm hears movement and then Simon’s crouching next to him, pulling him into a hug. Wilhelm takes a shaky breath, breathing in the smell of oranges and lavender, pressing his face against his shoulder and holding him tight around the waist.

 

I’m sorry you had to die like this, I’m going to miss you but I know you’re definitely in a better place now. He feels Simon kiss the top of his head softly. Goodbye, Sunny, thank you for bringing me closer to Simon and making us laugh so many times. I'll never forget you. 

 

~ Sunday ~

 

Wilhelm finds it hard to sleep that night, so when he’s woken up on Sunday morning to someone knocking on his dorm door he’s less than pleased. 

 

He rolls around, trying to wake himself up and find a fuck to give as well as where his sheets end. It’s still the weekend, why’s he being woken up? Oh, he’s probably missed breakfast again and the Housefather thinks he’s starving himself.

 

Wilhelm groans in annoyance, not bothering to tidy himself up as he drags himself from his bed and to the door. There's gunk in his eyes and his hair feels like it's sticking straight up, shivering in only his boxers. He vaguely registers that the sky isn’t super bright, so breakfast has likely just started. Maybe Felice wants to go out for breakfast because she knows he’s sad about Sunny. He doesn't want to go out.

 

With a hefty sigh, he unlocks his door, pulls it open and chokes on his spit, eyes going wide and heart skipping a beat. His fist clenches around the doorhandle and panic sezies his insides.

 

Mama?

Notes:

Sooooooo I think this chapters kinda shit so I'm going to spend longer on the next one, it's different emotions and I'm over writing this chapter so moving on quickly

Y'all can find my body dead in a ditch after you get to me for this, well deserved. I've had this planned for so long, literally before Sunny was even introduced. My sister was horrified when I told her my plan and she'd ask every time I mentioned new comments or an update if I'd killed the bird yet. I texted her when I wrote the scene and she did not approve. Then she asked to know more secrets to hold above you guys lmaooo - ahem, anyway. She knows what happens next chapter.

Uhhhh. I don't know what to say. Whoopsie daisies, cue this is what the drugs are for

My condolences go out to anyone who's lost a pet. I lost my cat when I was younger to a car but I was too young to really remember much of it, apart from touching her paw. Lowkey traumatic though. I now have two more cats and I dread the day they die. I know that some people can be closer to their pets than their families and losing them is extremely hard, e.g, my best friend, who lost her cat the other week. Very heartbreaking. If this has happened to you and you want to talk about it you can message me on Tumblr
if you need.

Hey, at least Wilhelm isn't doing the whole pushing someone away because you love them trope. I'm slow burning this enough that we don't need that too.

I checked the stats for this fic and whaatttt, when did it get this big? I love you all so much I can't believe how many of you follow my silly little story. Crazy.

Uh, I know it's been crazy, but shits actually about to get insane as the holidays hits. Brace for impact. And fluff. And anger. But fluff. Guys I want to tell you what the fluff is so bad, maybe I shall on my Tumblr at some point ;)
Playlist based on fic https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
As always, undaptes and shit on my Tumblr

Chapter 21: Pinkie Promise

Summary:

Common people, not who you know
Just how far you're willing to go
- Common People, Louis Tomlinson

Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d

Notes:

Sorry about that cliff hanger, got to keep you on your toes. No cliff hanger this time.

Thank you Blakesfish for these two amazing pieces of work, you're amazing, you're literally feeding us with all of the art that you make tysm <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Mama?

 

Kristina looks back at him with a cold, unimpressed gaze. Her nose is upturned, eyes narrowed as if he's a misbehaved delinquent she'd yell "off with your head" too. She’s wearing a tidy black shirt with a white blouse and a big white coat, her hair perfectly styled and unphased by the wind, pink lips pressed together. Down the corridor stands Malin and Lucas, looking away respectfully.

 

“Hello, Wilhelm... Did I wake you? It’s eight thirty A.M, I thought you’d be up by now,” she says calmly, hands clasped in front of her.

 

Wilhelm blinks a few times, mouth opening and closing. “Uh - Yes, you did wake me - What - Why are you here?” Wilhelm asks, half his brain still asleep and the other half falling into panic at the sight of his Mother.

 

Kristina pauses, looking to the side down the hallway. Wilhelm peeks out and sees Henry standing there, clearly also just woken up, staring with wide eyes at the Queen, just standing in the corridor.

 

“Come inside,” Wilhelm opens the door and steps aside, allowing her to enter his room. It’s a mess in here; his bed unmade and messy because he was just in it, his desk covered in notes, pencils and books for studying, the bag of hobbies sitting on the desk chair.

 

He grabs a jumper and pulls it on self consciouslly as Kristina stands in the corner, surveying the space.

 

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess, with exams coming up I haven’t had time to clean since I’ve been so busy studying,” Wilhelm lies, pulling on a pair of track pants and then flicking out his bed sheets, tidying it up slightly. “If I’d known you were coming I would’ve been up and cleaned my room. H - How are you, Mother?” Wilhelm asks, trying to appear calm and not at all like he’s pooping himself. Why on Earth is she here right now?

 

Kristina examines him with her critical, calculating gaze. He squirms under the inspection. “How am I?” She pretends to consider. “I don’t even know how I can express to you how I feel at the moment, Wilhelm. I’ve told you how I feel about you this term several times, but you are not getting my message. Darling, I’m beyond disappointed. You have failed me in every way you could.”

 

“What?” Wilhelm breathes, his world crumbling around him. He should’ve known he wouldn’t get away with it, oh he’s so screwed. “Mama, life has been so crazy - “

 

“You’ve snuck around behind my back, ignored direct orders, skipped entire days of school, got detention, ruined your image and therefore damaged the image of the whole monarchy and Hillerska. The only reason your life has been so, quote unquote, crazy, is because you aren’t listening,” Kristina smooths out her already perfect skirt and Wilhelm tries not to scream in her face, clenching his fists and biting his cheek until the skin splits. “It is very clear to me that this school is not the one for you. It has brought out horrific, ugly sides of you that are not acceptable or tolerated, and for that reason, you’ll be immediately transferring to a boarding school in Switzerland. We see no point in you finishing your exams here, so you will start afresh at that school next term. This way all distractions will be removed, like that bird you were reported to have, Felice won't have to lie for you, Simon can no longer ruin your image - “

 

“You can’t do this,” Wilhelm interrupts. His Mother’s eyes turn evil, narrowing on him like the barrel of a loaded gun pointed straight at his head. 

 

“I was talking, do not interrupt me. I don’t know what’s happened at this school to make you so informal and rude - “

 

“Are you trying to make me hate you?” Wilhelm cries desperately. “I love it here, Mama! These are the best friends I have had in my entire life! I - I know I’ve been going behind your back but I can explain all of it, you know I wouldn’t do it if there wasn’t a good reason. I care about mine and the monarchy’s image. I’ve been keeping mine perfect for years, so you must know there is a very good reason for me to be struggling with it right now.”

 

Simon is the reason. He’s a bad influence.”

 

“No, he’s not! He makes me so happy, Mama. He makes me laugh, he gets me to do things that aren’t studying, things that make me happy and feel like a normal teenager. He doesn’t treat me like I’m royalty, but like I’m his friend. I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m around him, more free. We started badly, I see that, I remember, but we’re okay now. We’re friends and he hasn’t done anything " bad" in ages. I - I think showing that we’re friends now might even help my image, to show that we’re able to get past our differences and arguments to be friendly.”

 

“Wilhelm, there is no use in trying to convince me otherwise. You’ve had your chances, I’ve told you countless times what would happen if you didn’t listen to me and you haven’t listened. It would be useful for you to learn to deal with the repercussions of your foolish actions,” Kristina states coldly, glancing briefly at the bag on his desk chair, before looking back to him with her unsettlingly dead gaze. She's put up walls to prevent his pleading from getting to her, she's gone full Queen mode on him. “My mind is made up, once you get home you can fill out the signup requirements for the new school about your interests. I’ve generously decided to let you have a bit more freedom there and you can choose two of your own subjects because they have a wider range of options.”

 

Kristina continues to talk about the new school, how Minou’s sister sends her youngest son there and he loves it, how it’s bigger than Hillerska, how there are more subject options, how it could be good to get away from Sweden for once in his life, how he’ll love it there.

 

Wilhelm’s going to cry. She’s already planning what house he’ll be in and he can’t even accept she’s taking him out of Hillerska. She can’t. She won’t. He won’t let her keep dictating his life like this.

 

“No, Mama,” Wilhelm interrupts her again, heart beating fast, blood rushing through his ears.

 

She sighs, merely irritated by his interruption. “We can talk more about it later. For now, pack your bags up. I can help you pack, darling. Where do you keep your suitcases?” She turns to look around his room. He doesn't want her in his space.

 

“You aren’t listening to me, Mama. I’m not leaving. I’m not,” Wilhelm sits himself on his bed, shaking with fear. He's never stuck up to his Mum like this before, he thought it'd be more exhilerating and less terrifying. But he must stay.

 

“And you aren’t listening to me, Wilhelm; that is not your decision to make. I am your Mother and the Queen, it’s hard to balance that but I’m risking the image of the Crown by putting you and your education first. Why do you not understand that?”

 

He wants to yell and simultaneously he feels like he’s going to cry. This conversation is like trying to hold smoke in his hands, everything keeps disappearing right before him. She's going to take away literally everything he cares about. He'll lose Simon, Felice and all his friends here, he'll be further from Erik and any memories of Felix. She'll throw him in the deep end at a new school, mid-year, in a different country.

 

"Mama, please listen to me, for once,” Wilhelm begs, voice quivering.

 

She turns her nose up at him, refusing to give in. “Do not cry, Wilhelm, that is not very manly of you. This does not need to be such a big deal. Let’s not make a scene now, pack your bags, we’re leaving.”

 

Wilhelm closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. He can feel himself beginning to freak out, a panic attack creeping closer with every second. His hands shake so he clenches them into fists, focusing on his breathing. I need to be convincing. I can’t cry. Keep it together. Stay calm and have good reasons. What’s gone right this term?

 

“Wilhelm, stop being so dramatic. Hurry up, I’ve got things to do today.”

 

“Mama, can you at least listen to my reasons, please?” Wilhelm asks, forcing himself to remain calm and sound convincing.

 

She sighs again, narrowing her eyes on him as she folds her arms. “If you must, but it won’t change my mind.”

 

“Okay, thank you,” Wilhelm says. Okay, alright, this is his chance, he needs to convince her to let him stay. He’s going to have to make some sacrifices because she’s right, she’s given him the benefit of the doubt but he didn’t listen, he should’ve, but he didn’t, so he needs to make it right. “First and most importantly, I like it here. I work better when I’m at a school and in a space where I’m comfortable and happy, that way nothing will distract me or bother me. This school is a safe place for me. I enjoy studying in the library, my room, or the common room with my friends. Studying with them builds a bond, which is important going through high school, especially because we’re all away from our families, so we need some kind of support system. We’re teenagers, we’re going through a lot, relationships, family problems, tough school situations, friend fallouts, so the friendships we build are strong and I cherish them a lot.” He’s lying again, he’s never studied in the common room and he hates studying with anyone who isn’t Simon or Felice. The only bond he really has is with those two people, but he doesn’t care he’s lying, he’s not leaving this school. He'll play dirty to win.

 

“Changing schools for the second term would not benefit me or my education, it would worsen it. I’d have to remake friends - and it’s harder to make friends when the school year has already started because everyone already has groups. It’ll be too late to join clubs or councils, and I’ll have missed an entire term of learning and exams. I’m ready to take exams this week, I feel prepared and confident, and I know I’m going to pass all of them, but if you transfer me I’m going to lose all of that. Not just the exams, but the friends, the councils, the progress I’ve made. 

 

“You went to this school, you’re telling me you didn’t get into a bit of trouble trying to settle into this new place in your first term? We’re different, so you probably didn’t make the same mistakes as me, but we are both human, so you must’ve made some. You forget, Mama, I’m 16. My brain isn’t fully developed and I haven’t been on this Earth for even half the time you have, I’m still learning how to live. I’m trying to make everyone happy and this term, you, the country, my friends. Simon needed some extra help to make him happier. I don’t regret doing that because I know I’ve made him like this school more, I also know, for a fact, that I’ve helped his grades by helping him study. I help him study and he helps me unwind so I don’t get overwhelmed and burnt out. 

 

“I’ve never been friends with anyone like him before,” Wilhelm pauses, releasing a shaky breath. Should he tell her how he actually feels about him? He looks up at his Mum and finds her with a tight expression, clearly trying to stay quiet. He barrels on before she can say anything. “I know you have your views on him, but I know the real him. We started out on the wrong foot and that was totally my fault. What happened on the first day was I avoided looking at the people in the class because I knew they'd be staring. I was walking with my head down and I tripped, fell on him, and covered him in my coffee. I embarrassed him and people were mean about it. He was defensive because he thought I did it on purpose, but we got over that and I - I really enjoy hanging out with him, Mama. More than anyone. I think we really help each other. He’s opened up to me so much and he’s nothing like I thought. He’s funny and super caring. I know you think he’s nothing more than a kid with a drug-addicted father, but he’s nothing like him, not even close. I’ve not met his Dad but I know he wouldn’t be half the guy Simon is. The bird you mentioned me having, Simon agreed to look after her when I had to get rid of her because she wasn't a school-accepted pet. He looked after this bird I found because he knew she meant a lot to me. I … “ He realises he’s rambling on about Simon and looks up at his Mum again. She’s staring at her feet, lips pursed. 

 

Has he said too much? He watches her expression, clearly torn. He opens his mouth to continue - 

 

“I fell in love during high school,” she says and Wilhelm’s eyes widen. “A boy in his third year while I was in my first. I was completely head over heels for him from day one. I wouldn’t listen to anyone when they warned me he was bad news, or when they told me that I’d get hurt, or that I shouldn’t date him. I told my Mother it was love and I was going to marry him one day. The day after I told her that, he overdosed at a brothel. I found out from his friend nearly a month later because none of his family knew about me, so they didn’t get in contact when he died.  He never told them about me, I was just ... a side piece, I suppose. The only closure I got was going to his grave and putting down flowers, but I was forever changed after that experience. The only other person I dated after that was the man I married.”

 

Wilhelm tries not to gap at her but it’s hard when his Mum lore drops like that so suddenly. What? That is all he can think.

 

She heaves a sigh, looking up at him with aged, haunted eyes. “When I heard of Simon and the drama he’d caused, all I could think of was that man I loved when I was your age, and how hurt that got me. I was lucky because in my time we had no phones to take photos, so it was only rumoured that we were seeing each other, but you’ve had it harder. By telling you to stay away from him I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was trying to save you and your image, I didn’t care if it hurt you because I knew I had to do the right thing. You weren’t going to listen, I knew it because that’s what I was like at your age. I was right and everyone else was wrong. I had to use force, but,” she pauses, shaking her head at him sadly. “You shouldn’t be forced.

 

“I don’t know how to handle you being queer and I definitely don’t want people thinking you're dating a boy with a bad reputation and a drug-addicted father, that won’t reflect well on us. I didn’t want people to judge you for that as they did with me, and I didn’t want the drugs to hurt you,” Kristina heaves another sigh, rubbing her hands together and smoothing out her skirt again, gazing out the window at the landscape.

 

Wilhelm watches her, trying to absorb all of that. His Mother dated a kid two, possibly three years older than her in high school, who did drugs and overdosed at a brothel of all places. “Mama, I’m not doing anything nearly that..." insane. "Extreme. We aren’t even dating, I’m just asking to stay at the school as my harmless best friend Simon. I can handle the rumours if I get to stay here. Next term I’ll be different, I won’t go behind your back, I’ll be more honest, I promise. Just, let me stay.”

 

Kristina looks away from him again, her expression torn and thoughtful. Wilhelm watches her closely as she thinks, trying to not let himself panic, a million thoughts flying through his head. If she says no he’s going to keep trying to convince her. He pulled up his grades despite the rough start, he’s actually doing fine academically and that’s really all that matters.

Kristina puts a hand over her mouth, thinking hard. Minutes pass. Wilhelm wishes he knew what she was thinking, the suspense of not knowing is killing him slowly. She better say yes. She must let him stay.

 

“Wilhelm, my dear, I can see where this is going with Simon and I can’t predict what kind of man he’s going to grow into, and I’m not sure if it’s one I’m comfortable with you being with. Upon letting you come out we had strict agreements - “

 

“I’m not asking to date him, Mama, I just want to stay at Hillerska,” Wilhelm says, palms sweating, bottom lip shaking. He bites his lip and presses his palms into his thighs.

 

She looks at him, her expression hard. “And how do I know you aren’t going to go behind my back and date him?” 

 

“He doesn’t like me,” Wilhelm admits with genuine sadness. “He has a boyfriend, Marcus, I’ve met him. He sucks, but Simon’s loyal to him.”

 

“Ah,” Kristina nods. “Okay, that makes me feel slightly better.” Good for her, Wilhelm feels physically ill. She sighs again, clapping her hands together and making him jump. "Fine. You may stay till the end of the term. We are going to have a long, honest conversation with your Father about next term once you come home for holiday break.”

 

Wilhelm feels slightly relieved, but also disappointed. “Mama, I am being honest. I’ve been so honest with you - Simon and I are all good, what was the last thing he did that made me look bad?”

 

“Where were you last week, Wilhelm? Why did you have so many unjustified absences?”

 

His stomach drops. “I was sick.”

 

“You are not being honest. This isn’t helping your cause.”

 

“He needed me, Mama! I will always put Simon above my stupid education, his life and his happiness are worth more than my grades! And then the bird died, so school’s been tough,” Wilhelm snaps. Sunny died yesterday so she hasn’t really affected his school, but whatever helps him win this argument.

 

“You should never put a boy above your education. You can have it this week and then we’ll talk about it in the holidays. If you keep up this attitude you can kiss this school and Simon goodbye forever.”

 

He glares at her, opening his mouth - 

 

Careful what you say, darling.”

 

He hesitates, before he snaps his mouth shut, looking away from her. “Thank you, Mama,” he forces out. 

 

She moves from his wall. “You are welcome, Wilhelm. I’ll see you in the holidays, good luck with your exams. If you fail them, you’re done with this school.”

 

Wilhelm grinds his teeth together, not looking at her as she moves to the door. “I’ll pass them, Mama.”

 

“Yes, well, we'll see.” She opens the door and steps out, closing it behind him with a bang.

 

Wilhelm counts a whole thirty seconds before he lets his anger out, standing up furiously and kicking his shoulder bag so hard it flies and hits the door, hurling his pillow blindly across the room and slamming both fists into his mattress furiously, screaming into the sheets to muffle the sound.

 

Fuck. He's got one week, what happens if he can’t convince her? He doesn’t know if this is going to be his last week at Hillerksa or if he’ll be fine. What if she lies and signs him up for boarding school in fucking Switzerland and sends him there next term without a fuck given about everything he just said? Does she not care how happy Simon makes him? He would throw away his entire life for that boy, fuck his grades!

 

~ Monday ~

 

Wilhelm’s bad mood prevailes the entire night and into Monday morning. Because it’s exams this week there are no actual classes, just exams. Wilhelm agreed on Saturday to meet up with Simon at the bus stop in the morning anyway, they have their history exam this afternoon so he's planning to revise with Simon all morning.

 

He’s still mad at his Mum for not letting him be happy. She says she’s doing this to protect him or whatever but she’s not letting him be happy by doing that. Why isn’t she listening? Simon isn’t going to overdose at a brothel, they don’t need to keep them apart because of the "what if"’s.

 

Wilhelm sits in the bus shelter and waits for the bus to pull up, wrapping his coat tightly around himself to fend off the freezing winds, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. A few minutes later it rolls down the driveway and Simon hops out. He’s wearing grey track pants with a black crewneck, his puffer and crusty Converse, his yellow backpack bouncing on his back as he wanders over to Wilhelm with a dead expression, pulling a beanie onto his head. Someone's excited for exams.

 

“Are you ready to eat this exam up?” Simon asks.

 

“Totally,” Wilhelm sighs, standing up.

 

“I’m not,” Simon admits as they begin their walk back towards Wilhelm’s room. 

 

“I figured,” he replies. He feels bad for being so blunt, but he’s still in a mad mood. It’s not fair on Simon though, it’s clear he isn’t in the best mood either after the events of the weekend. 

 

Simon just sighs, shuffling along next to him, bumping their shoulders in a silent question. 

 

“My Mum came to Hillerska yesterday morning,” Wilhelm announces and Simon looks up at him sharply, eyes wide.

 

“What the fuck? Why?”

 

“She was going to take me out of Hillerska for the rest of term and send me to a boarding school in Switzerland next term,” Wilhelm scoffs, feeling the anger still boiling under his skin. “But I argued and we … bonded, I suppose. She told me she had a boyfriend who was in his third year while she was in her first and that everyone told her he was bad news because he did drugs. Then he overdosed at a brothel one day. She, apparently, is trying to protect me by making us not be friends, not just for my image but for me. I think she’s such a ... a bitch for that. Putting completely unlikely events above my current happiness?” Wilhelm scoffs. “It’s more annoying that she’s doing this because she thinks she’s trying to help than if she was doing this for my image. She’s trying to help me but she’s doing it all wrong. She doesn't know me at all.”

 

They walk into Forestridge, shivering from the cold to warm temperature change.

 

“Damn, I never thought I'd hear you trash talk your Mum so hard. What changed?"

 

"Honestly," Wilhelm pauses to look over at Simon. He looks back, the tip of his nose slightly pink from the cold. He looks so cute, beanie pulled low over his forehead. "You."

 

Simon looks away, visibly clenching his fists and stuffing them in his pocket. Wilhelm feels a bit of his heart flicker and die. Right. Platonic only. "So how are you still here?” Simon asks.

 

“I convinced her to let me stay for exams this term, but she said we’re going to have a big talk with her and Papa in the holidays about next term,” Wilhelm explains. 

 

“I mean, hey, good job for sticking up for yourself,” Simon says, nudging him softly as they pass by the common room.

 

“Yeah, it was scarier than I thought it'd be, you always seem so confident when talking back to adults - “

 

“Hey, you two.” Simon and Wilhelm pause, backtracking to look into the common room.

 

“What?” Simon snaps at Alex, who’s sitting on the couch with Henry and Walter. They all have their notes out on the coffee table and appear to be revising. 

 

“Do you want to revise with us?” Alex asks them with a smile. “For history.”

 

"We have snacks," Henry adds in, holding up a bowl of chips as bribery."

 

Wilhelm glances at Simon who looks at him. Wilhelm shrugs in a “you choose” way. Simon looks to their friends, then Wilhelm and back again a few times, before itching his head and saying, “uh, sure. But only for the snacks.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“I’m definitely not taking history next year,” Simon says the second Wilhelm walks out of the exam. Simon finished before him, but him and Felice have clearly been standing outside waiting for Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm snorts as they follow Simon down the corridor. He marches ahead with his head held high, feet slapping definitively against the floor.

 

“Hate to break it to you pookie, but you’ve got another three terms of history before you can drop it,” Felice points out, linking her arms through Wilhelm’s as they walk. 

 

“Don’t remind me,” Simon says over his shoulder, throwing open both doors to the corridor and walking out.

 

Wilhelm snorts as he and Felice trail behind him, smiling at Simon. “So dramatic.”

 

“Ew, your heart eyes are insane,” Felice comments.

 

Wilhelm squeezes her arm tightly. “Shut up,” he hisses back at her, cheeks instantly heating. "That was not heart eyes it was ... amusement."

 

"Heart eyes."

 

"I will shove gum in your phone's charger port."

 

"Your boyfriend is rubbing off on you."

 

"He isn't - oh my God. Whatever."

 

They make their way to the music room. Before their exam, Simon told them that his music teacher had sent him an email asking to meet him when he had finished his exams for today. 

 

“Why do you think she wants to see you?” Wilhelm asks, having connected his arm through Simon’s as well as Felice’s. Their train of three makes going through doorways a little complicated and they get more than a few strange looks, but Felice also being connected makes it look less coupley and more friend-like.

 

“Eh, I dunno. Maybe to kick me off the choir...” His eyes widened as if the thought just occurred to him. He looks at Wilhelm with wide eyes. “What if she kicks me out of choir?” Without him saying it Wilhelm knows what he’s thinking. If Simon’s dream is to be a singer, he’ll need to start somewhere, and if he’s kicked off his school's choir for bad attendance then no agency will want to pick him up.

 

“I’m sure it’s not that,” Wilhelm assures him with as much confidence as he can fake, patting his arm reassuringly.

 

“Yeah, you’re the best singer in the whole choir,” Felice scoffs. “If she kicks you out, I’ll talk to her personally – We’ll get Wille to talk to her! She can’t say no to a Prince.”

 

That reminds Wilhelm … there is someone who can say no to a Prince. His Mum. he hasn’t told Felice he might not be here next term. But what if he ends up staying, he doesn’t want to provoke unnecessary worry. He’s told Simon and that was a stupid outburst of emotion, he shouldn’t put that kind of worry on Simon, or Felice, not after all the kindness she’s shown him this term.

