Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simon’s leaving Hillerska very, very, very late tonight, in fact it’s like 3 in the morning so technically it’s not even ‘tonight’. His phone was in his bag since he’d been studying, so he missed the calls he’d received from not just Sara, not just his Mum, but also Ayub, and Rosh.

Now he’s legging it across the school grounds, panting like he’s already run a marathon, while simultaneously freezing from the cold wind hitting his face. Simon’s desperate to not be seen, if he is, he has a solid plan to deal with it: he’ll run and hopefully not get caught or end up in trouble.

Sara isn't with him because she was off school sick today, a throat infection that had left her bedridden and in pain. Linda was working a shift that went till 7 o’clock, so Simon was planning to take the bus home.

He remembers reaching a question that physically made his head throb, so he’d rested his cheek on his math’s textbook, just for a few minutes so his brain could cool the fuck down. But when he opened his eyes hours later it was dark, and drool was oozing out his mouth onto the page. Simon had to jump out the window to get out.

Somehow, the dean who locked up the library managed to miss a whole ass person asleep at one of the back tables, and considering they probably get paid like $200 an hour to lock some doors, they could at least do it properly and not leave an entire student unconscious at a table!

Simon’s phone gave off a low buzz and he glanced down to see the low battery warning popping up. He could just send a quick text saying that he’s alive, but he’s committed to his current plan, which is getting to the phone by the stables and the road, call his Mama, get picked up, and somehow go back to school in several hours to finish off the week. Maybe he’ll call the school sick, lie and say he caught the sickness Sara’s dealing with. Guilt gnawed at his insides at the realisation, not only is she sick, but she’s awake at 1 in the morning because her stupid brother stayed up too late the night before gaming with Ayub.

Simon could theoretically have gone to Forest Ridge and bunked with Walter, Henry or one of his friends (friends?) for the night, but he’d rather sleep in his own bed. Oh his bed, warm, soft, so easy to sink into a melt. God he wants sleep.

On that thought, Simon decided to cut through the woods to reach the phone in what would hopefully be record timing.

Luckily for him, the moon's bright and it’s a clear night, so he can see almost every branch that tries to trip him up, hit him on the head, or snag at his clothes. But it also cast's creepy, stretched shadow’s onto the ground.

He’s understandably panting, his throat burning from the cold air he keeps sharply inhaling, his bag swings and hits his back with every step, he should probably try harder during rowing.

His phone vibrated so he looked down just for a brief moment:another message from Sara, he immediately turned his phone off because he’ll have contact in a matter of- “oof.”

Simon skidded on his face, an earthy, wet smell filling his nose. Wet leaves stuck to his cheeks uncomfortably, and his nose burned with a hot kind of pain.

“Ouuuuch.” He groaned, rolling onto his butt. He tentatively pressed a hand to where his nose and upper lip met, and grimaced when he felt a warm substance rub off onto his hand, no doubtably blood from his epic fall.
Simon stayed down for a moment, water seeping into his pants and school bag, panting on the ground, the smell of mud being replaced by the metallic smell of blood.

Simon paused, squinting at a tree about 100 metres away from him, it’s a weird tree, it looks like it has a piece of ivy hanging off of a thick branch with a loop at the bottom.

But… These tree’s don’t have ivy.

Simon felt his heart literally stop, his blood seemed to run cold and drain from his face, taking any emotion but stress down with it. It’s a noose, and a person just appeared. They’re standing on the branch, staring down at the noose ominously.

“No!” Simon screamed on instinct, the person’s body jerked with fright and they swivelled their head to look in Simon’s direction.

Simon frantically scrambled to his feet, slipping on the wet flooring, his bag throwing him off balance as well- not to mention he’s unable to look away from the person, like he’s been hypnotised.
The person froze and stood still, wind blowing their short cut hair. Simon couldn’t take his eyes away as he threw off his bag and ran, stumbling every few steps, screaming at the top of his lungs for them to stop and listen to him.

He knew it was no use yelling at them, but his heads pulsing, his hearts slamming, lungs burning, face stinging, body damp, and he just can’t think straight right now.

The person began to reel the noose up, almost frantically. Simon’s 60 metres too far away.

“Please! Just wait a minute!” Simon felt tears fall onto his cheeks, he didn’t even bother wiping them. He’s never run this fast in his whole life, and he has no intent of slowing or stopping.

A cloud covered the moon and Simon tripped on a tree root, this time his hands caught him, and he was up in no time, but he nearly halted in shock because now the body’s hanging, legs thrashing, hands grasping at their neck.

Simon sobbed. He ran. He panted. He screamed. He’s 20 meters and he’s so fucking scared he’ll be too late.

The world faded into silence, his own cracked scream’s becoming background noise, the only thing he could hear was a loud buzzing, fuzzy sound, and his heartbeat, slamming repetitively in his head, too fast, too hard, too loud.
`

“Hold on, I'll help!” Simon knew his words had no meaning, not against some horribly, cursed feeling like this.

10 metres.

They struggled, now he can hear the horrible, gurgling, strangled gasps, as all sound came back to him in one big sound wave after that.

Simon finally reached them, instantly grabbing their legs and pushing upwards with all the adrenaline he could muster in his body, they grabbed the rope above their head, managing to pull up enough with the two’s combined effort to gasp a breath. They choked and coughed, wheezing in a horrible breath.

Simon struggled, trying to hold them up. “Argh.” He panted hard, his body desperately wanted to collapse and breathe but he couldn't let this person go. He’s trying to see some way to break the rope, eyes darting around frantically.

Something reflected the moonlight in the person’s pocket. Simon took a deep breath in so he could yell, struggling to readjust his grip around their shins. “Use the knife! Oi! Use the scissors in your pocket, whateveritis! USE IT!”

Instead, the person used a sudden amount of strength to kick Simon in the neck and he fell away, hearing a horrible snap of the rope slapping around their neck tightly. Simon grabbed at his own throbbing throat, feeling the swelling already, gasping to breathe past his swollen windpipe and keep himself sat up right, blood rushing through his head like there’s a massive wave in his brain.
“Ack,” The person struggled again, even after pushing Simon away, but he felt he understood, it’s still scary, no matter how much you want it. The sounds of suffocation make Simon want to rip his ears off, scream over top of them, to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Then Simon was there again, refusing to give up. He grabbed the sharp thing from their pocket- it is indeed a pair of scissors, from the Hillerska classrooms he realised- but this time taking a new approach: he went for the tree, which was easy to climb, the moss had been kicked away when the person first climbed up.

"Just hang on." Simon panted, heaving himself up, scrambling to get onto the branch the noose is tied around. He didn’t hesitate to walk along the branch to where the noose remains tied, it creaked under the combined weight of the two teenagers.
The person kept struggling, a mixture of crying, choking, and screaming. It’s horrible.
Simon kept reminding himself a person has five minutes of oxygen left in their blood once their heart stops, but he’s still crying, sobbing his heart out like he’s the one about to die, it didn't do much for comfort.

Then gasping-choking stopped.

They stopped thrashing.

Simon sobbed loudly into the night, hearing the branch creak again, he wouldn’t complain if it straight up broke.

Simon lowered himself down, leg's either side of the branch, heaving in big breaths. He leaned further and began to chew away the rope with the scissors at painfully slow rate.

"Come on!" Simon screamed, no longer to the person but to himself, his voice cracked, throat dry while his face is wet. Blood mixes with saliva and snot, but he really couldn't care less, he has priorities and he doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't meet them.

Finally, finally the rope cut with a final shink, causing the person to fall onto a heap on the ground; a thud that caused no reaction from the body- no, a person. A motionless person. He thought.

Simon jumped a few metres down from the tree before he could think- gasping as pain flared through his ankle, but it didn’t slow him from reaching the person on his hands and knees, speed crawling to their side.

He rolled them onto their back, sniffing back his tears to no avail. Simon realised it's a boy, but it's too dark and he’s too stressed to put a name on his face. Simon quickly cut the rope from around his rope-burnt neck, and started CPR, ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the gory sight which was his neck.

30 chest compressions, then 3 breaths. 30 chest compressions, then 3 breaths. Over and over and over.

The woods are painfully quiet, just Simon heaving out breaths, hiccuping and taking sharp intakes of air, trying to slow his tears, but it didn’t work, his tears kept coming and the person didn’t move. Blood slid down his face, over his lip and into his mouth, and his ankle is throbbing like it has its own heart inside.

While performing the CPR Simon vaguely thought that this person’s face rung a bell in his head, but he put that thought aside to focus on keeping them alive.

After another 2 sets of chest compressions, his arms begin to burn, as are his lungs, and he’s beginning to feel hopelessness seeping into his veins, turning him from hot to cold with the snap of a finger. A cold sweat set in, sticking his clothes to him. No phone. No one knows where they are. No help coming- and the boy gasped, hands flying to his throat immediately, he tried to sit up and ended up collapsing onto his side. He coughed really hard, groaning in pain and gripping his throat, eyes squeezed shut.

Simon fell back, a breath he’d been holding in subconsciously burst through his lips quickly, sweet sweet relief. Simon stared up at the tree's, leaning back on straight arms, eyes closed, simply focusing on the breeze in his now sweaty hair, and the boy's fast breathing. He's alive.
Everything is quiet now, apart from their matching, speeding breaths.

Simon began to cry and couldn’t stop crying. He curled into a ball and hid his face, trying to slow his breaths as everything caught up to him.

His legs, throat, head, hands, feet, ankle- all hurt like hell, it’s probably a mixture of pain, shock, and relief that causes the hot stream to pour from his eyes, non stop, making him gasp for breath, his entire body shaking with hard sobs. But he did it, this boy is alive, not well, but alive.

“I…” The boy choked, cutting himself off. Simon audibly heard him gulp. Simon looked up and his heart dropped all over again, not just because he looked like a mess, but because he realised who it was.

His mind went painfully blank and he stared, mouth drooping open, tear’s falling off his chin, eyes wide.

Wilhelm The fucking Crown Prince.

“Holy shit.” Simon yelled before he could help himself, his eye brows creasing in distress. Simon jumped to his feet, grabbing the roots of his hair as he stared at Wilhelm, suddenly full of energy.

Holy fucking shit.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm had no reaction to Simon’s shock, hazel eyes bloodshot from the choking and pinned on Simon’s shoes. His face is deathly pale with small red spots, and his neck- Simon might throw up, skins been torn, its bleeding down into the collar of his shirt, revealing small patches of bloody red flesh. Overall a extremely gruesome sight. His blonde-brown hair is a mess, damp from sweat and water, a few pieces sticking up at odd angles.

Simon feel’s like he could throw up, this has to be a horrible nightmare, something his mind created from too much coffee and not enough sleep. God, he prey’s it is some sick prank August has set up with Wilhelm, just to get a laugh from the horror on the ‘socialist boy’s’ face when he finds the literal Crown Prince trying too off himself.

“Are you… oh my god.” Simon couldn’t speak, his throats closed over, stomach retching, his heart is slamming again, it had barely began to slow before it starts to pound through his head.

He suddenly turned around and threw up the mandarin he’d eaten a few hours ago, it splattered onto the damp ground, mixed with one too many coffee’s and mud.

“Oh my god.” Wilhelm croaked in shock. He went to stand up, but stumbled on his own two feet less than a second after standing, falling onto his side with a grunt.

“Ehk... ah.” Simon wiped his mouth, smearing blood from his nose along his cheek, so he immediately wiped his face again. His nose does appear to have stopped bleeding, its just left over, semi dry blood.

Simon then leaned with his hands on his knees to support himself from dropping onto the ground. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s hoping when he opens them, he’ll wake up at the desk in the library, shaking and in cold sweats, promising to never go near a coffee again.

But when he turned back to Wilhelm, stomach churning and eyes watering, he looked as real as he could get.

“Wilhelm what the fuck?” He mumbled, voice breaking on the curse word as he gaped down at the boy, unable to help himself, unable to rein back his emotions, unable to speak or breathe or think past the thick slime coating his brain. His throat hurts, it's like he’s sick all over again, his throat swollen from an infection, he’d take that over having been kicked with an expensive white shoe.

Wilhelm rubbed his splotchy face with the heels of his hands. “I’m sorry-” he began to whisper, eyes not daring to leave the ground in front of him, voice raw.

“No, don’t be sorry,” Simon interrupted. “I mean- it’s, it’s not okay, but, fuck…” he laughed, stressed, “what do I say?” He has the urge to grab his hair, rip it all out, scream up to the clouds, one to many emotions trying to be felt. What does he do in this situation?

Wilhelm took nearly an entire minute to reply, Simon counted every painful second he spent staring at the Crown Prince, waiting for him to say something that would make it all better- not that Simon knew what that was. Wilhelm spent that time staring at his shaking hands, lips pressed shut tightly, eyes glassy.

“Can I…” Wilhelm swallowed heavily again, rubbing a hand around his throat and wincing away at the contact with the extremely irritated skin. Wilhelm closed his eyes instead of speaking again, leaving Simon to continue waiting in a silence that was driving him insane. His thoughts begin to catch up to him in the moments of quiet, he knows he needs to calm down but for the life of him, he doesn’t know how.

Simon waited for him to say something like “can i have a round of applause for my amazing acting?” or “can I get a day off school for staying up so late to do this?” But what he said couldn’t have been further off, six surprising words scraped up his throat as he looked Simon dead in the eyes, “can I have a hug, Simon?”

Simon was surprised, and for a moment he didn’t react, maybe he’d heard wrong, his voice is very quiet after all. He is not just shaken because Wilhelm knew his name, but also because it is such a unique request, but it also feel’s… understandable.

“Ok… ok, sure.” Simon walked over after a pause in which Wilhelm’s eyes flickered to the ground before up at Simon again. Simon dropped down onto his knees in front of him, Wilhelm met him half way, managing to get himself up onto his own two knees.

They paused for a moment, eyes meeting in the dark, moonlight breaking through the leaves to illuminate Wilhelm’s face, his features are painfully blank, washed clean of any emotion. Simon can’t even imagine what he looks like, mud and blood splattering his clothes.

Simon felt something weird flip in his stomach when Wilhelm took the final shuffle into Simon’s arms, he pushed the feeling away as far as he could, focusing instead on how heavily Wilhelm leaned on him as they embraced.

Simon was hesitant, gentle, scared, carefully wrapping his arms around the other boy’s back, but Wilhelm clung to him, hands fisting his sweatshirt tightly, chin digging into his shoulder, what feels like Wilhelm’s full weight thrown against Simon. He’s not holding back, using him like a lifeline, Simon has to tense his legs to keep them both from toppling over.

They’re pressed so close together Simon can feel Wilhelm’s heart beat through his chest, beating hard against Simon's own pounding heart. He’s shaking from the cold night, and Simon’s sure he is too, but Wilhelm’s also warm, solid, real.

He rubbed what he hoped was comforting circle’s onto Wilhelm’s back through damp fabric, hesitantly readjusting his face so his cheek rest gently on his shoulder. He was mindful to not make contact with his irritated neck.

This is… different. Simon thought. He’s not said many words to Wilhelm in his time of knowing him, but he understands why Wilhelm needed this, no matter how bad you want it, it has to be scary to attempt it, and even scarier to be caught, dragged back from the edge, now having to deal with whatever happens next. Just the thought of what’ll happen next made Simon hold Wilhelm tighter, he doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.

Simon can’t even imagine what he’d do after attempting something like this, but his mothers hugs always help him when he’s sad, they’re warm, secure, safe. Considering Wilhelm’s mother is the Queen, Simon has a feeling that a ‘hug from Mum’ isn't a common concept in Wilhelm’s world.

They stayed like that for a while, sharing warmth. Simon felt his tense muscles relax, not enough they fell over, but so he was more comfortable in the Prince's tight grip, it felt more natural and less like two virtual strangers hugging on their knees, jeans getting soaked through with mud.

Simon realised he’d stopped crying, he’s not sure when it happened, but it has, now his cheek just stings from his previous fall, and his nose continues to throb gently. His heart beat has slowed, and so has Wilhelm’s, not longer so strong through their clothes. Simon weirdly found himself missing the solid thump of Wilhelm’s heart against his own.

He never imagined he’d be hugging the Crown Prince after he tries to take his own life in the middle of the night, but here he is, and he’s not going anywhere.

Simon pulled back, resting his hands on Wilhelm's shoulders gently, while Wilhelm’s hands falling away from Simon as Simon spoke.

“Wilhelm,” he took a deep breath, his mouth tasting like throw up, making his throat burn. “I…I know you probably don’t want to go anywhere right now, but …we need to get you help.” He said slowly, staring into Wilhelm’s eyes, he stared back, the slightest ghost of a frown between his brows.

Wilhelm then froze, his jaw clenching, shoulder’s tensing (Simon wanted to hug him again to relax out the muscles) eyes going cold. “I don’t want to.” He whispered, staring at Simon, flicking between each of his eyes. He sounds so small, so young and scared whispering his pleas into the space between them.

Simon doesn’t want to push, he's scared to apply any pressure, but he knows Wilhelm won’t do anything without a little nudge in the right direction.

“I understand, I really do, but someone has to know. You’re not okay.” He tried to put power into his words, meaning, emotion, while also keeping his voice quiet and not overwhelming or pushy.

Wilhelm was quiet for a moment as his eyes dropped to the ground in between them, their knees and shins completely soaked through with cold mud. Simon let him think, removing his hands from his shoulders and slowly standing up to give him space, assuming that's what he needs.

Simon hopes Wilhelm knows there’s only one answer that’ll work, if he says no Simon won’t back down. Maybe he should, but it wouldn’t sit well with him if he just lets Wilhelm walk away after this, and it would crush him if something bad happened to Wilhelm, and all Simon needed to do to save him was convince him a little more. No, that wouldn’t sit well with him at all.

“Okay.” Wilhelm finally whispered, snapping Simon from his daze, his eyebrows rose in shock. He felt a new ball of pride at the knowledge that Wilhelm could identify that he needs help, its the kind of proud Simon felt when his mother divorced Micke, or when Sara told Simon about the bullies at their old school.

Wilhelm took a deep breath before standing up by leaning heavily on one knee and pushing himself into a standing position, no longer wobbling. He cleared his throat, wincing at the action. “Sara, she’s your sister right?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, she’s nice.”

Simon smiled slightly. “Yeah.”

“Okay…” Wilhelm took in another calming breath, clearly trying to suppress his anxiety- Simon’s seen the signs at school, biting his nails, bouncing his knee, rubbing his chest, hurriedly leaving the classroom mid way through a challenging lesson with his fists clenched and eyes flickering all over the room- “Okay, let's go.” Wilhelm's voice shook horribly, and Simon thought Wilhelm may cry, not that he could blame him, how he's kept it together this long is beyond Simon.

“Okay.” Simon repeated the word, taking a step back, eyes scanning at the scene around them: a bit of rope still hangs from the tree, scissors cast aside with open blades, a cut noose on the ground, leaves smeared aside from Simon’s scrambling. Just the sight of everything made horrible memories come back, his heart began to pound again. This isn’t going to be leaving me any time soon.

Simon’s scared, part of him guiltily wants to run and hide, pretending he saw nothing because he understands the seriousness of this situation. But he won’t leave him, because Wilhelm needs someone on his side right now, whatever his side is.

Wilhelm slowly followed Simon when he turned and walked back towards his bag without another word. Simon’s ankle screamed in protest, but he pushed on, walking into the dimly lit forest, away from all the mess behind them, back the way he’d come.

A million questions flooded Simon’s mind, why’d you do it? Does anyone know you’re here? What about your 24/7 security team? Should we have cleaned up that mess? What had you used the scissors for, there was no cut rope before I got there, and its not like self defence would’ve been on your mind at the time. But Simon didn’t press for answers, instead distracted himself with what he’d tell his mother. He knew she would be understanding, she’s nothing but supportive, but how does he explain what he’s found without giving her a heart attack…?

Every few steps Wilhelm would stumble, clearly lost in thought, and Simon would throw his arms out to help but he’d always have steadied himself. Sometimes Simon would catch Wilhelm looking at him with an unreadable expression, his eyes barely seemed to blink from their wide, petrified position, mouth open as he breathes heavily.

“I’m sorry, Wilhelm…” Wilhelm said nothing, eyes going back to the ground after glancing at Simon when he'd spoken. “That you thought this was your only option.” Simon whispered, was it the right thing to say?

Wilhelm- again -didn’t reply, not even a hum, or a ‘mhm’, just a painful silence that Simon knew he shouldn’t try to fill.

Simon crouched down when they got to his bag, wincing from his ankle. Luckily his bag had stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark background. It’s now soggy on one side, surely having made all his notes floppy and caused the ink to bleed. Simon checked his phone, only to find it entirely flat, not even turning on.

Wilhelm gulped again, running a hand through his long hair to get it out of his vision. “You can call me Wille.” He croaked out, whispering as well.

Simon looked up at him, slinging his bag onto his back. “Okay, cool.” He tried to give him another small smile, but it probably came across more as a grimace, considering how he feels right now.

They continued on their way quietly, side by side, going towards the road and the phone.

Wilhelm’s hands migrated into the pockets of the Hillerska hoodie he’s wearing, and Simon occupied his mind by wrapping his hands around his bag straps and fiddling with the loose threads.

At least he tried to distract himself, but he got distracted quickly, mind trailing off into a rabbit hole of thoughts.

Simon has a few guesses as to what might have caused this: he’s seen the photos from Wille’s first day, seen his fake ass smiles, his cheek’s never reach his eyes. And he’s watched the funeral of his brother that horrible day a year ago, cried as he watched Wille walk down the Church, eyes pinned ahead of him, clearly suppressing his emotions. That’s why Wille got into a fight at his old school the media says, why he was moved to Hillerska, he’d gotten drunk and got riled up by some idiot. Personally, Simon doesn’t really believe anything the press spit out.

Wille’s never said anything to Simon, just quietly stared at him whenever he sang, and sat at the desk next to Simon’s, silent. He barely spoke in class, unless he was asked a question or when doing group work, but even then they are simple answers, and he seems to only speak in group work when someone asks for his opinion, which is often.

Simon then recalled this time when Wille had told Simon that the reason Henry and Walter got better grades than him was because they paid for private tutor’s during workies. He had smiled a little, and Simon had gauged it as a real smile. And, well… that was it.