 

They arrive at the music classroom and Simon procrastinates outside until the music teacher sticks her head out the door. She looks happy, genuinely, and Wilhelm prays it’s not because she’s kicking Simon out. He follows her inside, looking nervous. Simon doesn’t show his nerves about anything school-related, so you know this is important to him. He naps during class - when he isn’t skipping - will always talk back to the teachers, regularly fails to hand in assignments, and picks fights with students (Wilhelm, mostly, but he squabbles with Joshua and his gaggle of rats more now)

 

Before she comes out to get him Simon has a small panic outside the music room in which he paces up and down at the speed of light and then shakes Wilhelm by the shoulders and makes him promise to financially support him when he’s homeless and jobless. Then makes Wilhelm promise to force Simon to get shit together because he refuses to scavenge off Wilhelm for the rest of his life … As if Wilhelm’s parents would let him even lend Simon a dollar.

 

Wilhelm and Felice wait outside. There’s no point trying to eavesdrop because the music classes are soundproof when the doors are shut. The longer it’s quiet the more anxious Wilhelm gets. What is going on? Shouldn’t a “you’ve been kicked from choir” be a quick, snappy interaction? Unless Simon’s trying to bribe her to let him stay. He better not be digging himself into debt right now.

 

“So, how are you feeling?” Felice asks after ten whole minutes of dead silence, leaning on the wall next to Wilhelm.

 

“Hmmm?” He replies, slipping his phone into his pocket. “How am I feeling?” He repeats in question.

 

“After Sunny.”

 

He feels his heart drop at the memory, that pain you only get towards lost loved ones aches in his chest. “Oh.” He looks away from her down the corridor as a group of students walk out of a class and down the hallway. “I’m okay. I try not to think about it, or I spiral. I miss her and feel guilty for putting her through that…”

 

“But you gave her a better life.”

 

“I prolonged the inevitable and probably just freaked her out. She probably wasn’t chirping out of joy but pure, unbridled fear. Fear of the giants who loom down on her and pick her up like a toy - “

 

“She would’ve died from hypothermia or been stomped on by a student,” Felice interrupts. “You did the right thing. Life is just prolonging the inevitable. We’re all going to die, Wille, the whole point of these flesh bags we call bodies is to enjoy the time we get. That’s literally all life is. We’re born, we laugh, we cry, we live, then we die. It just happens Sunny did all of that faster than is normal.”

 

Wilhelm stares at her. "I mean, yeah, I guess. But I can still feel bad for her death."

 

"It wasn't your fault," Felice tells him. She looks at him sadly, cocking her head to the side. "Why do you always think deaths are your fault? Felix wasn't your fault and nor is Sunny. You are not responsible for the actions of others. You aren't, okay?"

 

Wilhelm looks at his feet and blinks furiously to not let tears fall. "I know, I've been told that by everyone I talk to. But Mama blames me for Felix and that's all I need to ... "

 

"To justify blaming yourself," Felice finishes with a sigh. "Look, your Mum ain't the shit, I do not fuck with your Mum, she kinda sucks. She gets plus's for letting you come out and not kidnapping you from school - " Wilhelm winces. "But overall, she's wrong about most things to do with you. How is Felix's death your fault? You didn't make him do any of that, everything that happened was his, and that drivers doing. Not you. Not. You." She jabs him in the shoulder as she says it. He stares at his feet. It's not my fault?

 

"What's not him?"

 

“Simon!” Wilhelm turns to him. He instantly notices the glow around Simon, his eyes scrunched in happiness, his mouth drawn out into a smile. He’s gripping his bag straps tightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “How’d it go?”

 

Simon pauses as he closes the door, grinning at the floor. 

 

“Well?” Felice prods.


And the floodgates open. “So, basically, I’m not being kicked out of the choir,” Simon starts, cheeks turning pink the more he rambles. “Actually, something so spectacularly amazing is happening instead. I’m going to shit my fucking pants and scream."

 

"I - no, don't do that."

 

"Okay - okay, so - ahh, I can’t, I’m so excited; I can’t even say it. So! Basically! She saw my grades are shit, and I’ve had lots of absences recently and she really wants me to do well, she thinks I need like, a pick me up, to motivate me to go to school and do well. So. Ehhhk, I can’t say it, I'm gonna fucking die - She’s given me the opportunity to have a solo at the end-of-term performance at the end of this week! Even better than that - and that is great, my first solo, yay! - there’s going to be a talent agent there. She said she wasn’t meant to tell me that, but she did because she knows that the agent could open big doors in my future so she really wants me to do my best. Obviously, I said yes and now I have to practise like crazy until Friday! I fucking love school!”

 

Wilhelm thinks he’s having a heart attack. Simon’s grinning and bouncing around and looking genuinely passionate about something, he’s practically glowing with joy. He’s killing Wilhelm but if this is how he has to go, he’s happy about it. He’s lived his life to the fullest at this point.

 

“That’s - that’s literally amazing!” Wilhelm says, grabbing the vibrating ball of exciteded energy in a hug. Simon squeezes him back. Wilhelm can feel the shake in his hands from the excitement. “I’m so proud of you, Simon.” He wants to kiss his head so badly to show his happiness, to express. This must be what happened to Simon, his emotions got so intense he didn't know how to express them back in the bathroom. He holds back, squishing his cheek against his soft, orange-smelling, curly little head. He’s so adorable.

 

“I know, I know, I know,” Simon chants into his shoulder, rocking them back and forwards. 

 

Felice piles in on the hug, wrapping an arm around them both. “Yay, Simon! I know that agent is gonna be blown away!”

 

“Oh my God, I have to tell Marcus! And Mama, and Sara, and Ayub and Rosh! They’re all going to be so excited … “ Simon rambles, but a ringing sound fills Wilhelm’s head, the happiness leaving his body like someone pulled the plug at his feet, draining from him. He stares at Simon and sees him unconscious on his boyfriend's couch, completely wasted and out of it. They’re … still together? Wilhelm assumed they’d broken up. Marcus was so neglectful of him that day, why are they still dating?

 

Felice keeps nodding and laughing but Wilhelm stares, not even a trace of a smile on his face, his head underwater. Marcus won’t care. He’s not going to see Simon smiling and excited and feel like his heart is going to fail. He’s not going to genuinely be excited about Simon getting what he wants, that something is going right for him, that he has something to be excited about. Marcus won’t care. Marcus called a guy that he hated, Wilhelm, to pick up Simon, his boyfriend, from his own house because his boyfriend was in such a horrible state that he let him get into without doing anything to stop or slow. Why are they still together? Wilhelm begins to spiral the more he thinks, dizzy and sick to the stomach. What if that all happens again? Are they in an endless cycle that Simon won't let break?

 

 “I have to go call Marcus!” Simon skips away - literally skips - pulling out his phone. 

 

Felice laughs and begins to follow, looking back at Wilhelm. She does a double take. “Wille? What’s wrong?” She asks, frowning deeply as she rests a hand on his shoulder.

 

Wilhelm shakes his head, looking after Simon as he walks out into the courtyard, phone against his ear. “Why are they still together?” He whispers.

 

Felice sighs, looking down at their feet briefly as she thinks. “Honestly, babe, I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.”

 

They follow after Simon, Felice’s mood slightly dulled now. Wilhelm struggles to force a smile behind her back, to look normal for when they find Simon. But he doesn't have to be happy when they find him, Simon's sitting on one of the picnic tables, staring down at his phone with a hurt expression. Wilhelm knows what’s happened before he even asks.

 

“What’s wrong?” He sits down on the table next to Simon, Felice stands in front with her arms folded, expression torn.

 

“Uhh,” Simon itches his nose, glancing at Wilhelm. He’s not glowing anymore. Marcus is dead to Wilhelm. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter. I’ll tell Mama when I get home, Rosh and Ayub are probably in exams and I’m pretty sure Sara’s wrapping up work stuff before the holidays, so I’ll text later to see if she’s free to call.”

 

There’s a pause. Wilhelm sighs, closing his eyes briefly before asking. “And Marcus?”

 

Simon winces, looking directly away from Wilhelm out at the courtyard. “He … uh, told me people shouldn’t be feeding into my delusions - “

 

“Oh my God, Simon, why are you still with that piece of crap?” Wilhelm interrupts.

 

“Wilhelm,” Felice scolds.

 

Simon scowls at him. “I don't fucking know, genius, why do you think?"”

 

“How is that a reason?”

 

“It’s not a reason, I know the reason!” Simon snaps suddenly. "Maybe I just didn't want to tell you because you're always such a bitch about Marcus related things. Are you jealous?"

 

"Simon," Wilhelm deadpans, heart breaking. "We literally talked about this, remember? We don't have feelings for each other."

 

Simon glares at him as if hearing that hurts him.

 

“What is your reason, then?” Wilhelm pries, heart beating faster the more they argue. Felice looks pained as she watches, unable to stop them from tearing into each other again.

 

“Did you not fucking listen?"

 

"Why are you so defensive right now?" Wilhelm says, eye brows raised.

 

"Maybe because you're literally shitting on my boyfriend, Wille," Simon reteliaites, frowning at him, leaning away slightly. His body language screams how closed off he's feeling, how hurt. He's doing this to himself by staying with Marcus, why doesn't he just leave him?

 

"Yes, I am, I know, because he sucks ass, Simon."

 

"Oh, fuck you, as if you have the right to talk about him, you don't even know him. Maybe I just like to feel wanted by someone for once, not discarded for being annoying, or forgotten because I’m at a different school, or second best because of fame. I just wanted to feel wanted by someone!”

 

“I want you!”

 

They freeze. Wilhelm feels his throat clog up and he can’t speak, heart skipping a beat as the anger drains along with hot feeling in his face, hands shaking on his lap. Felice stares with a hand over her mouth. Did Wilhelm just admit that to Simon? He's ruined everything. 

 

Simon looks at him, eyes burning with anger. “Not in the same way he does. Remember, we talked about this.”

 

“I - “ Wilhelm looks down at his lap, sick to the stomach, blinking furiously. He takes a shaky breath before he speaks, trying to calm down. “You’d tolerate all that abuse, just to feel wanted? Not loved … wanted... In -in a sexual manner that you don’t want even want, that’s - “

“I - I’m not doing this,” Simon jumps off the table and walks away, Wilhelm only catching a brief look of fear on his face before he's turned away.

 

Wilhelm looks down at his lap. Why do they have to argue, they just keep fueling each other, why are they so bad at talking about Marcus?

 

“Ow!”  Felice whacked him on the head. He looks up at her and is met with a glare, her hands on her hips, towering above him.

 

“What was that for? Can’t you see I’m distressed right now?”

 

“I don’t care if you’re going into labour, you hurt him, you pushed him too far, too fast, again. Go fix it, lover boy, stop your moping!”

 

Wilhelm looks back at Simon, stalking towards the bus stop with his hands in his pockets. A group of third years point and laugh at him as he passes and he doesn't even react. “I … how, though? He won’t listen to me for at least a day now I’ve pissed him off.”

 

“I don’t care! Go! I’ve had more than enough of your two’s arguing this term, and now I have to sit through these lover quarrels? Absolutely not, get your sorry little butt over there and apologise.”

 

“Jesus Christ, okay. And we’re not having a lovers quarrel, don’t need to remind me.” He doesn’t want to argue with Simon, and he’s never been good at apologising, and Simon is not good at confrontation. He’s never apologised so fast after a fallout before.

 

Felice huffs and sits down at the table, shaking her head and muttering something about teenagers. Uhh, right.

 

Simon disappears around the edge of the bus shelter and Wilhelm follows, plotting out what he’ll say in his head. He picks at the stray bits of skin around his cuticle as he approaches, the cold wind flicking his hair around and making his eyes burn.

 

Simon looks up when he turns the corner into the bus shelter,  hurt morphing into annoyance. Wilhelm did that, he hurt him, again. He thought they were over these arguments, but it just burst out of nowhere and exploded. 

 

“Oh, what the fuck do you want now? Can I not even escape you here anymore?” Simon growls, sitting with his bag clutched in his lap.

 

Wilhelm hates this. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. Why does Simon always react so strongly? Wilhelm’s had his fallouts and arguments with his friends, but never are they this prickly when he approaches in a domestic way. He didn’t storm over yelling at Simon, he quietly followed, but Simon put up walls and was already firing his canons, he was ready to fight. Constantly ready to fight. Wilhelm wants to be the person he doesn’t feel like around, he thought they were already there but clearly, evidently, he thought wrong. Emotions are high between them both recently, with what happened last week to Simon, Sunny dying, Wilhelm's Mum trying to take him from school and the pressure of exams.

 

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm tells him with a sigh, meeting his dark eyes. Simon blinks in surprise. “We always do this and I’m sorry. You said we’d talk about it later, but I brought it up again and then I kept digging at it when I know you don’t like to talk about it, especially in front of people. That’s my bad and I’m sorry. You know I worry about you, I don’t have to repeat that, but I’ll do better to not push you before you’re ready.”

 

Simon looks up at him with shock on his face.

 

“Are we good?”

 

Simon stares and Wilhelm hesitates. Why isn’t he replying? 

 

“No.”

 

“Wrong answer.”

 

“Wha - you can’t just wrong answer me!” Simon exclaims. "Let me have space!"

 

“Well, I just did, we have to be friends, stop trying to push me away, loser.”

 

Simon narrows his eyes at him like he’s about to strike. Wilhelm crosses his arms and looks back at him, hoping he's made the right desicon right now. Slowly, Simon smiles. He rolls his eyes, trying to hide his grin by looking away. “Fine, whatever. You’re forgiven. But don't do that again”

 

“Yay!” Wilhelm plops down next to him with a grin.

 

"Like I could stay mad at you," Simon huffs, crossing his legs so his knee rests on Wilhelm's thigh.

 

“I'll try to do better," Wilhelm promises, happiness flooding inside of him again. "But on the off chance I mess up, can you agree to tell me when I've overstepped and not start yelling?" 

 

Simon looks over at him, his eyes sparkling again. It's crazy how they have the ability to hurt each other so deeply, but then turn it around and be the reason the other smiles. "I'll try. I pinkie promise," Simon raises one pinkie out to Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm wraps his pinkie finger around Simon's, holding on tight as he grins at him, nodding. "I pinkie promise, too."

Notes:

Don't think about this school system too carefully, I don't know why they're taking exams in term one.

Wille's being so brave in this chapter, sticking up to his Mum and opening up to Felice about his feelings and having an honest talk with Simon. Proud of my little bean.

Anyway, today I'm babysitting my teenage brothers because our parents are out with friends, and I came downstairs to, you know, see if they've died and I heard one say "You have zero skibidi rizz," and the other replied "womp womp womp womp", but in like a western movie whistle style, like here,

link

, like that womp womp womp is how he said it I'm like ???? What the fuck?
And the youngest just left his dressing gown in my sister's bathroom right in front of the toilet. What is wrong with them? They're free on eBay, just search Gen Alpha brothers for $1. /j/j

I love them really.

Not that you'd notice but I had to take a break from editing because my brothers ran my Dad's spinny work chair down the fucking stairs. What, the actual fuck.

As always, undaptes and shit on my Tumblr
, I love talking to you guys there, genuinely think its fun, so fucking talk to me babe.

Chapter 22: Fake Plastic Trees

Summary:

The sun's reflected by the coffee in your hand
My eyes are caught in your gaze all over again
We were love drunk waiting on a miracle
Trying to find ourselves in the winter snow
So alone in love like the world had disappeared
Oh, I won't be silent and I won't let go
I will hold on tight 'till the afterglow
Afterglow, Ed Sheeran

Playlist based on book https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nsXu5C1GVsLnmfZsPpaK8?si=2763b66e6fec479d
TW: Gayness (ew) Mention of smoking? Ummm, August is mentioned yikes. Idk chat this chapter is chill. (Ik I didn't realise I could do that either, gasp)

Notes:

Sorry this update is a bit later in the day, I was planning to release it around lunch (my time) but I was preoccupied with making cookies for my grandma at her house. She doesn't make them, I make them and she eats them. I managed to Bluetooth to her car when we were going to the mall, so y'know what that meant. I played Epic the whole way there and back (she brought me lip gloss and food, I love her, anyway) If you don't follow me on Tumblr then you won't know, but I did forget I was supposed to update today so most of this chapter is written and edited poorly, so I apologise for that.

Also not me completely skipping their exams lmaoo

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Friday ~

 

The week passes in a blur of exams, studying, caffeine and “Did you study?” “No.” “lol same.” 

 

The trio has their Krisis presentation on Wednesday, which goes well. Wilhelm convinces Simon to present more than just their title page and gets him to read a whole slide, while Wilhelm and Felice read several. Wilhelm doesn’t mind, he realises halfway through the presentation that this was a day he dreaded at the beginning of the term when they first got assigned this group project. He hated Simon and all the drama he caused, now he undoubtedly has a crush on the guy and feels most comfortable in his presence. He feels more confident with Simon's shoulder pressing against his where they stood to the side of the projector, waiting for Felice to finish reading her part.

 

Everyone else’s presentations were good, so their teacher hands out chocolate once everyone has finished. Even Simon gets a “well done”, to which no one is more surprised than him. 

 

On Thursday they have a maths exam. Wilhelm spends the maximum amount of time on the exam. Once he finished he is surprised to see Simon is also still there, slaving away over his exam paper, unaware he was one of the two last people in the exam.

 

And Wilhelm was…. Proud. He’s proud of Simon. While they have no results back yet to confirm whether or not they’ve passed anything, he’s still proud. He doesn’t care if Simon fails because it’s clear he’s tried his best. He definitely skimped out on the history exam, but everything else he tried hard on.

 

Wilhelm meets Simon at the bus stop Friday morning. As they’ve been doing all week. When Simon steps off the bus it’s clear to Wilhelm that he's exhausted. He’s wearing his proper school uniform, suit, tie the whole shebang. His Converse have survived this time, unlike when he came in for the Parents Day lunch. They look like they’ve at least been wiped down to rid them of some mud. His hair is its normally curly self, bouncing and shiny, his clothes ironed. It’s a big day, the talent agent will be in the crowd.

 

“I fear I might shit my pants.”

 

Wilhelm raises his eyebrows back at him. “Charming. Are you nervous by any chance?”

 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Simon replies through a big sigh, gripping the straps of his backpack so tightly his knuckles turned white. Wilhelm notices his face is a little paler than normal.

 

“Simon, you’re a natural, it'll be fine,” Wilhelm assured him. He means it, he has full confidence in Simon's ability to completely wow this talent agent with his voice and natural charm. Has he heard Simon sing? Yeah, in passing, like when he’s singing Spanish Christmas carols in August or rapping Cardi B instead of studying, but Wilhelm knows he’ll do amazing. Felice thinks so too, and she does choir with Simon, making her a reliable source. 

 

“What if I get a voice crack during my solo?”

 

“You’ve finished puberty you’ll be fine,” Wilhelm chuckles, slinging an arm around his shoulders to pull him into a side hug. Nowadays he wants to be close to Simon all the time, it’s a problem. Simon leans into him as they walk. Which is also a problem, the more he resiprecates, the more Wilhelm wants to push to see how far he can get before a line is drawn in their affection.

 

“Hey, you calling me short, you brat?” Simon questions, wrapping his arm around Wilhelm's waist to dig his fingers into his side, making him yep and try - and fail - to squirm away. “I will chop you off at the kneecaps.”

 

“Aww, what an intimidating chihuahua,” Wilhelm coos, squeezing Simon closer to his side.

 

Simon scoffs but leans into him further. Yeah, Wilhelm is proud.

 

“So, when are your Mum and sister arriving?” Wilhelm asks as they walk towards the music room. The choir has to arrive early today to warm up and have a few practices before their end-of-term performance around lunch time. It's an hour and a half till lunch at the moment, Wilhelm's started packing, ready to go home tomorrow. He met up with Felice in the morning to get coffee's at the cafe and talk about the holidays, making plans to meet up.

 

“They should be here in an hour or so. Sara offered to drive me, but…” He trails off, looking away.

 

“But what?” Wilhelm asks, sensing the hesitation.

 

“I just wanted some time to talk to you,” Simon mumbles. When he looks forward Wilhelm sees the pink on his cheeks. He’s adorable. And relatable. Wilhelm was quietly excited when Simon said he’d arrive on the early bus for practice, so Wilhelm could walk with him. Even just five minutes with Simon is all Wilhelm wants. What if he’s gone next term? These could be his last days at school with Simon. As depressing as it sounds his happiness is beginning to be affected by how much time he spends with Simon.

 

“I'm glad,” Wilhelm replies, a swirly feeling fluttering in his stomach. I’m glad doesn’t even summarise how I feels.

 

“Of course, I’m just so fun to talk to,” Simon teases, grinning up at Wilhelm. Ack, m y heart -

 

“Sure, curly.”

 

“Admit it, you love talking to me,” Simon continues as they walk on, his fingers digging light into Wilhelm's side again, like a little ticklish reminder he’s just being a little shit.

 

“I do,” Wilhelm admits blatantly, staring down at him earnestly. Simon falters, looking up at Wilhelm in surprise. He looks so cute, eyes wide, cheeks pink, lips so pink and kissable. Unfair. Fuck Marcus.

 

“Well,” Simon coughs and looks away. Wilhelm fails to hide a proud grin; he rendered Simon speechless for once. “Good, cuz I’m not going anywhere. You’re - you’re stuck with me.”

 

“I’m okay with that,” Wilhelm smiles. He watched Simon hide his grin as he looks away.

 

“You don’t get a choice,” Simon says in a sing-song voice. “You’re my hostage.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Stoooop, You’re a prisoner, it's not a good thing.”

 

“I’ve got a cute kidnapper .”

 

Whack. “Ouch! Would you rather I called you ugly? I don't like to lie.”


Whack. "Shut the fuck up, Wille!"

 

"You love me," Wilhelm grins, his own cheeks feeling hot as he walks with Simon under his arm.

 

"Hmph."

 

"What was that?"

 

"You suck toes."

 

"Awww."

 

~ ~ ~

 

“What are your guys' plans for the holidays?” Walter asks from where he’s sat on Wilhelm’s right, Henry on his left. They’re at the front of the chapel and Wilhelm isn’t sure why he’s ended up between these lovebirds. He’s tempted to ask them if he can swap seats with one of them so he doesn’t have to endure the silent heart eyes going straight over his head for the next half an hour. 

 

Henry sighs in annoyance, leaning his elbow on the railing in front of them to prop his head in his hand, looking over at Walter. “Well, my Grandpa died yesterday, so I’m assuming I have to attend that funeral.” He says this as if it’s a great inconvenience and not a complete tragedy.

 

“Ah, right, yeah, you mentioned,” Walter nods, already aware of this event.

 

Wilhelm looks back to Henry with drawn together brows. “I’m sorry for your loss, Henry.”

 

“Huh? Why?” He replies, slumped against his hand.

 

Wilhelm frown deepens, blinking at him. “Because he died?” He replies, but it comes out like a question. “I - Is - is that not a bad thing?”

 

Henry purses his lips, turning his head to watch the Headmistress walk up to the podium casually. “I mean, it depends how you look at it.”

 

Huh?

 

Inheritance ,” Henry says, like it’s obvious, knocking a hand into Wilhelm's shoulder as he leans back, smirking.

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes so vigorously that his whole head moves. As if you need that money.

 

“Good afternoon students, teachers and guardians,” Headmistress Lilja greets with a smile, voice bouncing off the high walls and echoing around the space. The chapel truly is a beautiful room, with high windows and shined wood. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the conclusion of our first term.” There’s a polite applause.

 

Wilhelm risks a glance sideways across the room, trying to find an unfamiliar face. He saw Linda and Sara arrive a few minutes before students were let into the chapel, so he knows they are here, but they aren’t who he’s looking for. The problem is, most of the faces here are unfamiliar, and everyone is dressed so formally that it’s hard to differentiate a talent agent from a rich parent. He can’t base it off relationship status because Linda isn’t the only single parent here, August’s Mum came, but not his step-dad, Walter’s parents are flying in tonight from Spain so his older brother came instead, and Maddi’s 50 year old Grandma is here. Don’t do the maths. 

 

He’s seen a few people who look suspiciously out of place and alone, but maybe they’re just parents of first years and they don’t yet know the other parents, or they are a relative and not the immediate guardian of a student. Maybe the agent didn’t even show up, or maybe there’s multiple. 

 

He looks forward as the clapping concludes and the Headmistress continues with her speech. Wilhelm keeps his eyes directly on her, body still, as if he’s paying attention while his mind wanders. There's a student photographer taking photos for the year book today, sitting off to the side and occasionally snapping a picture of Headmistress Lilja standing before the school. Wilhelm can feel people staring at him, so he must keep up his facade, forcing a smile or polite laughter whenever Headmistress Lilja makes a small joke or quip, like everyone else, until she announces that they have a performance from the choir.

 

“The performance we had to welcome our first years was made up of our second and third years, but throughout the term, I’m overjoyed to say our beautiful choir has grown, and several first years have since joined. They will now be performing a song to conclude our assembly. Thank you.”

 

Another polite applause as Headmistress Lilja steps down, sitting next to the other teachers as the choir teacher walks out, the choir following behind her. Wilhelm feels his heart jolt when he sees Simon, the afternoon sun coming directly through an upper window and onto him, making him glow, his hair shine, deep, tortured, brown eyes melting into liquid gold. His gaze flicker across the room as he stops in the middle of the stage, sun directly on him, eyes catching on Wilhelm. A small grin quirks at his lip, which he quickly quells, eyes continuing their journey until he eventually smiles again, Wilhelm assumes he spotted his Mum and sister.

 

Once everyone is standing in their respective spots, the room is completely silent. Someone who sounds suspiciously like August coughs. Simon swallows. Wilhelm wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. You’ve got this, Simon, he tells him in his brain, watching Simon wait for the choir teacher movement to begin their song.

 

Felice glances at Simon, then Wilhelm, who smiles at her. She nods back.

 

They begin.

 

Harmonised singing fills the golden space. “Her green plastic watering can… For her fake Chinese rubber plant … In the fake plastic Earth…” 

 

Their voices all blend and project, the crowd watches in captivated silence as their voices grow higher and lower, mouths moving in sync. It’s fascinating to watch and a blessing to hear. 

 

It wears her out, it wears her out…” Their voices fade off slowly and Wilhelm sees them all inhale, then Simon’s voice flows over the top of everyone else's lower, softer voices. “ She lives with a broken man,” he sings slowly and purposefully. “ A crack polystyrene man, who just crumbles and burns. He used to do surgery for girls in the eighties. But gravity always wins and it wears him out, it wears him out. It wears him out, it wears … “ Simon drags out the note, head held high and voice projecting straight through the space. 

 

Wilhelm knew he’d sing well, but he’s still surprised. He holds the note like his lungs have never been hit by a cigarette in his life, his eyes straight ahead, determination and happiness burning in his molten eyes. His voice is beautiful, and Wilhelm feels chills strike down his arms. Henry whoops from next to Wilhelm and he elbows him to shut up without his gaze straying from the beautiful boy on the stage, wanting to only hear Simon. He wants Simon to sing all the time, he should never talk, just sing. If this talent scout doesn't smell talent Wilhelm will actually go for a hearing test.

 

Felice smiles when Simon finishes his high note, joining the rest of the choir for the rest of the short song. 

 

When the song ends the whole room explodes in applause. Wilhelm wants to stand up and cheer, but of course, he must stay proper, so he sits and claps extra hard, unable to hide the grin that takes over his face. Simon looks back at him, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He absolutely nailed that and he knows it. Wilhelm grins back at him, nodding and mouthing “ You’re amazing.”

 

The choir all walk off and Headmistress Lilja comes back up. “As you can see, we have a lot of talent at our school," she says pointedly. Of course, she must knows the talent scout is here. “Thank you for that amazing performance from our choir. Another round of applause for them!”

 

She wraps up the assembly and wishes everyone a good holiday, dishing out a few reminders about the school closing in a few days, so everyone has to go home, before releasing the chapel.

 

Wilhelm makes his way out of the building with everyone else, relieved when he sees the student photographer walk off, finished with photos for the day, so he immediately beelines for Sara and Linda, who are walking very slowly back towards their car, the same very smashable bodyguard from Sara’s school event walks next to Linda, chatting with them. 

 

He puts a hand on Sara’s arm to get her attention. “Hi, sorry,” he says when she jumps in fright, turning with a frown to see who touched her.

 

“Oh, Wille! Hi!” She greets him, her face lighting up. “Can we do hugs?”

 

“Yeah, there’s no photographer - ” Wilhelm replies. She pulls him into a hug before he's even finished his sentence.

 

“Thank you,” She whispers to him, holding him tightly. It feels like more than a greeting hug. He feels a strike of sadness. She must know what went down with Simon last week. That must be scary to hear. He squeezes her back, trying to not let it dampen his mood.

 

It is nice to be around someone who understands PR shite. Had there been a photographer Wilhelm would’ve said immediately no to hug. He wants to stay at this school, being seen hugging Simon’s family would make his Mum freak out.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” he says when they pull back. “You look amazing. I love your jacket,” Wilhelm greets, finding himself actually meaning the compliment and not just saying it because he’s supposed to. 

 

“Thank you,” she replies, stroking the faux white fur coat. “You look good, Wille.”

 

“Thanks,” he grins. He feels good, for once, he's found a group of people who make him feel good, who he can be genuine and real around. He can't lose them, he needs to stay at this school. “Hi, Linda. It’s good to see you too.” 

 

Linda smiles and they hug, her normal motherliness not failing to appear, even in the quick embrace, visible through the way she rubs his back and holds him. Wilhelm is going to steal her as his own Mother.

 

“It’s wonderful to see you, mi amor,” Linda tells him, tired, brown eyes smiling back at him with real happiness. “This is Rocky,” Linda gestures to the bodyguard walking with them, his suit tight fitting and accentuating his muscles.

 

“Wilhelm. Nice to meet you,” Wilhelm greets, offering his hand to shake with a smile.

 

“Hey, why don’t I get a hug?” Rocky asks, raising one thick eyebrow, his voice deep but gentle.

 

Wilhelm blinks, the casualness from a stranger unfamiliar. “I - “ Rocky grins at him. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Rocky pulls him into a gentle hug, the fabric of his suit soft. “Nice to meet you, man,” he says.

 

They stand around and talk for a bit, all four of them ignoring the stares that they receive from parents, students and teachers alike. Mrs Ramirez stumbles when she sees Wilhelm chatting with Simon’s family.

 

Headmistress Lilja comes over to talk, reintroducing herself. Clearly, they meet at the beginning of the year. Sara apologises again for having to leave early during her event but Headmistress Lilja brushes it off, telling her she’s welcome at any time. 

 

“I’m so glad Simon and Wilhelm made up,” Lilja laughs and Wilhelm looks away pointedly. Even she knows about their previous feud. That makes sense, he supposes, she is the principal and they are both celebrities who hated each other and ended up on the news ... but still. 

 

He catches sight of Simon and grins at him. When Simon’s searching gaze meets him he feels his heart stumble. Simon’s face instantly splits into a grin and he jogs over.

 

Wilhelm can’t stop himself from opening his arm and letting Simon crash into the embrace, laughing quietly into his shoulder. 

 

Wilhelm closes his eyes, holding him tight around the waist. He’s warm and smells like oranges, happiness radiating off him. Simon holds tight around his neck, soft hair brushing his cheek as he leans his head on his shoulder, fully plastered against him.

 

Wilhelm wants to stay like this forever, but he has to pull back, subconsciously leaving his hands on Simon’s waist to keep them together. Simon pulls back as well, resting his hands on his shoulders, cheeks pink as he grins at him.

 

“You were so amazing,” Wilhelm compliments him. “I had no idea you could sing that well, all I've heard you sing is Last Christmas, Cardi B’s version.”

 

Simon laughs, his eyes lighting up all over again. “You think so?”

 

Wilhelm literally scoffs. “Did you not hear yourself?”

 

Simon’s cheeks turn pinker and Wilhelm might actually fucking die, he's so adorable. 

 

Ahem … hem, hem... hem...”

 

Wilhelm is snapped back into reality, ripped from his little world where it’s just him and Simon, pressed together, smiling at each other. He lets go of Simon’s waist and takes a step back. 

 

Simon does the same, turning to his family to greet them and accept their compliments. Wilhelm glances at Headmistress Lilja as she excuses herself. She looks confused. Clearly, not everything was relayed to her.

 

Felice comes over as well and Wilhelm hugs her. “You were amazing, Felice,” Wilhelm tells her as they dramatically rock back and forth, her hair tickling his face. 

 

“So was your boyfriend,” she whispers with a laugh.

 

Wilhelm blushes, burying his face in her hair. “Shut up, we’re talking about how awesome you were.”

 

“Thank you, Wille,” she says, patting his back as they pull back. “You were an excellent audience member.”

 

“Pfft,” he snorts, shaking his head. “Thanks, I tried really hard.”

 

“Yeah, you really gave the whole choir even attention.”

 

He turns red. Was he really that obvious? Why does he kind of not care? Everyone should know how he likes to watch Simon sing, shit, they should like to watch him sing too, he was so majestic and his voice was just magic - 

 

Felice cackles at his reaction before she gets distracted by Eriksson's. Simon not being his boyfriend is a crime in itself. He loves Felice, but every reminder that Simon isn’t his boyfriend is not appreciated, but she doesn’t mean harm. Fuck Marcus.

 

Felice’s parents come over to Felice but end up talking with Wilhelm for a few minutes before Felice notices and saves him from the scary conversation about the country's politics and his parents' whereabouts. He briefly lets slip that Erik will be picking him up to take him home tomorrow, but what he didn’t tell them is that he’s planning to tell Erik absolutely everything in that car drive so when they get home Erik will be on his side to help him stay at Hillerska.

 

Felice talks with her parents and Wilhelm watches, until a hand pulls on his jacket, tugging him away. He turns and walks with Simon.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“I’m kidnapping you,” Simon grins, walking backwards as he pulls Wilhelm with him. Wilhelm grabs his shoulders to steer him around Stella and Fredrika's families before letting him walk again.

 

“Oh no, again? Where are we going this time?” Wilhelm asks.

 

“We’re going to get a late lunch,” Simon tells him.

 

Wilhelm stops and so does Simon. His smile wavers, even as he tries to hold it steady. “Simon, I - I really can’t go out with you and your family,” he tells him quietly. The world suddenly looks less sparkly and he feels exposed, people are watching them. He sees Simon’s realisation and his face drops, making Wilhelm’s stomach twist painfully. No, no, no, no, no.

 

His family are already waiting by their car, so Wilhelm pulls Simon away towards the bus stop. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to him yet, nor does he want to leave him in a bad mood.

 

He can feel the sour mood nwely radiating off Simon as he turns to him, now shielded by the cold wooden walls of the bus shelter.

 

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm tells him, letting go of his hand.

 

Simon looks at their feet, toes inches apart. “It’s okay.”

 

Wilhelm purses his lips. He hates to see Simon sad, he was radiant before when he was smiling, but now he’s so gloomy and down. Wilhelm’s hands shake, but he pushes through, gently lifting Simon’s chin so they’re eye to eye. He leans forward and kisses his cheekbone softly, feeling Simon’s inhale of breath, his eye lashes batting gently against his cheeek. When he pulls back his cheeks flush pink, surprise on his face.

 

“I’ll fix it,” he tells Simon, unable to stop himself running his thumb just under his bottom lip. “I’ll be here next term.”

 

Simon blinks his big, brown eyes up at Wilhelm, his gentle breaths puffing onto Wilhelm’s hand. Wilhelm gulps.

 

“You better,” Simon whispers, burying himself in Wilhelm’s chest. "Espically after that. The fuck." Wilhelm hugs him back tightly, resting his cheek on his head. Simon feels like he’s trying to mesh them together, so they can never be separated. They aren’t going to see each other every school day and most weekends for two weeks. Wilhelm can try, but he doubts his parents will let him hang out with Simon.


He’s not just promising to be here next term though, it goes unspoken what he really means. I’ll fix it. He wants to be with Simon, 100%, whatever he has to sacrifice to get there is going to be worth it.

Notes:

Whaooo, Wilhelm's making moves. If someone could make a fanart of any of the little cutsie moments in this chapter I would kiss you through the internet.

I'll aim for another update next Thursday chat, I'll reply to question and make some random ahh posts on my Tumblr
The song I imagined them singing is called Fake Plastic Trees by Scala & Kolancy Brothers, go listen to it, I feel like they'd nail it.

Madi is 16 for anyone wondering, her Mum is 35.
50-35=15
35-16=19
Yeeeep, I did the maths to make sure it was legal -

Chapter 23: Who Has To Die

Summary:

Its hard to put it into words
how the holidays will always hurt
I watch their fathers with their little girls
And wonder what I did to deserve this
Family Line, Conan Gray

TW: Mention of dead character, mention of manipulation, mention/rumours of prostitution, mention/rumours of abuse, mention/rumours of sexual assault, mention drug abuse, brief description of wounds

Notes:

I know the chapter is late, I said Thursday and it is no longer Thursday but I have good excuses! Let me share! So, first, I got horribly sick, I thought it was Covid but kept testing negative. I already had plans so I continued with said plans and ended up getting high with my ex and we hooked up Shitnotagain Then I just got sicker through the week and decided to get high AGAIN with my sister which made my sickness WORSE and all I've been eating is trashy food so my body is dying and screaming like wtf are you doing bro. As I'm writing this I am eating Pringles with my fancy chopsticks so I'm not even trying to help this situation.
Also my brother ate a Lego brick when I was watching him, he's 12. Istfg. What is life right now, all the Hurricanes in the states and P-Diddy and the Logan Paul vsTommyInnit Twitter drama and Liam Payne being an attention whore

Shit goes crazy

Anyway, sorry for the delay <3

Character development goes crazy this chapter, y'all. I'm sorry, I know it's plot-important, but for my sanity, I'm not writing another entire argument with Kristina.

BUT FIRST, we have a long overdue fanart from fuckidkidc on Tumblr. I'm sorry, they made this a while ago but I kept forgetting, I apologise for that, my bad, so here it is!

I love when you guys make art and bring the scenes to life, it genuinely makes me so incredibly happy y'all are so skilled <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

 

~ Saturday ~

Saturday morning Hillerska is a blur of students all saying goodbyes, packing bags, trading numbers and making plans. Well-dressed students get into their parent's or chauffeurs' expensive cars and book it out the gates for the next two weeks to go on lavish holidays or spend the next 14 days unconscious in their beds. 

 

Erik said he’d arrive around lunch to avoid most parents and students, so Wilhelm slept in. He made sure to pack his bags and say his goodbyes last night. The only person he’s planning to see again today from his school is Felice. She’s going back to his house with him for two nights, so she’ll be driving back with him and Erik. 

 

He’s quite excited about the day, so when he’s woken up around nine from ruckas people are making (it sounds like Vincent and Nils, Wilhelm hopes they die) he can’t go back to sleep. Then the nerves set in as he remembers what today holds.

 

Not only is he going to honestly explain the drama with Simon over the last term - including all his feelings towards the other boy - but his parents are going to tear him limb from limb once he gets home, they’re going to pull out every ounce of blackmail and parent/Queen cards they can to get him to move schools. He’s pretty sure he’ll get Erik on his side easily enough, his Mum is the real problem. His Dad is a pushover, he’ll just agree with whatever Kristina says and tell Wilhelm to stop disrespecting his Mother.

 

Just the thought that he’s going to have to debate with his Mum today makes his stomach curl. But he has to do this, for Simon and himself. He remembers weeks ago when Kristina asked to talk to Simon on the phone, Simon told Wilhelm that she is manipulative and he’d disagreed, said she was just trying to be a good ruler and a good mother, or something along those lines. Now he sees what Simon meant. He was right, Kristina was being manipulative, maybe she doesn’t realise it … Wilhelm hope she doesn’t. She’s still his Mum.

 

He goes to get breakfast and finds most people have already left. 

 

Wilhelm’s minding his business, eating breakfast across from a politely quiet Alex when Henry bursts into the room.

 

“Halloween party at mine on the 31! I’ll be adding literally everyone to an Insta group chat, if you don’t want to go and instead want to be a total loser you can just leave the chat and everyone will see the notification!” Henry cheers and a few other people join in. 

 

Wilhelm sighs. If he thought hanging out with Simon was going to be impossible, asking to go to a Halloween party at a friend's house who he’s never mentioned is unthinkable.

 

“Simon is invited too.” Wilhelm practically jumps out of his skin when Henry whispers in his ear. His breath smells like Doritos.

 

“G - Good for him?” Wilhelm replies as Henry sits down next to him, tapping away at his phone. 

 

Henry looks up at him, eyebrow raised incredously. “Don’t feel any more motivated to convince your parents to go to the party knowing he’s going?” 

 

Wilhelm scoffs, mixing his porridge to avoid his pointed gaze. “I doubt Simon’d agree to go.” Not without knowing if Wilhelm or Felice are going first.

 

“He agreed.”

 

“What?”

 

Henry shoved his phone in his face to show said group chat, a few people had left, but the newest notification was from Simon.

 

Simon
Can I bring out-of-school friends?
9:32 am

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes at Henry, shoving the screen out of his face. “That’s hardly an agreement.”

 

“Yeeeeeeeep, everyone is welcome bring as many people as you want. PS, Wilhelm is going,” Henry says slowly as he types. 

 

“I never said that!” 

 

“Simon said he’s going!”

 

“Oh my … “ Wilhelm rubs his face, pulling out his own phone to text Simon to inform him he is not in fact, allowed to go. His parents haven’t even been told yet.

 

“Hey, you should bring Erik!” Henry says, hitting Wilhelm on the shoulder.

 

Wilhelm looks over at him in confusion. “What makes you think that me not being allowed to go means the literal Crown Prince could?”

 

“A gut feeling tells me you’ll be there,” Henry nods confidently, eyes closed as if he’s seeing the future. The only thing he’ll be seeing is Wilhelm’s name leaving the chat… but… he wants to go. At the beginning of the term, any parties were a no-go. He only went to his welcome party because, well, he wanted to see all the money August wasted on a party he wasn’t even planning to attend. Then he went to the welcome back August party to get information from him. The only reason to go to this party would be enjoyment…

 

“It’s not your fault.”

 

Felix would want him to go to parties and enjoy himself. He’s getting better at thinking that. I think I’ll visit his grave this holiday, tell him about my term, and remind myself that it’s not my fault, even if I still feel like it is.

 

Wilhelm a hefty sigh, looks back to Henry. “I’ll ask my parents.”

 

“Yes!”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Oh, fuck! Haaa - !”

 

“Whooohoooo! Hahahaha!”

 

Icy winds whip through the open top of the car, slashing into Wilhelm’s cheeks and hair as the car drifts around a corner. He grabs the armrest, holding his breath while Felice cheers again until they’re going straight.

 

So Erik’s been practising reckless driving, good for him. Every now and then Wilhelm blinks and he’s in the car, speeding towards little Felix. He has to shake himself and remind himself they were drunk driving, while that was a choice it wasn’t a reasonable one. They never heard from the people who did it, but Wilhelm tells himself they’re sorry.

 

Poor Malin and Lucas are trying to keep up. It’s a good thing they’re going through the backroads that almost never get used, because they’re long and windy and make quite an experience to zoom through farmland and bushes. They aren’t well lit so driving at night time isn’t even an option. It’s just past mid-day at the moment, the sky is miraculously clear, which really only makes it colder, but at least it’s a pretty view to look up to.

 

After a few more minutes of near-death driving, Erik slows down, laughing as he fixes his hair in the mirror.

 

Wilhelm huffs, running a hand through his own and readjusting himself in the seat. “Jesus Christ, I thought it was just us for the drive, but we were about to visit the Lord himself.”

 

“Psst, you two are gay you’d be in hell,” Erik snorts. "Meeting Satan."

 

Wilhelm laughs and rolls his eyes, hearing Felice chuckle as well from the back seat. “Hey, with your driving record, we’d see you there. I highly doubt those speeds were even close to the speed limits.”

 

“Can’t give your future king a speeding ticket,” Erik says nonchalantly, turning a corner at a much more respectable speed.

 

“You totally can,” Felice argues, leaning in between the two seats to steal the AUX cord.

 

“Uh - sorry, just before you do that,” Wilhelm interrupts, heart jumping into his throat. “Um.” He looks at Erik, who’s frowning at the road, having heard his brother's anxiety. “I need to talk about some serious stuff with you, first.” 

 

Erik glances at him, eyes filled with concern. “Does this have to do with Mum and Dad trying to send you to school overseas?”

 

What?” Felice interjects, looking sharply at Wilhelm. “They’re what?

 

He winces, feeling the good mood draining from his body, the wind suddenly too cold, his stomach twisting. “I - Yeah, let - let me explain.”

 

Hurt and panic are written all over Felice’s face. Wilhelm can see her running through scenarios in her head and he is now deeply regretting not telling her beforehand. for some reason, it didn't cross his mind that discussing this with Erik on the car ride home would mean Felice would also be there.

 

“Okay,” Erik nods, pressing a button so the roof comes up on the car, locking them in, and suffocating Wilhelm. “Explain.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

One miserable hour and a stop at McDonald's drive-thru (Malin and Lucas went through, Erik drove in circle around the block until they got in, then they delivered it to their car and they continued) Wilhelm explained everything; how it started with Simon, August bothering him, the parties, the photos … even their kiss in the bathroom. It pained him to talk about that, he didn't mention how it was his first kiss and also something that keeps him up at night. He skimmed details on Simon getting wasted, for Simon’s sake. Once he finished the car was deathly silent, tense and awkward.

 

It’s clear they both feel betrayed, they both had Wilhelm keep different things from them and that clearly - understandably - hurts.

 

They’re getting closer to the palace, but then Erik makes a turn to prolong the trip. Wilhelm gulps. This means his brother has some things to say. He can't help the anxiety crawling up his throat, making his palms sweat and his knee bounce. He shifts around in his seat and pulls the seat belt away from his neck where it's been rubbing for the past hour.

 

“I … I wish you’d told me this. I knew you were friends with Simon but if I knew he meant this much, I would’ve fought Mama and Papa on the moving schools things before it even reached you. I won’t lie, you did partly bring that upon yourself. I don’t agree with how strict they are with you, that’s not what I mean by that. I just mean they set rules, stupid rules that I understand you breaking, but you kept breaking them. You don’t normally do that, it’s so unlike you to push the boundaries like that I think they partially panicked.” Erik pauses and sighs, crusing down the street probably slower than the speed limit. Literally, how did this guy get his licence?

 

“But they kept telling you what to do, they even got me to talk to you, but you didn’t listen. I understand why you kept resistng now that you’ve told me everything, but from an outside perspective, it did just look like you’d gone haywire and were ignoring our parents,” Erik looks over at him earnestly.

 

Wilhelm knew Erik would understand, he’s more worried about his brooding friend in the back, who’s sitting fully in her seat, staring out the window in dead silence.

 

“Yeah, I get that, but it’s kind of too late. So what we have to do is convince them to let me stay at Hillerska. My grades have genuinely been fine, they only slipped that week Simon ran away, and understandably so,” Wilhelm says, trying to keep himself calm and not get defensive. “That’s all that matters to them, I thought. I’m in clubs and councils, I only got one detention. The photo stuff was only rumours and I’m sure it didn’t really damage my image that much.”

 

Erik freezes where he is itching his neck.

 

“What?”

 

“Wille,” he sighs. “Have you ever Googled Simon?” Erik asks cautiously. 

 

“Why the hell would I Google him? I’m acutely aware of how inaccurate Google is.” He has, in fact, Googled Simon, to figure out when his birthday was. But he searched "When is Simon Eriksson birthday?" So the answer he got was very pointed and didn't stray from his date of birth, apart from mentioning some birth complications.

 

“That’s the point. That’s his public image. That’s how people see him. That's what a public image is - a group of peoples opinions on a person, and it’s not good,” Erik tells him gently.

 

Wilhelm stares at him, helpless. “What?”

 

“Google him,” Erik states.

 

“Oh shit,” Felice blurts. Wilhelm looks over his shoulder at her, anxiety gnawing away at his insides. She’s looking down at her phone, anger written all over her face.

 

“What?” Wilhelm says again, gesturing for her to hand him her phone.

 

She passes it to him and he turns the phone, looking at the screen. She’s typed “Simon Eriksson” into Google. The first thing to come up was his full name and a photo of him, from when Sara came to Hillerska, smiling at the camera looking cute. Wilhelm reads the about on the side of the screen “Simon Eriksson is a Swedish-Venezuelan teen, made famous through his sister Sara Eriksson (More on Sara Eriksson here), a well-known comic artist. Simon is known for his “bad boy” lifestyle, started by his father, Micke Eriksson (more on Micke Eriksson here) who caused the family a rough childhood and clearly influenced where Simon is today…”

 

After a link to a random Instagram which is not Simon’s (Simon doesn't have any public social media), then the next thing is an article, “Simon Eriksson’s Full History, Detailed (Including his drug-addicted Dad, the sexual assault and Simon sniffing coke behind his new boyfriend's back, Prince Wilhelm’s!)” 

 

Okay, that’s invasive but not too bad. 

 

He scrolls to the next. “Why Swedish Schools Are Using Simon Erikssons As A Bad Student Example”. “Our Sources Tell Us Simon Eriksson Is Going To Rebah! Read more on Yahoo.” “Prince Wilhelm and Simon Eriksson Relationship Breakdown From Our Body Language Experts.” “Simon Eriksson And All The Times He’s Been Caught Doing Drugs.” “Simon Eriksson Prostitute Past.” 

 

That makes Wilhelm stop and go to the top, clicking on images. The first ones are recent, all the photos of Simon and Wilhelm, followed by photos of Simon and his sister at Hillerska. Multiple screenshots of him sniffing coke, some with drawn outlines to prove it’s him, photos of him sitting at a bus stop somewhere (Wilhelm assumes Bjastard) With his eyes closed, a cigarette sitting between his lips still smoking, captioned “Keeping Up The Ciggie Grind #Relatable.” 

 

More photos of Simon throughout the years smoking, or with drinks, or just walking down the street looking a bit tired where people have assumed he’s wasted. Photos of his school being closed down because of the fire along with his, his Mum and a few other peoples backs outside the school, looking to have a serious discussion, the caption thinks about the arson.

 

He keeps scrolling and comes across photos of a significantly younger Simon, curly hair scraggly and unkempt, flipping off the photographer as he walks outside a building. You can see he has split knuckles, the caption claims he was limping. Another photo of him walking in new clothes outside the same building, a bandage around his forehead. He’s got his hand half up, about to shield his face, but a second too slow. Wilhelm’s stomach drops at the sight. The caption claims it’s from the people he’s sharing an apartment with.

 

“Wille, you’re a Prince. You cannot be associated with someone who the media has literally nothing positive to say about,” Erik tells him gently. “I know, lots of that is old, most of it is false rumours, but only we know it’s not true. We can’t ask Simon to come forward and address all of that for your sake. This is what the people see, do you understand how you being seen with him makes you look similar?”