Sure, they’d exchange glances during rowing practice, or lunch, but they’re not friends.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long amount of time, they reached the road. There’s no street lamps, but inside the phone box is a weak light, casting the faintest shadows out onto the dark gravel road.

Wille’s lagging behind slightly, staring at his feet as he goes, hands still buried in his pockets, looking lost in thought again. He seems to do that often, Simon thought.

Simon looked back at Wille a few times, watching him stop at the edge of the road. Simon jogged to the phone box, slipping inside and standing in front of the old fashioned phone.

He dialled his mother’s number with shaking hands, suddenly desperate to hear her comforting words in his ear.

She picked up instantly.

“Mama, it’s me.” Simon started, and had barely got his words out when she replied.

“Simonohmygod- SARA, IT’S SIMON. Simon, where are you?” She spoke so fast Simon wasn’t sure he’d properly understood.

He glanced at Wille, who’s now sitting on the curb, his arms folded on his knees with his forehead resting on top of his arms, back rising and falling quickly as he breathes heavily, possibly crying. Simon watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the tragic sight, a boy curled up on himself, the weak light from the phone box barely reaching him.

“Simon?”

“Um- right,” he looked away from Wille, down at his muddy shoes. “So- just, just hear me out before you do anything. Okay?” His mother paused, and he half wondered if she’d heard him.

Finally, she replied, “Simon, I'm going to call the police when 24 hours are up.”

He sighed, choosing not to mention the fact that now she’s had contact with him, she’ll have to wait another 24 hours. He pushed on. “So I-I, was taking a shortcut through the woods- my phone died by the way -and I came across-” His throat closed over on him, choking him up at the memory: a noose, ominously hanging from the bony branches of the tree, and Wille’s silhouette above.

“Simon?”

“Wilhelm… was… he was-” Simon took a deep breath, but didn't do anything to help.

“...he was what, Simon?” Her voice wobbled slightly, not so surprisingly distressed by her son’s absence and now his unfinished, and ominous sentence. “Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She clarified quickly. Simon could hear the poorly suppressed surprise.

“Y-yes, Crown Prince, Prince Wilhelm, Crown Wilhelm, whatever, him.” Simon cleared his throat, words tumbling out of him like he’d opened a dam. His eyes flickered back to Wille, who hadn't moved, if anything he’d tucked his legs up further.

“He was- he- he was-” Simon couldn’t get the words out, he chanted it over and over in his head, but his brain wouldn’t process it through to his mouth. His eyes stayed on Wille as he struggled to speak, eyes beginning to tear up again.

“He was trying to, to, to,” Simon mentally shook himself, just say it idiot. “He was trying to kill himself.” He blurted out, probably louder than necessary but there, its out, his mothers heard.

His mother’s voice grew soft instantly. “Okay, it’s okay darling,…” There was silence, and Simon heard the question, is he alive? Or did you find him afterwards?

“He’s with me Mama, he’s …” Simon tore his eyes off Wille. “I’ve got him.” He realised the phone was shaking against his face, and he felt a tear drop onto his cheek.

His mother’s talking to someone in the background, most likely Sara, Simon couldn’t get his ears to tune in on the background chatter, and frankly he doesn’t care. She’s saying something about Ayub and Rosh.

“Alright Simon,” She spoke to him again. Simon closed his eyes and imagined her with him right now, instead of him standing alone in a phone box, cold, wet, bloody and scared. “I’ll be right there. You’ve been so brave darling, and I’ll be there in a few minutes. We’ve got him now honey, he’ll be okay.” Simon tried not to sob, how could he be okay? Not just Wille, but also him, he’s seen all that, yes Wilhelm will be 10 times worse than he is, but…

“Okay, Mama.” Simon whispered, taking deep breaths to suppress the tears that had started to spill over again. "We're in the cul-de-sac, by the phone box."

He used to be so strong, he used to never cry, he used to be the stronger sibling, but his entire demeanour has been stripped away in under an hour, and now he’s that scared 11 year old again, exposed. It’s dangerous, it nearly broke him last time, but right now he just can’t fix it.

“Alright love. Be strong, for him. He can stay as long as he needs, but the school, his security-”

“I know. We’ll sort it out later.” Simon opened his eyes again, looking from the roof down to his shoes. “I’ll see you soon.”

Linda sighed heavily, Simon heard a car door open in the background. “Okay, love you.”

“Love you too. Kiss. Bye.”

“Bye darling.”

The line went dead, leaving Simon standing alone, not even his mothers voice there to comfort him, just a promise that she’ll be there soon. He put down the beeping phone, and stood for a moment watching Wille.

Wille’s looking up now, his chin resting on his arms as he stares straight ahead of him, his back’s hunched over in a way that Simon can’t imagine is comfortable, and will probably give him back pain later.

Simon walked over slowly, sitting down on the curb next to him so their shoulders touched. He looked at Wille, seeing the tear streaks glistening on his cheeks.

Surprisingly, after a few seconds Wille’s head was dropping onto Simon’s shoulder with an audible thump. Simon didn’t mind. Wille shifted his body slightly, pressing even closer into Simon’s side, again, Simon definitely doesn't mind. He wrapped one arm around Wille’s back, and one around his front, linking his fingers together.

That seemed to break Wille’s final piece of the dam that was holding back his feelings, his body was possessed by a sudden sob, tear’s instantly pooling in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks, dropping onto Simon’s clothes. He squeezed his eyes shut but it didn’t stop the now endless tears, it's like trying to close a door on a waterfall.

Simon could feel his heart cracking and flaking away with every gasp Wille tried to get in, every time he struggled to breathe he couldn't, like someone was personally pushing the air out of him, every hard sniff that jolted his body. Simon held him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his shaking head, pressing his own eyes shut, not to block out Wille’s crying, but to suppress his own.

Simon wanted to say “it’s okay, you’ll be alright”, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the poor, broken boy in his arms.

They’ve known each other for about 10 minutes and Simon’s already hugging him like he would with Sara, Rosh or Ayub if they cried.

Wille sobbed for a painful amount of time but was probably only like 10 minutes, making Simon’s shoulder damp. Once the storm had passed it seemed to leave Wille’s body even more drained from energy than he’d been before, now he just sniffles and shivers, body limp against Simon’s.

Simon remained still, continuing holding Wille tightly.

Now that his adrenaline’s disappeared, the pain he’s in is escalating even more than it had been before: his ankles throbbing with its own heart beat, probably sprained, his neck feels swollen, like he’s breathing around hands trying to strangle him, his nose feels numb, and his cheeks tingling.

“Thank you, thank you.” Wille sniffled after a while, surprising Simon.

He nodded, “t’s okay, Wille, I’ve… I’ve got you now.” Wille nodded meekly.

They stayed like that from then, Wille trying to sniffle his tears back until head lights appeared, making them both squint and shield their eyes, pulling away from each other.

Simon couldn’t see much past the two blinding lights, but he assumed it was his mother and not some stranger, that would certainly complicate things.

“I’ve explained what happened.” Simon said, glancing at Wille, who’s wiping his pink cheeks.

“Okay.” Wille replied quietly. He stood up with a heavy sigh, and Simon followed suit, their shoulders brushing as Linda pulled up next to them, eyes already trained on the pair before the car had even stopped.

The two had barely taken a step towards the car when Linda had jumped out, speedily walking over with open arms, wrapping them both in a smothering hug like they’re both her sons.

Simon suppressed his tears for what felt like the millionth time and hugged his mother back. Relief flooded his body, seeping into every taut muscle and sore joint. He pressed his face into her shoulder, she’s warm and smells like home, feels like home.

Next to him Wille is tense, but it only took three words for him to crumble into her grip, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m here now.” She had whispered.

If you were to ask Simon what happened in the next two hours, he’d barely be able to recount, body drained and sore, head fuzzy. He recalls them getting into the car, the radio playing Spanish music quietly, and Wille fell asleep against the window, breath making condensation against the glass. When they got home Sara had been waiting at the dinner table, she’d wrapped Simon in a tight hug, and gaped at Wille, Simon hadn’t had the energy to remind her not to stare.

A mattress had been set up in the lounge, another makeshift bed made on the couch. Linda had led Wille into the bathroom with a hand softly on his back, speaking to him quietly, and Simon had collapsed on the mattress on the floor, passing out instantly.

He was woken up by a loud clatter, and the sound of something china smashing into the ground in the kitchen.

Can’t I get a break? He thought, dragging himself off the foam on the floor and nearly collapsed on his bad ankle, hissing in pain and limping into the kitchen, already missing the sweet nothing of sleep.

“Everything okay there?” Linda called from the bathroom door.

Sara is crouched down, slowly picking up the sharp, white shards of what had been a China cup off the floor. Simon watched for a moment, watching with pain in his heart at the way her hands shook, the way her breath was too fast.

“Yeah we’re good.” Simon lied to his mother, glancing at the clock on the microwave, he’d had about 7 minutes of sleep.

“Sara?” Simon asked quietly, his throat still hurts from where he was kicked, he realises now he should be lucky nothing was actually crushed from the force Wille had used. Simon tried not to get lost in memory, the wind in his hair, rustling the leaves of the tree’s, the airy silence before he screamed.

Be the strong brother she needs, Simon thought.

He crouched with Sara, grabbing a tea towel off the oven as he went, gently taking her hand in his, and tipping the China into the towel instead of it being on her bare skin, luckily it’s yet to cut her.

Be the strong brother she needs. He repeated it in his head.

Be the strong brother she needs.

“You okay Sara?” He asked quietly, picking up the bigger shards carefully, tensing his hand to stop them from mimicking the shaking of Sara’s.

“Sorry.” She blinked rapidly, snapping from her daze. “I’ll… I’ll be back.” She stood up, pausing running a hand through her hair, before darting down the hall towards her room without another word, leaving Simon alone again .

Simon closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths until his hands had steadied for real. Be the stronger brother she needs. He chanted those words in his mind, picking up the remaining shards and sweeping the smaller parts away.

“Simon?” His mother called out from the bathroom. Simon wanted desperately to ignore her, to go back to the lounge and sleep, sleep this mess away. His bones ache deep in his body, his head feels physically fuzzy, like he should be able to reach into his head and spend years dusting away cobwebs blocking his thoughts. But instead of indulging in his make shift bed in the lounge, he forced himself to limp into the bathroom.

“Yes?” He asked.

His eyes instantly found Wille’s, he sat on the toilet, a bandage wrapped around his neck. He looks so sad, eye’s red, clearly he’s done some more crying. His eyes darted to Linda, before going back to Simon, and then to his hands.

“Can you get some fresh clothes for Wilhelm please, darling?” Linda asked, she smiled but it didn’t even get close to reaching her eyes, it flickered and faded fast. It was so obviously fake but Simon didn’t bother to point it out.

“Okay.” He mumbled, turning and limping down the hall, past Sara’s closed door and into his room.

Simon closed his bedroom door behind him with a soft thud. He paused for a moment, standing with his hand on the icy cold door handle, eyes glued- unfocused -on his trickling fish tank.

He broke down.

Collapsing onto his bed like he’d been shoved, Simon grabbed his pillow and sobbed into it. It’s been a very stressful morning, he’s cried and screamed and ran and climbed, fought and performed fucking CPR- he’s never done half those things seriously before, and it’s very emotionally draining, especially for an already tired 16 year old, trying to push through high school with a financially struggling family.

Simon couldn’t breathe. He’s crying so hard, gasping for air like he’s fucking drowning on the air in his bedroom.

“Oh, god-” He sobbed, squeezing his pillow like a life line as he gasped through his mouth, every time he blinked a fresh tear or two would chase a new pattern down his cheek, soaking into his pillow and sweater. Remaining mud smudged onto the white pillowcase and sheets, but he couldn’t find the energy to care at that moment.

When did he sign up for this? When did he ask for this life? Well, he didn’t, but no one asks for life, they just get given it. And Simon’s tried, he’s tried so hard to be happy, and he is to a degree- but he can imagine 3 million different lives that would make him happier, they all include his Mama, and Sara, and Ayub and Rosh, but he’s never been able to think about leaving this one, not when he knows nothing will ever be the same.

Simon choked in another breath, coughing on his saliva he inhaled on accident, and it only made him cry harder. He can’t physically get himself to stop, not as he tries to cover his mouth to smother the noise, or when he bashes the pillow against his face, the tears don’t stop.

He wants to scream, scream at the sky, at Queen Kristina, at the pricks at Hillerska and the fucking world, but he can’t right now, because everyone else in this house needs support. Be the strong brother she needs.

After a few minutes he dragged himself off his bed, taking many, many deep breaths till his breathing returned to normal. He wiped his face with the cuffs of his jumper until his face hurt, and the tear tracks disappeared. He was sure no one would notice his extended absence, everyone’s so engaged in their own things, and in shock.

Simon hobbled to his cupboard, leaning heavily on his dresser and the wall. He found the compression stocking he’d used a few years ago on his wrist when he hurt himself playing Hockey. He kicked off the shoe’s he hadn’t realised he was still wearing, gently pulling up his muddy jean’s to look at the very swollen ankle. He bit his lip as he pulled the stocking over the swollen bone, and felt instant relief from the cold, gently squishing material.

He moved onto the next part of his task. He found a grey hoodie and some track pants, then he went to give them to Wille. Linda has disappeared from the bathroom when Simon came back in to give Wille the clothes.

“You should probably change as well.” Wille whispered, voice hoarse as he took the clothes from Simon, one hand seemed to instinctively reach up to pry at the edge of the bandages around his neck.

Simon glanced down at his own clothes, muddy, wet and bloody in some places, from his nose. He can’t imagine how his face looks, probably smudged with blood and mud, curls matted to his forehead with sweat.

He nodded, shifting on his feet, “yeah, agreed.” Simon’s not quite sure what to say to him now everything’s quietened down, so he turned to leave when Wilhelm spoke again, “also-” Simon stopped, looking back. Wille’s nervously chewing on his nails, but he pulled his hand away long enough to mumble: “Uhm…nevermind, nevermind.”

Simon stayed unmoving for a moment, before awkwardly nodding again and leaving.

Simon went upstairs and changed into his favourite hoodie- an oversized purple one -as well as some new pants, throwing his and Wille’s clothes into the washing machine.

Then he went down stairs and found everyone crowded on the couch with hot chocolates, except for Wille, who’s perched on an armchair in a very un-princey position, his legs tucked up under his body to the point he’s virtually sitting on them, the hoodie half pulled onto his greasy hair. Wille isn’t holding a hot chocolate though, his cup is sat steaming on the coffee table in front of him, he’s instead holding a cup of water, more soothing on his throat Simon assumes.

Simon sat down on the end of the couch closest to Wille and next to Sara. Linda reached over Sara to hand Simon his own cup of hot chocolate. And Simon took a sip, eyes going to the bright TV screen they're all watching, and he tried to drown the last hour in the rich, hot, cup of comforting sweetness.

Chapter Text

Sara's staring at the TV, with her eye's glazed over, drink basically untouched. Her posture is rigid, and her left knee is bouncing, distracting Simon every three seconds. Linda's wearing a facade of calm and relaxed, one leg thrown over the other, leaning back into the plush couch, sipping gradually at her own hot chocolate, but she knows she's anything but.

Simon sighed. It could be worse. Simon tried to tell himself, I could've not tripped up and seen Wille, or I could've not fallen asleep studying, then Wille would be dead and I wouldn't even know I could've done something. But thats not how it is, and that didn't happen, so there's no point dwelling on the 'what if's'.

Simon dragged himself from his thoughts, trying to force his attention onto the TV.

A few minutes later, he found himself scotching towards Sara, inch by inch, until he was close enough to drag half of the blanket Sara had draped over her lap to cover a small chunk of Simon's own lap. Sara glanced at him, snapping out of her daze, blinking several times as she processed what he's doing. Simon wiggled closer to her so they could evenly share the blanket, resting his head on her shoulder immediately.

He found instant comfort being snuggled up with his big sister, her head securely on top of his, the blanket helping them share warmth, the deep, chocolatey taste dancing over his taste buds with every sip.

For the next hour the four of them watched TV in silence. Whoever had picked out the entertainment had chosen a comedy, clearly an attempt to lighten the mood, which Simon appreciated. For most of the movie it was silent, no one laughed, snorted, or gave a disappointed sigh at the horrible jokes, the only sound they made was sipping their drinks and the occasional throat clearing from the thick sweetness, or Wille with his swollen neck.

Towards the end of the movie, Wille made a sound of amusement: a little snort of laughter. It made Simon's head whip to look over not so subtlety, making Sara tut in annoyance at his movement. Wille's face is illuminated by the TV's gentle glow, lips shiny from the water, eyes slightly crinkled at the sides, all his facial features softened by the glow.

Simon's almost never seen Wille smile a genuine smile, but this one right here is a real one, like the one he'd given Simon in class all those week's ago. Unlike the fake ones he throws in Augusts direction whenever the prick says something he intends for amusement.

The way his eyes sparkled, the way a few strands of hair fell from where he'd tucked it behind his ear, it was strangely intoxicating, and Simon had to force himself to look away, the image ingrained into his mind. It had only lasted a few seconds, but Simon felt like he'd been in that moment for years.

When the credits began to roll, Linda got up with a heavy sigh. She kissed all the children on the forehead, even Wille, before going up to bed, taking their dishes into the kitchen first.

Simon flicked over to another channel, watching some English people renovating their house, practically pissing on the money they have.

"I'm gonna go to bed now." Sara whispered, breath smelling of musty hot chocolate.

Simon nodded. "Mkay, night Sara."

"Night Simon." She patted Simon's knee as she got up, leaving the blanket on his lap.

Wille flashed a small smile at her, which Sara barely returned, bringing her hand up in acknowledgement instead.

Wille sighed, sadness bubbling behind his eyes as they returned to the TV, holding a now empty glass, finger's picking at the rim sub consciously, unmoved from his previous position. Simon feels bad, it's not Sara's fault, it's understandable to not know what to think right now- shit, Simon doesn't know what to think either, he's not sure anyone does.

Simon rolled from the couch down onto his mattress on the floor, dragging Sara's blanket with him. He shuffled under the cover's, facing the TV, watching this woman kick a hole into her wall, wearing a hard yellow safety helmet, laughing as she went.

Simon tried to ignore how it feels like he's lying on the floor, the thin foam not doing much to bring him comfort. He spent a few minutes just shuffling around, readjusting his body and punching the pillow into a comfortable shape.

"Are you actually going to sleep on the floor?" Wille asked.

Simon, having just got comfortable, sighed, but rolled over to face Wilhelm either way. "Yes. Why? Do you want to sleep down here instead?"

Wille shrugged, much to Simon's surprise. "You're an heir to the Swedish throne, Wille." Simon pointed out. He didn't mention how he has a bed upstairs that either of them could go sleep in, he's... he's scared to leave Wille alone, and he feels horrible about it. "And you're also our guest, so you may sleep on our couch, and I'll sleep on the ground."

For a moment Wille just stared at him, clearly trying to gauge whether it was worth fighting Simon on that factor.

"Trust me, I don't mind, I'll be up in a few hours anyways." Simon told him. Not like I'd be getting sleep either way, even if I was lying in a billion dollar bed, with dove feather pillows and the finest silk sheets, Simon thought heavily.

Wille nodded slowly, so Simon rolled back over to continue to watch the women demolish the wall that didn't do anything to her. It reminded Simon of those rage rooms he sees online.

Several minutes later Wille moved to the couch where Simon had been. He picked up the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and re positioned the pillow, settling down, carefully as to not hurt his neck.

Then they lay in silence, Wille breathing heavily and occasionally shifting his position slightly.

"Do you want me to turn off the TV?" Simon asked, voice shattering the silence.

"Yes please, Simon." Wille whispered, barely audible over the TV.

Simon waited until Wille had stopped moving before he turned off the TV, casting them into darkness. A few strands of light slipped through a thin gap in the curtains from the street lamp outside, making stretched shadows across the room.

"I feel bad-" Wilhelm said after a moment, clearing his throat before continuing. "I feel bad with you on the floor, I'm the guest," he croaked quietly.

Simon blinked up at the dark roof, trying to suppress a big sigh. He desperately wants to agree, say "yeah fair point you can sleep on the ground and I'll sleep on the equally uncomfortable couch". Goddamn Wille and his surprising amount of self awareness, Simon thought.

"It's ok, Mr Prince, you can sleep on my couch in the lounge... Sorry 'bout that." Simon felt his cheeks go hot, quietly embarrassed he had the Crown Prince sleeping on the couch. Despite 'fuck the monarchy' being the quote he lives by, he's starting to feel bad about Willes bed

"It's okay, I'll survive." Simon swore he could hear a smile in Wille's words. "Night Simon."

Simon smiled to himself. "Good night Wille."

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. Neither moved, but they're also not asleep.

Despite how tired Simon is, he still he can't sleep. Every time his eyes drift shut all he sees is that silhouetted scene, like something from a horror movie. Wille on the branch. The noose hanging. The tree's all reaching out like they're trying to push him.

Simon's eyes flew open, staring up at the roof.

Wille's breathing is understandably raspy, but it's still clear he hasn't managed to fall asleep either.

He made this very apparent when he whispered "hey, Simon?"

"Yeah?" Simon replied instantly.

Wille paused, Simon heard him rolling around. "Thank you."

Simon closed his eyes, feeling something warm inside him again- that proud feeling, returning. "Wille, you are so welcome."

Wille made some humming noise, and they were quiet again.

After a few minutes, Simon went to sleep. Any time the image of Wille in the woods came into mind, he'd burn through it with the memory of Wille smiling at the TV, and focused on that beautifully rare scene.

Simon woke up to Wille tip-toeing over his legs. Simon rolled over, following his footsteps, and opened his eyes just in time to see Wille walking around the corner into the kitchen.

The feeling of sleep clouded his mind as he listened to muffled talking, half wondered what the hell is the Crown Prince doing in his lounge ...oh. Everything came flooding back, and he quietly wished for the sweet relief of sleep for the second time that day, to escape the horrors of this world. "Argh."

"Simon." He looked over at the doorway again, blinking to adjust his eyes to the light now pouring through the curtains and in from the doorway.

Wille's standing there, holding Linda's phone in his hand. His hair is bedridden, one side of his hair appears to be flattened from him sleeping on that side. He ran a hand through his hair, seeming to become aware of this, but it didn't do much to squash down the blonde-brown strands.

"Um, can you..." He glanced at the phone in his hand, clearing his throat. Simon noted how his knuckles are white, he's grasping the phone like it's going to grow a pair of legs and try to run from him.

Simon sat up, "can I what?" He asked groggily, rubbing his eyes before stretching with his arms above his head.

Wilhelm gulped. "Help me phone my parents because I know Malin's going to be freaking out?" Wille hurried out in one breath.

Simon blinked slowly, trying for a moment to process what he'd just said, Wille's still kinda fuzzy every time Simon blinks. "I'm sorry, my brain is half asleep, what'd you say?" He smiled meekly.

Wille's cheeks went pink as his eyes flickered over Simon's rumpled bed, sheets thrown aside with the pillow dangling off the edge. "Can you please, help me, phone my parents." He said, much slower this time.

Simon chewed on inside the of his lip, thinking as he stood up slowly and stretched again, already knows his answer, he's just thinking about what they'll say, trying to get his brain to catch up. "Yeah, of course."

Wille let out a sigh of relief, eyes darting to the window, like he was half expecting some black SUVs to pull up and demand for their Crown Prince back. Then Wilhelm wandered over and sat down on the couch, shoving the blanket aside.

Simon plopped down next to him, yawning loudly, Wille seemed unbothered.

"Your hair is cute in the morning, by the way." Wille muttered while entering someone's number, knee bouncing nervously.

Simon smiled to himself, running a hand over his head and feeling the slightly frizzy curls. "So's your's, but probably more messy that mine, if I'm being honest." Simon joked. Wille chuckled quietly. Whoa. Simon thought. Did I just make him laugh?

Wille then looked at Simon, and Simon was already looking back. "What the hell do I say?" Moment shattered. His eyes are wide now, filled with regret and fear.

Simon knew this was coming, ever since he realised who he'd found at that un godly hour only a few hours ago. Simon smiled sympathetically. "Well, you have to be honest." Wille's hand moved up to his mouth, and he started chewing on his nail. Simon watched, mind instantly making the connection to a sign of anxiety .

Simon hesitated before he gently wrapped his hand around his wrist, slowly pulling it away from his mouth, leaving his hand around Wille's wrist but now resting on Wille's lap. Wilhelm's eyes followed the movement, staying pinned on Simon's hand before his eyes flickered up to meet Simon's.

"Wille, it's okay. I'm here to help, okay? And they will too."

Wille turned cold suddenly, spine stiffening. "No, you're wrong." He pulled his hand away, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. Simon feel's embarrassed.

"Wille, they're your parents, how can they not-"

"Yeah, and they're also the King and Queen of a fucking country," Wille spat. "And I'm their second son, the back up that they only look at when they need. I'm that 16 year old boy, who's told them he has fucking anxiety and depression, he comes second to the country." Wille took a deep breath, he spat every word like poison, they rolled off his tongue so fast Simon just knew they've been chanted in his head.

He didn't give Simon a chance to open his mouth before he barrelled on. "I-I bet, they'll just tell me 'you're okay Wilhelm, just go talk to a therapist and don't tell anyone, we'll buy you lots of Gucci fucking turtle necks- like the ones your handsome and smart cousin wears -to hide your stupid impulsivity'." Wille took several deep breaths, blinking rapidly as he stared down at the phone.

Simon's speechless, what is he meant to say to that? Wille basically just admitted his parents don't care about him. He just told Simon the Queen will choose the country over her own son, her only son. But a part of Simon knew it probably wasn't entirely like this, how can a mother feel that little for her child? Simon knows that as a Queen, her country is very dear to her, but there's no way she wouldn't sacrifice it to save Wilhelm and his mental health. Right?

"My parents aren't like your mum, they don't love me." Wille whispered that horrible last part. "She's amazing." He paused. "Compared to my parents, she's like an angel, and they're like fucking devil's, sitting on both of my shoulders, egging me on."

Simon stared at Wille, watched a silent tear fall from his eye to his cheek, running along the surface before dropping off his chin. Simon wants to wrap Wille in bubble wrap, stand in front of him like a shield, protect him from the horrible things he's been through, even though he knows he's slightly too late, but he's here now so why doesn't he start?

Simon dropped his head onto Wille's shoulder, it was impulsive and not fully thought through, but he didn't regret it. Wille needs comfort, and right now Simon's voice isn't working.

After a pause Wille put his head on Simon's, and Simon wanted to move again,to wrap his hands around Wille's, but he kept them on his own lap, he's not going to push the boundaries.

Simon could feel the thick bandage around Wille's neck pressing against his hair, so he was careful not to press against it too hard.

"I'll help." Simon found himself saying, finding confidence from deep within himself, Wille needs it right now. "It will be alright, okay? We'll plan out what to say, every single word, you know how your mum thinks right? We'll make sure she understands...Just, like, gaslight yourself into thinking that, Wille I dunno..." Simon preyed it was the right thing to say, and clearly it was.

Wille laughed drily, "okay..." He took a deep breath, slapping his hands down on his knee's, looking at Simon. "Okay, let's do this."

After about half an hour of planning, Linda's phone is dialling the Queen's very own mobile.

Simon's heart is racing and he can practically feel the anxiety radiating off of Wille, who's chewing his nails next to Simon.

They both wait as the line rings. It rings, and rings and its painful to sit, unable to do anything but freaking wait. Simon knows it would've been much easier if they had Wille's phone, but it's all the way back at his dorm.

Finally, the line picked up with a moment of static. "Hello? Who is this?" It's not the Queen speaking, Simon knows that much. For a split second he panicked, thinking they'd called the wrong number, his anxiety getting the best of him.

"Minou, it's me, Wilhelm." Wille said, putting it on speaker and talking with false confidence. Simon recognised the name as one of the members of the Royal Court, but he didn't relax, he couldn't, he feels like constant strings of electricity are being shot into his veins, keeping him stiff and practically vibrating on the spot.

"Wilhelm, why are you calling through this number? Are you okay?" Minou asked, trying to smother the worry in her voice, talking purposefully slower to appear more calm.

"I'm-" He glanced at Simon, who pursed his lips as a silent response. "Just put me on with my Mother, please. I know you answered for her because it's a random number,and she probably thinks I'm a hostage or whatever but- but I'm perfectly fine." Simon mouthed 'slow down'. "I am at a-a friend's house. I came by choice, and they've been nothing but nice to me." Not quite how their script went, but he got the main gist of it.

Simon nodded encouragingly when Wille glanced at him again, worrying his bottom lip as they awaited a reply. Simon looked down at their roughly drawn out bullet points, putting a line through the part Wille had already read.

Minou was silent. "Okay." Then she spoke to someone in the background, "Your Majesty, it is Wilhelm." Simon's stomach dropped at the thought of the Queen being right there, through the phone. "He says he's with a friend, that he's not a hostage, and that they're being nice." Simon frowned at the phone at her tone of voice as she explained it, almost disgust, like she didn't like Wilhelm having friends. Probably because I haven't signed three million different sheets of paper work and had a background check. I bet all Wille's friends had to go through. Simon thought saltily, being a tad dramatic.

"Wilhelm? Why aren't you in your dorm?" Queen Kristina said clearly through the phone.

"Mother, I'll explain, but you have to let me speak completely- let me say- say everything, before you say anything." Wille squinted at the script on Simon's lap, his eyes jumping too far ahead and not reading it properly. "And you- you might want to sit down... I mean if you care about me." Simon covered his mouth to suppress a gasp, that definitely wasn't part of the script.

The other side of the line was quiet for a moment. "Okay, go Wilhelm. I promise to listen." Kristina said, and she sounded sincere. Simon heard her sigh as she sat down, he wondered if she's in a room full of other important people, Wilhelm's Dad and the royal court, he wonders if they're taking notes and tutting as Wilhelm explain what has happened in the last 15 hours, right from when he got back from dinner in a foul mood, to Linda bandaging him and everything in between.

When he finished explaining, the other side of the line was quiet. Simon swore he heard sniffles, muffled by something, most likely a tissue- no, probably a gold lined handkerchief. No matter the situation his inner monologue is still chanting 'fuck the monarchy'.

"Wilhelm..." The Queen's voice shook through the phone, sounding slightly distant from her.

Simon chewed on the end of the pencil, watching Wille wipe the tears that had formed and fallen as he'd admitted everything that had happened, even parts Simon didn't know, like where he'd got the rope from (he stole it from the stables on his way to the forest) and what set him off in the first place (hate comments on an Instagram post he made of himself smiling after a rowing match. People being dicks about how he looked, how un-royal the post was, how inappropriate it was to post a photo about beating the other rowing team. All ridiculous, petty things, but they still understand by hurt. That's what gave him the final push, but what built it was not just that, but also Erik being gone, unable to support him through this, making him feel totally alone. The pressure of being Crown Prince and living up to his brothers level)

"I'm so, so sorry." Kristina sniffed again.

Wilhelm dropped his head into his hands, muttering something Simon didn't hear. He sat up straighter and spoke clearer, suddenly glaring down at the phone with fire in his teary eyes, fists clenched. "Yeah, well its a bit fucking late for that, Mama." Simon was physically taken aback. "Go off." He whispered.

The Queen didn't reply to that, but Simon heard muttering on the other side. "I'll arrange for a car to pick you up, you'll be transferred to the hospital for a proper check up." Minou is now speaking again, voice clipped and formal. Simon narrowed his eyes at the phone.

Wilhelm cleared his throat. "No. I have a plan." He put emphasis on the word 'I'.

"Wilhelm." Minou paused, Simon could guess what's coming next. "You're in no condition to be making any rational decisions right now."

"Fuck you! It's my fucking life Minou! I know you don't trust me but you never have!" Wille stood up, pacing a few steps away from the silent phone. Simon doesn't know what to do, they're gone horribly off script about 15 lines ago.

Wilhelm came back just as Minou spoke again, "I think you should take a few deep breaths, calm down so we can talk about this like adults."

"I'm not a fucking adult though, I'm 16! And it's your guys fault I feel like this!"

"Wille." Simon mumbled. He's not wrong, and he has every right to say that, to make them truly aware, but that's got to hurt.

Again, silence followed. Wille sat down, knee bouncing quickly, he looks so angry, like he's about to go down to the Palace and yell at them face to face, maybe that'd work better than a phone call, they'd have less time to plan out every word.

"We'll hear out your plan, Wilhelm." Queen Kristina returned to the conversation.

Wille nodded, taking a deep breath in, and puffing it out quickly. "Alright. Okay." Wilhelm reached over and picked up the script, eyes flickering over their messy hand writing and the wobbly lines Simon had drawn. Wilhelm flipped it over to look at the list, the next part of the plan.

"Okay, so." He cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

"I'm getting there, Jesus." Simon might've laughed, if his heart wasn't thumping and his thoughts weren't racing.

"Since you are my Mother, you and Papa will contact the school and explain what's happened, not in detail, but tell them whatever they need to know." He said in clear voice, speaking slowly.

"Wilhelm-"

"I'm not done." Wille interrupted the Queen, if he wasn't her son Simon think's he'd be banned from the country by now. "I think..." Wilhelm looked down at the paper, Simon watched his eyes scan over the same line 'make an ig post claiming I'm going to be doing more Crown Prince shit while my wounds heal'. Simon frowned, gently nudging his shoulder.

"No." He shock his head, eyes flicking up to Simon, who's brows rose. "No?" He whispered, confused.

"What do you mean 'no'?" The Queen voiced Simon's thoughts.

Wille ran a hand through his hair. "No."

Chapter Text

Wille continued. "What I've done was bad, trying to kill myself, but I shouldn't hide it. People will say I'm mentally unstable, but they're right and it's not my fault, it's yours, it's the haters, it's school. That's what pushed me. Everyone has the capacity to do what I did, I just... I got so fucking sick of all of that shit, that it brought up those feelings, that is what filled up that hateful bottle inside of me, that's what caused it to shatter, crack and fucking bleed, everywhere." Simon's jaw is officially on the floor, he couldn't be more fucking proud, he might literally explode with how much admiration he’s feeling right now.

"Covering up the truth won't do any good for me, I'll just be ashamed, and really fucking scared of people finding out what actually happened. Imagine if the press discovers what I've done after I lie about it, it'll be world fucking news that the Crown covered up their suicidal child, it'll make you and the court look horrible." Wilhelm took a deep breath. Simon wants to hug him so badly, the proud feeling- it's huge, giant, too big to be contained inside of Simon's little capsule.

"Mental illness is all around us today," Wille continued. "And admitting that I struggle isn't wrong. I know everyone suffers from it, you, members of the court, it's not that uncommon. It- it could even be good to admit it, it'll make me more relatable to the younger generation- in a sad way yes, but I know they'll appreciate my honesty, I'd love to see someone my age with influence like I have speaking out about something like this. It's the representation they need. You're old, and so is everyone who actually supports you, and your opinions reflect your age. You say you're changing the country for the better, but you've not changed shit."

Simon's going to fucking scream, this man is spitting straight facts into the Queen of Sweden's face, and he's living for it, hand over his mouth to smother any sounds.

"Wilhelm-"

"So, I will make an- an Instagram post, about mental illness awareness, I'll be honest about what happened, and what triggered it. That's my deal." Wilhelm stood up, walked over to the doorway and then paced back.

Simon stared at him, grinning from ear to ear. Wille didn't look at him though, eyes pinned on the floor as he breathes deeply, walking back and forth, fingers picking at the skin around his thumb. Simon’s aware that the Queen never even made the suggestion to cover it up, to lie, but her reaction states that that would have been her idea, just like Wille and Simon had predicted.

"Wilhelm..." The Queen whispered through the small speaker. Wille began to chew his lip, stopping in front of the phone which was sitting on the couch. "I... Okay. Okay fine-" "Your Majesty-" Minou gasped. "He's right, Minou. If we were to lie, and then somehow we had a leak, it would be disastrous." The Queen continued to stand with her son. "As well as that, we'd be representing a side of society that gets more or less ignored, looked down upon, or treated un fairy. Giving that acknowledgement would indeed make us appear more modern, and likeable. So he will make an Instagram post with our guidance, but nowhere in it will he mention the Royal Court, me, or anything to do with the Royal family."

Wille chewed on his nail for a moment, Simon could practically see the cogs turning, thinking about the pros and cons of this.

It's sad, he should be able to say how they made him feel, but life isn't fair, and Simon knows they have access to his account and will surely delete any posts they don't like. And Simon also knows that Wille’s fans, the public, they’ll pick apart every interview, every photo and every post to find signs of Wille showing anxiety or depression, and he knows they will spread the rumour that it was also the pressure of being Crown Prince after Erik. If Simon could figure it out before he knew all of this, it’s guaranteed they will too.

"Okay. Deal." Wille sat down heavily on the couch, leaning back into the cushions for a moment. "Sorry, can you give me a moment? I'm not done but I-I… just need a breather."

"Yes, me too.” The Queen sighed. “Alright, reconvene in 10-"

Wille pressed the hold button right after she finished speaking, not giving her a chance at saying another word. Hands shaking as he pulled back from the phone quickly as if it had burnt him.

For a few moments, he just stared at his hands, eyes wide and chest heaving, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Then Wille's big hazel eyes found Simon's, he looks utterly terrified, but in the midst of all that fear is a fire, and it's bloody glorious.

Simon smiled at him. "I'm so fucking proud of you." He said, his face splitting into an even bigger grin, unable to stop himself. He’s not lying, he feels like a proud parent, he wants to throw Wille a party and buy him ice cream and tell him how proud he is until his voice is raw.

Wille's own lips twitched, teeth flashing as he grinned back at Simon. "I'm proud of myself too." Simon threw himself at Wille, the phone falling onto the floor as he wrapped him in a tight hug, wounds forgotten. Wille hugged him back, resting his cheek on Simon's shoulder. Simon’s just gotten more proud, more proud that Wille was proud of himself, that he recognised the significance of what he just did, and what he plans to do.

"Thank you, Simon, so much," Wille whispered into his shoulder, hairs tickling Simon’s neck.

"Thank you, Wille, for being brave enough to say all of that. You're going to make a lot of people feel seen and not so alone." Simon replied, squeezing him tightly, chin resting on his shoulder.

Simon felt Wille let out a big breath, relaxing in his grip. "That was terrifying though. I don't know what I'll say in the post-" Wille began to ramble, hands starting to clench Simon’s jumper.

"Don't think about that right now." Simon scolded, pulling back and holding him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly- he felt his stomach do a weird flip when Wille's hand fell to rest on his waist lightly, for a moment it distracted him.

"That- that's a future situation, live in the now, be proud now, we'll deal with that when it comes around." Simon nodded encouragingly until Wille nodded back at him, still smiling, not as hard as before but that doesn't matter. Simon savoured the look, drinking in the sight of him being happy, with no tears, no quivering lip, no sniffling, just a soft little smile, his lips quirked up on either side, eyes slightly squinted.

After the 10 minutes was up, Wilhelm pressed the hold button again and they continued the conversation.

They will get a few doctors to come to Simon's house soon to give Wille a proper check-up, along with his security, since it's mandatory. Wilhelm attempted to say no to having bodyguards, but the best he managed to bargain it down to is having 1 in the house, and 1 outside.

If he is deemed physically stable by the nurses, then he will stay at Simon's until tomorrow afternoon. Malin, his bodyguard, will take the necessities from his bedroom at Hillerska and bring them over to Simon's house for Wilhelm. (If he’s not well then he’ll be taken to the hospital, hopefully in an inconspicuous manner) The next day Queen fucking Kristina herself will show up at Simon's front door to pick Wille up, and they will return to the palace.

Once he's at the palace they'll discuss plans for the Instagram post, and Wille will make the post the next day at 3 in the afternoon. Then, next week Thursday he will return to Hillerska, where Simon will be waiting (along with a therapist Wille will see twice a week, it hadn’t taken as much convincing as Simon has expected for Wille to agree to this, and Queen Kristina was happy for him to go)

Of course, the Queen had her own bits to add, like the precise time for the Instagram post and the random day of the week Wille will return to school, a day undisclosed to the press or anyone but Simon (not that she knows he's there) Wilhelm, herself, the court and his bodyguards.

Simon left the lounge once the plan was completed and sealed with a promise, allowing Wille some space to talk to his mum one on one.

Simon went upstairs to his room after leaving Wille alone with the phone. He really, really hopes that that conversation brings Wille at least some sense of comfort, he knows now that Wille doesn’t have the same kind of relationship Simon has with his mother, but there has to be something there, he definitely heard Kristina crying at the news of what he'd done.

He sat on his bed and tried to drag his mind away from all the stress that ensued in somehow, only a single day. He should tell his mother the plan, so she’ll be ready when the nurses and Wilhelm’s security show up at their door.

I’ll do that later. Simon thought to himself, pulling out his piano keyboard, and grabbing his notebook and a pencil. He flicked the moleskin book open, eyes sliding over the words he’s already written a few times, getting the tune in his head again.

Simon hummed the part of the song he’d already got, pressing the keys whenever he felt it would fit, eventually opening his mouth to sing to lyrics, adding new lines or changing previous words so it flowed better. He doesn’t actually know what he’s doing with the piano, he just sings and mimics the music so it sounds right, sometimes re-doing one line over and over until he finds the right note or series of notes to go with it.

Music’s always been his kind of escape, helped him relax and kept his mind busy. It’s like how Sara spends time in the stables, with Felice and Rousseau, instead, Simon sings. Having to concentrate on the lyrics helps his mind to find a new brain wave. The music fills his veins and drains the tenseness from his muscles, so he can just enjoy the feeling of freedom and serotonin he gets from singing.

His bliss didn’t last long though, because then his phone buzzed, vibrating on his dressing table with a notification. He reached over, grabbing his phone, a DM from Henry. He felt his stomach drop, he’s never been messaged by Henry before, and he has a feeling he knows what it's about.

He opened the message,

8:30
Do yk where Wille is
No one at school does

8:33

Malin’s disappeared as well

10:49

Btw they found a noose in the forest and everyone thinks he’s offed himself and the royals are stressed af trying to cover it up wdyt

Simon doesn’t know what to think. His heart has quite literally stopped, his only real thought is shit shit shit shit. Does he say he doesn’t know anything? Does he give Henry closure for now and tell him- no, he can’t, he’d have to ask Wille first and plus, Henry is as bad at keeping secrets as Stella or Fredrika, another Hillerska gossip spreader. The whole will know before Simon could take a breath. Henry will know in a few days when Wille posts the announcement.

Simon didn’t think Henry was Wille’s friend, he sits next to Wille in class and it’s probably his biggest flex. They don’t talk an exceptional amount at any of the meals or in class for that matter. He’s probably spoken to Wille more than Simon though. Wille didn’t mention having any friends during the plan when Simon asked if there’s anyone at school they should tell personally, apart from the Principle and Boris.

Simon knew he should’ve cleaned up the mess, it would’ve stopped this entire conversation he now has to have.

Just then a gentle knock sounded from his doorway, Simon looked up to find Wille smiling back. For a split second Simon wasn’t thinking about Henry or his music, instead, his heart skipped a beat at the happy expression gracing his normally gloomy face. But his smile instantly dropped when he saw Simon’s face, his panic not so well hidden.

“What happened?” Wille asked instantaneously, stiffening on the spot.

“Uhm- '' Simon looked down at his phone, then back up at Wille, and back again a few times. “I- '' three bubbles popped up to show Henry’s typing. “Shit.” He muttered, which only caused Wilhelm to frown more. A buzzing sound filled his head, like a million bees vibrating his brain, making it harder for him to focus. Everything has become way too much. Henry knows Simon’s seen his message so he can’t just ghost him.

“Simon?” Wilhelm asked, taking a step towards him, eyes flickering around the room like he’d find a scrap of evidence for Simon's stress. “What happened?”

10:50
Malin’s just packed all Willes bags and left tf did he fr die

Also I can see you just left me on send sketchy mf

Simon sighed heavily, he can’t seem to get a break. “Henry’s asking what happened to you.” Simon finally answered, running a hand over his hair. “They found the noose in the woods and everyone thinks you, well, attempted. Apparently, Malin’s packed your stuff and left.” The buzzing sensation stopped when the truth was put into the air between them.