 

“I fucking - I understood that months ago, without having to see all this horrible stuff,” Wilhelm says, voice rising as he hands Felice back her phone. “I don’t fucking care about my image, I will literally abdicate if it means I can stay at this goddamn school, with him and with Felice and with my friends. I am happy here - “

 

“Relax, relax, I’m on your side. But, uh, would you actually abdicate for him?” Erik asks cautiously, glancing at him with wide eyes.

 

“Yes,” Wilhelm says. “That’s... how I feel. I want to say no because that’s insane, we aren’t even together, but yes, I would. I will 100% blackmail Mama with that if it means I get to stay.”

 

“Sheesh, okay, chill before you start blackmailing the literal Queen of our country. Let’s make a plan.”

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

“Well, that went absolutely horribly.”

 

Wilhelm face plants onto his bed, too exhausted to even get himself to scream. He’s drained emotionally from pulling out all of the cards and physically from pacing and trying to suppress visible signs of anxiety. 

 

It took nearly an hour to convince his parents, along with Erik, to consider letting him stay. They agreed to go away and discuss it further with their teams and each other. Turns out they are even firmer in their decision than Wilhelm had been expecting, not even Erik, their favourite golden child could sway them. 

 

Then there was that other news they dropped. A fake boyfriend to fix your image. Fake boyfriend … To fix your image … Fake… boyfriend. A fake boyfriend. What the fuck?

 

Felice sits down next to him while Erik stares out the window. Felice wasn’t included in the conversation because Erik and Wilhelm figured their parents just wouldn’t care about her opinion, and to save her sanity since it felt like the conversation went in circles of “the school is bad” and “no it’s not.” “Simon’s bad,” “No he’s not.” “New school will be highly beneficial to everyone and everything,” “No, it won’t.”

 

Now they’re giving Wilhelm a fake boyfriend. How is that legal? They’re getting a boy of his age to sign a legally binding NDA contract to pretend to be Wilhelm’s boyfriend for the next year. A whole year. He felt as if his entire soul was being crushed upon receiving that news. How could this be happening to him? When he’d immediately said no to this, his Mum had replied, “What’s the problem? You said you wouldn’t date Simon, so why does dating another boy matter?”

 

Erik had exploded, expressed how wrong it is to stage a relationship for a sixteen-year-old, and reminded them they never did this to him, why Wilhelm? Wilhelm was grateful to have someone on his side, he just wished it was more beneficial.

 

“We can’t give up,” Erik says, crossing his arms.

 

Wilhelm looks up from the bed, hopelessness physically weighing him down. “I’m not planning to. I’m just mourning.”

 

Felice pats his head like you would an injured or sad animal. “It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. We’ll stop this fake boyfriend bullshit and we’ll get you to stay at Hillerska. With Simon and I.” She’s clearly had time to think over how he kept that factor from him and seems to have forgiven him. Good, he really needs her right now, he just wants people to be on his side.

 

Wilhelm didn’t even consider asking them about the Halloween party, and frankly, it just slipped his mind. “I’m so… exhausted. I want to be furious, I feel like I should be so angry at them but honestly, I’m not surprised. I’m just tired.” He wants to take a nap, preferably with Simon, but he's hours away at the moment. This is going to be the worst two weeks of his life.

 

~ Simon ~

 

“Who are you texting?” Sara asks, taking a bite of her toast as she sits at the breakfast table.

 

Simon’s sitting cross-legged on the couch with a blanket over his lap, he had been rewatching Barbie Life In The Dreamhouse, but then Marcus asked to meet up.

 

“Uhh, Marcus,” Simon admits quietly, staring at the message he’s drafted out as a reply.

 

Sara heaves out a sigh. “I’m going to do an intervention if you don’t break up with that moron. He’s done nothing good for you. Literally just, break up with him and go date Wille. You too clearly actually like each other, you’d be so cute together.”

 

Simon feels his cheeks heat up and he closes his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Sara. You know it isn’t that fucking simple.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, because you like red flags and Wille’s the most green flag out there.”

 

“He’s - I. Whatever. He has his flaws,” Simon grumbles, ignoring the fact his only flaws stem from things he can’t control, like his stupid parents. 

 

“You’re just overcomplicating it. Tell Marcus how you feel, block him on everything, tell Wille how you feel and wife him up,” Sara states, sipping her tea.

 

Simon ignores her, pressing send on his message to Marcus.

 

Simon
Sorry, I can’t do today, I’m going out with Sara and I won’t be home until late. I hope you have a great time, we can call later
9:52 am

 

“How long have you been up for?” Sara asks.

 

“Uhh, like, an hour. I did some yoga and ate breakfast, I’ve been sitting here since. Why?” Simon asks, glancing up at the side of her head. She’s scrolling through her Instagram as they speak, only half paying attention.

 

“Do you wanna do something today?” She asks.

 

They didn’t actually have plans, Simon just lied to Marcus to get him off his back. “Like what? I don’t really want to leave the house.” In case they see Marcus. They likely won’t, he probably just wanted Simon to sit next to him, or on him, while he games. Simon hates it, it’s so awkward and uncomfortable for him. Plus, Marcus completely ignores him unless it’s to touch him or say something straight up weird. Simon’s had more productive days bed rotting. 

 

Sara suggests they go see a new movie and Simon reluctantly agrees. They start getting ready and once Linda’s up, they invite her too.

 

“You should do something fun with Wille,” Sara suggests as they wait in the car for Linda, Simon sitting in the chair behind the driver's seat and Sara is next to him in the back. Linda will drive them in their little red car to be more subtle like they’re little kids again.

 

“Oh my - What is your obsession with him?” Simon groans, turning to look at her. She smirks back.

 

“Don’t lie, you want to.”

 

“I mean, of course I want to hang out with him, he’s my best friend, but we can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because we’ll be photographed together and … “ He might be sent to a different school. I would actually cry and beg Mum to let me follow him if that happened. 

 

“What if you just hang out here, at home?” Sara asks, leaning on the window and looking over at him.

 

“Yeah, we could. But I do want to do outside-of-the-house stuff with him. We did that a couple weeks ago, went to get drinks and buy some random shite. It was really fun, I think we both enjoyed it.”

 

“See, and I didn’t even know that happened. You guys can go out without people noticing you! You should go rollerskating, or to the movies, or to a restaurant.”

 

“Those all sound suspiciously like dates, Sara.’ Simon sighs, looking out the window at their driveway as Linda approaches the car and gets in.

 

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask,” Sara tells him.

 

“Ask what?” Linda says as she settles in.

 

“Oh, nothing.”

 

Will the rejection be worth it? He will see Wilhelm at that Halloween party, but that’s at the end of the holidays. He watches the houses roll by as Linda and Sara chat. If he invites Wilhelm, Felice and Sara it’d be less suspicious, right? What about Henry, Walter or Alex? If it’s the whole group it’ll seem less like Simon is desperate to hang out with Wilhelm and more like he’s desperate to hang out with the whole group. They’re all friends, right? Simon’s never had so many friends before. He could invite Ayub and Rosh as well, so they can see Felice and Wilhelm again. Yeah, he could make it a whole outing!

 

He realises he’s smiling when the car stops next to a car with tinted windows and he sees his reflection, immediately looking away down at his phone.

 

Well, he should at least try and ask, if it’s a know he could still go with the others and have less fun, but if it’s a yes and he never asks … He’ll ask.

 

Simon
Morning sweetums
Do u wanaa hangout w the group this holidays
We could go rollerskating or smth
10:04 am

 

Wille
Sweetums??
I do, of course, but I’ll have to ask my parents.
10:04 am

 

Simon
Would you rather pookie or smth?
Also yeah i figured
How did that go w ur parents yesterday
10:04 am

 

Wille
Idm what you call me to be honest
Oh and, that did not go well
10:05 am

 

Simon
Oh shit
What happened
Do i need to kill someone /j
10:05 am

 

Wille
I’ve been given a fake boyfriend
10:05 am

 

Simon
Ahahahahaha
ur joking right
10:05 am

 

Wille
I wish
10:06 am

 

Simon
so back to my original question
who has to die
10:06 am

Notes:

I have a new fic in the works that I've been creating since like, last year which I'm thinking about posting as we get closer to the end of this fic. It might not look like it, but things are starting to wrap up and I'm having to scroll basically to the bottom of my planning doc.... Ooooo, uh ohhhh. I keep getting the weather of the two fics mixed up so fuck it, I just know there's snow at Christmas. It's October in this fic at the moment. This is set on October 28, to be precise. The final chapter is set on January 9 (not including the prologue) sdfgbhn

I'll reply to question and make some random ahh posts on my Tumblr

Chapter 24: To Hell With Parental Approval

Summary:

TW: Mention of parental manipulation, mention of neglect, arranged relationship

Notes:

Sorry the editing is rushed school is kicking my ass xoxoxo enjoy pookies

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Sunday ~

 

“Wille, stop being lame and ignoring me to text your boyfriend,” Felice mopes from where she is sitting next to Wilhelm on the couch in Wilhelm and Erik’s shared lounge. Simon went to go see a new movie today, so Wilhelm pirated it online so they can talk about it together and is currently watching it with Felice.

 

Wilhelm feels himself blush when she refers to Simon as his boyfriend. “He isn’t my boyfriend, stop saying that.” That brings his thoughts back to the fake boyfriend he apparently has. Wilhelm will do whatever it takes to fight off that little slug – he is willing to bite people ( in a violent way) to stop this insanity.

Felic sighs, popping some popcorn into her mouth. “Have you asked your parents about the Halloween party at Henry’s?”

 

“No,” Wilhelm replies, only half paying attention. In his defense, he is tired. Today he and Felice went horse riding with Erik, not that either of them really wanted to, but Felice wanted to hang out with Erik. After that, they all showered and played Roblox in Erik’s bedroom, and Erik booked a reservation at a nice restaurant where the three went for dinner, in a private part of the resturant so no one was staring once they were seated, the staff did not bat an eye. It was nice food and Wilhelm got to help Felice make an Instagram post on the car ride back, since he isn't allowed to make his own.

 

It’s been a fun day and Wilhelm’s social battery is dead, but when Simon texted he instantly found himself replying. It wasn’t fun to break the news to him this morning about the fake boyfriend, any hope of them ending up together shrivelled and died when Simon’s replies became nonchalant and unbothered as they text about it that morning, he didn't seem to care at all, apart from threatening to kill someone. He seemed more angry at Kristina then jealous of the fake boyfriend.

 

“Halloween is literally in two days, babes,” Felice reminds him. “The party is in about 48 hours and you're gonna need all of that to convince your parents.”

 

“They won’t say yes; there's no point in asking if I know what the answer will be,” Wilhelm grumbles, curling up further in his corner of the couch.  He’s feeling sleepy, the lights in the room are off, only the TV and Wilhelm’s phone are illuminating the space, giving it a dim, yellowed glow that makes him tired.

 

“Did you even try?

 

“No.”

 

“...Wille.”

 

“Felice.”

 

She snaps out her foot to kick him in the shin, tutting at him. “You want to hangout with Simon so bad, but you aren’t even trying.”

 

“Why do we always end up talking about Simon? What happened to us being able to hold conversations that's not about depressing stuff?”

 

Felice goes quiet and Wilhelm looks up, the movie background noise in his ears. 

 

Felice is staring at the screen, expression blank, visibly not paying attention to the movement on the TV. “This school year hasn’t exactly been a pleasant walk in the park, and while I hate to accept it, Simon is a bit more important than me this year. I … Just let me finish, don’t tell me he isn’t, I know he is. I’m not mad, okay? Stuff like this happened. Boys or girls come into our lives and they are so fascinating, so cool, so new and pretty that we focus on them. That’s okay, that’s normal. Balance is important in those situations, spending time with friends and family and this new person. Often, it ends up slopping towards the latter, especially with us teenagers. Simon is that person for you this year, at first it was because you hated each other but now it’s for the opposite.”

 

Wilhelm feels himself blush again, turning his head away from Felice for a moment. His phone buzzes with a text from Simon and he ignores it, considering what Felice just said.

 

“So, it’s also normal for that to be the subject of our conversations. People change, Wille, over this term you’ve changed, you’ve become braver, more outspoken, and more confident. It’s wonderful to see - “

 

“I love the compliments, but where is this going?” Wilhelm interrupts gently, frowning at her.

 

Felice sighs and clears her throat. “My point is that our conversations revolving around Simon isn’t surprising to me at all and it doesn’t bother me, because he’s your current focus.” She shrugs. “So I assumed that’s what you wanted to talk about.”

 

“No, okay, I - I like talking about Simon,” Wilhelm admits, running a hand through his hair and ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. “He’s cool and whatever.” Felice smirks. “But I want to talk about you too. Just because I’ve got … objectively more going on doesn’t mean I want to only talk about it. It’s draining to always be thinking about it, thinking about things I want but can’t have… But isn’t it better if we can talk about your stuff alongside mine? I’d rather we talk about both, not just my stuff. Talking about just what’s going on with me makes me feel like I’m neglecting you and like this friendship is one-sided, and I don’t want that.”

 

Felice considers this, looking off at the TV again as she ponders. “That’s a good point. I guess being friends with so many girls makes me used to only talking about crushed and nothing else when they exist.”

 

“Because you like girls, and they like boys, so conversations are always about them and their crushes, but not you,” Wilhelm guesses, sadness clenching his heart. Oh, Felice. 

 

Her eyes widen as she looks back at him. “I … “ She itches her head, letting out a self depricating laugh. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m used to people talking about what they like, I’m not used to talking about what, or who I like.”

 

Wilhelm puts his phone on the couch, scooching over to Felice and flopping his head down in her lap, looking up at her. “Who do you have a crush on, Lice?” 

 

She wrinkles her nose at the name but ultimately smiles down at him. 

 

“Well? Any pretty girls caught your eye?” Wilhelm asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Felice gets ignored by her friends because they can't relate to people who they like, but that's hardly a reason to have a neglectful, onesided friendship. Even if you don't understand why someone likes someone doesn't mean you can't ask about them. It's not hard to shut your mouth for five minutes so someone else feels included and seen. Wilhelm noticed they had begun to only really talk about Simon, but he didn't notice the lack of things Felice had to say about herself.

 

A pink colour tinges Felice’s cheek and Wilhelm’s jaw drops. “What? Who?!” He exclaims, grabbing her hand as she goes to cover her face, putting it against his heart in shock. “Felice! Who?”

 

“A girl.”

 

“No kidding.”

 

“Okay, shut up, you dick. Let me tell the story,” Felie pulls her hand away to smooth out her hair, cheeks pink. Wilhelm can’t stop grinning.

 

“Aww, my cutie bestie boo has a crush,” he mocks, laughing at her reaction. It feels good to be talking about something happy for once in a while.

 

“So, I meet her on a women X women dating app, I matched with her like, two weeks ago, when all that shit was going down with Simon. Ahem,” she clears her throat and Wilhelm forces his smile to not waver at the memories. “So, it wasn’t the best time to bring her up. Her name is Gwen and she goes to a school in London.”

 

“Oh, damn.”

 

Felice sighs, smiling fading slightly. “Yeah.”

 

“Well, do you have a photo of her you can show me?” Wilhelm asks to keep the mood up. Felice brightens instantly, grabbing her phone from the coffee table next to her.

 

“Yes, I do, about a million. We Snap each other all the time, she’s the cutest. She’s our age as well and goes to a private all-girls school in a fancy part of London,” Felice rambles as she scrolls. “Her parents are super Christian, but when she came out they were like “Oh, I thought you were going to give me bad news,” and then told her off for causing such a ruckus. At the same time she came out her Nan was sick and they thought she was going to tell them she died. They told her they loved her when she burst into tears and said that her sexuality isn't something that could change how they felt about her,” Felice clears her throat again.

 

Wilhelm remembers how her parents reacted when she came out. They asked if she was sure and told her if she ever changed her mind, she could tell them and they wouldn’t judge her. Then they asked if she was bringing a boyfriend to their Christmas holiday. She skipped the holiday to hang out with her girlfriend at the time.

 

She turns her phone to Wilhelm. “She described herself in her bio as “if a stereotypical London girl had a baby with a stereotypical fem lesbian,” Felice states. 

 

“That’s … an accurate description,” Wilhelm agrees, taking the phone to look at the picture of the girl in front of her. She has straight, shoulder-length dyed red hair, wearing a grey and dark green knitted sweater and baggy, ripped jeans with – of course – Doc Martens, a pretty, silver cross hanging around her neck. In the photo she has two fingers up in the piece symbol, her tongue between them with her eyes scrunched.

 

“That’s quite gay, yes,” Wilhelm nods, scrolling to the next photo. She’s wearing what Wilhelm assumes is her school uniform, her makeup running, completely soaked at the 0.5 angle. “What a flattering photo. No, jokes, she’s cute!”

 

Wilhelm hands her phone back and Felice laughs at the photo he ended up on. “Not her finest angle, but she’s adorable.”

 

“Have you called?”

 

“Yeah, several times. Wille,” Felice grabs his hands seriously, making him jump. “She has an English accent. I died. Why did I not think she’d have an English accent?”

 

Wilhelm laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

Felice smiles, sighing, looking at the TV like Gwen is on there right now. “I’m going to meet her as soon as I can. We’re not technically dating, but we both admitted we aren’t talking to anyone else and we did meet on a dating app.”

 

“Girl, date her already!”

 

“I want to ask her in person! What if we work really well online and over video and voice calls, but we just clash in person? That’s a possibility,” Felice says, eyes widening and she lets go of Wilhelm’s hands.

 

“Okay, that’s fair - “

 

“And who are you to tell me to ask someone out - y’all kissed and now he’s denying everything as if he hasn’t been flirting with you all term!” Felice scoffs.

 

“I - wait, wha - He has not been flirting!”

 

Felice’s jaw drops. “Are you shitting me right now?”

 

What?

 

“What? I didn’t say anything. Anyway, this movie is ass, do you want to do face masks now?” 

 

As they get up to do their masks, Wilhelm grabs his phone.

 

Wille
Would smash that male lead tho
7:21 pm

 

Simon
SO REAL AHFOSDFJSLKDJ
HIS SON OMFG THOSE GENES GO CRAZY
7:21 pm
Sorry Marcus just pulled up ttyl<3
7:34 pm

 

He considers replying, staring at the little heart Simon sent, but he doesn’t want Marcus to see that he’s texting Simon and causing problems for Simon, questioning him and accusing him of cheating again like the insecure bitch he is. What is Marcus doing over there late at night?

 

Felice wanders off into Wilhelm’s bathroom, texting Gwen to tell her she told Wille about her, leaving Wilhelm alone to spiral with his thoughts.

 

What is Marcus doing there at this time of night? Are they …? Is Simon okay with …? Is Simon okay? Should Wilhelm reply so Marcus will get mad and leave, so Simon can be without him and do his tedious nightcare routine? He stares at the message Simon sent just two minutes ago. He should leave them, shouldn’t he? 

 

Wilhelm sighs, locking his phone, picking up the popcorn bowl and taking it to the kitchen, throwing away the leftover stale pieces and putting the bowl in the dishwasher. He wanders down the long hallway to his room, hearing music playing where Felice hijacked his speakers.

 

By the time he gets to his room his phone is being turned off again and -

 

Wille
Oh, alright. Have fun, but not too much fun. I’ll talk to you later <33
7:40 pm

 

~ Monday ~

 

“Good morning, Mama,” Wilhelm says as he walks into the family dining room the next morning. Erik is sipping coffee, scrolling on his phone as he leans on the counter, and Kristina sitting at the table eating her toast, her marmalade spread delicately onto both pieces, crunching threateningly with each bite.

 

She eyes Wilhelm as he passes, cautious. “Good morning, Wilhelm. How did you sleep?”

 

“I slept well - “ I was up all night plotting your downfall -I mean, trying to figure out good reasoning so you’ll let me live. “ - How about you?”

 

“That’s good. I slept well also, thank you for asking,” she replies, still watching him like he’s about to turn around and demand something. Which he is planning to do, as soon as she lets her guard down.

 

“What’re you doing?” Erik whispers as Wilhelm passes him to make himself a coffee, pausing when he sees the tea Simon likes in their pantry. 

 

“How was your sleep, Erik?” Wilhelm asks instead, putting a capsule in the coffee machine with a cup underneath.

 

He raises his eyebrows like Wilhelm has gone insane.

 

“It was fine, I suppose. Or though, that pavlova we ate yesterday totally gave me diarrhoea - “

 

“Mama, I have a few things to ask of you,” Wilhelm declares, sitting at the table across from her. It’s a small table, so they’re only a few feet apart, but the being across from each other adds to his point, as he normally sits at his Mother’s side.

 

She simply sighs, chewing her toast before she swallows and replies. “And what will that be today?”

 

“A few things,” Wilhelm says, sipping his coffee and nearly spitting it everywhere. How the fuck do people drink this? He carefully pushes it to the side. “Firstly, it’s Halloween tomorrow night and a good mate of mine is holding a party at his house - “

 

“No.”

 

Wilhelm purses his lips and sighs. “I thought you’d say that. Okay, the next thing. Simon asked if - as a group outing - I could go with him and our other friends roller skating some day these holidays.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes, I was expecting that. In that case, I will be sneaking out of the palace grounds to both attend this party and go rollerskating, as well as this, I will not cooperate with this fake boyfriend garbage and will tell everyone online exactly what you’re trying to do and if he attempts to touch me I will bite him.”

 

Erik chokes on his coffee and Kristina’s eyebrows both rise in surprise. “Pardon?” She asks simply, her cold, mean, Queen voice coming into play. Well, the joke on her, because Wilhelm is immune to it now, no more manipulating him, to hell with good grades and parental approval!

 

“I said, I was expecting you to say no, so in return I am telling you that I will find a way to get out of this prison – I mean palace, tonight to go to this party and later on to hang out with my friends. When you try to enforce this fake boyfriend on me I will resist in every way I physically can and will expose your insanity to the entire world. Did you get it that time?”

 

Erik gapes at him, blinking in shock. He rubs his eyes as if he’s still asleep. Kristina stares at him levelly, not saying anything for a long moment, her gaze cold and unimpressed as she examines him. Wilhelm clenches his fists and stays strong.

 

“What has that school done to you?” She finally whispers. “ Insanity? I’m simply doing my job and keeping your good image. Enlisting you as a fake boyfriend is hardly a reason to bite a person, that is insanity. By saying this you are only concreting my belief that Hillerska is not the school I once attended and is most definitely not a well-fitted place for my son to get his education. You are clearly easily influenced, so we must get you back on track with the right people. You will not be attending a Halloween party, nor shall you be going roller skating, or returning to Hillerska. Or biting Joey.”

 

“Joey?”

 

“Your acting boyfriend.”

 

Wilhelm narrows his eyes. “Mama, I’m not backing down this time. I’m not leaving this table until you agree to my terms.”

 

“Well, get comfortable my dear, we are going to be here awhile.”

 

Scraaaaap. Clink. “So, I join the conversation with a new proposal,” Erik says, sitting down next to Wilhelm with his cup. 

 

Wilhelm narrows his eyes at him. The only proposal he likes the sound of is his own.

 

“Go on,” Kristina sighs, sipping her tea.

 

“Alright, thank you. I propose an idea that fits both of your terms. Mama, you let Wille go to this party tomorrow night and roller-skating with his friends, as well as staying at Hillerska on the agreement from Wille to cooperate with Joey for a month or several. These rules will be set in stone, so when he and Joey “break up”, you can stay at Hillerska and continue to hang out with your good friends. But after Joey, there will be no more fake partners for anyone in the royal family, ever, no matter how horrendous of an image they have. Mama, you must see – must feel - how wrong and weird it is to give your 16-year-old child a fake boyfriend?” 

 

Kristina stares at him, expression cold. “I’m doing what I must as a Queen - “

 

“Be a Mother,” Erik interrupts. “It’s that easy. Be a Mum. Be our parent. As Wille’s Mum, does that feel right?”

 

“Of course not,” Kristina snaps, looking uncomfortable in her seat. “I’ve already told him why I am separating him and Simon, now I am trying to fix the damage that was caused because of his resistance.”

 

Erik and Kristina go back and forwards, both becoming more and more irritated. Wilhelm’s never seen Erik face off against Kristina this fiercely before, he looks genuinely upset and angry, as does she. It means a lot to him …

 

“I agree,” Wilhelm states, feeling throw up nearly following his answer. He gulps, his mouth tasting of ash. 

 

“Agree to what?” Kristina asks, somewhat hopefully.

 

“To Erik's idea. I will cooperate with the fake - with Joey if it means I can hang out with my friends and stay at Hillerska. If you don’t let me I will resist the relationship and likely cause more damage to the Crown,” Wilhelm says, feeling sick at the mere idea. “It’ll look better for my image if I get a boyfriend, even a fake one, who we can stage a relationship with, as well as hanging out with friends. My grades are fine, I’ll look like a perfect student again. Which is what you want; my image to be as good as it was, but now it’ll look even better because I’ll have a social life.”

 

Kristina’s eye twitches. “Argh, where is my husband when we’re having these chats?”

 

“Being a pussy,” Erik snaps, glaring at Kristina.

 

She narrows her eyes on him. “What your tongue, Erik.” She heaves a sigh. Wilhelm’s hands are shaking, blood rushing through his ears, his stomach churning. He shouldn’t have to make this kind of sacrifice to be happy. 

 

Fine. If you work with Joey for the next six months, you can go to this party and hang out throughout the holidays. However, if your grades slip up even in the slightest for no reason, or because you were out partying, I will revoke everything and you’ll find yourself in Switzerland before you can consider cornering and blackmailing me again. Now, excuse me, I have several people I need to inform about this update.”

 

Kristina stands, leaving her half-eaten breakfast. Wilhelm feels his world brighten and crumble at the same time. He has to date Joey for six months, but in return, he gets what he wants. 

 

“Oh, and Joey will be going to all these outings with you.”

 

“What?”

 

“As your boyfriend, it’s expected he hangs out with you. It’s in his contract to be publicly sighted with you three times a fortnite. Are we going to debate about this again, or will you accept it? You haven’t even met him, Wilhelm, don’t judge people you’ve never met. Actually, I believe he’s meant to arrive for the first meetings around lunch today.”

 

Wilhelm grinds his teeth as she walks out the door. He has to cooperate with Joey and invite him to his outings. He’s going to light this palace on fire before the holidays are over.

 

~ ~ ~



After texting Henry and Simon to inform them he’ll be at the party with Felice the following night and receiving a very enthusiastic reply, Wilhelm marches down to the foyer, where he’s expected to wait for Joey.

 

Felice agreed to go with him, and upon Kristina’s request, they both put on nicer clothes, even though they’re planning to go shopping after this for Halloween costumes.

 

They sit in the downstairs lounge, where they have informal meetings and family events. The couches are uncomfortable, made of firm padding and ugly coloured fabric, the lights are bright and make the situation feel more like a hospital room, and Wilhelm feels like crawling from his skin. Felice and Erik sit on either side of him, so Joey can’t sit next to him. Minou and Jan Olaf wait in the foyer to greet them. Kristina and Ludvig said they aren’t needed, as it’s just a PR relationship, so the PR team will handle everything.

 

It’s a tense silence as they wait. Erik cheeks his watch and Felice twirls a curl around her finger. Wilhelm’s palms sweat out his anxiety, his clothes uncomfortable, and his eye keeps twitching.

 

Eventually, they hear talking from the foyer. Wilhelm holds himself tall and strong, ready for the obnoxious presence of a boy, blushing and unable to look Wilhelm in the eye. He’d rather Joey was disinterested in him than all lovey-dovey.

 

Jan Olaf walks into the room first, then Minou, and finally, the boy Wilhelm assumes is Joey. He’s taller than Wilhelm and nearing Erik’s height, with stunning blue eyes smooth over the room, black hair parted in the middle, and falling stylishly against his head. He’s wearing a crisp white suit - which is definitely overkill, considering the circumstances - carrying an air of nonchalance with him. Behind him walks who Wilhelm assumes is his Mother, a tall woman with long, shiny black hair and matching blue eyes, but she’s are more piercing and sharp. She’s wearing a long, white dress and a big, fluffy white coat, both with a matching shade of tan skin.

 

Oh, fuck no.

 

“Mr Swift, this is Wilhelm,” Jan Olaf gestures to Wilhelm. He stands robotically, offering his hand to Joey. 

 

His eyes turn to Wilhelm, and he smiles a charming, model face smile. “Ah, Wilhelm, nice to meet you,” he shakes his hand, his grip firm and radiating the air of confidence, his eyes never leaving Wilhelm's. “How are you?”

 

“I’m - “ I’ve had better days attending funerals - “I’m good, and yourself?” If Joey is going to be fake and pretend, Wilhelm will do the same. He throws his own PR smile at Joey.

 

“That’s good. I’m wonderful, thank you for asking,” Joey nods, putting his other hand around Wilhelm’s once before letting go. Wilhelm subtly wipes his palm on his pants.

 

“Wilhelm, this is Mrs Swift, Joey’s mother,” Minou says, gesturing to the tall woman.

 

“Wilhelm, it’s nice to meet you,” Wilhelm says, offering her a hand.

 

“And you, Wilhelm,” Mrs Swift replies, voice crisp and distant, as if she’d rather be getting her white, pointy nails manicured.

 

“This is Crown Prince Erik and Felice Enhrconia,” Jan Olaf says. “Wilhelm’s brother and his best friend.”

 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Felice says to Mrs Swift, who is closest, while Erik greets Joey with the same false politeness Wilhelm did.

 

They then swap, before everyone takes a seat. Joey lets his mother sit first, before sitting next to her, not even making an attempt to sit by Wilhelm. So, he’s not what Wilhelm expected, but he really should’ve. Of course, a doe-eyed admirer would not work to stabilize Wilhelm’s image, obviously, they need a cool, calm, level-headed, decently attractive (He’s got nothing on Simon, pfft, in Joey’s dreams) guy. Joey fits in the role he’s been given.

 

They discuss the plan and terms of the agreement; the payment the Swifts will receive and the length of time it’s expected to last, his social media, behaviour, and friendship circle … Wilhelm realizes as Joey lists off all his main friends and their social media for Minou to write down and pick through, that Joey is almost sacrificing more than Wilhelm is. He has to agree to not secret relationships while he’s “with” Wilhelm, not discussing it with anyone but his Mother, Wilhelm, or a member of the royal court. If he lets anything slip or ends up worsening the image, they can be legally sued by the Crown for purposeful defamation of the royal image.

 

Wilhelm tries not to show his shock, sitting there quietly, avoiding Joey’s eye, keeping his attention on whoever is speaking. Poor guy … But he still signed up for this, so he can go suck it.

 

Then they get to the Halloween party tomorrow night. 

 

“You are expected to attend the Halloween party at Henry Penje’s house tomorrow night,” Minou states, looking at her iPad, where she has her notes written. “You shall arrive and leave with Wilhelm and take a minimum of one photo together, which you will post in a series of 10 other photos on Instagram. First, you will send the photos to me and I shall choose the appropriate one - I’m sorry, is there a problem?”

 

Joey had begun to fiddle, looking at his Mother in worry, looking like a confused 16-year-old for a moment and not nearly as cool as when he walked in. “I - No, well, yes. I was meant to attend my best friend's Halloween party, he’s signed up to be an international student, so this is my last chance to party with him…”

 

“Okay... And I repeat, is that a problem?” Minou asks starkly, as if she sees no problem with this.

 

“Uh - I don’t mind, he can attend his party instead of mine,” Wilhelm buts in. “I really don’t mind.”

 

Joey smiles at Wilhelm, so he looks away. We aren’t friends, buddy, I’m trying to avoid spending time with you. 

 

“No. Would you like to retract this contract so you can attend a party?” Minou continues, staring at him, almost unblinking. It's uncanny her dedication to this role. Wilhelm supposes finding another fake boyfriend would be risky business and they could get exposed by Joey and/or his Mum.

 

“No,” Mrs Swift is quick to say (pun intended). “It is no issue. Joey, you will attend this party with Wilhelm and do exactly as this Madam right here instructs. Photos, hugging, kissing, whatever. Alright, love?”

 

Joey looks at his mother, hesitating for a second.

 

“Joey,” his Mother snaps, eyes cold and hard. It ... it reminds Wilhelm of his own Mother when she's telling him what to do. He can sympathise with Joey for that.

 

“No, it is not a problem. I’ll attend with Wilhelm.” Wilhelm can tell it physically pains him to say. He looks away. Dammit, guess I’ll have to tell Henry … Oh my God, I can’t even tell my classmates he’s a fake boyfriend, they’re all going to think I’ve kept this massive secret. I’m definetly telling Simon, he has to know, he’s my best friend.

 

The meeting ends after another half an hour, Joey and his Mother signing into confidentiality. Wilhelm, Felice and Erik all have to sign an NDA, Wilhelm also has to sign the binding agreement term for a six month, fake relationship. He nearly can’t do it, hand shaking around the pen. But Simon … I’m doing this for Simon, so I can stay near to him. It’ll be worth it.

 

He signs.

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

It’s a panic to last minute coordinate matching outfits with Simon and Felice. It involves running around an Ikea on call with Simon as Felice frantically Googles, just over a day to get an entire, show-stopping, attention-grabbing, stunning costume ready. Henry's instructions were clear. "If you're doing a group thing, make sure it's obvious. If no one can guess your costume you have to drink. If you don't want to drink you have to jump in the pool. If you don't want to jump in the pool you have to sit in my parents bedroom for half an hour alone without your phone. The costume must be show-stopping, attention-grabbing, and stunning. If you don't meet this criteria I will personally shoot you with a water pistol of vodka <3".

 

Joey went home after the meeting, conveniently living close by to Henry, so they’ll pick him up along the way tomorrow night, as well as Simon, Rosh and Ayub. They’re taking the limousine Joey was previously going to take to his own party, which his Mother so graciously offered. It’s a bit of a trip out of their way to get Simon, Rosh and Ayub, but Minou agreed it was acceptable, clearly aware of the threats Wilhelm made to rebel from Joey if his wishes aren’t met. He’s not sure if the poor guy is even aware of that.

 

In the end, the trio settles on the themes of kiss, marry and kill. Felice finds an outfit for kiss, Wilhelm for marry and Simon for kill. Simon assures him his outfit “ate the house down”.

 

The following evening Wilhelm and Felice get ready together, then get into the limousine after saying goodbye to Erik, who plans to stay home and game all evening.

 

Wilhelm has strict orders to not drink, rules which he half intends to follow. Felice brought a bag, in which they packed sick bags, water bottles and her make up, in case it ends up running, so she can stay fresh.

 

After just under an hour, they pull up to Simon’s house. Wilhelm is bubbling with excitement. It’s past nine o’clock now, and they drove past a few trick or treaters on the streets. A skeleton and a sexy zombie, a child with a sheet over their head and eye holes, walking with a big ghost wearing sunglasses. Three people in inflatable dinosaur costumes, and a man chasing someone wearing a pumpkin onesie down the street.

 

Hes never seen such festivities before. He doesn’t normally do Halloween, finding the concept of eating candy nonstop all evening rather unpleasant, but it looks like so much fun. He’s been missing out.

 

Wilhelm texts to inform Simon they’re at his house, before he and Felice clamber from the car. It’s cold tonight, dark clouds drawn tightly together, the moon a rare sight. It adds to the atmosphere of Halloween though, so no one is really complaining, and Wilhelm’s grateful that he decided to not fit the whole dressing slutty for Halloween thing. Not that he’d be allowed to do that anyway… Since he got the theme marry, he went with a very literal interpretation and brought a cheap white suit, fit with the multiple layers, too many buttons and a gold tie clip. He looks like he is in fact, going to a wedding.

 

Meanwhile, Felice is waltzing up the hill in her giant, knee high heels, her cape swaying out behind her.

 

Wilhelm’s very curious as to what Simon put together. 

 

Wilhelm knocks on the door and waits excitedly, listening to the laughter echoing from inside, getting closer to the door, before it opens. Simon stands there, grinning back at them.

Notes:

Wille's really upping his communication skills guys, give him a clap for being a baddie
I finished this with like two minutes till class ended I'm sorry if the editing is ass

I also giggled when I cut the chapter off here.
I did a poll on my Tumblr and they voted for two shorter chapters before the end of the month instead of one big one at the end, so I had to split it somewhere. Next update on the 31.

Chapter 25: But You Promised

Summary:

So kiss me where you lay down
My hands pressed to your cheeks
A long way from the playground
I have loved you since we were 18
Long before we both thought the same thing
To be loved and to be in love
- 18, One Direction
RIP Liam Paybe :(

Notes:

Its been one year since I posted this fic whaaat
Loved all the Simon's outfit killing Wille jokes in the comments of last chapter
Also, just to clear some stuff, according to my research Swedish school years begin in August, so they've only done one term, their first holiday starts at the end of October and lasts a week. I was checking my writing sheet for this fic and realized the end of October was lining up with our end of October, a total coincidence lol, so I decided to just post this around Halloween then. The party was not originally in the plan, but it fit in perfectly. Not Christmas yet, sorry for the confusion.

 

I know the slow burn is taking forever but I take slow burn very seriously. The wait is almost up

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Wille!” He cheers, pulling him into a hug. “You’re costume looks so good! So bright, whao.” Simon says as he pulls back, holding Wilhelm by the shoulders as he examines his outfit. Wilhelm does the same. Simon’s dressed as kill alright. He's wearing his normal baggy, black and ripped jeans, with a fake knife stuffed in the back pocket. As a top he has a loose fitting, red and grey sweater, that hangs off his shoulders and looks like he cut the bottom off. Underneath the sweater he has an intricet chain thing, falling from a choker around his neck, like loosely made chain mail. He has fake blood from where the choker sits against his neck, with smudged red make up around his eyes and a pair of devil horns stuck in his hair, which is done in two fluffy little pig tails. He looks great … Wilhelm forces his eyes to meet Simon and finds him … blushing. Wilhelm finds himself grinning back.

 

“You look great,” Wilhelm says honestly, feeling his heart palpitating in his chest. Simon’s hands grip his shoulder softly yet firmly, grounding him from flying away. 

 

Once everyone's had greeted each other, they moved into the lounge, where Ayub, Rosh, Sara and Linda all stand. 

 

Felice is wearing a red corset top with roses detailed onto it, it flows out behind her back as a kind of cape, along with a black mini skirt, and shiny black knee high boots. She has fish net stockings on her legs, as well as in a top form across her chest and arms. She brought two dollar fake vampire teeth and fake red nails, and has done a red lip with faint red eye liner. Her hair is half up and half down. Her outfit gets her lots of compliments, and rightfully so, she looked amazing. Wilhelm had to take several photos to send to Gwen.

 

Ayub is wearing a chicken onesie, and Rosh is a sexy pirate. Sara and Linda are both in comfy pyjamas, steaming hot chocolates and a bowl of candy sits on the coffee table. Sara tells Wilhelm they’re going to snuggle down and watch horror movies. Linda insists on taking photos of their group, telling them they can all come back here after if they want to. Wilhelm thanks her but knows he’ll have to take the long drive back to the palace with Felice, who will go home tomorrow morning.

 

Linda fills them with candy until Simon manages to drag them all to the front door, saying “if we want to get to the party before it finishes we should leave now.” 

 

So they trade their goodbyes and "have fun"'s and all pile into the limo, the driver seeming unbothered, apart from him silently putting up the wall between them. Wilhelm sits next to Simon in the middle, and Felice sits on the other side with Ayub and Rosh, meaning Joey will be next to Wilhelm. Great. He looks at Felice somewhat desperately, but she’s conversing with Ayub and doesn’t seem aware of the situation she’s left Wilhelm in.

 

The car is spacious, yes,  and Wilhelm did choose to be basically plastered to an unbothered Simon. They could all fit on one side of the car if they wanted - it is a limo, after all - but it’ll still be awkward to sit with a foot of space between Joey and Wilhelm. There’s a table in between the two seats, which they all put their bags and candy on. Felice snaps a photo of the aesthetic disarray of teenager stuff.

 

To distract himself with the growing dread of Joey’s surely dead, disappointed presence soon to fill the car, he grabs the AUX cord and plugs it into his phone, offering the Spotify to Simon, who was busy playing with the disco LED lights on the roof.

 

“Ooo,” He takes his phone, searching up some random party playlist for the 2000s, a bunch of old songs they grew up on filling the car's speakers. They all chant along to Baby, by Justin Beiber, singing dramatically to each other and holding fake microphones.

 

Wilhelm can’t seem to stop smiling. Simon is warm next to him, bouncing around as he sings, his voice still melodic despite the joking manner he’s singing to Rosh across from him, the party lights flashing from the roof, illuminating his skin in different colours, making him glow.

 

It's loud, he can barely hear his own thoughts over the volume of their totally angelic singing. He glances out the window and see's a car stopped at a traffic light next to them staring. He knows the windows are tinted, but clearly not very sound proof. Ah, so they're that kind of car.

 

He doesn't let the judgement ruin his mood as the Cup Song begins. You'd think there was 50+ people in the car from the noise they make yelling along. They pull out drink bottles to do the actions along to the song. Wilhelm watches and laughs as Felice does it flawlessly, Ayub struggling to copy her, the hood of his chicken onsie up and shadowing his face. It's fun. Wilhelm really enjoys hanging out with these people. Fake dating Joey is worth it if this is what he gets to keep.

 

The car stops. For a moment Wilhelm is even more excited, they must be at the party! Then it hits him as he looks out the window. They’re picking up Joey. He’s going to sulk in the corner and ruin this for everyone.

 

Wilhelm isn’t sure if he’s expected to go get him, or text him. He has Joey’s number, all that’s there is a “Hi” from Joey, which he left on seen. 

 

He glances at Simon, who’s now quiet, stifly staring out the window away from Wilhelm. Wilhelm sighs, about to suggest he and Felice go knock when the door opens. Everyone’s heads turn to look at him.

 

Joey climbs in with a flashy smile. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you all,” he says casually, sitting next to Wilhelm at a respectable and comfortable distance, far enough away it isn’t weird, but close enough it looks like they’re comfortable close together.

 

He’s greeted with a dead silence. He blinks, smile unphased. Wilhelm asked Simon to tell Rosh and Ayub the real reason Joey is with him, to tell them he's the fake boyfriend, but he forgot to tell the trio to not treat him like it, because they aren't meant to know. 

 

“Hey, again,” Wilhelm offers, feeling a bit bad for the guy as he glances at his friends. They’re all staring at Joey like he’s prey who just wandering into their trap. Uhhh, so glad I'm not on the receiving end of those looks. “What are you dressed as?” He asks as the car begins to move again, dead silent with the pulsing lights above.

 

Simon shifts closer to Wilhelm.  

 

“I’m a zombie,” Joey replies. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, torn artistically on his biceps, a red tie hanging loose around his neck, his hair quiffed upwards, blue eyes piercing as ever. 

 

“Oh, yeah,” Wilhelm nods, trying to find a balance of his PR talk and still sounding uninterested so Joey will stop talking to him. “Okay.”

 

“And you? A groom?” Joey guesses with a smile. “Very nice suit.”

 

“We did a group thing,” Simon says, leaning around Wilhelm to stare at Joey with a look Wilhelm’s never seen. He thought Simon looked at him with hate, and he thought he looked at August with hate, but this is different. He looks like he’s challenging him, his expression daring Joey to keep eye contact. “Felice, Wille and I. We’re kiss, marry kill.”

 

“Oh, that’s cool!” Joey says, completely ignoring Simon’s acidic look. 

 

Wilhelm nudges Simon back slightly, but Simon doesn’t budge.

 

“Yeah. You look very tidy for a zombie,” Simon states blandly.

 

“You look very stylish for a killer, assuming that’s your role,” Joey replies, his eyebrow twitching the slightest in retort.

 

Simon pauses. “Well, I would’ve thought you were a murder victim if you hadn’t told us what you were meant to be. So your outfit needs some work.”

 

“I guess you’re Simon?” Joey says, disregarding Simon’s jab which felt slightly like a threat.

 

Simon’s look grows even colder if possible, with red lights flashing over his features dangerously. “Yes. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that’d be a fucking lie.”

 

“Right, okay, well, I’m Joey,” he says. “Felice, good to see you again," he nods at her, which she returns slightly. "Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve meet,” Joey looks to Rosh and Ayub, glowering from the other side of the car.

 

While they introduce themselves with a passive aggressive air, Wilhelm nudges Simon back, successful this time. “Chill, okay,” he whispers to him, faces inches apart, Simon’s eyes dark and dangerous on Joey behind him.

 

“No.”

 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes, looking away. He doesn’t like Joey either, but he doesn’t need Simon tearing into him. He catches Felice’s eye and she looks … amused? Wilhelm frowns, but she looks away quickly.

 

The car ride from there to Henry’s is awkward. The strobe lights remain on because turning them off is more awkward than leaving them on. Then they have to acknowledge that the mood has been dropped and it's no longer party time. No one puts on music, they all just stare out the window and occasionally someone brings up something to talk about, but it always dies out when Joey offers his opinion to a comment.

 

Wilhelm begins to... feel bad for him. He wanted to go to his own party, but instead, he’s got stuck with a bunch of kids who don’t like him, going to a party where no one will know him.

 

Finally, the car stops and they all grab their stuff, clambering out quickly. The air is cold and brisk, a contrast to the tension from the cars inards. 

 

Wilhelm talks to the driver for a few seconds, asking where he’ll be. He’s told Joey has his number and will text him when they want to leave, because he’ll be around the corner, away from the party. 

 

The car pulls away and they turn to Henry’s house. It’s a mansion alright. Wilhelm gets why Henry said to invitie whoever you want because it’s big enough for hundreds of people. 

 

They walk down the long driveway, passing by killer clowns, devils with angels, zombies, ghosts, cats, and a variety of stupid inflatable outfits. They pass an entire group of inflatable dinosaurs, which Simon laughs at, padding along by Wilhelm’s side, Joey walking diligently on the other side.

 

The trees have fake cobwebs in them, pumpkins sit on the ground with creepy lights in them, glowing out the crack in the poorly cut faces.

 

“I had no idea he was so festive,” Wilhelm comments. "But I can't say I'm surprised."

 

"Love to see what he does for Christmas," Simon snorts.

 

He wants to link his arm through Simon to keep him close, but there are just too many people with phones, taking pictures and videos, even with Joey here, he was told to not be too close to Simon. There’s a part of him that is slightly worried Simon will … run off and do drugs. He doesn’t ask Henry if they have drugs at this party, but he knows Henry isn’t strictly against it. This is his house though, so it'd be dumb. He can’t control what Simon does, but he still has opinions on what he does.

 

The front doors are already thrown open so they all wander inside. Music seems to echo from every direction, rattling Wilhelm’s organs and shaking his breath from him, his heart pounding to match the base, thoughts shaken from his head. Ayub whoops and beelines in a random direction, leaving everyone to trail after him.

 

People are everywhere with drinks or snacks, all spooky themed. Spider cookies or red punch or eyeball candy. The lights are off, the space is instead light up by bright, colourful party lights that cut lines of bright colour across and over the crowd.

They make it to the backyard and Wilhelm’s already grateful for the fresh air, finding sweat on his brow. At some point Simon found two cups of punch and hands one to Wilhelm, he just blinks, trying to catch his bearings. He feels like he just fell out of a dream, nose stinging in the cold air.

 

“Cheers!” He yells over the music. Wilhelm cheers’ his cup and they both silently decide to chug the punch. Wilhelm’s grateful when he can’t taste any alcohol, just sour juice. 

 

“Hey hey hey!” Henry yells, running over from the direction of the pool, surprisingly dry and dragging Walter with him. Henry is clearly the devil, with horns and a pitchfork, fake blood dripping from his mouth, pants too tight and a red shirt billowed open. “So good to see you guys!” He cheers, clearly already somewhat wasted.

 

“Sick party, mate!” Joey says, bopping along to the music.

 

Oh no, Wilhelm thinks, I’m going to have to tell Henry Joey’s my boyfriend when he asks. Joey must’ve figured out that the others in the car know what his role is, but Henry doesn’t know. 

 

“Thanks, man! Hey, nice zombie outfit!” Henry replies, wobbling slightly and falling towards Walter, who prompts him upright with an arm around his waist. 

 

Joey just laughs, surprinsgly not throwing a victory look of “you see this” at Simon. Simon scoffs and rolls his eyes as if he did though. “He hardly looks like a zombie, Henry,” Simon snorts.

 

“And what are you? A murderer?” Walter asks Simon.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Fitting," Henry nods. "Wille, my boy, you look so fancy! Going to a wedding after this?” Henry wiggles his eyebrows.  

 

“Yeah, we’re kiss, marry, kill, personified!” Felice yells to Henry and Walter, also holding a cup that spawned from thin air. Ah, the magic of Halloween.

 

“Oh, that’s clever!”

 

Eventually, they peel away from those two, Wilhelm follows Simon towards where he says the kitchen is, how he knows Wilhelm isn’t sure. Joey follows, looking perfectly comfortable in this stranger's house surrounded by people he doesn’t know. He a people person, then, makes him a good candidate for his job as Wilhelm's fake boyfriend. He's going to have to answer a lot of questions once the official news breaks.

 

Wilhelm realizes basically all of Hillerska is here. He sees Felice’s group of girl friends, August and his gaggle of thuds, plus what he believes is every single second year. There are people he doesn’t know, probably family or friends from old schools. They pass a girl and a guy making out on the couch and he can practically feel Simon roll his eyes while Wilhelm averts his gaze.

 

They get more punch, dodge a random girl who tries to drag Wilhelm into a game of spin the bottle and end up watching drunken Just Dance in the lounge, standing behind the couch, laughing and cheering them on. It's rather hilarious, it's clear the people dancing aren't sober at all, they stumble and bump into each other, nearly throwing the controllers into the TV more than once.

 

Felice, Ayub and Rosh all disappear and reappear randomly, but Joey sticks to Wilhelm, who stays with Simon. Simon does a few rounds of Just Dance before wandering back to Wilhelm and Joey, more sweaty but also more energised than before. He tries to get Wilhelm to join, but he is not having a video of him doing Just Dance appear online.

 

After a few more rounds of watching, he finds himself a bit bored, which comes as a shock because he's at a party, how he is he bored? He supposes the last parties he's gone to have been eventful in their own ways, but this is just a party. “Are parties always this boring?” He asks Simon, leaning on the cool glass behind the couch, sweat lining his brow. 

 

“Whooo!” Joey cheers politely, clapping as the current dancer finish and bow dramatically.

 

“No, not always,” Simon replies, sipping on Wilhelm’s punch because he got sick of it. 

 

“Why is this one boring then?”

 

“Well, normally I’d go do drugs, then everything is really interesting,” Simon says nonchalantly. Joey side-eyes him. Wilhelm sighs and looks away.

 

"You shuoldn't need drugs to have fun, Simon."

 

"You asked," Simon replies under his breath against the rim of the cup.

 

“Hey, Wilhelm, should we take some photos for the Instagram post now?” Joey butts in with a bright smile, white teeth glinting.