Wille gulped, staying frozen on the spot for a moment, before turning around and walking away.

Simon quickly typed out his reply,

Damn the tea. Idk where he is tho hope he's ok

Simon then jumped from his bed. He’ll just make sure Wille’s okay, he doesn’t need to push for his feelings, he’s told Simon so much already. Just make sure … make sure what? Clearly, he’s not okay, okay people don’t flee the room in panic without a word. The bathroom door slammed. ‘Okay people’ don’t do that.

He walked out of his bedroom, swinging around the doorway of the laundry room, and made his way down the hallway to the bathroom. He was right, the bathroom door was the one being slammed, shut firmly. Simon hesitated, before going back to his room, he doesn't need to be a helicopter parent, right?

*Willie’s POV* :D

Wilhelm stared down at his wrists, long, red slices decorated his pale wrists like horrible tattoos. Fuck, Wille wishes they were tattoos, but they’re very much real. Blood dripped from his arm onto the white tile, creating small splatters. He’s sitting on the toilet, silver scissors held open in his grip, blood lining the edges of one of the blades. His blood. Shit shit shit.

He doesn't know exactly how long he’s been in here, but it’s been way too long, Simon’s going to start getting worried.

The nice, brown-haired boy popped into Wille’s head, his big brown eyes filled up with glinting tears, dry lips quivering, blood sliding over his lip, curled up on the forest floor shaking like a leaf. Wilhelm felt so fucking bad in that moment, but he'd also hated Simon. He didn’t want to be alive, he wanted out but Simon had found him, and tried to help him, lifting him up so Wille could gasp another minute of a life he didn't want, his body betrayed him just then when it inhaled that breath. He'd kicked Simon, at the time he really did not care who he hurt, because he was so close, milerseconds away from seeing Erik, from freedom. Then everything had gone completely black, he could still hear, but it was like he was at the bottom of the ocean, and he couldn’t strain his ears to focus on the sounds. They'd been fuzzy grunting, distant sobbing, and then his eyes were opened and everything hurt, especially his head and his chest. He’d dragged Simon into this mess and now he too has to deal with the horrible fucking consequences of what Wille did.

He knows what his mum will say once they’re alone, “it was foolish thinking, what about your public image?” Wilhelm’s goddamn image, his Mum probably wouldn’t care if Erik was still alive, she would’ve given a five-minute video and moved on, discarding Wille’s feelings like an unwanted rag. But because Wilhelm is Crown Prince it matters, because he is needed to rule the country even though he doesn't wan too. His mum doesn’t actually care about his emotional state, Wille tells himself, as long as he can smile for photos and shake the dry hands of rich, sexist, homophobic, racist, old people, and then laugh at their not-funny jokes, she doesn’t care.

Deep down, somewhere far away, buried under years of pain and being told “Erik this” or “Erik that”, he knows his mother loves him, but right now he hates himself too much to see that.

His brain snapped back to attention when he heard a knock on the bathroom door. He stiffened, eyes flicking down to the blood making a small pool on the ground, so far only the size of a average mug, but it was still blood, his blood, that isn’t meant to leave his body.

“Wille, you still in here?” Wille nearly cried when he heard Simon’s soft words float through the door. He wants to tell him to go away, and at the same time ask for another hug, pretend he isn’t bleeding in Simon’s bathroom and focus on the warmth Simon provides when he hugs him.

Simon can’t know though, he thought, after everything he’s done for me, and now I just go and relapse in his fucking house? So Wilhelm held his breath, eyes pinned on the door, heart thumping in his chest so loud he fears Simon might hear it.

What does he do? Blood drips down his arms and onto the floor, the sleeves of Simon’s jumper rolled up and thankfully not bloody, but his socks... fuck.

His eyes flickered from the floor to the door. Simon’s probably listening, trying to see if he’s in there. What if he just doesn’t reply? Will Simon go away, search the house, come back and conclude his location? Maybe it’ll give him a minute or two to sort this out…

Then Wille’s eyes fell on the window. He could make a run for it, go …drown or something…but …Simon. How long is he going to stand at this door asking for Wille? Wille regrets what he’s done, not just right now, but in the past. He wishes they could have met under different circumstances, gone and hung out like normal friends, gone to parties and got drunk together with other teenagers, and stumbled home a giggling mess, no titles or worries.

So lost in thought, the next time Simon asked for him Wille instinctively replied with “huh?” Before slamming his hand over his mouth so hard it hurt. Shit. Fuck my life. Now he really wants to cry, the cover is blown, and he’s gonna need a really, really good lie to get himself out of this. I slipped on the tiles and the toilet is sharp. I was cutting my nails… with scissors.

“Wille?” Came Simon’s reply instantly, louder and a little more stressed than before.

“Uhm…” Wille silently screamed. “What?” He tried not to hyperventilate, he stood up from the toilet (lid closed) and stared down at the bloody floor. Shit fuck shit fuck shit. His heart is beating in his chest, thump thump thump thump, way too fast.

“Are you good? It’s been nearly 20 minutes since you went in there.” Worry laced Simon’s voice, Wille could practically smell the understandable paranoia. He’s just proved that he can’t be trusted alone, he should’ve never gone in here, he should’ve stayed in Simon’s room while Simon replied to Henry with something to cover up for now. But no, instead he ran into the bathroom and hid, cutting himself because he was sad.

Wille quietly opened the cupboard under the sink, finding a bunch of white hand towels. He grabbed one and walked back to the mess he’d made.

“Wille-” Simon repeated, the stress in his voice stabbing through Wille’s heart violently.

“Yes, okay, I heard. I just- I…” He stumbled over his words, bending down to soak up the blood, only for more to run down his arms, making him wince at the flexing wound, tears bubbling in his eyes from the pain. “Shit.” He whispered.

He grabbed some bandages from a draw, wrapping them around his wrist tightly until the blood stopped seeping through, while replying with the first, weak-ass excuse that came to mind, “I… fell asleep on the toilet.” His heart is slamming so hard in his chest he thinks he might be having a heart attack.

Fell asleep on the toilet? Pathetic. Jesus Christ, Simon isn’t stupid, but the horrible lie seemed to work, surprisingly.

Once he’d bandaged his left wrist he went back to wipe away the blood on the floor.

“Okay…” Simon paused, Wille would be embarrassed had he not been so stressed. “Well, do you want to go out?” Simon asked. Wille’s eyebrows rose, then dropped as he half listened to Simon ramble on he tried to clean up the mess, wincing and grimacing with every movement. “I mean- dumb idea, sorry... I just, like, do you want to do something? Now? Together? Just- just like, us two. Before the nurses and your bodyguards get here.”

Wille froze, heat flying into his cheeks and ears. He doesn’t know what to say, is he for real? Of course, he has no idea Wille’s crouched on the floor trying to erase the evidence of a mental breakdown, furious with himself for not even making it 24 hours clean before relapsing. Wille’s not sure he can do anything but watch a movie, even the thought of playing a video game makes the tendons in his wrist ache.

“Sure…Uhm, gimme a minute.” He replied after he’d realised Simon wasn’t speaking any more, again waiting for his reply.

“Great, okay.” Simon paused again. “Meet you in my room, okay?”

Wille fanned his face, he desperately needs to open a window. “Okay.”

“Okay…” Simon was quiet before Willie heard him shuffling away on his dodgy ankle.

“Fuck.” Wille whispered, staring down at the slightly red-tinged tiles, blood stuck in the grouting. “Fuck me.” He stood up and went to the window, opening it up and peeking out, the cold air was sharp and refreshing, helping to settle his swirling stomach, he was going to throw up if he didn’t get away from the metallic smell of his own blood, and the sight, ehk.

Wilhelms eyes fell on a trash can a few feet from the window and a plan formed in his mind.

Wille’s sock-covered feet landed on the hard, damp ground outside the window, the cold Swedish air stung his wrist through the bandages and made him very aware of the tears that had streaked his cheeks. The clouds are grey, an accurate representation of the mood inside the Eriksson household right now.

Wille silently prayed that no one would walk out of their house and see the Crown Prince like this. He ran ran to the bin, throwing in the bloody towel, hopping around the alley while he dragged off his socks and threw them in too. Then he grabbed a rubbish bag from underneath the bloody items and dumped the rubbish out on top to hide the ruined fabrics, burying them in the trash.

Wille gagged as he slammed it shut, his stomach feels like it tied itself in knots, it hurts and keeps retching. He took a deep breath of icy air, holding it in to chill his insides, before going back to the window and pulling himself back in, hissing with pain, tears pricking his eyes again from the strain on his wrists.

He then dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, grabbing a bunch of toilet paper and wiping away the remaining red, then flushing the paper.

Wille took in deep breaths, closing his eyes and giving himself a hot minute to just breathe. The pain’s flourishing all over his arm from the three long slices, he needs some painkillers for that.

Simon’s waiting for him, he needs to hurry the fuck up before he comes back, puzzle pieces put together.

Wille walked to the sink and washed his hands, keeping his eyes pinned on the water mixed with blood that drips down the drain, not daring to look up at himself again.

He knows some people love the Crown Prince, ‘he’s so cute’ they say, ‘with his big brown eyes and floppy hair’. But they also say ‘oh my god, jumpscare’, ‘put a trigger warning before you post photos of your smile', ‘what do you guys mean all i see is a wanna-be Erik, he’ll never be as hot, smart, or cool as his brother’, ‘death to crown prince wilhelm, all he does is jerk off to photos of himself’, ‘he never does any appearances he doesn’t care’, ‘useless’, ‘ugly’, ‘stupid’. He scrubbed the blood out from under his nails until his hands hurt.

Would Simon believe him though, he knows it’s a shitty lie. He quietly hopes Simon won’t ask if he needs more sleep because he ‘fell asleep on the toilet’. He just wants to chill with Simon, he doesn’t care what they do anymore. He would like to go outside and walk around Bjärstad, but he knows he physically can’t, he’s too much of a mess right now, and his security isn’t here yet.

SHIT. His bodyguards. He hopes Malin got inside duty, she is better at being a bodyguard, not just because she’s scary but because it feels less like he’s being stalked, and more like ‘oh yeah I forgot you’re there, please don’t tell my mum you heard me say that’. Not just bodyguards, he remembered, but also the nurses that’ll come to check him over. Oh, he’s soooo fucking screwed.

He quickly rummaged around the draws, he’d seen Linda pull out some painkillers when she’d done his neck last night, but where are they?

Wille pulled open the bottom drawer, finding several kinds of medication. Wille swore under his breath, filtering through some unopened ADHD meds, antihistamine, an inhaler, motion sickness pills, anti-diarrheal pills, and painkillers. He grabbed one of the two containers of paracetamol, popping out two tablets and taking them with tap water.

Wille chucked the paracetamol back into the draw. He found himself hesitating, wiping water from around his mouth, he stared down at the draw. His brain isn’t thinking straight, and his hand reached out, grabbing the motion sickness pills and the anti-diarrhea pills, taking a sheet from each and stuffing them into the waistband of his track pants. Guilt ate him from the inside out but it still didn’t stop his broken heart and sad head from taking the meds.

After a final scan of the bathroom and of himself, he deemed himself good enough, maybe slightly paler than normal but that could just be the lighting.

He took a deep breath, and let it out, keeping his eyes downwards so that he wouldn’t make eye contact with himself, he made that mistake this morning when he came down here to hide and have a panic attack about his conspiring classmates. In a few days, they’ll know the truth. The thought made his heart thump.

Wilhelm threw the door open and walked up the stairs as calmly as he could, turning to Simon’s room. Why did his heart start beating faster? It wasn’t that long of a walk, he’s probably just exhausted emotionally.

He raised his fist to knock, but froze like he’d been paralyzed, Simon’s voice floated out the door and into his brain, knocking out his senses. He stared at the doorway, listening to his quiet singing, occasionally joined by a note from a keyboard piano.

Wille lowered his fist, turning to lean against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened. Every time Simon sings, Wille feels like he’s drowning in his voice, and it’s the best feeling, so calming and beautiful that if a siren sang like this he would happily swim over.

The only reason he really bothers to go to the school assemblies is that he knows Simon will be singing. It’s not always a solo piece, but he’s there anyway, and he smiles as he sings, lighting up the entire gloomy room every time.

Wille was pulled from his daze as Simon stopped singing. Wilhelm realised after a pause he was coming towards the door, so he stood up and knocked before Simon could catch him in the act of listening to his singing.

“Oh, I was just coming to see if you’d forgotten or whatever.” Simon stumbled over his words again.

Wille shook his head slightly. “I’m good.” He lied through his teeth, praying Simon didn’t see through his lie. Wille even risked a small smile.

“Good.” Simon nodded, eyes narrowing a inch.

Wilhelm realised Simon had to tilt his head back ever so slightly to look up at him. Wille ripped his eyes away from Simon and they fell on the fish tank instead.

“Oh cool, you have fish.” He commented lamely, clearing his throat, which aches constantly, again, his fault.

Simon glanced back, almost like he’d forgotten he did indeed have fish. “Mmhmm.” He walked into the room and Wille followed. It’s a cosy little space, filled with things that just scream Simon, from the music posters to the gaming console to the lollies on his desk. Unlike Wille’s room at the palace, it feels like someone lives in here, and not like it’s a room that would be behind museum glass.

“Do they have names?” Wille asked to fill the silence, walking over to sit down on the edge of Simon’s bed, facing the murky tank, watching the goldfish swim around the decorations.

“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to tell them apart,” Simon said, “but one of them’s called Olle, Felle and Oski.” He explained to Wilhelm, starting to pack up his notebook and the keyboard as he spoke.

Wille nodded, Olle, Felle or Oski stopped in front of Wille for a few seconds, black eyes seeing his very soul. Unnerving. How does Simon sleep with those things staring at him? Wille thought, narrowing his eyes at the fish before it swam away.

Wille turned to glance at Simon. “Nice. So, you make your own songs? Do you sing them at school?” He has this overwhelming urge to understand Simon, to know his motives to help a stranger who’s trying to kill himself. Not just that, but also, what are his hobbies apart from music? What’s his favourite food and most treasured childhood memory? What are his plans for the future? Does he want kids? Wille knows it’s not his business, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“No, the school normally gives me songs to sing,” Simon sighed, “but I do offer my input- actually,” he cut himself off. “The one I sang at the beginning of the year, on your first day.” Wille remembered it, the one that went ‘it takes a fool to remain sane’. He enjoyed that song, it felt like Simon had known how he was feeling on that first day, and had chosen a song like that one, it fitted so well.

“I made it, and the music teacher approved it.” Simon nodded, looking rather proud.

Wille couldn’t help but smile, hiding it by looking back at the fish. “That’s actually really cool. I liked that song.” Wille admitted.

Simon sat down with a sigh, still smiling as he said “thanks.” He scooched his back against the wall, legs crossed underneath him.

Wille turned around, watching him for a moment before deciding to join him, carefully shuffling next to him, his wrist still protesting despite the painkillers. When he finished moving he crossed his legs, and their knees nearly touched.

Simon looked back at him. The air is so calm right now, just the two of them, a comfortable silence the only thing keeping them apart right now. Wille wants to lie down with his head on Simon’s lap and sleep. What? He thought.

Simon opened his mouth to speak as his eyes fell to their brushing knees, then darting to Wille’s arm.

Instantly Wille’s stomach dropped through the floor. The moment shattered.

His own eyes shot down to his arm instantly, and he wanted to scream until his throat burst. Blood. It’s begun to seep through many- but not enough - layers of bandages, and Simon’s hoodie, staining the grey fabric a brown colour. His heart began to thump, eyes darting around frantically.

Simon’s eyes went back to Wille’s and it felt like slow-mo, his mouth half open, eyes wide and stressed, breathing heavily. 

“Wille, what did you do?” His voice was quiet, soft, and scared.

Wille jumped up from the bed, tears pricking his eyes. Simon’s words echoed in his head. “I’m sorry. I just- I’m- I’m sorry.” Wille chanted, turning in a full circle, trying to think of something to say, feeling the damp fabric stick to his wrist in a distracting manner.

Simon moved so he was also standing, hands shaking as he stared at Wille’s arm, blinking rapidly like it would disappear, like there's something in his eyes making him see something. Wille can hear his fast breathing.

“I’ll-I’ll buy you a new hoodie-” Wille stuttered.

“Wille, I don't give a shit about the hoodie!” Simon yelled, making Wille wince. “Fuck-” Simon ran a hand over his curls, turning away for a moment.

“I’m sorry Simon, it just happened,” Wille whispered. Simon turned to look at him.

“I- when did you…” Simon looks like he’s about to throw up, eyes flickering between Wille’s damp eyes and his wrist. “Did you do that in the bathroom?” Wille wants to throw up as well, maybe that’ll get him out of this horrible situation. He knows Simon’s volume is about to draw attention to the situation, if it’s not already, it’s a small house and sound carries.

“I…” He opened and closed his mouth uselessly, struggling to find anything to say, he knows nothing will make this better, the little moment they’d had before is shattered, and might as well have never existed.

Wille’s heartbeat fills his head, he’s drowning in one too many thoughts, the meds pressing against his side, causing yet more discomfort, as well as being a reminder of another thing he's done that's wrong.

“Fuck Wille.” Simon took deep breaths, laughing in distress. He closed his eyes, “sorry. I just…” Simon pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, as he’d done in the forest. That wasn’t even 24 hours ago, Wille realized, and yet here they are again, dealing with another problem Wille created.

Wille felt his own tears prickling annoyingly in his eyes. He wishes none of this ever happened, he wishes Simon didn’t meet this broken Prince and never had to deal with his bullshit. He wishes he wasn’t standing in front of Wille with blood coating his arm and now sliding onto his hand.

Simon looked back at him, eyes now red and irritated, shiny with tears. To Wille’s surprise, he reached out to grab Wille, maybe to hug him, strangle him, or shake him, but Wille pulled back either way, holding his aching arm to his chest and back bumping into cupboard when he took the step away.

“I’m sorry, okay! It just happened!” Wille found himself yelling back at Simon as a tear fell down his cheek, his throat burned and ached at his raised volume.

Panic, sadness and slight annoyance pooled in Simon’s eyes, he looks like he wants to scream at someone, but Wille knew he wouldn’t, he's not like that. He hopes at least. If Simon yells at him he might just drop dead. Willes decided he hates Simon yelling, it doesn’t sound right, it sounds right when he’s singing, when he’s laughing, or talking passionately about his music and his songs in the choir.

Wille turned away, going to grab the door handle, to leave, to run, to be anywhere but in front of a disappointed Simon. Go get high and forget this ever happened. Wille thought. Go kill myself and erase myself from Simon’s life, to save him from this.

“No!” Simon jumped fords, voice breaking as he slammed the door and pushed Wille’s hand away from the door handle, standing in front of him.

“Let me fucking leave, Simon!” Wilhelm yelled, towering over him, heartbreaking, he couldn’t help but yell. "Why do you even care?" Simon’s eyes darted back to Wille’s arm, Wille didn’t dare look at the sore limb hanging at his side.

“I don't know."

"Let me out."

"No.”

"Simon move."

"No." Simon said stubbornly, his voice lowered again. “I-no, let me help-”

“You’re not my fucking mother Simon! I’m fine-” Wille yelled, the “I’m fine” slipping instinctively out his mouth.

“No! You’re NOT fine Wille!” Simon snapped. He took a step towards Wille, making them nearly nose to nose. “You- I leave you alone for 15 minutes and this is what happens? I- argh! Seriously?” The words hurt. It probably would’ve hurt less to be stabbed in the chest than to listen to what he’d said.

Simon blinked furiously and wiped a tear off his cheek, taking a shaking breath in through his mouth, and puffing it out quickly.

“I’m sorry.” Simon rubbed his face as Wille apologised again. “Sorry.” He repeated. “I’m… I just… I don’t know.” Wille took a step back, it's a small room, and he needs more space to breathe. Wille rubbed his not-sore hand across his chest, making it ache through the fabric.

Simon took deep breaths, clearly on the urge of breaking down worse than he is right now, he took a step back so his back hit the door, breathing heavily. It’s clear he’s trying to calm down, Wille hates that he’s done this to Simon.

“How am I meant to trust you?” Simon whispered, pressing his hands flat against his face like he's trying to hide from the situation.

“I…” Wille has zero answers, Wille doesn’t even trust himself to be alone anymore. Simon’s right, he was alone for 15 minutes and he slit his own wrists. His voice is no longer working, and he’s run out of energy to fight with Simon, he never wanted to in the first place, but his emotions are all over the place and he couldn’t help it.

He looked away from Simon, the sight of him crying breaks him, his eyes darted across his room, and then down at his hand, watching a drop of blood fall onto the carpet.

“Simon,” he croaked, eyes pinned on the single red dot on the cream carpet. “It’s-it’s bleeding on the floor.” He whispered, voice hoarse again. “Simon.” He choked, watching as a tear fell from his chin and landed next to the blood. “Simon-” He repeated his name in distress, the only word he seems to remember.

“Shit.” Simon whispered, jumping fords, he grabbed Wille’s fingers in his hands and brought his hand upwards so the blood rushed back down Wille’s arm, some being absorbed by the hoodie, now completely ruined.

“I’m sorry-” Wille whispered, eyes flying up to meet Simon’s big, brown ones.

“It’s okay. We’ll fix it.” Simon’s words hung in the air for a moment, a promise neither fully believe in.

Simon opened the door and pulled Wille into the hall, still holding his fingers, despite trying to avoid touching the blood, his hand has slipped into a line of red and its smudged onto his fingertips.

Wille walks next to him, choking on his tears as they move, Wille trailing slightly behind. His eyes moved to the back of Simon’s head, there were two of them, they blended together and then move apart again. “Simon,” Wille whispered, his own voice sounding a mile away, the sound of the world fading out and everything was buzzed into numbness, he's about to faint.

“Simon-” He whispered again, Simon turned around this time as black dots spotted in Wille’s vision. He felt his knee gives out the carpet in front of him, and everything went completely black.

Chapter Text

Simon might be hallucinating, but he’s pretty sure Wille hasn’t come out of the bathroom. Despite multiple attempts to convince himself Wille is fine and he was just being paranoid, his mind keeps wandering and reminding him how there are multiple packets of medicine in that bathroom, medical scissors and bandages as well.