 

Simon scoffs. “Yeah, Wille, go pose for some stupid, fake photos."

 

Joey is clearly aware Simon knows, but he still shouldn't have said it aloud like that.

 

"Simon," Wilhelm sighs.

 

"I’ll be back.” Wilhelm grabs his wrist before he can sulk off. 

 

“We’ll take photos later,” Wilhelm tells Joey, holding Simon steady when he tries to wiggle away, muttering a bathroom excuse. “Don’t be a twat, Simon,” he hisses at him, finally pulling Simon away with him.

 

Simon stands on Wilhelm's heels as he follows quietly, letting Wilhelm drag him around. “Don’t be mean to him, he didn’t want to be here.”

 

“He still signed up for this,” Simon retorts, chucking his empty cup on a table they pass. Joey loyally follows behind, quiet. 

 

Wilhelm doesn’t have a response to that. Joey did, yes, there's no denying that. He finds a bathroom and Simon wanders inside quietly. Wilhelm isn’t sure if he actually needed the bathroom, or if it was an excuse to not have to watch Wilhelm take fake photos with Joey, but it gives him a moment with Joey to talk.

 

“I’m sorry about him,” he says. The hallway is mostly quiet, the music is still loud but it’s more tolerable, and no one is down here with them. It's nice to escape the crowd. People still stare when they see him, pointing to him and Simon or Joey, the rumours are surely already beginning to spread. Who's the new guy with blue eyes hanging out with Wilhelm and Simon? He'll expect questions when school restarts that he'll have to painfully answer as "Oh yeah, Joey's my boyfriend. We meet at an event."

 

“He’s fine,” Joey dismisses with an easy smile. “I see what’s going on. I get it." Does he though? "He’s just being protective, it’s alright, I won't blame you for his actions. I won’t lie, it is very, extremely irritating and I do want to slap him a little bit.” Wilhelm feels his eyebrows rise in surprise, the blatantness catching him off guard. “But I understand where he’s coming from.”

 

Wilhelm wasn’t expecting him to be so understanding. It’s … refreshing, not having to argue his point until he’s nearly in tears, Joey didn’t get pissy and walk off when Wilhelm tried to talk to him, he just … agreed. What. 

 

“I … I mean, if you slap him he’ll just kick you in the groin; there’s nothing to gain from that. He could hold an argument with a brick wall for at least half an hour, so be smart when arguing with him,” Wilhelm says.

 

“You know him well,” Joey just nods. “You shouldn’t get close to him.”

 

For some reason, Joey saying this doesn’t even surprise Wilhelm. He keeps the same friendly tone of voice despite the less than nice words. “Honestly," he looks Joey dead in the eye. He cocks his head to the side. :I don’t care. It’s too late. He makes me happy. I'm tired of depriving myself of that kind of happiness because of my stupid public image. I’ll be honest with you,” Wilhelm says, lowering his voice, even though they’re the only people in this hallway. “This PR stunt is only happening because I refused to cooperate unless I got to remain friends with him.”

 

“I know. I’ve been briefed on your situation,” Joey replies calmly. “But, I’m not going to tolerate him dragging me through the dirt because you don’t want me arguing with him. I signed up to be your fake boyfriend, not your... friend's punching bag.” 

 

Wilhelm shrugs. “He’s just defensive because he knows I suck at sticking up for myself. I try to avoid arguments, to diffuse tension, but he doesn't let shit stand. He's bad at confrontation though.”

 

“Do … Do you not see it?” Joey asks, raising an inquisitive brow at Wilhelm. 

 

“See what? I see him making snide comments to you, it’s not my job to defend you,” Wilhelm scoffs slightly, crossing his arms and looking away down the hallway, watching the crowd moving like a pile of wriggling, writhing worms, shifting past the hallway opening.

 

Joey laughs, shocking Wilhelm to look back at him. “No, I mean, yes, he is making snide remarks. But he's also jealous, Wilhelm. Do you not see - ?”

 

The bathroom door suddenly opens. “I’m done!” Simon announces loudly, throwing Joey the deadliest look. Joey raises an eye brow and Wilhelm just shrugs, used to Simon’s dramatics. He grabs Wilhelm’s hand and pulls him back towards the party. “Let’s dance, Wille!”

 

“Simon, y - you know I can’t dance with you,” Wilhelm replies, brain half stuck on “he’s jealous”. He looks at the back of Simon’s curly head, pushing through the moving crowd instead of just going around the edges and getting steadily more irritated when people don’t move for him.

 

Simon ignores what he’s said, pulling Wilhelm up to Ayub, Rosh, Felice, Stella, Maddi and Fredrika, all standing in a small group dancing. Joey tries to stand at Wilhelm’s side, but suddenly Simon’s on his other side and elbows him out of the way. Wilhelm goes to tell him off but his voice is drowned out by the music the Simon doesn't even look at him.

 

Joey glares at Simon and then … he walks away. Simon isn’t looking, forcing a shared laugh with Rosh about something else she’s talking to him about. Wilhelm frowns. No one seems to have even noticed. 

 

This is what I wanted, though, Wilhelm reminds himself, glancing back as Joey fully disappears. 

 

Felice grabs his hand and spins herself under his arm, a laugh bubbles out of his chest in surprise and he lets himself forget about Joey and Simon’s apparent jealousy as the Macarena starts. The room breaks out in cheers of excitement and anticipation. The music shakes him down to the core. He sees mouths moving but he can only hear if someone leans up to his ear, the music is too loud.

 

The chorus arrives and everyone dances together, swirling their hips and then turning, syncronised, to the right. They all laugh and keep on dancing, happiness seeping through the crowd. 

 

They dance on, and the DJ, whoever it is, plays crowd favourites for a while. A dance circle forms, which Wilhelm watches from the side, arms linked through Felice and Simon so he doesn’t lose them as he cheers and encourages on the choosen dancer.

 

Wilhelm feels like he’s going to pass out at one point, so they all fumble to the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks. He takes a sip of his punch and it tastes … more bitter. He knows what’s in it, but finds himself drinking more anyway. It burns down his throat in a way punch shouldn’t, his stomach becoming warm, warmer than when you drink a hot drink on a cold day. 

 

Every part of the house is filled with music and people, the mood doesn’t die no matter what room they’re in. He drinks his punch and then rinses the cup, filling it with water from the tap. The water refreshes him more, clearing his head.

 

Simon is rummaging through Henry’s walk-in pantry with Alex, who is dressed in a skeleton body suit. They’re both laughing, for once, not arguing or judging each other.

 

Felice is showing Rosh and Ayub something on her phone, he assumes it’s Gwen and smiles, glad they’re bonding as well. He checks his phone and sees it’s nearing midnight. That's his curfew to leave.

 

He snacks on the real food Alex pulls out of the cupboard and the junk Simon finds, sitting on the counter.

 

“Is that camembert?” Simon asks as Wilhelm puts a cracker into his mouth.

 

He nods, covering his mouth with his hand as he chews.

 

“Babe, we’re at a party, not a morning tea with your Mum,” Simon snorts, but he still grabs a piece and nibbles on it, pouring himself more punch from the massive fish bowl, plastic spiders float around in it which Simon has to avoid scooping with the ladle, and it becomes clear he isn’t sober when he struggles, squinting and wobbling. But Wilhelm’s seen him more wasted in gym class – literally – so this is a win. 

 

Alex makes himself a ham sandwich and then trots off, claiming he’s going to ask Henry if they can order pizza.

 

“I have to go soon,” Wilhelm yells to Simon, hopping off the counter. Simon takes a break from chugging punch with Rosh to pout.

 

Rosh smacks her cup down and cheers in victory, turning to Felice who challengers her next.

 

“Aww, what?” Simon replies, wobbling on the spot. Wilhelm puts an arm around his waist to steady him, holding Simon firmly against his side. He does glance around, but no one is sober enough to notice them anymore. It's nice to feel invisible and he savours Simon's warmness. He drunkenly leans his head on Wilhelm's shoulder, kicking a grape around on the floor with his Converse.

 

“So I have to go find Joey to take some photos,” Wilhelm says. “He’s jealous.” His mind replays Joey's words.

 

Simon’s expression sours and he pulls himself away from Wilhelm, going for the spiked punch. Wilhelm chews on his lip, watching Simon scowl and struggle, trying to forget this is a problem with the alcohol. No, not on Wilhelm’s watch, there’s a loophole that just occurred to him.

 

He drags Simon behind him as he texts Joey to find out where he is.

 

The party doesn’t seem to be thinning out at all, if anything, there are more people despite it being nearly midnight. Wilhelm’s beginning to get tired, he’s had fun, definitely, but he’s also definitely not a party person.

 

Joey replies saying he’s outside by the pool, so Wilhelm wanders in the direction he remembers the pool being, going through the busy main room, a hallway, the lounge and out into the garden, where the pool is, lights flash up through the water, illuminating the floating people who swim around. There’s a literal mermaid with a whole fake tail and several soggy inflatable dinosaurs who look like they might need a life guard. Wilhelm watches as a Superman launched from the window above the pool and misses the inflatable dinosaur #2 by a few inches, but comes up holding them around the waist. 

 

Wilhelm spots the back of Joey’s head, still bringing Simon with him. Joey is, horrifyingly but conveniently, talking to August. Exactly who Wilhelm was going to go find after he grabbed Joey.

 

“I guess you are attracted to people who are similar to you,” Simon remarks quietly. Wilhelm rolls his eyes at him. Is he jealous? He knows Wilhelm doesn’t actually like Joey, he’s made it clear he likes Simon. Hasn’t he?

 

Quickly, before they get too close for August to notice them, Wilhelm pulls Simon into a gape between the shed and the house. It’s a small space, meaning there are mere inches between them. He hugs Simon.

 

“Whao - “ Simon says, wobbling slightly. “I - What’s wrong?” He asks, hugging Wilhelm back, resting his cheek heavily against his shoulder.

 

“Nothing. Just want to have a moment with you.” That makes it obvious, right? If Simon still doesn’t see it … Wilhelm will just have to kiss him. He knows he won’t kiss him, not right now at least, somewhere more memorable and significant than Henry’s Halloween party, plus, Simon isn’t sober.

 

“Oh,” Simon simply states. Wilhelm feels him physically relax, taking in a deep breath, then melting against Wilhelm. To think there was a time he wanted this boy expelled, and now he’s willingly putting himself through hell to keep himself at the same school, hugging him in the shadows because he wants to. How times change. 

 

“My choices were: fake date Joey for six months and get to see you, or be sent to Switzerland,” Wilhelm tells Simon quietly. He pulls back, resting his hands gently on his bare, slim waist, skin warm to the touch. Simon’s chest quivers as he breaths against Wilhelm, arms around his neck. They’re too squished to be any further apart. Oh well. “I didn’t want to, I told Mama I’d resist him and tell everyone what she was doing, but Erik suggested an in the middle option to please us both. I stay here, remain at Hillerska and can see you, but I have to fake date Joey for six months and cooperate with him. That looked better than Switzerland, or making the whole country hate my Mum and ending up in jail for biting someone.”

 

Simon’s eyes are wide and glittering in disbelief and … something else. His cheeks are undeniably pink, his breath’s still shaky. Wilhelm stares back and … he wishes he could kiss him. Just a soft kiss. But Simon is still with Marcus. The thought makes him twitch uncomfortably. He leans his forehead against Simon’s and closes his eyes. Fucking Marcus.

 

Close enough, he tells himself. “I think I’d die if they sent me away from you.”

 

“I’d have died to get to you,” Simon finally replies. Wilhelm opens his eyes and sees such a raw, open longing on Simon’s face he has to kiss him, how can he just let Simon look at him like that without returning the feeling – Simon makes the choice to force him, gently cupping one of Wilhelm’s cheeks and kissing his other cheek, lips soft and breath gentle. “But you promised. We’ll be okay.”

 

Simon must like him back, mustn’t he? He’s never seemed like this with … with anyone

 

His phone buzzes and he jumps, making Simon snort. He squeezes out from behind the shed, checking his phone. Joey’s asking why he wanted to know where he is.

 

He walks up behind Joey, tapping him on the shoulder. “Photos?” He asks.

 

“Not this again,” August groans. “Are you going to get me threatened by the Queen, again?” August asks suspiciously, holding one of the red solo cups but pupils blown from something else.

 

“What?” Joey asks in surprise.

 

“He was taking the suggestive photos of Simon and I,” Wilhelm states blatantly. Joey raises both eyebrows at August in what looks like disgust. “But no, or though I did come over here for photos.” He holds Simon's hand tightly behind his back. "You guys busy?"

Notes:

I wasn't allowed to do Halloween as a kid, so getting to write the stupid shenanigans was healing
They do a lot of dragging each other around this chapter lol

On a brighter note, pahaha I love the misleading chapter title (if you forgot, it's "But You Promised.". At least to me it seems like a "But you promised, how could you stab me my love?" Instead of a "but you promised, so I knew we'd be alright." Without the context I hope I scared you <3 Happy Halloween
I'm working tonight someone kill me -

Probably going to post my new fic in a week or two, got to finish some last minute stuff first :D
I made an art of their outfits

Follow my tumblr linked on my A03 acct for extra stuffs

Chapter 26: Comfort

Summary:

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We should just kiss like real people do
- Like Real People Do, Hozier

TW: Crying, mention of divorce, mention of abusive relationships, gayness

Notes:

Sorry this update is so late, I'll put my explanation in the end notes. I didn't edit it but I hope it's okay<3 Enjoy the chapter

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t let you all get blackout drunk?” Wilhelm asks with a smirk, clenching Simon’s hand in his grip as he rolls along next to him. Bright lights flash over head from a disco ball hanging in the middle of the rink, music that stopped trending in the 2000’s booms from the suspended speakers, with the music videos projected onto a wall above the rink. The air is filled with laughter and talking, the smell of hot chocolate and chips wafting through the warm space.

 

Simon grins, but keeps his gaze on his feet as to not fall over, keeping his balance precariously. “Watch your tongue, or I might just leave you to fall over in the middle of the rink, again ,” Simon replies threateningly, but his grip on Wilhelm’s hand remains tight.

 

“Please, you wouldn’t be able to get two feet without support,” Wilhelm scoffs back, knowing he himself isn’t much better. Rollerskating is significantly harder than it looks. People online make it look so easy, they just roll along like they’ve never known a different way to get around. They glide over uneven surfaces like paint over a smooth surface. Wilhelm ran over a candy wrapper and nearly face planted; they’re so sensitive.

 

Having literal wheels attached to your feet makes getting around very hard, even on carpet he has to awkwardly shuffle along, unable to roll or walk. He feels unsteady no matter how he stands, constantly on the verge of having his feet slip out from under himself.

 

Simon gets too cocky and rolls ahead, stretching their arms. Wilhelm makes a worried sound right before Simon pulls Wilhelms arm to bring them together again. But it goes wrong. He shrieks and pulls Simon’s hand back towards himself in panic. Which leads to Simon getting off balance, arms flailing for a few seconds before he falls onto his ass, dragging Wilhelm down with him. Wilhelm gets spun around and lands with an “oof” on Simon’s chest.

 

“Oowwww,” Simon groans in pain, rubbing the back of his head.

 

Wilhelm stares in horror, hovering over Simon as he begins to giggle. He can’t help but laugh as well, sitting up and off Simon. They are still in public. “I’m sorry! You scared me! A little warning would’ve simply prevented this!”

 

“I was getting bored - “

 

“Need a hand?”

 

The two boys look up and meet piercing blue eyes, an out stretched hand is offererd to both Simon and Wilhelm. Of course Joey is a natural at rollerskating.

 

“No, I’m fine,” Simon replies snottily, carefully manouvering to his knee’s and then putting one foot on the ground, leaning on his thigh to stand up and offering his hand to Wilhelm instead. 

 

Joey says nothing, just sighs and drops his hand as Wilhelm takes Simon’s, nearly pulling him back down.

 

“We’re okay, thanks,” Wilhelm replies with nicer tone. “Having fun?” He asks Joey as Simon firmly replaces their clasped hands, rolling his feet around under himself to get his bearings again.

 

“Not really,” Joey sighs. “You’re friends all hate me. You do realise you’ve broken your NDA by telling all of them? Felice was there, that’s fine, and I get him telling you,” Joey says to Simon. “But the other two? They just glare at me and whisper when they know I’m paying attention, it’s not cool.”

 

“What’s not cool is you - “ Simon starts, looking around Wilhelm towards Joey with a dark expression.

 

“Let’s not do this in public,” Wilhelm interupts, very aware that there’s other peolpe skating around them. He hesitates, then offer his other hand to Joey. “Let’s fulfill this image bullshit for a bit.”

 

Simon’s grip tightens on his hand to an almost painfully, before he forcefully relaxes. They all skate around together for a bit. Joey and Wilhelm make polite small talk and laugh over dramatically at things that aren’t that funny. Wilhelm gets Simon to smile a few times, because it’ll look obvious if Simon in a bad mood while Wilhelm and Joey are smiling, it’d be weird for Simon to look excluded after months of close friendship. It’d look forced. Or thats what Wilhelm tells himself.

 

They make a few full circuts before Simon rolls off with more confidence to Rosh, Ayub and Felice, leaving Wilhelm and Joey to skate together. Wilhelm’s better at it now, so they look more natural together. Holding his hand is surprinsgly not awkward at all, very casual, like friends.

 

It’s almost soothing, the silence, the even movement of their feet, the satisfying, clean clicks of their wheels on the shiny ground. 

 

“Good move last night,” Joey says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

 

“Sorry?” Wilhelm asks, glancing over at him, off the music video on the wall. 

 

“You pleased everyone,” Joey laughs lightly. “Taking a picture with me and August to please Her Majesty, but also Simon to keep him happy. And to get under Her Majesty's skin, presumably. You’ve made it look like all of us are friends, when only you and Simon are the real friends. Clever.”

 

Wilhelm smiles. “Thanks, I thought so.” He’s glad Joey didn’t call them friends, that’d be awkward because Wilhelm still hates him a little bit. He notices a group of kids around their age pointing towards him and Joey. He straightens his spine and squares his shoulders. “We have some watchers, over by the exit door.”

 

Joey side eyes them and does thes same as Wilhelm, straightening up and fixing his hair. “Well, let’s keep talking. How did you enjoy the party?”

 

“Honestly, the best part were the outfits.” Specifically Simon’s. He should wear crop tops more often. Brain, what?

 

“That’s fair. I find big parties are normally worse, because you don’t know half the people and it can get kinda lonely. It’s more fun to do things as a group, I find.”

 

“Agreed. I’m sorry you didn’t get to go to your party,” Wilhelm says honestly.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“Will you see your friend before they go?”

 

“Yes, I will, so it’s fine,” He says a bit more forcefully. Ah, so it’s not fine.

 

Once they’ve skated around the end, Wilhelm can see that group again and now they’re actively filming them. It’s good neither let their fake smiles drop. They talk for a bit longer until Felice waves them over.

 

“Let’s get food,” she says.

 

They shuffle – some smoother than others, cough Joey cough – to the hole in the wall chip shop. Wilhelm buys them three baskets to share. They all sit down but Wilhelm goes to the bathroom quickly, awkwardkly taking a photo with a kid a few years younger in the bathroom while he’s washing his hands, and returning to the table. Who asks to take pictures in the bathroom? 

 

Malin and Lucas stand to the side, watching as always. Lucas waited outside the bathroom for him while Malin stayed with the others. People are definetly pointing and looking and taking pictures of the group and Wilhelm. He ignores them and lets Lucas half shield him, even if this is partly a publicity stunt.

 

Kristina only let him go when Wilhelm blackmailed her and said he’d only give her the photos of Joey, August, Wilhelm and Simon for Joey to post on his Instagram if she let him go today. He asked Vincent to take the photo on his phone and then kept “forgetting” to send it to Joey throughout the remainder of the night. Kristina had stared at him like she wanted nothing more than to shove his head through the ornate couch seperating them, but ultimately agreed, as long as Joey could also go.

 

Speaking of Joey … Wilhelm does a double take. The only spare seat is next to Rosh. Felice and Ayub are sharing chips, and so is Simon and Joey. Simon looks malicious, like he’s plotting murder, staring at Joey as he talks to Felice, who is clearly struggling to keep the hate from her face.

 

He has no problem sharing with Rosh and sits down as quickly as he can still wearing skates. He watches as Joey goes to reach for a chip and Simon jumps to as well, nudging Joey’s hand pointedly out of the way. What on Earth is he doing?

 

Joey glances over and apologises, but his expression says that this is getting old. Clearly Simon’s been at this for awhile.

 

“What is he doing?” Wilhelm asks, nibbling on a too hot chip.

 

“Asserting dominance,” Rosh replies nonchalantly.

 

“What is this, animal planet?” Wilhelm scoffs.

 

“Might as well.”

 

“He’s asserting dominece by not letting Joey eat. That’s just mean. I haven’t seen this kind of pety since the beginning of the school year,” Wilhelm marvels. 

 

“Welp, someone’s gotta show that guy where his place is.”

 

Wilhelm sighs. “He has to stop. People will start to notice soon enough,” Wilhelm replies. He watches as this goes on for several more minutes until Joey gives up trying to out do Simon and puts his hands carefully in his lap.

 

“Not hungry?” Simon asks Joey. Wilhelm gives him a dissapointed look, wishing he could reach him under the table to kick. Simon is being a brat, to put it frankly. Wilhelm told him to chill last night, but that message doesn’t seem to have been recieved.

 

“I am, but you won’t let me eat because you’re being a jealous prick, so,” Joey shrugs and Simon’s eyebrows raise. But not in surprise or offence, no, it’s the challenging look, the satisfaction of getting Joey to snap back. Wilhelm warned Joey about this as well. 

 

“Thats a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Simon responds with a cocky smile.

 

I think you’re being dramatic,” Joey replies, looking over at Simon, blue eyes surprisingly cold. “I’m not going to just sit here and be bullied by you, mate. You’re jealous for no reason, you can have him, I don’t want him,” he adds under his breath, even if no one is close enough to hear. Apart from their table, who watch on awkwardly.

 

A thick silence feels the air. Ayub coughs and Rosh munches on chips, Felice twirling a bit of her hair. 

 

“Uh - Simon, can we talk?” Wilhelm asks, prying off his skates and standing up with a sigh. 

 

Simon, who already had his skates off, stands as well, silently following Wilhelm as he leads himinto the family bathroom, Malin stands firmly outside as he closes the door.

 

It looks unsurprisingly very clean, because who brings babies to a rollerskating rink? 

 

Simon sits on the change table, swinging his legs and looking at the wall in front of him. Wilhelm sighs and walks over to stand in front of him, crossing his arms. “I’ve already told you but I’ll tell you again: you need to chill.” He states simply.

 

Simon meets his eye and Wilhelm knows what he’s going to say before he’s even said it. “If you don’t stick up for yourself, then I will.”

 

“I don’t need you to. I chose this. Remember? I told you last night what my options were and this one contained the most pro’s, so it’s what I choose. I … I’m not even sure if Joey wants to be here. I think his Mum is pressuring him to do this. They’re getting a lot of money and I think she’s making him do it. He doesn’t mind, he seems like a people pleaser - “ 

 

“Do you like him?”

 

Wilhelm freezes, staring at Simon in surprise, jaw dropping slightly. “ I - “ his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He shakes his head, a nervous laugh bubbling out his chest. “Simon…” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes flickering around the room. “Are you actually that dumb? No, Simon, I don’t like him. God.” He ends with a mutter, leaning forwards and kissing Simon’s forehead quickly. “Idiot.”

 

Simon blinks in surprise, his own mouth opening in surprise much like Wilhelms had before, cheeks turning an adorable shade of him. Wilhelm grins at him, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

 

Simon blinks a few more times, before he laughs, grabbing Wilhelm’s hand and pulling him up to him, so he’s standing between Simon’s thighs. Simon leans his head on his chest, forehead against his collarbone, and sighs. Wilhelm feels his stomach jump, his heart rate racing. He can smell Simon’s orangey shampoo. Hands shaking slightly, he puts his hands on Simon’s legs, wanting to be as attached as possible.

 

Wilhelm wants to be this close to Simon forever. He feels as if, when they’re like this, an invisible barrier appears around them that shuts out the rest of the world. It’s safe.

 

But … what are they doing? Simon is with Marcus and Wilhelm is “with” Joey. They agreed they had no romantic feelings to one another so what are they doing? Clearly, they lied.

 

“You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous,” Wilhelm admits, despite all his doubts and nervously pounding heart. “But … y-you don’t have to be.” 

 

Simon straightens up, smiling a soft, sad smile back at Wilhelm. “He’s better for you than I am.”

 

“Nonsense, I don’t even know him,” Wilhelm replies. He wants to grab Simon’s waist to pull him closer, but he doesn’t want to over step.

 

Simon’s expression becomes mournful slowly. “But he’s better for you.” Wilhelm does it. He gently pulls Simon closer till their noses brush, chests nearly pressed together, holding him close. He can feel Simon’s breath stutter against his lips and resists the urge to kiss him again.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t like him. I don’t want to be with him.” Every admittance goes unspoken and it hurts. He wants to tell Simon how much he means to him, but he can’t, at least not right now, in a family changing room when they both aren’t wearing shoes and Malin is outside the door. 

 

“I make you cry.”