Simon smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. Stop. You’re being a dick. Simon doesn’t know what to think, he doesn’t know what is right to assume either, he's never bothered to research into behaviour depressed people display, should he have? Does everyone know the signs and symptoms? Is it just him who doesn't know what the fuck he's meant to do in this situation?

But 15 minutes in the bathroom?

Screw it, Simon would rather have Wille think he’s possessive than find him dead in an hour and have to explain to the Queen and the nurses (who will be here in several minutes) what happened.

Simon plotted what he’d say as he walked down the hall, muttering the words to himself. Maybe he’s just got, like, explosive diarrhoea and I’m about to embarrass us both.

The bathroom door still appears to be shut, and as he approached he listened around the house for signs of Wille. He can hear music playing quietly from Sara’s room, and Mama in the lounge watching TV, neither seems to have noticed Wille’s disappearance, maybe Simon is just being paranoid.

Simon knocked gently on the door. “Wille, you still in here?” He whispered to the cold, hard surface.

No reply.

A whole minute went by. Simon knows because he counted every painful second that passed, praying he’d hear a reply from behind the door- or even Wille appearing behind him and asking him why he is stalking around outside the bathroom door, and he’ll discover that Wilhelm was just going to the bathroom.

Simon listened intensely, closing his eyes and straining his ears, listening for anything: the rustle of clothes, breathing, something, anything. But there was no noise through the thick door, and his heartbeat was too loud for him to keep listening so he said again, “Wille are you okay?” His voice shook more than he was expecting, palm flattened on the door.

“Huh?” His eyes shot open at Wille’s mumbled reply.

“Wille?” Simon shot back, standing up straight, his heart did a stronger thump at the reply, his eyes flickering over the door like he’d find some way to see if Wille was okay in there.

“Uhm…” there was a prolonged pause, Simon was about to speak again when Wille continued. “What?” His voice was raspy like his throat is rather dry.

Simon pressed his forehead against the door, letting out a deep breath. “Are you good? It’s been nearly 20 minutes since you went in there.”

Silence followed for another several, long, painful seconds, why does he keep going quiet? What’s he doing in there that keeps grabbing his attention?

“Wille-?” Simon started, staring at his feet, the door is cold against his forehead.

“Yes, okay, I heard. I just- I…” Wille snapped. Simon waited for his reply, leaning back from the door now he can hear him clearer, listening to the rustle of Wille’s borrowed clothes, he seems to be moving around a lot… what is he doing? Simon thought suspiciously.

“I fell asleep…” another pause, Simon was about to speak when he fired out “on the toilet.” Simon raised his brows, slightly embarrassed, not believing him. Really? Do you think I’m stupid? Our toilet is so uncomfortable, who falls asleep on the toilet at like 10 nearly 11 in the morning?

“Okay,” Simon said plainly. “Well, do you want to go out?” He just blurted something to fill the silence, but instantly regretted it. “I mean- dumb idea, sorry. I just, like, do you want to do something? Now? Together? Just- just like, us two. Before the nurses and your bodyguards get here.”

Again, an awkward silence fell between them. Simon was thankful for the door, hiding his tinted red cheeks as he chews on the inside of his lip, glancing at the lounge doorway, the quiet chatter from the TV floating through.

“Sure…uhm, gimme a minute.” Came Wille’s reply.

Simon let out a sharp breath he’d been holding. “Great, okay…meet you in my room, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay…”

Simon turned on his heel and practically ran away back to his room.

Wille fell asleep on the toilet? Is he meant to believe that- or is it actually the truth and is Bitch Simon talking again? There’s no way he fell asleep on the fucking toilet, Simon smells bullshit, and his bullshit senses are tingling majorly. He’ll figure out what happened, he hopes Wille trusts Simon enough by now to just tell him, but he's learnt Wille's not a person who trusts easily.

Chapter Text

Simon

Simon officially does not know how it can get any worse.

He's standing in his driveway, icy-sharp drops of rain soaking through his clothes, hair matted to his forehead, with droplets falling off his curls onto his face, mixing with tears, making water drip steadily off his chin. His eyes stay pinned on the back of an ambulance. Staring at Wille. He's sat, in the dry, head resting firmly on his hands, crying so hard his entire body gets wracked with his audible sobs, Simon can hear the sharp breaths and shaky, hard exhales over the occasional deafening clap of thunder, and the rain that pounds on the earth relentlessly.

All up and down the road people are peeking out their houses, eyes wide, some with phones, trying to catch a glimpse of the cause for two black SUVs, and an ambulance with flashing lights to pull up outside a random Bjärstad house. Bodyguards mile around the perimeter, trying to be inconspicuous as they shield Wilhelm and his Mother from view.

Simon wants to go to Wille, to hug him and tell him it'll be okay, they'll patch up his wounds and he'll get taken back to the royal life, get the best therapy and have as much time off as he wants. Well, maybe that's what Simon would've thought yesterday, but now he knows that's not how it'll go because the royal family is not at all what he was expecting.

Behind him is Queen Kristina, talking to two nurses in hushed voices, the Queen constantly casting a side eye at Simon, who honestly couldn't give less fucks. The Queen is protected by a depressing black umbrella, held by an old guy wearing a suit and gloves. Simon wondered vaguely if that is his only purpose.

Simon sniffed, wiping his nose- not that it made much difference to clean up his sopping appearance. He should be embarrassed, standing soaked to the bone, only a few meters from the Queen of Sweden, her son's blood staining his pants, eyes and cheeks red despite the cold rain.

As Simon watched Wille breaking down- virtually alone -he kept reminding himself I had no choice.

Wille had fainted in his arms, was he meant to take him into the bathroom, redo his bandages and wait for him to wake up so they could go watch a movie as if nothing happened? No, Simon couldn't do that, it's not even close to what he did. Simon had screamed for his Mama and for Sara, voice cracking as he pleaded for help, distress grabbing his heart and making him hypoventilate as Wille lay limp in his grip.

They'd called the hospital on Sara's phone and the Queen on Linda's phone while Simon hugged Wille's motionless body, his breaths shallow, even- but it was still super scary.

Wille had woken up halfway through the conversation with the Queen, mumbling incoherently, blinking slowly, movements lazy and weak. 

Simon will never forget the absolutely heart-wrenching scream Wille suddenly let out as Simon was halfway through explaining what they were doing. He had screamed for Linda to stop, suddenly full of adrenaline, tears had instantly flooded his eyes as he yelled, saying he'd rather die than go back to the palace Simon had hugged him tightly, forcing him back to the ground so Wille couldn't get up, clenching the fabric of his jumper, burying his face in Wille's shoulder as he fought against Simon. Simon kept him down so he couldn't take the phone from Linda, who stood a few meters away, mumbling with her back to them into the speaker, shaking on the spot. Wille swore and he yelled, begging her to not do it, switching between straight-up screaming to begging. Simon wasn't sure how he thought screaming would work, but his mind is very clearly not in a good place. 

It had broken Simon, constantly having to use his full weight to shove Wille back onto his butt, kneeling at his side, eyes squeezed shut as he'd wailed in his ear.

Eventually, he'd given up and sobbed into Simon's shoulder, clutching him so tightly it hurt, blood smearing from one boy to another as he held him, not letting go until the ambulance arrived, shortly followed by the Queen herself.

And now here Simon stands, bloody, broken, crying and not knowing what to do next. His mother and Sara stand in the doorway of the house, arms around each other comfortingly. Malin is positioned outside the ambulance Wille's in, looking straight ahead with pain clear in her features, holding her own umbrella in a tight grip.

The nurses had quickly re-wrapped Wille's arm and concluded he had indeed fainted from shock and not blood loss, which was a massive relief, so everyone had taken a moment to breathe because Wille's life is "not in immediate danger".

Simon doesn't know exactly what'll happen from here on out, but he thinks Wille will be taken to the hospital, go through some evaluation, and probably have to stay for a while. It's shame because Simon was kind of looking fords to spending more time with Wille, getting to know him better, but if this is what helps him... It's not easy, standing here watching Wille, it's not easy in the slightest, but, what's happening and what will happen is what's good for Wille, so Simon will push on through.

Simon's eyes were drawn away from Wille when the Queen stepped into his line of vision, eyes pinned on his. She had no emotion displayed, her face very carefully painted an interesting choice of 'blank'. The man with the umbrella followed her as she moved to put her gloved hand on Simon's shoulder. Her hand was bony, hard, and weirdly cold. She smells of expensive perfume and looks like she hasn't smiled a day in her life. A flash of lightning illuminated her sunken eyes and cheeks.

The umbrella covered Simon's face, causing his brow to relax from the lack of rain suddenly not pummeling him.

"Thank you, Mr Eriksson-" a loud clap of thunder cut her off. "-For saving my son's life, multiple times. It is an act one can't thank you for enough. It is a very honourable deed what you have done, and the entire country will thank you for it." She said all of this with no emotion, not even wincing when the thunder interrupted her rehearsed monologue. It's fake on TV and even worse in real life.

Two bodyguards moved to stand on either side of them to block the onlookers from seeing, which honestly made it more suspicious. They both looked the other way like that would stop them from hearing the conversation.

"You won't mention me in the Instagram post, right?" Simon clarified, tense under the Queen's hand. His voice is raw, throat dry despite all the water falling around them. The shock of having the Queen at his house has long since worn off. He just wants her to move so he can see Wille again.

The Queen examined him for a moment as if trying to see his real intentions- which are obvious? Not getting bombarded with questions and paparazzi- before nodding, "if you don't want us to, then no. We'll leave the saviour anonymous. Another admirable act, Mr Eriksson." She removed her hand, her gaze piercing and virtually unblinking. "Thank you, again. You've saved me a great deal of heartbreak. I-" She glanced back at Wille, and Simon briefly saw him again. He's watching his mother talk to Simon, shivering where he's sat by himself. "I don't know what I'd do without either of my children." Her voice cracked, and Simon was surprised by the sudden flow of emotion that fell from her, as if her facade had just been ripped away from just looking at Wilhelm. "I am seriously so grateful you saved him, not once, but twice. I don't know if I'd be emotionally stable enough to continue ruling as Queen knowing both of my beautiful, young boys had died before myself." She blinked a few times, glancing back at Wille again. The Queen took a deep breath, before wiping her face clean of emotions once more. Simon doesn't understand it, showing that you are human - crying when your son tries to kill himself - doesn't make you weak, it just shows that you actually care.

"Just, be nice to him, Your Majesty," Simon replied, the confidence in his voice surprising him. "He really just needs his mum right now, not the Queen." He hoped she understood, from everything he's learnt about Wille the fact he's never really had a mother figure definitely stands out. "He's mad at you, blames you, as you heard. Just... like, be a mum... Please. Listen to him, try to cooperate and understand he's pretty..." Simon considered his words wisely. "He's understandably emotional and reactive. So be careful, and understanding." He ignored how he basically just told the Queen what to do- it's more than that, he's trying to save his friend. Friend.

She simply nodded. "I will... be, his mum." Simon hated how foreign the sentence seemed to her, a small twitch in her brow revealing everything. "Alright." She took another deep breath. "If you ever find yourself in need of something- getting into a good college, support while you look for work -you're Mother now has my number, so give me a call and I will ford it through to Minou. She can help you from there, I'm expecting to be a bit busy for a while."

Simon frowned. "Your Majesty, I appreciate the offer but-" But I'm not a charity case. I don't need or want your money.

"No, please Simon, what you've done is an unpayable debt." She looked him dead in the eye, not backing down. "You've just insured that the Crown of Sweden stays in the original bloodline. You saved the Crown Prince, a future king." She seemed to hesitate, before going on. "You saved my son, and any mother would be eternally grateful for something as much."

Simon's determined as well to not accept this, but maybe he should, he can accept the offer and still never act upon it. He can get himself into college, and support himself while he looks for work. They've survived this long without the help of the Crown. But if it'll bring Queen Kristina some closure to know that she gave a family money in return for her son's life, then Simon will take it.

Simon sighed. "Thank you, Your Majesty, that's very generous of you." He bowed his head slightly, is that the right thing to do?

"Thank you, for accepting." She said, almost smiling. Rain fills the silence that falls between them, her eyes flickered between Simon's before she spoke again, "I understand you do not want my help, but it'll comfort me to know we have somewhat repaid you for your service. I know Wilhelm thinks I'm a bad parent, but it's hard to balance ruling a country with raising a son, and he always has- had, Erik to look after him." She stopped herself mid-sentence, beginning to ramble out excuses for bad parenting.

Simon nodded, thinking at least she's self-aware. It's a fucking shame she didn't do anything about it. Erik was a kid too, does she not realise this? Simon decided to be ballsy, saying it out loud. "I understand Your Majesty. Well, I don't, I've never ruled a country or raised two princes. But, was there really nothing you could do to help him? He-he told you he had anxiety, and according to him you kind of just ignored it-"

"Good day Mr Eriksson. Thank you for your service to the Crown." She said, head held high again, eyes dark, lips sealed.

Simon pursed his lips, looking up at her slightly. He said nothing for a moment, challenging her to speak about what he's said. He'd thrown the truth at her as Wille had a few hours ago. He shouldn't be doing this, not just having a staring contest with the Queen, but calling her out on a big mistake. But he doesn't care. It's too late for her to change the past, but it's not (nearly) too late for her to make up with Wille, to apologise for years of neglection and ignorance towards his feelings.

But she didn't say anything, they just continued their staring contest for a few more seconds until Simon sighed, breaking the gaze and glancing at Umbrella Man, genuinely disappointed. Maybe another time. "You're welcome, Your Majesty." He said instead of everything else he wants to say.

A million questions flooded his mind all at once "will I see Wille again?" "Can I go with you to the hospital?" "Did you actually hear anything I said?" "Is he going to survive those few days at the palace, where he's clearly unhappy without Erik?" But he kept his lips sealed, forcing a small smile which she graciously returned, before turning and walking to the ambulance, leaving Simon unprotected from the rain again, shivering alone in his squelchy socks.

His eyes fell back on Wille as lightning lit up the dark sky in a shocking flash. Simon watched as his spine stiffened when his mum came over, how he instantly stopped crying, how his face went blank, a mirror of hers. He wants to go over there and... sit with him. Break down his mask, and see him smile, he'd take sadness over the tragic face of nothing.

Simon forced himself to turn away, walking back to his house with legs made of lead, too heavy, he feels like he's about to collapse. Thunder exploded around them, seemingly shaking the ground and vibrating the clouds.

His clothes cling to him, but he barely feels the cold, compared to all the emotions he's felt recently, cold is a petty thing to be bothered by. There's no way he's going to school for a while, there's no way he's doing anything for a few days, maybe even weeks. He just wants to lie on his bed and scream until he runs out of air to scream, scream until his lungs are stretched dry, scream until everyone just shuts up.

Simon's mother offered him a towel as he stepped into the doorway with them, wrapping it around his shoulders and pressing a kiss against his soaked curls.

Sara reached over, her warm hand wrapping around Simon's cold wet one, squeezing his hand gently. He squeezed back, clenching her hand in his grip, grounding himself with the sister he loves so much. She didn't comment, continuing to clasp his hand, not letting go for a second.

Simon and his family watched as the Queen spoke with her son, standing outside the ambulance. Everyone in that scene is either facing away from Simon, or displaying no readable expressions throughout the course of the conversation. Malin's mouth remains a straight line, Wille's eyes are continuously droopy, and everyone else's backs stay rigid and stiff.

"Mi amor, we should go inside," Linda says softly, putting a hand on each of her child's shoulders in a comforting manner.

Does Simon want to go inside? He doesn't really know. He wants to go hug Wille, he wants to go with him to the hospital, hold his hand and fall asleep next to his bed, wake up and find Wille still there, breathing. He wants to be there when he smiles, he wants to watch Wille get better, and he wants to be a part of the reason Wille stays. But he can't. Because Wille is the Crown Prince and Simon's just the guy who saved him. He doesn't get to go to the private ward with Wille, he'll see him at school and they'll never talk again.

More tears boiled in his eyes, falling hot against his cheeks. He found himself squeezing Sara's hand tighter. It feels like he's about to lose Wille even though he'll still be right there. They had their moment- less than a day together, and that's it, strangers again instead of... instead of whatever they are now.

"Simon," Sara whispered, eyes pinned on his, fingers wiggling slightly in his iron-tight grip. "It'll be okay." She said quietly, but even her voice contained traces of uncertainty. How could it not?

Simon feels extreme amounts of guilt for what he's put his family through. They've had stress since 7 PM yesterday evening when he wasn't home and neither Ayub nor Rosh had heard anything from Simon, he was missing for hours and then shows up with the Crown Prince. At this rate they'll all be sprouting grey hairs by morning.

Simon didn't look away from Wille, scared that the moment he does, he'll be gone. He didn't say anything, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Sara's hand, eyes pinned on Wille as if his eyes are glued in place, physically unable to look away. He can't breathe. He can't look away. He needs to be over there.

The Queen turns away from Wille, taking a few steps over to the SUV and sitting down inside, the door slamming shut as her eyes fall on Simon and his family. 

Wille remains seated, staring at the spot where his mother just was. A nurse hops into the back next to him and another goes to the front to get into the passenger side. Malin turns and says something to him that makes his eyes snap up to Simons.

Wille's eyes are finally on Simon's.

Neither Wille nor Simon smile, instead just taking the time to watch each other. Simon's eyes flickered over Wille's emotionally wrecked-looking form, and Wille's own two eyes wracking over Simon's shivering, wet body. An annoying amount of meters separated them all over again. A shiver ran down Simon's spine... at the deja vu, yeah. It's similar to the night in the forest: Wille's wounded and being taken away, and Simon feels obliged to make it right with his family.

Simon's muscles twitched, his brain chanting only one thought, his heart aching for him to move, and he caved. He couldn't take it. Those 10 meters are so easy to just... run through. 

Chapter Text

Simon's hand ripped free from Sara's grasp, his mother's hand falling from his shoulder, the towel flying off him as he ran, neither grabbed to stop him. His feet slapped the ground, rain pelting into his eyes, lightning making the scene glow for a split second. Everything felt like slow motion, he needs to go faster, so close, only limited by the speed his legs can move, which isn't fast enough.

Malin didn't stop Wille as he stood up abruptly, taking a wobbly step out from the ambulance, gripping the edge for support, eyes pinned on Simon.

Simon's so close, details on Wille began to form despite the dark lighting. He's nearly there and everything's not going fast enough, why is the world slowed down?

No one stopped the two boys from finally colliding in a hug, fisting each other's jumpers, burying their faces in each other's neck and shoulder, bodies pressed firmly together as they stumble backwards towards the ambulance since the force of the hug had come from Simon.

Simon couldn't help but sob, arm wrapped tightly around Wille's neck, standing on his tiptoes so they are nearly the same height. Ge's there, he's holding him, he's safe. Wille's own arms tie around Simon's back, under his arms, his fingers pressing into his back with the force of his hug.

Wille's chest shakes as he cries, Simon's own lungs mimicking the uneven, rough breathing. 

Malin moved the umbrella to cover the two boys, not saying a word as she shielded them from the rain, causing herself to get wet instead.

Lightning flashed, making Simon squeeze his eyes shut to block it out, that and the nurse gaping at him from the back of the ambulance.

"I'm sorry," Wille whispered into Simon's shoulder, moving his face so he could speak, his damp hair rubbing against Simon's neck as he rested his cheek on Simon's shoulder

Simon felt a sob building, the kind of deep feeling you get in your chest right before it wracked through your body. He took heaving breaths, trying to reply, holding Wille tighter. "I'm sorry as well." Simon choked out quietly, so only Wille could hear.

This feels right, it feels safe. Wille is so incredibly safe with Simon holding him, and Simon feels better with Wille's arms around him, no longer so cold and soggy and uncomfortable.

It's like it's only the two of them in the whole world right now, it's like the Queen, Linda, Sara, Malin, the other bodyguards, the nurses, the driver and the umbrella holder, it's like all of them aren't there. It's just Wille and Simon, Simon and Wille, and Simon decided that's how he likes it, just the two of them in this bubble of safety they've somehow created in less than a day of knowing each other.

Thunder boomed around them, shattering the moment. Simon pulled back, sniffing but not removing his hands from Wille's shoulders. Wille's hands rest just above his waist and under his armpits.

"I'll see you soon." Wille's words hung in the air between them. Simon clung to them as Wille took a step back, hands falling away from each other, cold washing over Simon instantly, he repeated the words when Wille clambered back into the ambulance, he remembered them as the rain hit him once again and the ambulance drove away, he chanted it in his mind as the SUV's followed and lightning struck.

Once Simon had gone inside, his Mother had led him into her en suite, turning on a warm shower and encouraging him to get warm while she cleaned up. She didn't specify, but Simon's mind was quick to supply images of the droplets of now-dry blood on his bedroom floor, and the tiny smudge on the carpet in the hallway.

So he's showered, staring at his feet nearly the entire time, breaking into tears every few minutes as he remembers how Wille's in the back of an ambulance with nurses and a bodyguard, shivering, alone, while Simon's standing in a warm shower, his family right there if he needs them.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Simon suddenly screamed at the floor, his voice cracking at the sudden volume. He scared himself. He smacked a clenched fist against the white wall, screaming "ITS NOT FAIR!" Over and over, punching the wall every time. Shampoo bottles fell over and soap slid off the holders, but he kept going till he was out of energy and sat down on the shower floor with a huff, staring at the glass door coated in condensation a foot from him.

Simon's hand hurts now, vibrating with pain. He's breathing heavily, eyes unfocused on the fuzzy glass in front of him. It isn't fair. He chanted in his brain. Wille doesn't deserve to feel like this, no one does. If Simon could take it from Wille, he would, if he could swap their lives around, he would. Anything to help him.

Eventually Simon gotten out of the shower, dried and dressed, he fixed the shower and went to go find Sara, craving his older sister's comforting hugs and words now he can't have Wille's. He knows she doesn't think she's good at providing Simon comfort, but Simon would argue otherwise.

Simon walked numbly through the house, feeling dazed and bumping into doorways until he was standing outside her door, decorated with a swirly, golden 'SARA'.

He knocked a few times, arm falling to his side limply, staring at the golden word.

"Come in." Her soft voice floated through the door.

Simon opened the door slowly, gulping back more tears as he shut it behind him. Sara's sitting on her bed, phone lighting up her face, the curtains are open buts its still dark, thanks too the clouds blocking out most of the sun.

"Hey, Simon." She said quietly, putting her phone down.

Simon stood at the door, hand still resting on the door handle. "Did I do something wrong?" He croaked, eyes glazed over as he stares at his feet, hand shaking at his side.

"Simon..." Sara's voice oozed sympathy. She scotched to the end of her bed, phone forgotten, opening her arms for him to come over for a hug.

Simon stayed where he was. "Did I... Was it me who made him hurt himself again? Did I pressure him on accident?" He wondered aloud. Where these thoughts came from he doesn't know, but they came from somewhere in his brain.

"No Simon, you made him feel better," Sara replied, doing grabby-hands again to get him to come.

Simon walked over, sat down next to her and allowed his sister to wrap her arms around his shoulders tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, Simon." She said quietly, as if not trying to spook Simon. "He..." She gulped, pausing for a moment. "I know it sounds rude, but his mind is fucked up,Simon. You didn't push him to do anything. I mean, you found him in the first place, literally re-started his heart, took him back to our house- you saved him." She was quiet for a moment, Simon shifted, relaxing in her hug, his own head flopping onto hers, his damp curls flicking water onto her hair.

"I mean, that hug you shared, it didn't scream 'I hate you and you made me want to kill myself', did it?" Sara pointed out.

Simon thought about it. She's right, he realised. He misses that hug. Wille's good at giving hugs, it's tight and simultaneously so gentle, like you're the most important and valuable thing in the world and he's cradling it in his arms. Simon really wants to hug him again.

"I love you," Simon whispered to his sister, eyes droopy as he stared at the wall. "So much. Thank you for- for always being here for me. You're a pretty cool sister."

Sara smiled softly, rubbing his arm. "I don't always feel like the best sister, but thanks." She sighed before saying, "you're a... decent brother, as well."

Simon smiled, pulling back to look at her. "A decent brother?" He asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Sara smirked. "Mmm. Decent. Average. Could be better." She joked, feigning innocence and looking up at the roof inconspicuously.

Simon faked a gasp, smacking a hand over his heart in shock. "The nerve! You'll pay for that!" Before Sara could retaliate, Simon grabbed the pillow she'd been leaning on and lopped her over the head with it.

"Ah!" Sara fell over on her bed, lunging for her display pillow behind Simon while he pummelled her with the soft weapon.

"How dare thy!" She cackled, smacking him in the back of the head with the less-soft display pillow.

"Ack!" Simon jumped up away from her, a grin taking over his face as he threw the pillow at her in a last attempt to win, instead leaving him defenceless against his sister's untamable wrathe. "Oh snap." He said as she grabbed both the display pillow and Simon's previous weapon.

"Surrender now or face the - the consequences of being a decent brother, peasant!" Sara laughed, kneeling on her bed, panting, hair frizzed up and half covering her face, a grin firmly placed on her face.

Simon dropped to his knee's with a huff. "Okay fine! I surrender to thou! Have merc-" He got cut off by getting a faceful of lavender-scented pillow, knocking him onto his back from the force of her throw. "Ack! You suck!" He laughed, throwing the pillow in her vague direction, her cackles making him grin as he propped himself on his elbows, seeing Sara lying on her back on her bed, laughing so hard she couldn't talk, eyes shut as she curls up giggling.

Simon found himself laughing along, her giggling contagious. The rain outside didn't matter, the cold couldn't reach the two siblings as they laughed together until their ribs ached and they were gasping for breath, their faces turning red, and their hair equally chaotic.

Eventually, their giggling faded into silence, and they lay panting. 

Simon dragged himself off the floor, and Sara scotched over so Simon could lay next to her, resting his head on the pillow she'd thrown at him.

Simon sighed contently, eyes slipping shut. He's buzzed out, the mixed emotions had drained him, all the crying, screaming and now laughing leaving his body exhausted, barely halfway through the day.

"You're an amazing, loving, beautiful, thoughtful little asshole. I love you." Sara said into the quiet.

Simon cracked an eye open, smiling at her still. "Uno reverse." He mumbled, eye closing again as Sara chuckled.

His mind quietened, and Sara let him lay now. She's also tired, but not enough that she'll fall asleep at mid-day, so she grabbed her phone and continued doing what she'd been doing before, while Simon slept.

Simon was woken up by Sara poking his forehead with her index finger, whispering "Simon" until he slapped her hand away.

"What do you wanttttt Sara?" He grumbled, annoyed to be awoken from his seemingly death sleep, it had been dreamless, just soft blankets and warmth.

Sara is fuzzy in front of him, he rubbed his eyes but she still remained half out of focus. "Dinner's ready. It's six thirty. You've slept for, like... many hours." She said, smiling at him slightly.

"Oh, damn." He replied shortly. Simon realised at the mention of food that he is indeed very hungry, his stomach aches with the need for food, he hasn't eaten since breakfast and it's starting to show.

"Aarghh." Simon stretched, rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He feels better after his long nap, grateful for his sister who let him sleep when she could've been doing other things, and grateful for his mother who still cooked dinner after the emotionally draining day. Simon tried not to get lost in thought, to not fall back into a wormhole of sadness as he and Sara walked into the lounge, it smells of spaghetti, Simon's comfort food.

He sat himself down at the table, breathing in the smell of pasta and mince, a bottle of ketchup is sat in front of him, Simon smiled. He loves his family.

Sara sat down next to him, and a few moments later Linda joined them, carrying the bowl of meaty, pastary goodness.

"Mmm, thanks Mama," Simon said, grabbing a spoonful and loading it onto his plate, stomach growling in agreement. Normally, Sara would've told him "slow down, its gross", and Simon would've pulled a face, slurped some pasta, and got told off by his mum. But it definitely hasn't been a normal day, so no one commented as he drowned his pasta in ketchup and took a massive mouthful, not chewing it thoroughly enough and swallowing in a few gulps, his stomach growling for more.

"Thank Mama," Sara mumbled, taking her own serving of pasta, not adding ketchup. Because she doesn't have taste, Simon thought.

Linda nodded to their thanks, serving herself and eating slowly, glancing at Simon as they ate in silence. Simon tried to ignore it, he knows what his mum is thinking, she was worried about him, there was no way they didn't hear him screaming in the shower, she had been right there to watch his self controlled get washed away by the rain as he ran out to Wille in the thunderstorm, like nothing else in the world had mattered. At the time, nothing else had, it's like he needed that hug like he needs air to breathe, to survive. Simon is not alright, but he doesn't want her pity, he just... wants to eat, and act as if nothing happened.

"So, Rosh and Ayub have been texting." Sara started the dreaded conversation.

Simon felt guilt build instantly, shit, he hadn't thought about that. His best friends and he just forgot to tell them? They're gonna need a huuuuuge update. 

"Oh. What'd they say?" Simon asked, mouthful of pasta and ketchup.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Pardon, Simon, I couldn't hear past all the food in your mouth."

Simon took a few gulps of water before repeating his question. "What'd they say?"

"They asked why an ambulance was seen at our house and why you haven't been replying. What are you gonna tell them?"

Simon looked down at his plate, picking mince from his teeth using his tongue. He thought about it, they're his best friends, and he knows he can tell them without them leaking the information to anyone, but would it betray Wille? He could ask Wille first, DM him on Instagram, but would he reply? He's the Crown Prince, he probably gets seven million messages a day. Does he even have his phone with him? Argh.

"I dunno..." Simon answered vaguely, picking up another, more modest forkful of food and stuffing it in his mouth.

Sara nodded slowly. "Okay... well you-"

"I will say something, I just don't know what." Simon snapped, glancing at his sister, who nodded at her plate. She understands Simon's snappy, and a little sensitive right now, they all are.

"Okay." She said again, a little defensively.

Linda said nothing, watching the conversation between them and eating slowly. Everyone has a million comments, questions and queries, but they kept to themselves for a bit longer.

Simon pondered, trying to sort the thoughts in his head. I'll message Wille after dinner asking if I can tell Ayub and Rosh. In the meantime I'll tell them that it's something personal for someone else and I don't want to betray his trust by sharing, I know they'll understand. Simon realised that - despite his painfully empty stomach - he was just staring at his plate, thinking. He twirled some pasta and chewed while he thought. I want to know how Wille's doing as well.

"Mama." He blurted before he could even finish his plan.

She looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"Do you reckon I could visit Wille at the hospital?" I don't know if I can physically wait until next Thursday for him to come back to school. Simon didn't add that part though, it feels a little too personal.

Linda's brows scrunched, and she lent back in her chair, pursing her lips. She knows something. Simon realised it was her tactical-talking face. "I don't know, mi amor. I do know you'd definitely need special permission from Wilhelm, possibly even Her Majesty as well. But we could definitely try, tomorrow, if you want."

Simon smiled. He was expecting to be shut down and told he'll have to wait until Thursday to see him at school, he loves his mum, and the supportiveness literally makes his heart warm. The Wille sized hole inside him feels slightly less giant now.

"Okay, thanks Mama." He said, smiling at her.

She smiled back a little uncertainly. "No problem darling." She said gently, before going back to her meal. "Would you want to go with him, Sara?" She asked Simon's sister, glancing at her.

Sara was quiet for a moment, poking a piece of mince that hadn't been properly broken apart around her plate. "Maybe, I don't know, I didn't really get that close to ... Wilhelm." She hesitated using his name, not his title.

"What do you think, Simon?" Sara threw the question too him.

"Will I go to see him?" He raised his brows, confused.

"No no no, do you think he'd want to see me?" She clarified, shaking her head at his question.

Simon sighed, eating another mouthful as he pondered it. "Wille said - when we were in the forest - that you are nice. I know you're not close. I think Felice has mentioned you the few times Wille and she had talked. I don't know... come if you want, I don't think he'd mind if you were there." Simon said honestly, eating another forkful hurriedly like someone is about to take it away.

"Mmm, 'kay, I'll think about it." Sara hummed, and they fell into silence again. All of this is assuming they can get into the private ward at a hospital to see the Crown Prince. The Queen's words rung in his head "if you ever find yourself in need of something - getting into a good college, support while you look for work - you're Mother now has my number, so give me a call".

"Uhm," Simon cleared his throat. "The Queen told me that if we ever need something, to call her, and she can ford us through to that Minou chick, who can help us," Simon told his family.

Linda's brows rose in surprise. "Really? The Queen said that? Wow..." She looked down at her plate, twirling some pasta around the prong of her fork.

"Yeah, so, like, we could give her a call and ask if we can see Wille." Simon finished his thought process.

Sara shrugged. "Sure, let's just call the Queen of Sweden after her son tried to kill himself, surely she'll pick up and then let us see him."

Simon narrowed his eyes at her, what was that? "That was a little unnecessary, don't you think?" He shot back.

Sara gave him a side-eye. Simon's eyes widened in realisation.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Simon knows all his sisters ever wanted is popularity, friends, to be known and not for being bullied. But he never thought... this isn't the kind of situation you're jealous about. Simon prays he's misread his sister this time.

Sara lifted her chin, looking at him down hes nose. "No, Simon, I'm not jealous." She spat, lying through her teeth. "I'm not jealous that you now have a shit ton of trauma-" "Sara." Linda gasped. "I'm just a little sceptical that the Queen said you can call her if you need anything, don't you think it's a little like 'oh a poor person, living in this trashy neighbourhood, I'll just tell him to call the actual Queen of Sweden when you need a little spare change'-"

"Sara that's not what she fucking meant." Simon snapped back, he was shocked, they have their spats yes, but this? What is this? Where did she get the nerve? "I-" Simon looked to his mother, who looks just as shocked as him. "I don't - I didn't interpret it as 'call me when you're feeling broke', I thought she meant that - that -" Simon stumbled over his words, trying to think of the right example. "Like now! Like we can call her if we want to see Wille, what's wrong with asking to see a friend?"

"A friend?"

"Yes a friend!" 

Sara rubbed her eyes, she looks tired, they are all tired. Simon's tired, tired of her bullshit. She needs to understand that they're all shaken up, they're all tired and running off coffee, and she can't get snappy over little things.

"Whatever." She dropped it, suddenly staring down at her plate.

Linda looked at her, frowning. Her gaze turned to Simon, "Simon, I will call Her Majesty tonight and ask about seeing Wilhelm. I do agree with Sara in the sense she might not want anyone to see Wilhelm, might be worried it'll cause him to tip-" Simon opened his mouth to say 'She makes him 'tip' ' But Linda kept speaking. "-But I'll try, and we'll be understanding. Put yourself in her shoes," She paused, taking a sip from her drink while Simon thought, but she voiced her words anyway. "Your child disappears from school, and you get a call randomly in the morning from an unknown number and it's him, saying he attempted suicide, but you had no idea he felt that way. He claims he's safe and then fires out this plan. You kind of has to agree, not because he's suicidal but because he's actually right. Then a few hours later you get another call that he's tried to kill himself again, in the exact place you were told, and thought he was safe." 

Sara rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes. Linda looked at Sara, putting a hand on her arm. Simon chewed on the inside of his lip. 

"She's grateful we saved Wilhelm, yes, but we shouldn't push a hurting mother."

She's right, he would be protective over his child if that was the circumstances, even though he knows that is not the right approach, the right friends can be super helpful in a situation like this. "But you'll still try, right?"

Linda sighed, "yes, of course..." She seemed to hesitate, lifting her hand from Sara as she pondered something. "That hug, Simon... It's... it's very clear that you and Wilhelm have a bond, strangers don't run across a driveway in the rain to hug like that." Simon felt heat rise into his cheeks, he wants to pretend no one else saw that, that that could be Simon and Wille's little moment. "And the Queen saw, so I'd hope she's realised how much you mean to Wilhelm." Simon bit back a smile, "how much you mean to Wilhelm." That sentence made his insides swirl together. 

"Though, she does seem a bit daft, hm?" Linda added under her breath, making Simon snort.

Simon was suddenly cut off as Linda's phone started vibrating on the table next to them, making all three Eriksson jump. Simon stared, eyes wide at the name calling. Her Majesty. 

Speak of the devil.

Chapter Text

Wille used to pray he'd break a bone. That way he'd get attention, his mother's acknowledgement, maybe he'd make it to the papers and people would finally talk about the other young Prince.

When Wille learnt how to read, he really began to wonder if the people outside of the palace and his school knew he existed. Every time he would steal the newspaper that his dad liked to read, it would always be about Erik, Wille never even got a footnote. Erik's name would always be there, rubbing in Wille's face in the form of big, bold headlines. 'Erik is going to high school! Erik was seen holding hands with a girl when leaving school! Erik and August won the speech finals, first and second!' (Erik was first, of course)

Now Wille thinks that if younger him knew what was in store for his future, he could've taken time to savour being ignored. Enjoy reading the newspaper about his brother's life, giggling at the photos the paparazzi would get of his bad angle, not even realising that other kids don't worry about cameras following them into school. Wille could have gone to school and really enjoyed playing with the other kids on the playground. He may have tried to keep in contact with Felice. Wille could've used friends through primary, intermediate and high school that weren't fake.

If Wille knew, he could've stayed invisible for a little bit longer. Well, there's so much he'd do if he knew the consequences. He wouldn't be in this horrible situation, Erik would be only a phone call away, and he and Simon could have become friends-

The ambulance went over a bump and jolted Wille from his thoughts. His eyes slowly focussed back on the black combat boots in front of him, belonging to Malin. She's staring out the back of the ambulance through the slit at the top of the door which acts a window. She's silent, still, holding the umbrella between her legs, knuckles white around the handle as she watches the miling traffic. Behind their ambulance is one of the SUVs, and in front is another.

Wille blinked a few times to bring detail back to his word, looking away from her. There's a nurse in the back as well, she's staring at her work IPad, but isn't actually pressing anything, tapping the screen every few minutes when it begins to fade into black. The woman has blonde hair which is pulled harshly into a tight bun, and her winged eyeliner accentuates her green eyes every time she glances in Wille's direction, which his often.

Wille wishes he was a normal civilian. Maybe then, he could've driven to the hospital in his parent's car, his friend Simon holding his hand in the backseat next to him. Then he would've gone into the same wards as everyone else in the hospital, bustling with life and people. But instead, he was smuggled from an underground car park into an elevator, crammed in with two nurses, Malin, himself and his mother. The next elevator will have more security.

Queen Kristina followed a step behind Wille as the nurses led him through an entirely empty floor, the only sound is a tapping from the reception desk, and their shoes slapping the floor.

"We've already concluded that he is stable, but we're still going to change his bandages, this time with top-notch equipment, Your Majesty." A nurse the Queen over her shoulder. Wille frowned at her, why is she telling his mum when Wille is the one who will feel every second of it?

Wille took off Simon's jumper once they were in a hospital room, with the help of the nurses, carefully making sure the t-shirt didn't ride up to reveal his stolen medications. Every second they're sat there, it feels like they are burning into his skin, a constant reminder of yet another mistake he's made.

Wille kind of zoned out as they re-did his bandages, pressing soft cotton to the wounds before re-wrapping them while he thought about Simon's ruined jumper, his carpet. What's he doing right about now?

His neck feels weirdly swollen from the new bandages, it's uncomfortable, he's not sure if he'll be able to tilt his head, and his wrist feels much the same. Wille's entire inner arm is stinging - it has been since he got here - despite the painkiller he took a while ago. When they offered him some more painkillers he accepted quickly, maybe too quickly, but they still gave them despite his eagerness.

"There appears to be no visible sign of any kind of infection in either wound." A nurse told him. "Now we are going to ask you to fill out this form around the side effects you may have felt post being strangled." A nurse handed Wille a clipboard and a pen, the paper is lined with several tick boxes.

The list is terrifyingly long: difficulty breathing, raspy, hoarse or loss of voice, coughing, difficulty swallowing, drooling, nausea, vomiting, changes in behaviour, hallucinations, headaches, lightheadedness, dizziness, urination or defecation... 

"We've got some hospital robes for you, Crown Prince." The second nurse then told Wille, not even glancing in his mother's direction, which he appreciates.

"Okay." He croaked, trading the clipboard for the clothing and walking behind the privacy curtain they'd set up. He sided-eyed the bathroom they pretended wasn't there.

As he changed he tucked the meds into the waistband of his new boxers. Maybe he should skid them under the bed next to him...

He would throw them right out the window, but they have put the curtain so it's not near a window, like they're expecting him to jump out of it. Considering he's not allowed in the bathroom, he's not entirely surprised.

Once he'd changed, Wille handed the clothes back to the first nurse who then turned back to the Queen. Kristina is seated on the bed, posture perfect, looking down at her hands patiently. Wille then noticed Malin standing by the doorway, and she smiled gently at his realisation, an encouraging look, which is bold for the circumstances.

"Your Majesty, we'll wash the clothes and then leave them in Crown Prince Wilhelm's room for pick up once they have been properly cleaned." The first nurse said, smiling as she put Simon's clothes in a paper bag, not even wincing at the now dry blood.

"We won't need them, thank you though." Queen Kristina replied with her own practised smile which she uses for the press. It's as fake as Wille is uncomfortable. It's a sign she's also uncomfortable, normally she can make her press smile at least believable.

"Yes we will, I can give them back to Simon," Wille found himself blurting out, painfully discovering how tight the bandages are, they were compressing his throat more than the swelling was.

The Queen paused, eyeing Wille like she just doesn't believe him. "Alright, we will keep them. Thank you."

Wille's surprised. Did she actually just agree with him the first time he asked, and no argument or agreement or treaty was made? What the actual hell? He is physically taken aback, blinking a few times to make sure he isn't dreaming. He's not. Wow.

The nurse nodded again. "Of course, Your Majesty." Then she shuffled out of the room, leaving Wille, his mother and Malin alone in the overly bright room.

Wille felt the air grow tense almost immediately, he is tempted to go behind the curtain again and cry. Wille knows there is more to this situation, he can practically feel it building. His stomach is tied in knots of anxiety, and his chest can't seem to inflate enough. He's not hyperventilating hard as he does sometimes, but he's not breathing enough. Not all panic attacks are hyperventilating and throwing up.

"Malin, would you mind leaving us for a moment?" The Queen asked her. 

Nooooooo, Wille thought. Her presence makes him feel safe - which is good, considering it's literally her job.

Malin nodded. "Of course." She glanced at Wille. He hoped his eyes communicated how he feels, don't leave me, please, not with her right now. She flashed him a sympathetic look before she left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Wille does not want to be alone with his mum. She's going to try and talk to him. He doesn't want to talk, not with her at least. He wants to talk to Simon, because Simon's easy to talk to. Simon and his laugh, his smile - the way his eyes light up and his lips quirk at the edges, his cute, curly hair. The memory of Simon smiling made Wille want to grin, until he was dragged back into the depressing presence by his mother, who is patting the bed next to her with her hand - a gesture for him to sit.

Wille shook his head, resisting as much as he possibly can. He squared his shoulders and pretended it didn't hurt, glancing around the room instead of looking at her. It's an average hospital room, there's a little table next to the bed with nothing on it (Wille remembers walking into the room and seeing a vase with flowers, but that's since been taken away) Above the little table is a window, which is locked shut. On the other side of the bed, there is a curtain, which separates him from other patients, but Wille has a feeling he's alone. Everything else is white and too bright.

Kristina stared at him, a challenging look, but Wille won't back down, especially not for something as petty as sitting next to her. Maybe if she wanted him to feel comfortable sitting next to her she should've actually shown him she cared way back when he was 8 and wanted to hurt himself just so he would make her remember she has two kids.

Kristina sighed, clasping her hands in her lap, giving up. She thought for a moment, clearly plotting out every word she's about to say. Wille hates it, she'll say something that she thinks is the right thing to say, but it'll just make Wille hate her more because it's not real, it's not what she actually thinks, she's faking it to her own son.

"Are you okay?" She asked finally, pronouncing every word like she's never said it before, at least not to him.

Well, at least she didn't say "do you understand the consequences of your actions? Do you realise how you've jeopardised your own plan?"