 

“That just means I care about you though,” Wilhelm replies. “I cry because I worry, because I want you to be okay and when you’re not it really fucking hurts me.” He’s brought back to finding Simon unconscious on the couch, surrounded by beer bottles and cigarettes, reeking of vomit. One of the worst-best days of his life. He wonders, if Marucs hadn’t called him that day, would Simon even be alive right now, or would he have died in this sleep from lack of nutriton, or liver failure, or choking on his vomit.

 

Wilhelm leans forwards, suddenly desperate to get comfort. His head falls to Simon’s shoulder. Simon’s okay. They’re going to be okay.

 

“I care about you,” Wilhelm repeats.

 

Simon is quiet for a moment. Wilhelm can feel his fast breathing against his forehead as his shoulders rise and fall at a fast pace. 

 

“I … I care about you too,” Simon says back quietly. Again, Wilhelm thinks what are we doing? 

 

He sighs and stands straight, taking a purposeful step away from Simon, who has pink cheeks and looks somewhat dazed. He’s adorable, but he’s still with Marcus - 

 

“I broke up with Marcus.”

 

“...wait, what?” Wilhelm has to take another step back, trying to process. “I - did - did you actually break up with him?” Wilhelm asks, blinking in geniune shock. Months. Months he’s been trying to convince Simon to break up with them. Simon slapped him when he took it too far that one time, and the general topic has led to multiple arguments before, and during their friendship.

 

He stares at Simon, who stares back at the ground between his anxiously swinging feet. He doesn’t look relieved; he looks terrified. Simon gives a nod Wilhelm only saw because he’s staring at him, watching his every move. 

 

Wilhelm doesn’t want him to have conflicted feelings about this: Wilhelm knows Simon’s done the right thing, but it’s clear Simon still doesn’t see that.

 

“How do you feel about it?” Wilhelm asks carefully. He decides to pull himself onto the change table next to Simon, sitting casually besdie him.

 

Simon is quiet, twisting rings anxiously around thin, nimble fingers. “I … I don’t know. I feel lighter, in a way, like a heavy blanket has been lifted from me. A bit lost as well, like I don’t have much of a purpose. What do I do in my free time if not think about him, plan for him, text him or hangout with him? I’m proud of myself, to a degree, I think,” Simon speaks quietly, not meeting Wilhelm’s eye.

 

“Hey, those are all valid and acceptable emotions to feel post break up. I think. They sound valid and acceptable.” Especially if Simon’s only relationship reference is his Mum and Dad’s divorce. “I’m proud of you too. I know you probably guessed that, but seriously proud. I’m assuming it’ll feel conflicting for awhile, but it’ll get better. I’m saying this on a whim, by the way, I’ve never dated I have no idea what a break-up would be like,” Wilhelm laughs nervously, itching the back of his head and glancing away from Simon.

 

“Can you … just hold me, for a moment?” Simon asks quietly.

 

Wilhelm looks back at him, heart jumping at his softly spoken words. Simon is still looking at the ground, tears brimming in his eyes. This is so much deeper than just a breakup. Wilhelm remembers Simon saying how it was nice to feel wanted, so he might be feeling discarded right now. He’s not. He’s so important and vital in Wilhelm’s life, the centrepiece, if you will. But Simon doesn’t know it.

 

“Of course,” he wraps an arm around Simon’s shoulders, allowing him to fall against his shoulder. He’s heavy against his side, leaning all his weight on Wilhelm. It’s quiet for a few moments, until he begins to cry, starting off as sniffing, before morphing into full body shakes, reaching up to cover his face.

 

“It’ll be alright,” Wilhelm says as soothingly as he can. He wishes he could take all Simon’s hurt away as he rubs his arm, leaning his head on top of his shaking one, holding him close against his side. Simon has been through so much, he doesn’t deserve this.

 

“I - I’m s-s-sorry,” Simon cries, wiping his face tragically. 


“It’s okay, don’t apologise, I should be apologising to you because you have to go through this.” Every sob feels like a stab to his chest. He knows rationally, that Simon crying because he’s broken up with Marcus is better than Simon being with him, but he detests seeing Simon cry like this. “You’re allowed to mourn something you really wanted to have.”

Notes:

I love rollerskating, I drag my friends to our local rink whenever I can, I even have my own pair lmao. I never grew out of that phase as a kid, it's just so joyous and whimsical
Posted a fanart on my Tumblr

Alright, so to summarize and long and traumatic story, I've been put on some new meds to combat my depression and get me into a place where I can engage with psychotherapy, or smth along those lines. The meds have no been working well with me and I'm staying in my sisters bedroom. I have zero motivation to write, or draw, or even do basic sanitary things without encouragement or someone to do it with me. It's bad, basically. And I have a big family holiday next month, so I'm really not sure when I'll update :(

So while I don't mind and even encourage questions on my Tumblr, please don't ask when I'm going to be updating for a bit, because I'm still adjusting to the meds. it'll get better, don't worry, I'm not going anyway, I just want to explain what's going on, since I'm always so open here lol. You can ask anything else, about the story, or future stories, or my personal life, or my fandoms, just please not when I'll be updating. When I know, I'll tell you guys 100%.

Updates and shit on my Tumblr
, I love talking to you guys there, genuinely think its fun, so fucking talk to me

Chapter 27: Q&A Questions

Summary:

So this isnt an update. I saw another author doing a Q&A so I thought id do one too, for Christmas. I asked Tumblr if they even wanted a Q&A and they said yep, so here we are

Chapter Text

Put your questions in the comments

If you want to ask anonymously you can through my Tumblr, I'll take a screenshot and reply to it in the next chapter December the 25. Im in Sweden right now so Christmas Sweden time ya

You can ask about this fic, my other fics, my fandoms, my fav cheese, about my sister or other siblings, why I'm in Sweden, where i came from, what I think of Trumps re election, Palestine or Israel(be so fr). Chat, ask me anything I love to yap and I have BIIIIIG bodasious opinions<3

 

So in the comments of this chapter or anonymous in my Tumblr

Chapter 28: Q&A Answers

Summary:

Answers to your questions.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

mintchocolatechipicecreamxd:

The most important question ever. Pineapple on pizza: yes or no :D

 

Okay so I get shit for it from friends and family alike but yes, I do, I really love it. EXCEPT for when its so hot the pineapple juice burns your fucking mouth, then I'm homocidal. But i think pineapple adds a yumness and if someone disagrees name a time and place we can fight about it

Thanks for the question lovely<3

 

Anon

sorry but this is not cool, chapters that are not content are not allowed on AO3, this 

 

whoopsie dasies watch me not give a shit respectfully and with love babe. I feel bad for not updating and thought this might be fun

 

just_imar_things

okay so. i don’t want to stress you out or anything and you don’t have to reply… are you still going to continue this fic? this is not me asking when a new chapter is coming (take all the time you need!!!), i just need to know IF there’s gonna be one eventually or if i need to mentally say goodbye to this fic (wich is also fine!!!!)

 

If I'd read this sooner I would've just replied but ive had a busy time sorry. No, sadly i think im done with this fic. Ha jokes babe im still going to keep posting this fic until it's done. We're closer to the end than yall think. Ill warn you a few chapters from the end.

Unrelated but back in Wattpad time remember how we'd call chapters "chappies"?

 

Ljush

Well, Hope you have a nice Christmas! 🎄❄️😉🎁💕

 

The question is what inspired you to write this story as it is and Simon specifically as he is?

 

Thank youuuu Christmas was weird this year because I’m in Sweden instead of my house in New Zealand, but it’s been beautiful and I went to Hillerska oh my gosh, I shat my fucking pants.

anyway, I decided to write this story because, if you’ve read my other fic you’d know it’s very depressing and kind of a vent, and writing it honestly made me feel worse so I decided to write a completely happy fan fiction I could go to after posting an update of BHHIAHISGA. I would literally post an update and then start writing YBTFLH as a detox. At the time of starting this fic a little over a year ago is that I was obsessed with enemies to lovers and I really wanted to write one for Young Royals. Which leads to your second question. Similarly I wanted to write a more fem Simon, who had nail polish and long hair and make up because I was - and still am -obsessed with him like that. But of course I had to add some spice to pookies life, reason to why he’s a brat to Wilhelm, lore and such. Which we are yet to get to but hold on we’re close to his tragic backstory TM. Wilhelm a nerd because I wanted to give myself academic motivation lmaooooooo no it didn’t work. 

Thank you so much that question it was fun to answer. 

 

if your simon made a playlist for himself, what are some of his favorite songs that would be in it?

ooooooo good question. I have to think long and hard about this. All I Wanted by Paramore. Call Your Mom by Noah Kayan is very Simon core but I think he’d not listen to it for that exact reason. Wilhelm would cry over it. Same with Daddy Issues. But his playlist. After a lot of consideration I’ve concluded Forever by Noah Kahan is something a happy healed Simon would listen to. Current time Simon would listen to like, Bad Reputation by Joan Jetta and the Blackhearts, Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms, Black Friday by Tom Odell, and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, Alien Blues by Vundabar, and probably Punk Tactics by Joey Valence and Brae. Generally angry, sad songs because my boys in the feels. 

perhsps some sappy things about a Wilhelm for the lols, like Sailor Song or That’s So True. Yeah he’d scream along to those and then deny it afterwards. 


Anonymously on Tumblr

on a scale of 1-69 how much do I love Omar Rudberg

 

Twwwwwwenty billion yyAaaaAaaAaaa (tell me you get the reference help). No but I do love him, and,  he’s gorgeous gender envy goes crazy. 

 

WHAT IS YOURE FAVOURITE BRAND OF CLOTHING?


AHHH WHAT I DONT KNOW I THRIFT A LOT OR JAY JAYS I GUESS I LOVE SHOPPING ILL GENERALLY BUY FROM ANYWHERE IF ITS CLOTHES I LIKE

 

 

when will get an update of ybtflh

when I get back from holiday, or perhaps for the new year. I’m not back from holiday till feb 25 though. Shhhhhh be patient re read and look at the art people have made

 

 

I NEED YBTFLH WILMON TO KISS ISTG THEYRE SUCH IDIOTS IM DYING HERE 😭🙏🙏

ha lol suffer. No but chat, we’re close. So close. I can feel your souls dying but my children please hang on, we’re close. I can’t wait to post their kiss on my garsh, I think it’ll satisfy you guys.

 

is Simon doing self harm¿

 

…………. Uhhhhhhhhhh non hablo espanol

 

 

Finally, my sister asks why did I have to kill Sunny the bird.

because plot, because angst, because pain, because how the fuck do I fit a bird that’ll probably live for only 3 years into their future, Sunny just had to die for the plot.

 

thank you all so much for the questions, it was low-key more than I expected so I appreciate it.

 

Notes:

Still welcome to ask questions duh
I wrote this on my phone because im on holiday fml that was painful but really fun

Chapter 29: I Hate Phone Calls

Notes:

I edited most of this in bio

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

~ Thursday ~
Simon

 

Today’s the day. Today is the day. A few days earlier, Simon got an email from his music teacher saying to be prepared for a phone call in a few minutes. A few minutes?! Not even a second later his phone had begun to ring with a random number displayed on the screen. Simon had been confused for several seconds, staring at his phone with a completely blank mind. Huh? who’s calling me? I hate phone calls, can they not call me at all? Is that spam? Wait -

 

Then it hit him like a metra train going full speed – the fucking talent scout at the end-of-term performance. Simon felt stupid immediately because it was not like it slipped his mind once the event ended. He’s got a busy life but he's got a busier head. He thinks about it daily – will he get a call without warning? Will someone show up at the door? Will the school email him? Will the press find out first? Do they think he is a complete joke? Did they scout out a different student?

 

Then when the moment came to answer the phone, he forgot

 

He panics for a few seconds, dawdling for so long that his phone sends them to voicemail – Which just causes even more panic and ineloquent screaming, before he’s calling back and running to find his Mum because he can't talk to them by himself, what the fuck - 

 

The phone call goes well. Simon couldn’t do what he normally does with adults he isn’t close with and be a snotty brat, he had to be polite, which he sucks ass at. But the man on the other side was cool and calm the whole time. Simon tried to put the voice to a face he’d seen in the crowd but none of them seemed to fit. He sounded rich (as the entire crowd was at school) and melodic, his voice soothing, occasionally he’d laugh if Simon made a small joke, fueling Simon's confidence around the man and making him less nervous. He's just a normal guy with a sense of humor.

 

He agreed to meet the man – Cas – on Thursday, at his office in Stockholm. Linda drove him and now he’s here, standing in front of this mundane-looking office block in the middle of Stockholm city, snow falls down in a light layer around his face, cars drive up and down the street behind him, people walk around him with unbothered expression. It’s so much cleaner than Bjastard, Simon forgets this is what most people think Stockholm looks like in November. He see's some people have already set up Christmas decorations. Simon has very mixed feelings about the holidays, but decor in Novemeber?  

 

His hands are shaking and sweaty, but now is not the time for nerves to get the best of him. He dressed nicely – his Mum helped him pick out proper clothes to make a good first impression with Cas.

 

This interview could set him up for life. If this goes well, and he gets put with a label or put into singing lessons, he’ll be taking more solid steps towards the future he always dreamed of that he never thought he’d achieve. It’s a dream come true, but he shouldn’t get his hopes up, what if it goes completely wrong?

 

He asks Linda to wait in the car. Simon’s so excited and so nervous, but Linda’s in near tears. It’s like he’s already got himself a good career in the music industry when in fact he’s just going for an interview. She’s been sniffling and holding his hand and telling him how proud she is all morning. It makes him want to cry, so she better stop.

 

She … she doesn’t say she’s proud often. Simon gets it though – what’s there to be proud of? She knows her son does drugs and drinks alcohol underage, she’s tried to stop him but he just … completely flipped out on her. He said such harsh, horrible things. But that didn’t stop her. When he came home next time, wasted, drunk off his mind, in a whole new dimension, she helped him shower and got him to brush his teeth, putting him to bed. Then she told him he needed to stop. Simon, with his brain already in a bad place, got angry again, and blamed her for marrying Micke, and creating this sick child he turned out to be.

 

She’d looked so incredibly hurt, he’d gotten out of bed, in his PJs, and stalked straight out the front door and to Marcus’ house, where he stayed for the next few days. Linda had called him all night, and then Sara had called. He'd answered and told her he was staying at Marcus', but refused to answer why.

 

Linda sent Rosh, Ayub, and Sara – Marcus even gave it a weak try one time, but Simon yelled and hurt all of them until they were too scared. Then, a few months before starting Hillerska, he got really fucked up. He took LSD at a party with college students. He'd accidently called Sara instead of Marcus and she'd managed to figure out what was going on. She was out of the country, but she lied and said she'd pick him up, clearly figuring out he was too wasted to know. She called Linda and got her to Simon.

 

Simon didn't care it was his Mum and not his sister. Linda, upon realising what exactly he'd done, flipped out. She'd yelled and even swore. She told him, point blank, if he doesn't stop he'll kill himself. He'd said he'd stop. He'd get better. He'd ease away. He lied. He stopped going home when he got wasted. He went to Marcus. Hearing his Mum or sister's voice over the phone instantly woke him up as it brought back the panic and guilt from that horrible evening with his Mum. She still knows he does it, but as far as she's concerned he's getting better and it's happening less and less.

 

Except it's not.

 

But despite everything ... well... Simon's just grateful he didn’t push them away.

 

He called them terrible friends, pathetic people, complete fucking idiots. They had no idea what he was going through.

 

Simon doesn’t like to think about it; it makes him feel sick. He’s trapped, he wishes he could stop but at the same time … no, he doesn’t want to stop.

 

He pushes open the shining glass door and walks up to the reception desk. It's a nice interior, albeit a bit small. It's clean, wooden floors and comfy grey furniture, paintings and pictures line the walls, and healthy, lush plants on the floor. A young man dressed in a tidy shirt sits, drinking Dunkin Donuts. “Hi, how can I help you?” He asks cheerily.

 

“I’m here for an interview with Cas,” Simon says with as much confidence as he can manage.

 

The guy types away at his desktop for a few seconds. Simon hears music playing quietly behind the desk. “Name?”

 

“Simon Eriksson.”

 

A brief pause. More typing. Simon glances at the guy's drink: looks like an iced chocolate.

 

“Ah-huh, yep. 11 o’clock interview with Cas. He’s level seven, his door has “Cas” on it. Please wear this visitor badge at all times, in case of emergency follow the nearest staff member. Bathrooms are on all floors if you follow the signs. Good luck with your interview, Mr Eriksson.”

 

“Thank you,” Simon replies, forcing a smile. He wants to shit his pants. How does Wille make so many public appearances without crapping himself? Simon normally acts how he wants in front of cameras with his sister, but today he has to be on good behaviour. With his history, it’s a miracle they’re even considering him. One Google search and anyone would be discouraged.

 

He walks to the elevator, putting the visitor pass around his neck. He presses the button to go up and realises his hands are sweaty, so he quickly wipes them on his pants, taking a slow breath. It arrives quickly with a ding, he steps inside and presses the button with a seven on it.

 

The elevator has a mirror on the back wall, while alone, Simon turns to check his reflection. He brushes snow off the top of his hair, smoothing out the frizz left behind. Straightens his jacket, and wipes his sweaty palms again. Then the doors open.

 

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. What if he throws the fuck up? 

 

Simon walks down the hall, it’s long and quiet, and a big window at the end shows off Stockholm in the snow, facing a mall. Each door has a little metal plaque with names on it, and paintings of instruments dotter the walls artistically. It’s cosy. Simon likes it.

 

He nearly walks right past Cass's door because he’s so nervous. Simon brings up a hand, taking a deep breath, he crisply knocks three times, then lowers his arm and waits. He’s shaking all over. He hasn’t been this nervous for something in … ever. This is his entire life. In an hour it’ll be over and he’ll either be so happy or about to jump off a bridge.

 

“Come in!” Calls a muffled voice. “It’s unlocked.”

 

Simon shakily takes the handle and pushes it open.

 

“Ah, Simon, right?” Says an old man. He’s plump, eyes a friendly deep brown colour, skin pale and blotchy. His hair is straight and shoulder length, dyed a light blue, same with his beard and eyebrows. He’s wearing an AC/DC band shirt, with a black long-sleeve underneath and black jeans. “I’m Cass, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

He walks over to Simon and offers a hand, and Simon politely shakes it.

 

“Yes, nice to meet you too. Th - Thank you for giving me a chance.”

 

“Come sit and we’ll talk,” says Case, gesturing to not his desk, but two armchairs in front of a big, floor-to-ceiling window facing the city. There’s a desk in the corner, cluttered with papers, a monitor next to all the mess. The walls are pictures of big bands and artists in their primes. Simon also notices that instead of having the main room light on, there are lamps around the place that are on instead, giving it a more cosy vibe.

 

He doesn’t know what to think. Is this better than a sterile office and a scary person in a suit? Part of the room reminds him a lot of his bedroom back home, which his instantly a comforting thought.

 

Upon approaching the armchairs Simon sees one of those sequin pillows sitting in his spot, a heart-shaped purple and white one. He picks it up and puts it in his lap, noting that the chairs are good quality, comfortable and well-worn.

 

“How’re you today, Simon? Did you find your way okay?” Cass asks casually, sitting back in his chair, and smiling at Simon as he absent-mindedly draws shapes in the sequins.

 

Simon smiles back shakily, clenching the pillow on his lap like a goddamn lifeline. His heart is about to burst out his throat, or maybe that's puke, who knows at this point, he's living a dream. It smells nice in here -- like lavender. He tries to calm down by taking a deep breath.

 

“Yea - Yes, I did. My Mum drove me here and the receptionist was very helpful. It’s a beautiful building, I like the vibe of your office.”

 

Cass grins happily. “I’m glad, I get that a lot. I could keep it professional and sleek, but I spend hours and hours a week in here, so it really should be a place I don’t mind spending a lot of time in. Keep it cosy and homely. 

 

Simon nods. “That makes sense. I did always wonder how people in offices survived when they look closer to prison cells than anything else.” For a brief second, he regrets saying that, that was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? Not professional and disrespectful. He’s screwed.

 

But … Cass laughs. Simon's fear melts as Cass blatantly agrees with him. "I know, I have a few friends who work in those kinds of offices and I'm just thinking, fuck no, I could not do that. I'd go insane. I'd smear my own shit around just to make it more interesting." 

 

Simon blinks. Then he bursts out laughing. "What?" He cackles. Suddenly, he isn’t worried anymore.

 

~ Friday ~

 

“Alright, we made it to McDonald's, tell me what happened,” Wille complains, taking his Coke from the drinks tray and taking a sip. “You have no idea how much convincing I had to do to go to McDonalds, so this better be good news.”

 

Simon’s been grinning since Malin picked him up twenty minutes ago, refusing to tell Wilhelm what happened at the agency until he got chicken nuggets. Wilhelm tried to bribe him with money, hugs and help studying until Simon pointed out Wilhelm would give him those things anyway. 

 

Wilhelm can obviously tell it’s good news, or Simon would’ve called him ugly crying yesterday. Wilhelm had called him in panic at 6 pm when he’d heard nothing from Simon, demanding to know how it went, only to be denied, hung up on, and ghosted all night.

 

Wilhelm stares him down as Simon brings a nugget to his mouth and takes a bite, chewing slowly. They’re sitting in the furthest corner from any busy activity, Malin and Lucas sitting at the tables on either side of them with drinks, not blending in at all in their suits. People still stare, but with Wilhelm’s recent blackmail, it’s okay. Oh, and Joey, who Wilhelm told to go to the bathroom so Simon could talk to him for a moment. Because Joey had to come too.

 

He went surprisingly willingly and Wilhelm told him quickly that they talked and Wilhelm explained the “situation” of Wilhelm and Simon. Whatever that means. They don’t really talk about all the kisses and cuddles. Simon doesn’t think about that for too long, it might give him more heart problems.

 

“Damn, I love chicken nuggets,” Simon sighs.

 

“I’m going to commit a crime if you don’t tell me what happened in the next fifteen seconds.”

 

Simon snorts, chicken nearly getting lodged in his sinuses. “Prince Wilhelm attacks Best Friend and Potential Lover Simon Eriksson at a McDonalds at 10 pm.” 10 was the only time Wilhelm was free, having to do a PR stunt with Joey earlier. So they’ve been together since lunch today, walking around a park, getting food and getting in a car together to then go to dinner and home. So dramatic. 

 

“Whoa there, but then you’d never know,” Simon replies, slurping on his chocolate shake.

 

Wilhelm gives him a deadpan look. “Simon.”

 

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but only because it’s killing me not to,” Simon says, sitting up straight and shifting in his chair. “Okay, so, obviously, it went well.”

 

“No kidding,” Wilhelm rolls his eyes.

 

Simon kicks him under the table. His heart is so light and happy, he hasn’t been this carefree and excited in … he doesn’t even remember. Simon describes Cass and his office, how he was so nice and genuine about everything, his passion for music, and his desire to get young, talented, troubled kids the spotlights they deserve. “Then we talked about the plan.” Simon takes another long drink from his shake.

 

Wilhelm looks like he’s having to restrain himself from strangling Simon. It’s hilarious, but he really does want to tell him and share the excitement, so he opens the floodgates and gives him the big news.

 

“What’ll happen is for the next five months, I’ll attend singing lessons from this woman, Jaylyn. They’ll be paid for by the agency. If the lessons are going well and they think I’m worthy, they’ll try to get me as an opener for a few upcoming concerts, to introduce me to the world in a new light. If that goes well, I’ll sing covers for some songs and post them on a professional Spotify account. Once I begin to make money I’ll pay a percentage to the agency, and an extra amount per paycheck to slowly pay back the singing lesson fees. Once I’ve paid the amount of money required for the amount of attention I got from the agency, I can choose to continue paying a donation to them, or not. Then I’m off. If I want I can stay with them, and they can help me find a PR team until I feel safe to go off by myself, as long as I continue to improve, if I stay at one level they’re okay with leaving me there to find another talent that could go over that level.”

 

Wilhelm’s jaw has long since dropped, staring at him. “Simon… that's, that’s so amazing!”

Notes:

I'M SO PROUD OF MY BABY RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Sorry for the abrupt end, I needed to give my favourite people something. I'll try to update again next weekend, thank you all for the constant support <3 It means so much I love y'all.

I've posted a new Young Royals fic I'll update daily because it's already fully written out. Go to the top, then my profile to find it.

Chapter 30: Can We Date?

Summary:

I'M SORRY I DIED FOR A MOMENT

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Wilhelm decides it’s about time he goes to see Felix. 

 

He’s incredibly proud of Simon for how far he’s come, having got away from Marcus, landed an interview with the company, and then actually started working under them, launching his singing career! Wilhelm might’ve teared up a little bit in that McDonald's when Simon told him. This feeling filled his chest, like a balloon inflating. He wanted to grab Simon and hug him like he deserved. It’s about god damn time something goes right for Simon.

 

Wilhelm yaps to Erik until two in the morning when Erik literally shoves him out his bedroom door and nearly right down the stairs. He then texts Felice to ask if she got the news to discover Simon called and told her, which only made him happier. Simon’s clearly proud as well, excited, telling people. As he fucking should. It also means a lot to Wilhelm that his two best friends are bonding, they're both really important to him, so for them to be getting to know each other makes him really excited.

 

He’s exhausted his – albeit small – listeners, and this visit was long overdue anyway.

 

Now he stands before Felix’s grave, some blue flowers in his hands, looking down at the stone with a saddened expression.

 

He’s speechless now that he’s here. 

 

Slowly, Wilhelm crouches down next to the headstone, placing a quivering hand on the stone and arranging the flowers at its base. The grave is kept clean, but he “wipes” dirt off it anyway, just to feel helpful and to have something to do with his hands. To feel like he's still looking out for Felix, even if it's too late.