Wille thought about it. He feels like... like a hollowed-out version of himself, like he left himself back at Simons, back on that armchair that he laughed in, back in his bedroom that they had talked in, smiled in. "I..." He looked away from his mother. "I'm not okay, Mama, but I'm..." Wille swallowed the annoying ball of building emotions in his throat, clenching and relaxing his fists to get rid of the anxious energy. "But I'm dealing with it." It shouldn't be this hard to tell his mother how he feels.

"You do know I'm sorry, Wilhelm, I'm sorry for not noticing your depression, and for ignoring you when you told me about your anxiety." She paused for a moment. Wille almost appreciated her words, had she actually meant them. "I know I've been a rather absent parent, but I thought you were happy with Erik raising you, you seemed happy. I know it was my job as your mother, but you were happy and I was busy, it worked. And you had your nanny, who you always ran away from, but she was there if you needed anything."

Wille's eyes broke away from hers, trailing down to his bare feet. He remembers those times, Erik was busy at school and Wille would be bored, the nanny would be sitting on his bed folding washing or something along those lines, so Wille would bolt. He'd run from his toy area to his door, and then down the hall, little feet slapping on the cold marble floor. Little Wille would fly down the stairs, the nanny chasing after him. He'd giggle and run through the castle's foyer, towards his mother's important meeting room. To him, it was just a fun game to entertain himself.

The doors to the big room would get thrown open, and a little boy with floppy, dirty-blonde hair and wide, curious eyes would stand there, staring around the big room like he's never seen it before. Like this isn't a weekly occurrence. His mother would look down her nose at him like he was a speck of dirt on his shoe. Minou, Jan-Olaf, Farima - everyone would just look back at him, used to the small interruption. Then the nanny would grab his wrist way harder than necessary, apologising profusely as she dragged him away.

Wille sighed. "Yeah, but neither Erik nor the nanny were my mother." I missed you for so, so long. Half the time it didn't even feel like we were in the same room, thats how much you ignored me.

"Simon, he..." The Queen stopped herself, clearing her throat. Wille glanced at her at the mention of Simon. "He what?" Wille asked, straightening his spine. I swear to God, if you say one bad thing about him this conversation will end so fast.

"He opened my eyes." She said slowly, purposefully, looking Wille dead in the face as she spoke. "I think he's the first person apart from Erik, you or Papa to be honest with me. It was like he didn't care for my name, it was so ... so different from what I have grown used to. I'm used to the lies spoken to my face to make me smile, people saying please and thank you 3 times too many in a single sentence because they're flustered. 

"But he just spoke the truth, told me I should've raised you, that Erik was just a kid." Wille smiled to himself, looking back at the floor, thinking of course Simon did. He's Simon, he's awesome like that. When he looked back at his mother she was staring, her eyes holding a strange kind of intensity he's never seen before. "I see why you seem so attached to that boy, he doesn't treat you like a prince, he treats you like just another kid." 

She's right, to a degree. Simon does treat Wille like 'just another kid', but he was cautious for a while, and understandably so. Still, it's not like he apologised for everything Kristina probably frowns at him for. Wille didn't mind the different lifestyle - sitting in a warm lounge with the soft glow of a TV screen lighting up the room, and the smell of the other's hot chocolates filling his lungs as he laughs. It's probably one of his favourite memories. Simon doesn't care for his title when it doesn't matter, and Wille really likes that.

Before Wille could reply, however, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." Queen Kristina said automatically, voice snapping to formally accented words again.

The second nurse came in again, holding a clipboard this time. "Your Majesty, Crown Prince," she bowed slightly, coming to stand in front of them both. "Crown Prince Wilhelm, Jackie Rue is now free to fulfil your suicide risk assessment." She paused, before adding "Jackie is amazing if I do say so. He's very nice, one of the best we've got."

"He?" Queen Kristina asked, raising a brow. Wille glared at the side of her head. She glanced at him and cleared her throat, looking away quickly. Wille hopes she can see the annoyance on his face, its not like he's hiding it.

"Yes, he. Jackie is a man." The nurse clarified with a small, slightly confused smile. Touche to that. Wille thought. We love old people being sexist.

"What's your name?" Wille asked her because referring to her as 'the second nurse' in his head seems rude.

The nurse smiled at Wille, blue eyes warm and comforting. "I'm Keira Brown, you can call me Keira, if it makes you more comfortable, I understand it's a strange situation to be in."

"Okay, Keira." Wille nodded, deciding he likes Keira. "Continue."

Keira went on, flicking her gaze between Wille and his mother as she spoke calmly and clearly. "The assessment could take anywhere from half an hour to 2 hours, it depends on your cooperation, Crown Prince Wilhelm, and how much you choose to share." She spoke slowly, as if trying to not scare them. "You do not have to go into detail about anything unless asked, but it's encouraged you answer all questions, that way we can help you as much as possible." She added a small smile to the end of her sentence to soften the blow.

Wille's stomach did flip flops, he was already nervous but he didn't realise that horrible feeling could grow. It feels like it's consumed all his insides, it's cold and uncomfortable and makes him want to fidget. "Alright." He croaked, voice suddenly shaky.

"You can choose whether or not your mother comes in with you," Keira explained, eyes lingering on the Queen.

Wille looked to his mother. "I'd rather..." He knows what he wants to say. Queen Kristina turned to look at him, face not displaying her feelings in the slightest, leaving it completely open for Wille to choose. This is new, him getting an opinion, getting to choose something for himself. It shouldn't be a foreign concept, but it is. "I don't want you there." A little fire in him flickered with joy at the knowledge that he got to make the decisions for his mother, she didn't get a say in it.

"All good Crown Prince," Keira assured him. "But Jackie will have to brief your mother after the session, since you are a minor." Her fingers picked at the edge of her clipboard as she spoke, keeping eye contact with Wilhelm as she explained everything.

Wille gulped, it's not like he didn't tell almost everything to his mother before, but he doesn't know what questions he is about to be asked, what is about to be exposed. A part of him wants to run, his fingers twitch with the need to escape. It's too much. They're going to discover everything. They're going to find the meds. What if they send him to a psychiatric hospital? Oh, God. Wille felt bile boil in his throat. Fuck this.

Wille forced himself to focus on Keira. He clenched his fists, the pain of his chewed-up nails digging into his sensitive palm, grounding him, keeping him painfully in the moment.

Keira's eyes flicked to his hand, then up to his face, sympathy and concern flashing in her eyes. Shit. God damn nurse working with mentally unstable patients seeing the signs of a panic attack that my mother wouldn't even glance at. Wille thought, trying to suppress the panic seeping into his bodily features and movements.

"So, if you could follow me now, Crown Prince. Your Majesty, you can stay here, or in the waiting room, but we recommend you stay in the hospital." Keira went on.

"I'll stay in the waiting room," Kristina said, standing to follow them.

"Perfect."

Both women turned their gazes to Wille, both looks put a weight onto his shoulders. Despite Keira's kind behaviour, its impossible to not feel judged right now. He feels like they should be panicking, running around and screaming with stress because the Crown Prince is suicidal, but instead, here they both are, waiting for him with painfully patient smiles.

Wille forced himself to take a step, and then another, and another, following Keira out of the room. Queen Kristina followed behind him, heels clicking obnoxiously on the shiny white floor. Once out of the room, Malin and two other bodyguards joined them without being asked, Wille didn't even get a breath of air before more eyes fell onto him.

Wille found himself anxiously picking at the skin around his thumb as they walked, feeling his hands shake. The floor cold on his bare feet, but he didn't really mind, another uncomfortable sensation to distract him. It's way too quiet, no one spoke. The sounds of traffic outside and occasionally a siren echoed down the deserted hallway.

Keira walked quickly, her brown hair has begun to fall out of the bun she'd put it in, and her posture is rigid, head pointing straight as she flies down the hall, two royals and three bodyguards following behind her.

Eventually, they came to an elevator, and she pressed the down button. Wille took deep breaths, suppressing the urge to rub his chest as they waited in awkward silence for the elevator.

Once it opened they all crowded in. The bodyguards stood at the back, Kristina stood next to Wilhelm, and Keira stood in front. When the doors closed, Wille's reflection stared back from the shiny wall. His eyes are sunken, red, and damp, his skin is pale with small red spots, not acne, but a reaction to being strangled. The bandage around his neck is as thick as he was expecting, it might as well be a whole ass neck cast. His body looks thin, a sign of the lack of eating he's been doing. Wille gulped, flickering his gaze to his bare feet instead of his gaunt like reflection.

When the doors finally opened he was happy to be leaving the elevator. 

Another deserted corridor. He can't decide if they're purposefully clearing the floor or if they just have several private wards. What floor is this? He can't remember which one Keira had pressed.

They stopped outside a white door, no windows, just white with a silver handle, labelled "EVAL ROOM" In big bold letters. Wonder what's in there. Wille thought sarcastically, a meek attempt at humour.

Keira opened the door. It's weirdly... like a doctor's office. There's a couch and an armchair, a coffee table to the right of the armchair with a vase full of flowers, and a clipboard sitting on it. There's a painting on the wall of some abstract shapes and colours, with a lamp hovering awkwardly next to it. There's a window, which has no light coming through thanks to the weather, but Wille can imagine it would normally give the room a nice, comforting glow. Of course he came on the day the sky has decided to piss down on Sweden.

Sitting in the armchair is a middle-aged man. He has long black hair which is tied up in a bun, his cleanly shaved face is framed by thick black glasses, he bares high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, lips formed into a small smile. Jackie stood up, walking a few steps across the room to face them.

"Good afternoon Crown Prince Wilhelm, Your Majesty, and Keira. I'm Jackie Rue, and I'll be performing your suicide risk assessment, Crown Prince." He spoke calmly, offering Wille a hand to shake, which he slowly returned. He's not what Wille was expecting, but he's very pleased by the surprise. Wille had images of an interrogation room, just two chairs, dark, dingy, with an old guy who smells of hospital soap quizzing him unsympathetically. Not a spritely middle-aged guy who smells of expensive perfumes and has rings decorating his fingers.

"Good to see you both, I hope we didn't have you waiting too long," Jackie said, flashing another charming smile at Wille and his mother.

Queen Kristina spoke for Wille, "no, it was all fine thank you, Mr Rue." She put her hand on Wilhelm's shoulder, drawing him away from Jackie. "I'm going to stay in the waiting room, alright Wilhelm? Should you need anything, I'll be close, and Malin will be outside." Wille nodded. He's definitely not calling for his mum if he starts crying, but he can appreciate the gesture.

Kristina nodded again, smiling lightly at Jackie, before following Keira into another room across the hall to wait, two of the three bodyguards trailing after her

Wille turned back to Jackie. 

"Hey." Jackie said to Malin, eye level with the younger woman, who stares back at him.

"Hi." She replied with an amused nod.

Jackie then turned his friendly green eyes to Wille. "Come in, I've got some cookie's if you feel like it. Technically, it's unprofessional or whatever, but I've had a seriously long shift and I needed a good pick me up." Jackie rambled, turning and walking into the room as he spoke, waving and gesturing with his hands the whole time.

Wille glanced at Malin, what for he's not sure, but she just smiled and shrugged, turning so her back is against the wall next to the door.

Wille followed Jackie slowly, closing the door behind him and then sitting on the couch, stiff and nervous, heart thumping, stomach doing flips every bloody second.

Jackie sighed heavily as he reached over the arm of his chair to pick up a packet of cookies Wille had missed when scanning the room. 

He picked out a Griffins Choc Thin from the red packet. "Mmm, yes, this is the stuff." Jackie said past a mouthful of chocolate, eyes closed as she chewed slowly. "Want one?" He offered the packet to Wille, but he politely declined. He feels like he is about to throw up, and he definitely does not need food.

"Suit yourself." Jackie shrugged, putting the cookies on the little table next to him. "Alright." He schooled his features. "So, a bit about me. My name is Jackie Rue, I've worked here forrrr - '' he paused, looking at the ceiling as he thought. "- fifteen years, it's definitely not the best job but I enjoy what I do, which is helping people to survive. Not that I've killed anyone and this is my way of making amends. It just makes me sleep better at night knowing that when I pass, I will have helped to save countless people. So let's ignore the rising problem which is overpopulation so I can enjoy my thirty thousand Krona yearly in peace. It just makes me feel good, y'know?"

Wille nodded. He does not know. Half the time he doesn't want to live, but he nodded anyway, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, knee bouncing. This is definitely an interesting man, if Wille wasn't so nervous already, he'd probably enjoy talking to him.

Jackie watched him for a moment, his leg crossed over the other, leaning back in his armchair, looking significantly more comfortable than Wille. "I can practically see the questions, Crown Prince, so ask away."

Wille hesitated, before saying "just call me Wilhelm or Wille. Crown Prince is so..."

" 'Ehk?' " Jackie supplied. Wille shrugged. Yeah, ehk. "Okay cool, Wille, Crown Prince Wilhelm is a mouthful." Jackie smiled, his face seems permanently stuck like that. "Okay, so questions? I am assuming you have some, so you don't have to ask."

Wille glanced around the cream-painted room, eyes falling on the window, dark grey clouds the only thing visible from this angle. "Uhm, how old are you?" Wille asked finally.

"I am 42 years old. But I think I can pass for 30." He winked at Wille, and he felt his lips quirk slightly. He could pass for 30.

"Do you have any kids?"

"Hmm no. I don't really like babies - yes, I work in a hospital, but I'm not a midwife. Plus, I have a boyfriend, so we couldn't have a biological child." He sucked air in through his teeth. "Y'know... you took health, right?"

Wille snickered, "yes, I understand how babies are made. 

"That's cool though. How long have you been together?"

Jackie smiled at him again. "I've known him since I was 16, but we've been married for 20 long, brilliant, magical years of my life. It's been amazing - I mean, we're older and can't really run down the street in the rain anymore, but we can walk, so." Jackie shrugged.

Wille couldn't help but smile. "Wow." He wonders if he'll ever meet someone like that, who he loves with all his heart, someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with, someone he wants to run down the road in the rain with. He's 16 right now, but he can't imagine being in a relationship.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to ask - I signed an NDA but I didn't reaaallly read the fine print, so please don't lock me in the dungeons." Jackie paused, giving Wille time to shut him down, but he simply nodded for him to continue. "But, do you have anyone like that, Wille?" Wille froze. "Someone you love?"

"Well... Romantically, platonically, or like family?" Wille asked, cheeks feeling hot. Jackie watched him, amused.

"Any, either, just not romantically liking family, because, um, I don't want to know." Wille snickered along with Jackie. "Alright spill. Promise I won't go tell the public." Wille hadn't even thought about him leaking that information. He already trusts Jackie and he's known him for five minutes. That's kinda scary.

Wille licked his dry lips, pondering. "Well, I... my brother Erik, I loved him, he was my best friend for a really, really long time. I miss him all the time now..." Wille normally doesn't allow himself to think about Erik, because then he feels so guilty. If Erik was still here, Wille would never have met Simon, but he would never have attempted. It's hard to not think about Erik when everything seems to lead back to him.

"I think he'd be proud of you, Wille, for getting help. It's not easy. I don't personally know the guy, but from what I've seen and heard, he was a pretty cool dude." Jackie spoke gently. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Wille sniffed, glancing away from Jackie, finding the sympathy in his eyes too much. I didn't want to get help.

"Yeah. I just - I wish it didn't hurt so much, you know, like when do I get to heal? Why am I forever hurting?"

Jackie sighed, leaning fords to itch his chin. "No matter how much time passes, your always going to miss him. It's just a fact of life. There will always be an Erik-sized hole, and that's okay, Wille. He was your brother, you're allowed to mourn and you're allowed to cry about it, that's a healthy reaction to a death like that." He paused, watching Wille's lip quiver and his eyes dart all around the room. "Healing takes time," he continued. "You won't come back from the funeral and immediately have moved on."

"That's what my mum and dad did," Wille whispered.

Jackie paused, "yes, because they are the parents, they need to be strong around their kids." Wille shrugged. "I feel like you've got this 'instantly healing' bullshit - mind my language - from movies and books. The person mourning meets a lover or an amazing friend, and that helps them heal, but that doesn't work for everyone, which is perfectly fine, there are other ways-"

"Simon." Wille blurted, eyes finding Jackie's again.

Jackie raised an eyebrow before parroting, "Simon?"

"Simon helps me heal," Wille explained, cheeks going hot again.

Jackie smiled softly, leaning back again. "Who is Simon? Tell me about Simon."

The darkness that had taken over his mind from thinking about Erik subsided as he began to smile. "Simon he - he found me, in the woods when I was trying to hang myself." Jackie just nodded, no judgement or surprise breaking his small smile. "He chose to do CPR on me and restarted my heart. Then he took me back to his house, back to is mother. She was so kind, his sister as too. It was obvious everyone was anxious and scared, but they didn't abandon me. I mean, Simon could've kept walking in the woods, and Linda could've immediately got me to call my mother, but they didn't. They..." he thought back to that night, curled up in the plush and well-worn armchair in front of the TV, hot chocolate scenting the air, nothing emotionally or physically had hurt for several minutes. 

"We sat and watched TV, with hot chocolates. Simon slept on the floor in the lounge and I slept on the couch next to him." Wille smiled to himself, staring at the floor between them. "He helped me phone my mum, and he hugged me afterwards. He told me he was proud of me. I - " Wille found himself getting choked up, just like he had during that precious moment. He had wanted to cry and scream and hug Simon till he couldn't breathe. He didn't know how to express his gratitude for Simon's words in that moment. "I haven't been told 'I'm proud of you' since Erik died." He whispered.

"I'm so fucking proud of you." Simon's words floated easily through his head, his massive grin burning happily into Wille's mind forever.

Jackie's still smiling at him, a knowing look in his eye. "I'm glad Simon found you, he sounds like a really good person to have at your side right now." Wille nodded along to his words, agreeing with every one.

"He is. But I think he's..." He thought about it, the look on Simon's face as he had yelled at Wille, telling him that he is not okay. "I think he's scared of me sometimes, or scared for me." Wille remembers towering over him, demanding to be let out. "I had hurt myself and he saw the blood and tried to talk about it but I tried to leave." Wille hurried out. "We argued. Then I fainted and he called the ambulance. He hugged me until they got there." Wille remembers straining against him, trying to push himself off the floor and throw Simon off at the same time, screaming for Linda to stop, begging them to not go back to the palace.

"I wish Simon was here." 

The hug flashed through his mind like a strike of lightning. Simon's clothes were cold but his skin was warm, his hair damp but still soft. He'd sobbed against Wille, clinging to him so tightly he thought - he hoped - he'd never let go. Guilt had nearly killed Wille. He felt guilty for making this happen. There's a million 'if's going through his mind now. If we never met he would've been at school, not hugging me in the driveway. If we never met he would've been warm in his bed all night, not on a hard couch. It occurred to Wille he never asked why Simon was in the woods that night.

Jackie pursed his lips, nodding solemnly. "Yes, I understand that. We can arrange for him to visit, but first, we have to finish this evaluation."

Wille looked back to Jackie and realised now he is holding the clipboard. Wille can't see the words exactly but he can see Jackie's written some things down. He watched Wille, gauging his reaction.

He felt himself stiffen, his stomach tightening all over again, just as it had began to relax. "Did I accidentally answer some questions?" He choked out, craning his neck subconsciously to peek at the paper.

"Yep. It's all goods though." Jackie smiled easily, shifting in his seat to grab another choc thin. "Sure you don't want one?" The mood in the room has shifted, and the airs gotten thicker. Wille's uncomfortable again, only just realising how much he just shared, blurting it out without thinking. He doesn't like how Jackie broke down his walls without Wille even noticing, he is good at his job and it freaks him out.

"I'm okay," Wille replied quietly, staring at the piece of paper, covered in questions and tick boxes. It's overwhelming, how many has he answered and how many is still to go? His stomach does more flips in response to his question - empty but still retching.

Jackie's smile strained at the edges, his hand bouncing the pen over his finger. "Alright Wille, ready for some questions?" 

Chapter Text

Jackie tried. Wille could tell he tried super fucking hard to make it easier for Wille. But he still cried, he still hypoventilated, they still had to take a extended break as Wille had a small panic attack. It still wasn't easy.

Thankfully, two long, teary, hard hours later and Wille is standing up to leave.

Jackie had given him time, never pressured him for an answer, and was frequently able to get Wille talking like it was a conversation and slip in questions or he'd smoothly change the topic to get questions answered, but there’s just some things that you can’t ask subtly.

Wille can see why Keira said Jackie is good at his job, he really is, and it's actually scary. When they finished Wille was both extremely relieved and slightly confused. It felt like he’d answered 20 questions, but he can see there is more than that on the list. It’s scary how Jackie now knows more about Wille than anyone else, and he got all that information in two hours.

Wille is shaking, he came into this room shaking and he’s leaving shaking. A hiccup and sniff blended into one as Wille turned away from Jackie as he also stood, Wille wiped his nose aggressively.

Wille took a deep breath, standing still for a moment as he tried to gather himself, trying to find the pieces of himself that have been thrown out and exposed. He feels like the whole world is suddenly spinning faster than before, it makes him feel like his head is being pulled and his eyes are pulsing.

He’s fully clothed but still feels so, so exposed. It’s like he just gave Jackie all his vital organs and now he can only hope Jackie won’t destroy them - he has to trust, and Wille’s horrible at that.

At one point, Wille had lent ford and buried his face in his hands, refusing to look back up. Jackie had asked Wille if he actually wants to get better. Wille snappily asked if that even mattered, they are going to try and help him whether he wants it or not. Jackie replied, saying it does matter, but he didn’t elaborate.

Wille had thought about it for a few minutes, staring at the floor through his splayed fingers, cold, clammy skin pressing into his face uncomfortabley. Jackie waited in silence.

Wille said he doesn’t know, he has painfully mixed feelings. Jackie had hummed, and then politely asked if he knew anything, not in an accusing, harsh way, it was gentle, almost worried.

He wants to see Simon again, that much he knows, but he also wants to see Erik again. However, no one knows what happens when you die. Wille could be asleep forever, or he could be reincarnated as a fish. Wille’s family is Christian, while Wille believes that whatever a person wants to happen to them when they pass is their choice, they can choose to believe in whatever. Wille doesn’t believe in anything.