 

Wlhelm clears his throat, which sounds very loud in this quiet little cemetery. He licks his dry lips, face cold and nose numb from the cold. It’s not snowing today, but it’s supposed to in the late evening. There’s old dirty snow piled around the place, melting into the dead grass and dirt.

 

“Uh, hey,” Wilhelm starts, his voice is shakier than he was expecting. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. So, it’s been a while since I visited you. I’ve been… quite busy. Not that that’s an excuse, it just, explains why I’ve been absent. So, Hillerska’s been, uh, well, it has its ups and downs. Most of the people there are amazing, and I have lots of friends. Do you remember Felice? Yeah, we’re quite close right now, it’s great, she’s just as amazing as she was back then. You two would get along great, I bet. And - and I have another friend, Simon. Ahem, er, he’s pretty great too… I think you would get along as well, but I’m not sure, I-I would’ve liked to find out but, y’know, stuff happens and … I - I wouldn’t have met him if you were around. Not that I’m grateful you're gone, it’s … “ Wilhelm stops his rambling, taking in a breath of freezing air and shaking himself. “He’s a good guy. People say he’s not, but they don’t know him. He makes mistakes, but who doesn’t? He’s real and honest, and a bit troubled, but hey, adds some spice.” Wilhelm snorts, looking up at the clear sky, the sun shining bright across the blue sky.

 

His eyes burn, and he blinks rapidly. “Yeah, I know you two would be good friends. You’d keep me steady and focused. I think you’d like the shenanigans he gets up to.” He sniffs. Something wet and hot falls onto his cheek. Wilhelm smiles. “I really miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. I know that’s really cliche, but it's – there – there feels like there is a physical hole in my chest when I think of you, I just know it’d be filled if you were here… I hope you’re in a better place.” 

 

Gently, Wilhelm runs his hand over the grave, then over the fresh flowers. “I promise to come visit more… Huh, we should have a fun conversation,” Wilhelm snorts, wiping his eyes as he settles, gross-legged on the damp ground. He doesn’t mind right now. “You know how my Mum is so strict, and you always told me it was annoying? Well, guess what … “

 

Wilhelm goes on to tell Felix about the whole year, how he met Simon, all the drama, Erik, his Mum, and his new "boyfriend". He even tells Felix in a whisper about him and Simon’s bathroom kiss, and reads out some of the more suggestive texts Simon sent him. He likes to think that Felix is amused by all this, that if he’s here, he’s sitting across from Wilhelm, mimicking his pose and laughing at him for being so head over heels for this boy.

 

He stays out there until he begins to lose feeling in his fingers, and his lips start to move more slowly as they steadily freeze.

 

“I promise I’ll visit next time I come home,” Wilhelm says before he leaves. “Bye, Felix, I’ll see you later.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

A few days later, school’s back. Simon joined Wilhelm in his trek back to school, helping him wth all his stuff. He’s not actually helping with Jack, he’s just sitting on Wilhelm’s bed yapping away about a TV show he started watching with his Mum. 

 

Wilhelm won’t admit it, but hearing that Simon is spending more time with his Mum makes him happy. Healing, right?  

 

Wilhelm unpacked his clothes in his cupboard.

 

“I can’t believe they nuked that fucking kid! Dude, it was horrible. Actually, no, it was kinda funny.”

 

“What?” Wilhelm laughs, folding his pants to put them on a hanger. “What is this show you’re watching? And with your Mother, nonetheless?”

 

“Just something Ayub recommended, it’s pretty old, but, to be honest, it’s kind of nice to have something to look forward to in the evening,” Simon says, leaning against the wall as he picks at his extremely ripped jeans. He’s wearing black tights underneath, because it’s cold, even though he insists "hoes never get cold". He claims it's a trend, but it's - unsurprisingly - gone completely over Wilhelm's head.

 

 He’s in a big, black and white knitted sweater, his Doc Martens are on the floor, and he has blue socks with dinosaurs on them. He’s adorable. In a no homo way.

 

Wilhelm snorts, nodding as he turns back to his cupboard.

 

Not even a moment later, there’s pounding on his doo,r and Wilhelm jumps, he was so stuck in the moment, a soft smile on his face, cheeks warm from more than just the heater gently pumping out warm air. Feeling safe and content where he is for once, when someone's trying to break down his door.

 

“Wille! Wille, open up! I have to tell you something! I’m coming in!” Henry’s voice yells, right before he starts rattling the handle frantically.

 

“Whao there buddy, something on fire or what?” Simon snorts, clambering off the bed to answer the door like he lives here. Wilhelm finds he doesn't actually mind. He wishes Simon lived in here with him.

 

For a split second, Henry looks confused that Simon’s answering the door, before he physically shakes him and barges in, dragging Simon with him and slamming the door. Wilhelm immediately notices his bright red cheeks, and he’s panting, like he ran here.

 

“What’s going on?” Wilhelm asks, his stomach dropping at the distressed aura Henry has brought into the otherwise peaceful room.

 

“Walter, he … he - “ Henry pants, doubling over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard and fast.

 

Even Simon looks concerned, brows furrowed as he glances nervously at Wilhelm.

 

“What? Walter what? Is he okay?” Wilhelm asks, putting down his clothes and approaching hesitantly, preparing for the worst.

 

Henry looks up at them, grabs Simon by the shoulders and shakes him. “He kissed me!”

 

Silence.

 

Www-aaaaaa–tttttt?” Simon asks, the word stretched out and bumpy from Henry’s incessant shaking.

 

“Yeah!” Henry cries, cheeks turning bright red as he continues to shake Simon like he needs to make sure Simon isn’t hallucinating. “Right on the lips! Like this - “ he leans in to Simon, lips puckered awkwardly, and thankfully, Simon steps to the side, smacking Henry upside the head.

 

“I know how a kiss works, fucking idiot!” Simon scoffs at him. He side-eyes Wilhelm and he pretends he didn't see it. “Why the shit did you come in here to freak us all out over this? I thought someone was hurt - Wait, did you fucking reject him?”



“No, I said “can we date?” and he said “fuck yeah,” and we kissed again, with tongue this time - "

 

"Nice," Simon comments.

 

" - So I guess we’re dating?” Henry yells, surely it’s meant to be a statement, but it sounds like a question.

 

Wilhelm blinks a few times, then rubs his face. “Henry, this is a good thing, is it not?”

 

“It is! I’m really excited!” Henry cries, running his hands through his hair nervously. “I’m so excited?”

 

Wilhelm looks at Simon, whose face is slowly cracking into a grin as he looks at Wilhelm. “Well, if this is you excited, then fuck yeah, dude, bagged a good one for real! Love that for you, babes,” Simon laughs, patting Henry on the head. 

 

Henry grins like a puppy receiving praise. Wilhelm can’t help but laugh. “Thanks! Anyway, I’ve got to go tell everyone else!” And he’s gone like the wind, not even shutting the door, and he begins to bang on someone else's door.

 

“His first relationship, or what?” Simon snorts, closing the door. “Anyway, are you going to the term start party? I was thinking we could go together, if you want.”

 

The mood shifts. Wilhelm looks up at Simon, his eyes are dark and unblinking, pinned on Wilhelm. He feels his cheeks heat at the unwavering attention, stomach dropping like he's gone down the drop at a rollercoaster, making his stomach burn. Suddenly, he can't breathe, the air in the room is thick and heavy. God, he's cooked.

 

"I - in what way?" Wilhelm dares to ask, not breaking his eye contact with Simon. What is going on? Why is Simon staring at him?

 

"In whatever way you want."

Notes:

The TV show Simon's talking about is one my friend likes to watch, Battlestar Galactica. He asks if he gets five billion dollars for the suggestion since were doing biology work, start paying up y'all.

Anyway, keep bullying me and I'll update more consistently, I did this all in one day so. I need to lock in.
My anti-depressants have been giving me really bad brain fog, so I haven't been doing art, or writing. It's been really sad, but I'm weaning off them as we speak, so I'm hoping for motivation!

I hope you all got trolled by the chapter title, love you guys!!! Seriously, the constant support is actually so appreciated, it makes me so happy. I love you all so much and I don't even know you, but I still love you!

Chapter 31: Earth Shattering

Summary:

If you wanna make the world
A better place
Take a look at yourself and make that
Change
- Man In The Mirror, Michael Jackson

Notes:

Honest, tie me to a stake and let me burn.
You know that sound where that women is like "heey, heeey, how y'all doin'?"
Me right now.
I have no real excuse except for I've fallen from this fandom. I am so very determined to finish this fic because I know this fandom and this work means a lot to a lot of you, and I've been in your position where a work has been abandoned because the writer left the fandom, and I know it sucks balls, hard.
The world has been a very upsetting place recently, Charlie Kirk, the Ukrainian women on the train, everything in Nepal, politics in my own country, continuous violence in Ukraine and Palestine, what the actual fuck. I saw both the video of Kirk and the woman, which lowkey fucked me over for a minute, couldn't sleep, who the fuck posted that? So I've resorted to my roots for a detox.

Anyway, this is the chapter you have all been waiting for for, um, years :D
It's a genuine coincidence it happens to be the first one I update in months, my bad, again, I'm really sorry.

Right, it's late at night, my cat is sleeping next to me, I have double-stuffed Oreo's and hours to write, let me cook.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Wilhelm's point of view

 

Since the Halloween party at Henry's wasn't even a week ago, a mere 5 days ago, Wilhelm was thinking that everyone will be partied out and this one would be lame. Boy, was he wrong. It seems everyone collectively realised that they're losing massive amounts of freedom soon, with the second term of school starting, and have jumped at the opportunity to let loose. It's good to see most people are being responsible and are nursing drinks for hours on end, since they do have school 7 am tomorrow morning. Simon is part of the sensible mass, for once.

 

In the end, after Simon said, "In whatever way you want," Wilhelm got really flustered and replied, "g-great! We can go together then!" Shit, I don't want to reject him. "As - as - " I don't want to force him into anything, like Marcus. "As - together! We'll go together - " He was cut off by Simon's phone, a call from his talent agent. So Simon was effectively distracted, but Wilhelm still felt guilty for not committing and just saying "as partners?" Or "as boyfriend?" God, he wants it so bad. Simon served it out on a silver platter; he really could've just said "boyfriends" and got the message across. But he freaked out and fumbled it again.

 

They arrived to the party together, as agreed. Simon was wearing extremely baggy jeans that he had to lift up to walk through the forest, even with the dangerous platforms he was also wearing. And a peculiar top, that's solid black across his chest, but black mesh down his arms, a black jacket tied around his hips, his sinful waist that Wilhelm is going to grab one day to see if his hands will wrap around on full display. His hair is out and loose, its prettiest form. Very light black eyeliner is smudged around his eyes.

 

Wilhelm, always with the most exciting fashion, wore black jeans, a white singlet and a black jacket. His hair is slightly more grown out and he needs a trim, but he honestly thinks it makes him look more mature and more handsome, so he's been dodging haircuts.

 

They didn't stay together once the party was in full swing, since Simon wanted to dance. He left Wilhelm with his juice, which Wilhelm ended up drinking as a social crutch. It really is just juice, not a hint of alcohol or anything else in it. Wilhelm feels fine a few minutes after consuming it. He's proud, of course, but he also can't help wonder if that's why Simon was so quick to vanish, but he tries not to dwell. When did parties turn into babysitting, Simon? Actually, when has a party he attended at this school not been that, right back from the very first one?

 

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice two people approaching until one taps him on the head, giggling.

 

He jumps, turning and doing a prompt double-take. "Rosh? Ayub? I didn't know you were invited," Wilhelm says over the obnoxious music, grinning at the sight of two friendly faces. 

 

Ayub is quick to hug him, nearly squeezing the air from his lungs. Rosh hugs him too, but it's more of a bro hug, smacking him on the back in the process. "Felice invited us! Said the host gave it the go-ahead, so here we are! Plus, we brought booze," Rosh explains, lifting up a bottle of vodka, Ayub showing a case of beer. 

 

"Ah, yes. Fair enough. It's great to see you two!" Wilhelm beams. He finds himself feeling genuinely comfortable around these two, even if he hasn't known them long and they didn't like him for a while. He still finds real comfort in having them to stand and chat with at a party, feeling miles more secure in himself. But still, they are Simon's friends. "I think Simon's on the dance floor, Madi is arming the drinks table, to make sure there are nonalcoholic drinks, since we have school tomorrow. If you want to go find him, I don't mind."

 

Rosh waves him off. "Ayub, take these to Madi and get me a juice. I don't mind chatting for a bit, Wille," Rosh shrugs, handing the vodka to Ayub. 

 

"Sure. Wille, want a juice?" Ayub asks as he slowly backs up, raising his eyebrows.

 

"Yes, please, thank you."

 

"Sure!" And he trots off, happy as ever, towards the barely visible drinks table. Wilhelm watches Madi not even question the stranger, taking the alcohol with a grin and gesturing to what Wilhelm assumes is the juice.

 

"I thought Simon would be with you," Rosh yells over the music, leaning on one of the tables Wilhelm wedged himself between to hide.

 

"He wanted to dance, and I hate dancing," Wilhelm shrugs. It's simple, really. Rosh doesn't seem surprised. "It's fine."

 

Rosh stares at him for a few moments, then sighs. "I get it. It's worrying. Do you even like parties, or do you just come to make sure he's okay?" 

 

Wilhelm is stumped by the question and stunned by her up-front behaviour. He finds himself sighing heavily, exhaling a bunch of things he doesn't want to admit to Rosh about parties, about Simon, about his lack of control ... But also, she's been Simon's friend years longer than Wilhelm has, she's seen much more than he has. If there's anyone he can talk to about this who will understand, it'll be his two best friends. His Mum and sister know what's going on, but that's a bit too close to Simon. Felice and Erik are too far, and it feels wrong to expose some of Simon's trauma just to be able to vent. But these two ... they're right in the middle, in the Goldilocks zone. 

 

"It is stressful. Honestly, I don't think I'd go if he didn't. Even if he was sober, I'd still go, I just ... like speeding time with him," Wilhelm admits, cheeks burning slightly, even though that's a reasonable, platonic thing to say.

 

"Mmmm, gay," Rosh nods forlornly, as though saying something wise and not completely, totally unrelated.

 

Wilhelm blanches, but can't reply before Ayub arrives with three cups of juice, all balanced precariously. Wilhelm takes one before he drops it, Rosh taking the other.

 

"Cheers!" Ayub declares.

 

"What are we cheers-ing for?" Wilhelm asks as he raises his cup slowly.

 

"To being the coolest people in the room," Rosh nods again, and they knock their cups together, with a synchronised "Cheers!" Followed by a gulp of sour juice.

 

They chat for a few songs until Wilhelm hears a gasp, audible over the music and excited crowd. They turn to Simon, who's got the brightest look on his face, right before he skips over the short distance between him and them. "My three favourite people!" He sings, throwing his arms around Rosh and Ayub, dramatically kissing their cheeks. Wilhelm unconsciously looks for signs of inebriation, but pauses when he can't find any. Simon smells like himself, mostly overpowered by the overall smell of alcohol this place reeks with, his face is clear, apart from being sweaty from dancing, his pupils are normal, and his nose isn't red. He looks sober, just happy and running on adrenaline.

 

"Honestly, we're talking about how lame this party is. The only activities are drinking and dancing. Where are the games, the pool, the pool tables - "

 

"Arrrghhh, you're so lame, Rosh," Simon scoffs, snatching her cup and taking a gulp. "The dance floor is great!"

 

"What about people who don't like dancing?" Wilhelm replies, smiling into his cup.

 

Simon's eyes snap to him, and he grins. "Then get drunk."

 

"What about people who don't drink?" Ayub furthers the bit, shaking his head at Simon.

 

"Go cry about it, I guess," he said, sticking his tongue out. Ayub laughs loudly, patting Simon's back. "Wille, want to go for a walk? I'm boiling, and you're not doing anything. Let's go!" He hands Rosh back her cup and grabs Wilhelm's hand without pause, dragging him away.

 

"I - Simon! Bye, guys! I'll see you later, thanks for standing with me!" Wilhelm yells over the music, not sure if they heard any of that. The smirks they wear as they talk to each other, eyeing the pair who are retreating, are worrying.

 

True to his word, Wilhelm can feel how hot Simon is through his sweaty palm, but he still doesn't let go because Simon's holding his hands, god dammit. He'd eat his own eyeballs first. 

 

Simon hums to the song as he drags Wilhelm around, climbing out the window with coordination Wilhelm isn't used to seeing him use around this window. He skips off, still full of energy. Wilhelm climbs out after him, finding his energy is contagious and running after him, grinning at his bobbing hair as he skips, nearly falling over a fallen branch he can't see in the dark.

 

Wilhelm catches him by the arm, pulling him upright. "Idiot, be careful. It's too dark out here to be skipping like a madman," Wilhelm snorts, letting him go - tragically - after he's uprighted himself and made sure he didn't break an ankle. "How are you even skipping in those boots?" 

 

"Practise," Simon winks dramatically, Wilhelm wrinkles his brows in response to his strange behaviour, pushing him away by the forehead.

 

"Idiot."

 

"So you said," Simon sighs, sitting down on the top of a little mud bank next to the party, a window further down echoing out the bright, pulsing lights. Looking at it from the outside, it's no surprise Wilhelm found it overwhelming and totally not his scene. 

 

Wilhelm sits next to him, resting his head on Simon's shoulder. The happiness he feels feels like it's eating him alive. His need to touch Simon, to breathe in his smell, to crawl into his rib cage and make a happy little home there, is overwhelming.

 

Simon plops his head on Wilhelm's, sighing out a shaky breath, keeping perfectly still. Wilhelm smiles bigger. 

 

They remain like that for a while, Simon picking apart leaves from the ground, Wilhelm holding his drink, talking quietly. 

 

" - You're joking."

 

Simon laughs softly. "I'm really not. I swear on my sister's life."

 

"I don't believe you," Wilhelm scoffs. "You saw August grinding on Nils? How drunk was he?"

 

Simon snorts. "Well, okay, he was really drunk. But, y'know, they say drunk people speak facts."

 

"Yeah, true for some people. Good for August. Not true for you," Wilhelm teases.

 

Simon snickers, unbothered by Wilhelm's jab. "Yeah, yeah. That's just cos' I'm an emotional drunk. I spit facts, my feelings and the harsh truths. Which you hate, you emotionally constipated fuck"

 

"Shhh, Simon"

 

Simon sighs, dropping another carefully shredded leaf. Wilhelm watches it scatter to the earthy ground, the small pieces vanishing in the dark.

 

"Hey, Simon?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"... Uh, why didn't you drink tonight?" Wilhelm asks. "Is it because we have school tomorrow, or - "

 

"No," Simon is quick to interject. 

 

Wilhelm sits up, looking at him. "Oh? Tell me?" 

 

"It's because I wanted to ... " Simon trails off, a pale pink appearing on his cheeks. Wilhelm blinks; surely it's the lighting. No ... No, he's really blushing. Maybe ... 

 

"Wanted to what?"

 

"To, um," Simon looks at Wilhelm, dark, deep, haunted eyes boring into Wilhelm's, his hands twitch nervously. The wind blows his hair across his forehead. Wilhelm can't look away, can't even blink. God, he is gorgeous beyond compare.  He feels his heart stumble like a fool just from the sight of him, thoughts he won't let himself complete fueling the speed of the organ. "I wanted to... uh, I ... " Simon tries again, blinking rapidly, shaking himself, then looks away.

 

Wilhelm deflates slightly, also looking away, trying not to visibly sigh his disappointment. Right. That's okay. Simon wasn't going to confess anyway, so no need to be upset - 

 

"Wille." He looks up, meeting Simon's gaze. He's taken aback momentarily by the determination suddenly burning in his eyes. "I wanted to do this - " Wilhelm can't even process the words before Simon is grabbing his shirt collar in his fist and pulling him forwards and down, their lips crushing together. It gives Wilhelm a fright, and he pulls back, blinking wildly, cheeks burning as he realises what just happened. He gapes at Simon, who stares back with equal surprise, like he didn't know that was going to happen, still holding Wilhelm's shirt.

 

"Simon?" Wilhelm says in surprise, eyes wide.

 

"I knew you wouldn't want to do that sober, so, I stayed sober," Simon breathes in reply, blinking at Wilhelm.

 

Wilhelm kisses him, and Simon hums, pressing into him.

 

"What the fuck was that?" Wilhelm breathes, trying to catch his brain up as their lips press as he talks, breath hot. He pulls away, frowning at Simon. He blinks, looking slightly dazed.

 

"Um, I'm sor - "

 

Wilhelm kisses him again, pressing his lips against Simon's, their noses slot to the sides of one another, heads tilting to accommodate as if it's instinctive. Wilhelm cups his cheeks, his stomach exploding with butterflies, making him feel as if they'll flutter so hard he flies away. Heat burns in his cheeks, but his eyes slip closed, and Simon presses back, clutching his shirt tighter, pulling them closer.

 

They pull apart not long after, but stay close, breaths mingling, eyes blinking at each other. "I feel like I just had my first kiss all over again," Simon declares in a whisper, completely breathless.

 

"That bad?" Wilhelm replies, voice hoarse from surprise and also hurt. Jeez, all they did was press lips. How can you suck at that?

 

"No, that Earth Earth-shattering. Do it again, come here," Simon pulls him in again, this time by cupping his face. He opens his lips slowly against Wilhelm's, just slightly, and Wilhelm follows, eyes slipping closed. Simon tilts his head, lips blending together and then opening again. Wilhelm feels his uneven breath on his face, his own surely mirroring that, he doesn't know what to do with his hands, but keeping them in his lap feels awkward so he cup Simon's neck with one, pressing his palm into his chest and feels his racing heart. Simon pulls back, scowling. "Don't feel my heart, that's embarrassing right now!"

 

"Why, because it's going so fast? I bet I look like a tomato, Simon," Wilhelm replies, breathless. It doesn't feel real; their lack of acknowledging it makes it feel like he's dreaming. Maybe that juice had some really laggy, but insane drugs in it. He'd better kiss him again to make sure he isn't hallucinating.

 

"The cutest tomato," Simon snorts. Wilhelm kisses him. This time with more confidence. Their heads tilt, breaths past. Their teeth scrape once, and they both laugh, then laugh more at each other, then Simon smothers Wilhelm's laughter with kisses, and he sighs. It's strange, the concept of kissing seemed weird to Wilhelm, just squishy flesh of squishy flesh, and their first kiss was hardly enjoyable. But this is something else. His stomach burns with heat - as do his cheeks - he wants more, he wants to eat Simon alive, to never break this kiss.

 

Something warm, wet and soft swipes across his top lip, and Wilhelm shudders, pulling back a centimetre, before replying with his own tongue, an ache building at the spark of their tongues touching. Their tongues meld, lips parted and breathing against each other. Jesus, fuck, Wilhelm is going to die.

 

He doesn't know what he's doing; he's never done this before. Wilhelm pulls back, a string of saliva connects them, which he wipes, surprised it's there, but also finding it hot. Which immediately embarrasses him, but Wilhelm dilligently knocks the thought aside to ask more pressing questions. "Simon, are we dating?"

 

"Can we? Please?" Simon replies, panting against Wilhelm's lips, his eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes over and over. 

 

Wilhelm grins, nodding. "Yes, yes, let's do that. But, uh," he pulls back further, brushing his hair behind his ear, removing his hands from Simon in the process. "We ... Joey ... I - and - and, my Mum - "

 

"It's all good. I understand. But don't make me think about your Mum right now, Wille, jeez." Wilhelm laughs, shaking his head. "I'm okay with not being public or doing any PDA," Simon sighs. "I'm kind of over it after Marcus. This is our thing, we don't need other people to see us being all coupley. Just, you know, no flirting, don't kiss Joey. I can live with him. For a while. Wille," Simon grabs his hand, staring into his eyes. Wilhelm gulped, already racing heart getting impossibly faster. "Not forever. I can't be thirty dating you in secret. But, while we figure things out, figure out how we'll work out, I'm okay with that. You too?"

 

Wilhelm looks down at their twined hands. Simon's rings are cold, nails chipped. Wilhelm's hands are bare and without marking. They're warm, hands slotting together nicely. It's cliche to say, but their hands slot together like they were made to be that way, Wilhelm doesn't think he's ever held hands with someone, and had them fit so perfectly. "I think that's fair. I will work something out. You won't be thirty and dating me in secret, trust me."

 

"So, I'll be thirty, married to you?" Simon grins, leaning in closer again.

 

Wilhelm gapes in surprise. "We just started dating, yeesh, you move fast - Mmph." He sighs as Simon smothers him in yet another kiss. His lips already feel a bit swollen from all the pressure, but Wilhelm really couldn't care less.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

God, those desperate whores, anyway, my cat was cleaning his ass while I was writing them making out

This fic is over two years old. What the fuck

Thanks to all those asking in my Tumblr what the fuck I'm doing not updating, it would've been more motivational if i remembered to check.

Allllssssssoooooooooooo, I'm not saying that to quit horrible addictions you need to do it for a lover, do not do that. I've had friends (multiple, in fact) who have done this. It never ends well because the second they leave, people fall back on the addiction and it gets worse. Simon is not doing this, please don't do this, he just wanted to kiss Wille tonight so he decided to not drink. He isn't cured.

The change in the summary is more just, them entirely, compared to the first time they interacted at a party in this fic, compared to how fucking far they've come. Proud<3