It wasn’t just seeing Erik that made him want to ...die. It’s also the fucking pressure from his mother, his father, his school, the royal court, the public. It all adds up and it really sucks. On its own, they're each like a pin prick - it still hurts, yes, but with all of those causes together, its like being stabbed with a sword. Everyday. 

Wille’s phone would ring and he’d cringe away from his mothers contact name. He’d be called to the principles office and would listen to Jan-Olaf rant on the Principles phone about how he can't hide from responsibility. He would open his Instagram to see over 2,000 new comments, and the top ones would read “no one fucking cares! FRRR”, “omg cute”, “We make the best team👊”, "CRINGE", "he was such a cute kid yall, glow down of the fucking generation". At first the comments never raised any visible emotions in him, he’d like the comments from August or whoever he knew and move on. But as time went on he began to find himself looking in the mirror and seeing every flaw on his body that people had pointed out. He would find himself opening the comments and scrolling through, he wouldn’t even reach the bottom before he had unconsciously zoned out, staring at his phone with tears peppering the screen and carving rivers into his cheeks.

Wille’s not entirely sure that those are the only reasons that drive him to the edge... at this point, he thinks he’s talked himself into self-harm with promises of peace of mind and quiet, blissful memories of the shot of adrenaline as the blood pricks through his skin, the addictive feeling of cold, grounding metal against a sensitive wrist.

But, in the end, Wille collected his thoughts and concluded with three things: he knows he can see Simon again - even if it's only at school in a few week's time - he should take that, knowing he’ll see him, over hoping to see Erik. Secondly: If he says he doesn’t want to get better, who knows what kind of crazy intense treatment he’ll be thrown into. And thirdly: If this hasn’t caused his mother to realise the pressure she’s thrown at him, then he doesn’t even want to know what will. If this doesn't change the way he's treated... 

So he’d said yes, yes he does want to get better. Jackie had grinned, looking like straight up proud parent, telling him that that's great, and that wanting to get better is already an amazing first step to getting better.

He was asked a shit tonne of questions. If he had a plan (past, present or in the future), he was asked about previous attempts that went ahead or were aborted, what makes him feel suicidal, if stress makes him want to kill himself, asked to describe recent suicidal thoughts - That’s not even half the questions he was asked. So, all in all, Wille hated that experience.

Malin is still outside the door when Wille opens it with a prolonged creak from the hinges. She’s leaning heavily on the wall holding an empty coffee cup, but instantly straightened when he came out, shaking as he walked.

Wille glanced at her with wet eyes, flushed cheeks and quivering lips. Malin put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently with a small smile. Wille found the action more comforting than anything his mother has done that he can remember.

Jackie stepped out behind Wilhelm into the cold corridor, gently closing the door behind him. “Wilhelm,” he said, gaining the boy's attention. Malin dropped her arm, also turning her gaze to Jackie. “I know you probably don’t agree, but that was a really good session. You were honest, and strong.” Jackie spoke quietly despite them being the only ones in the corridor, looking at Wille with a sincere expression. “And even when you weren’t, I still learnt things, still answered questions that I then didn’t have to ask. Remember - being able to express such feelings, like sadness, and even happiness, it’s all a part of healing. Sharing those feelings is challenging for some people, and it's brave to express your emotions and thoughts as you did.”

Wille simply nodded, not having the energy to reply anymore. He just wants to go to sleep now, he’s so emotionally drained it's not even funny. He might collapse right here if he doesn’t get to a soft surface ASAP, his eyes are dropping and his mind is crawling along, like he’s voiced all his thoughts and been left with none for himself. Wille understands Jackie’s words, but its like catching air in a butterfly net, it just goes right through, barely registering.

“Thank you, Jackie.” Malin said when Wille didn’t speak.

Jackie nodded as well. “Of course. Shall I take you to Her Majesty?”

Malin looked down at Wille, concern written on her features as he, yet again, didn’t reply. “What do you need, Wilhelm?” She asked him quietly, not moving as she watched him closely.

Wille opened his eyes, unaware he’d even closed them. He stared at her and Jackie’s shoes next to his cold, naked feet, oblivious to the worry etched onto both adults facial features. “Some socks… A bed, and... Simon.” He mumbled slowly, not sure if Malin even heard his jumbly list.

“Alright, well luckily for you, we can arrange all of that.” Jackie said, a smile in his voice.

Wille’s head perked up instantly, heart jumping. “What?” He looked between the two adults. Malin raised an eyebrow. Wille’s thoughts are struggling to catch up. “Even - even Simon?”

Malin nodded when Jackie looked at her. “If it is good for you, then yes. If he wants to come, that is.” Jackie explained.

Wille already feels more awake at the knowledge of potentially getting to see Simon again, he really needs one of his warm hugs. He hopes Simon still wants to see him, he will, right? Why would he run through the rain to hug Wille if he didn’t want to see him anymore? Was it a goodbye hug?

It hasn’t even been a day since they first met and Wille’s attached. Woah… Wille realised. Oh my God, yeah - because it was like 2 in the morning when he found me. That was this morning… That’s crazy. This has been the most stressful 24 hours of my whole life.

“Alright. Well let's go find Her Majesty, and see what's next.” Malin prompted, glancing at Jackie for confirmation.

“Yes, I’ll quickly debrief Her Majesty, and then I’ll go finish the evaluation. This way.” Jackie said calmly, before leading them across the hall to the door labelled as a waiting room.

Wille found that his legs aren’t really working, each step feels like he’s dragging a bus behind him. The only thing that really kept him motivated was the promise of seeing Simon, so he'll endure what’s happening right now to reach that. If they hadn’t of said that, Wille thinks he may have just face-planted and slept on the cold floor instead of walking to face his mother.

Jackie opened the door and Wilhelm walked in first, followed by Malin and then Jackie.

Queen Kristina is sitting in a chair with her own coffee across the room, texting on her phone. The bodyguards are both seated across from her, a magazine held between them as they share the word find

Kristina’s head shot up when Wille walked in, and she instantly stood up, abandoning her cup on the armrest as she rushed towards him, trying to look put together and calm, smoothing out her skirt as she walked quickly, heels clicking obnoxiously.

Wille doesn’t know what he was expecting, but for her to pull him into a hug, her thin arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly is not what he saw coming.

Wille was shocked, his slightly hooded eyes flying open. When was the last time his mother hugged him? Three, four years ago? Too long, is the right answer, considering he’s still a child. Still a minor.

He doesn’t really want to hug her back, he wants to shove her away. She smells suffocatingly of perfume, and her clothes are scratchy. against his bare skin

But Wille knows his place, so he put his arms around her, not holding her tight, but in a way that wouldn’t make it look as one-sided as it is. Wille knows it shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t feel stiff in her grasp, uncomfortable, judged. It should be a comforting thing to hug your mother after a horrible 2 hours, but Wille just doesn’t feel comforted, comfortable or relieved in her grasp.

Thankfully, it didn’t last long, she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “How did it go sweetheart? How are you?” She asked him, eyes flickering over his shoulder to Jackie and then back to him.

Wille shrugged, taking a step back so she had to let go of him, hands hovering in the air before she clasped them in front of her again, straightening her posture once more.

Jackie stepped up next to Wilhelm. “Your Majesty, you have raised an incredibly strong and honest son.” Wille winced at his words. “I believe it went well. Could we quickly go into the eval room so I can brief you on how the session went?” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the door, holding his clipboard in the other hand, an attempt at being casual. “Wilhelm can go back to his room while we talk.”

Queen Kristina nodded curtly, looking back to Wilhelm.

“Great. Betty!” Jackie called to the receptionist who is sat, chewing gum and tapping at her keyboard loudly across the room. “Where is Keira?”

Betty shrugged. “Shall I send a message to her pager?”

“Yes, please.”

Do I really need an escort to go back to my room? Can’t you just take me? It’s painfully clear he’s not allowed to be left alone. It hurts, the lack of trust. He knows he’s not going to try anything right now, but they don’t, and even if he tells them they won’t believe him.

“We’ll just be a moment.” Jackie said, “He is supervised here.” He gave Wille a small, apologetic smile. Their wording makes him sound less like a fairly intelligent human being, and more like a wild and impulsive animal.

Kristina nodded again. “Alright, you lead the way, Mr Rue.” She glanced over her shoulder, and the two bodyguards stood, following her and Jackie out of the waiting room, closing the door behind them.

Wille sighed, eyes falling to the ground again. Fuck my life for real. I’ve fucked up so bad, I’ve messed up my life, my mum's, Simon’s, Malin’s, Jackie’s, Linda’s, Sara’s, everyone's. How is the monarchy going to deal with this?

Malin put a hand on his back gently, startling him from his thoughts. “I’ll look into getting you some socks.” She said, gently nudging him towards the seats.

Wille nodded before collapsing in the closest uncomfortable chair.

It's a small gesture, but being left alone for a few minutes feels like a blessing. Yes, there are other people in the room, the receptionist, Malin, and soon-to-be Keira, but none of them are watching him.

It's so strange being so alone in what would normally be a jam-packed room full of stressed, crying, mourning people. But it’s just him and his thoughts waiting.

Wille out of tears to cry, he’s to tired to sob anymore. He used to be ashamed to cry in front of others, his mother made it seem like he was weak and girly for crying, but as Wille grew up he learnt that it’s okay for anyone to cry, especially if it's sad. He knows it's normal but he can still hate doing it. Wille’s cried in front of so many people in the last day, he’s been so vulnerable, all his thoughts and deepest secrets laid out for inspection and judgement. Hopefully, he’ll never have to do it again. All the deeply personal stuff he’s just shared, it’s all going to be written down on a file somewhere, shoved in a cabinet...

He leant his elbow on the armrest, eyes slipping closed, leaning on his hand for support. The lights are bright, but his brain is moving along slow enough for him to slip into a dozing state.

Wille was quickly jolted from this state by Malin, taking a seat next to him and placing socks in his lap when he sat up.

“Oh, ‘fanks, Malin.” He mumbled, slowly pulling the socks apart and leaning down to pull them over his chilly feet. They’re thin, scratchy, cheap hospital socks, but it's better than the floor, providing him slight comfort.

Malin nodded, letting him lie his head on the back of the chair, sitting in silence until Keira came in.

Wille was barely conscious for the walk back to his room, eyes staying on his sock-covered feet. They walked slowly, Keria’s quick pace has diminished, and she’s glancing back at Wille to make sure he was keeping up every few moments. Malin walks a step behind Wille on his right. Wille knew she would catch him if he fell, but he kept his legs moving, dragging the bus all the way to his room.

He’s so numb and tired, someone could dunk him in ice water and he’d have no reaction. If he was at Hillerska right now he’d cut himself just so he could feel something. But he’s at a literal hospital with a nurse in front of him and a bodyguard behind him, so he can’t. It makes him angry. When he cuts to feel he’s not trying to kill himself, in fact, he’s just trying to feel alive again.

It’s not the kind of alive he feels when he and Simon touch though. When they hugged in the woods, when their knees brushed on the bed, when they hugged in the rain. That makes his heart thump and his stomach swirl, his brain flows with three million thoughts and he doesn’t know what to say. Simon’s feeling is different, it’s… it’s almost more addictive than self-harm, Wille craves it differently from how he craves the burning cold and the adrenaline. 

Wille realised Keira is saying something. He blinked a few times, looking back up at her. They’re in the elevator and she’s looking at him, patience coating her face as he mouths moves but Wille doesn't hear the words.

“Hmm?” He interrupted, rocking side to side on the spot.

“Would you like something to eat, Wilhelm?”

“No. I’m okay.” Wille replied quietly.

“Okay. Let us know when you are feeling a little peckish.” Keira gave him a warm smile before turning back as the doors opened.

“I want to sleep away this nightmare…” He mumbled, hoping the two didn’t hear as he forced himself to walk again.

Wille's not wrong though, this is a nightmare, if you told Wille three weeks ago that this is where he's going to wind up he would’ve… he would’ve killed himself. It’s a horrible situation, but he wants to try and get better. It'll make Simon happy, it'll make his mum happy, Malin, Keira and Jackie will be proud. It still seems so much easier to just give up on it, he knows that people will heal eventually, they'll bounce back and clear out his room and forget the youngest suicidal prince. August will take the throne and people will love him and his charming personality.

But if he does get better, then he can be Simon’s friend, and they can do normal teenage things together, like go to movies and the arcade, study and eat lunch side by side. They can gain inside jokes, Wille can play video games at his house, and drink hot chocolate with his family. Simon can sleep over in Wille’s spare bed and they can watch cringy rom-coms until 3 in the morning, sneak into the kitchens for snacks and run back before they freeze from the cold then go to school the next morning.

Wille instantly went to the bed once he's in his lonely room. He ripped the sheets out from where they’d been tightly tucked under his mattress and slipped under the cold covers, shivering at the contact with his bare arms and shins.

Keira stood in the doorway for a moment, Malin hadn’t come inside, but Wille knows she'll be right outside. Wille opened his mouth to ask if she could please turn off the lights when another person walked into the room, a man, his hair the colours of both salt and pepper, face wrinkled and wearing a gentle smile.

“This is Doctor Sanders. While you are still a risk to yourself, you will have 24/7 surveillance so we can keep you safe. He can become like your best friend.” Keira told him gently, trying a more optimistic approach...

Wille frowned. Seriously? That's worse than having 2 bodyguards follow you around your own school.

“Okay.” Wille doesn’t have the energy to fight though, he’ll just accept it, as long as the guy doesn’t talk, Wille doesn’t give a shit. Wille’s familiar with being frequently watched.

Keria nodded. “Sleep well, Wilhelm.” Keira closed the door when Wille didn’t reply.

Doctor Sanders spoke, his voice raspy and aged. “Would you like the lights off, Wilhelm?”

“Yes, please.” Wille watched him flick the switch and then walk over to the curtains, closing them as well, blocking out the faint light of the mid-afternoon. “Do you have to watch me all the time, Doctor Sanders?" He dared to ask.

Doctor Sanders turned back to him, gentle green eyes filled with knowledge and kindness. He sighed before replying, "call me Martin. And, yes. I understand it's anything but fun, but it's only for your safety, the sooner you are trusted alone, the sooner I'll be out of your hair."

Wille sighed. “Okay.” He mumbled, rolling away from Doctor Martin Sanders as he moved to a chair a few meters from the bed. Wille faced a privacy curtain that he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be allowed to close if he asked. 

The meds dug into his side on this angle, but he’s not going to roll over and face Martin as he tries to sleep.

It didn’t take long for him to pass out, his head feels heavier than the rest of his body, his limbs ache like he’s been running for hours, his throat is raspy from all the crying, and the skin on his face feels dry from the tears that have come and gone. It’s uncomfortable, trying to sleep with the two thick bandages, but he made it work.

Wille had no dreams, but when he awoke he felt like he hadn’t got any sleep at all.

Wille blinked a few times, trying to see the figure standing above him in the darkness, the lights are off and it seems to have gotten even darker outside. The person removed their warm hand from his shoulder where they’d been gently rubbing to slowly wake him.

Wille rubbed his eyes with his fingers, rolling onto his back and sitting up with a groan, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision. He realised who it was, a grin instantly taking over his tired face as he smiled at the curly-haired boy, “Simon,” he beamed, sleep still tainting his voice.

Wille jumped off the bed to hug the other boy who was smiling back at him.

Finally, finally hugging Simon again. Instantly, the hours of being alone, of crying in that assessment room, the cold bed, it was all worth it. The smile on his face was worth it, the tightness and the warmth of his hug was worth it, the way his chin rested on Wille’s shoulder was worth it.

“It's good to see you.” Simon replied, his voice even more comforting, soft and quiet, right in his ear. It's real, he's here.

The room seems brighter now Simon’s in it.

Wille no longer feels so tired, it's like he’s been electrocuted in the best way possible. His eyes are shut as they hug, but he feels very awake, hyper-aware of all the points of contact.

Wille’s not sure of the time, but it's dark outside now - more dark than before - and it's even colder than it was, especially in his breezy and thin hospital robe. But Simon’s warm… maybe Wille will just never let go, hug him forever, live off his warmth and voice.

But Simon pulled back, a big grin on his face. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me, so this reaction is pretty good.” He told Wille, sitting down on his bed with a sigh, Wille instantly sat next to him, pretending he hadn’t noticed Martin still sitting in a chair in the corner, reading a thick paper back book.

“What?” Wille frowned, watching Simon’s anxious side profile. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” His heart is thumping a weird amount, he feels alive again.

Simon shrugged, eyes flickering over Wille’s face for a minute before he spoke. “You’re mum doesn’t seem to like me? I dunno…” Simon shrugged, seeming unfocused as he watched Wille. He then reached up, brushing some fallen hair behind Wille’s ear with a ghostly touch that raised goosebumps on Wille’s arms. His hand hovered in the air next to his face. Wille stared at him, his stomach seeming to absorb into itself, his heart jumping at the contact, eyes unable to break away from deep, hypnotizing brown ones.

Simon snapped his hand back to his lap and something in the air shattered. Wille felt heat boil into his cheeks as he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Well, I’m really glad you’re here.” He hurried out, staring at Simon’s Converse, which are continuously shifting on the floor. “It’s pretty lonely.” Wille admitted.

“Really? You seem to have constant company.” Simon muttered, glancing at Martin behind them. Wille followed his gaze for a moment, the man didn’t look up.

“Yeah, he’s not that bad though.” He replied quietly with a shrug, so Martin wouldn’t hear. “That’s Doctor Martin Sanders. He seems chill, but we haven’t talked a lot, I kinda just went to sleep when we met.” Wille shrugged, quirking his lips on one side.

Simon mimicked his shrug, smiling fondly.

Simon seemed to hesitate, before saying with a nervous grin, “by the way, Mr Crown Prince, you smell bad.”

Wille laughed quietly, finding his throat is rather dry. He’s not surprised, but he’s still embarrassed, he hadn’t thought about that, too much has been going on to worry about his hygiene.

“Yeah, well I’m not even sure if I’d be allowed to shower alone.” Wille snorted.

Simon raised an eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face. Wille momentarily frowned, before he realised what he’d said.

“I mean - not like that -“

Simon burst out laughing, causing Martin to glance at them, while Wille covered his face with his hands, still grinning under his fingers. “Oh my God, noooooo, Simon shut up - you know that's not what I meant.”

Simon snickered, a shit-eating grin covering his face as he nudged Wille’s shoulder playfully with his own.

“All goods, I get what you mean.” He laughed, leaning his head on Wille’s shoulder for a moment. Wille pulled his hands back from his face, turning to look at the head of curls on his shoulder just as Simon threw himself down on the bed, looking up at the roof with his hands grasped on his stomach, cheek’s tinted pink with the remnants of a derpy smile on his face.

Wille lay down next to him, mimicking his position exactly. The lights are off, so the big panels that would normally glow bright white are a dull grey, the dots that decorate the ceiling are barely visible. Wille doesn’t mind, it doesn’t hurt his head to be in the dark, and it's harder to see all the hospital equipment, so Wille can pretend that it’s him and Simon, hanging out in Simon's room again.

“So, what's going to happen?” Simon asked after a moment.

Wille doesn’t know. It’s scary. “I dunno, I’ve been asleep since the - since my suicide risk assessment… which sucked, by the way.”

Simon turned his head to look at him, eyes a deep, emotional brown. “Where you honest?” He asked quietly, voice soft and smooth.

Wille looked back at him for a moment, the drugs denting his skin. He gulped before he replied, “yeah…” Mostly. “It wasn’t easy, but I - I want to get better, Simon.” Simon’s close enough that Wille can count his eyelashes, even though it's dark he can see the detail in his skin, in his eyes.

Simon smiled softly, lips curling at the edges. Wille watched. “That’s good Wille, I want you to get better as well. I’m super glad you feel the same way.”

Wille took a deep, calming breath. Telling Simon that he wants to get better isn’t nearly as hard as telling Jackie.

Wille looked back to the ceiling, a weird feeling has settled in his stomach, and it didn’t agree with him looking away. Wille sighed again, feeling his hands rise and fall with the action. He can feel Simon looking down his body, eyes getting caught on his neck and his wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Simon whispered, his voice has changed, now it sounds worried and sad. Wille wishes he could change that, can’t he go back to laughing and teasing Wille?

Wille attempted a shrug while lying down. “If I don’t think about it, no. So I try not to think about it. They gave me painkillers.”

Simon only hummed in response, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Wille can feel the warmth radiating off Simon’s body despite the few inches separating them. 

Martin turns the page of his book, clearing his throat. Wille wishes he wasn’t here, he’s not doing anything annoying it's just, Wille’s hyper-conscious that he’s there, and he’s scared that anything and everything he and Simon talk about will be recorded or something.

“Hey, let's talk about something else.” Simon prompted, glancing at Wille.

Wille turned his head to gaze at him, “Okay, sure. What?”

Simon pursed his lips, itching his arm before replying, “okay what I’m thinking of is still kinda depressing.” Wille choked out a laugh, turning to look back up at the ceiling, the smile dripping off his face.

“It’s okay,” Wille lied.

Simon took a deep breath before blurting out, “my friends, Ayub and Rosh, they’re asking me what's been happening and stuff. They somehow found out about the ambulance being on my street, and I hadn't been replying to their messages. When I slept in at school Mama and Sara text them asking if they knew where I was, so they were worried. Anyway, I replied to them and said that what’s happened is something quite personal for someone and that I don’t feel comfortable sharing it with them before I get a chance to ask you. I tried DMing you on Instagram, but you didn’t reply.” Simon paused, taking a deep breath before he passed out.

Wille blinked, but Simon didn’t continue. Fell asleep at school...? Wille cleared his throat, “yeah no, I don’t have a phone. I haven’t even thought to ask for it, to be honest...” Wille trailed off with a sigh.

“Can I tell them the truth?” Simon asked slowly.

Wille froze. Oh. “Um…” No. “Well - “ Wille stopped himself rambling. Just think about it, don’t freak out. You’re with Simon, and he hasn’t told anyone yet. “Do you trust them to not leak the information?” He asked, turning his head to look at Simon, finding his gaze is already on him.

“Yes. I’d trust them with my life." Simon said immediately. "I mean, they’d be shocked, but they wouldn’t splurge the knowledge.” He didn't slip a beat as he gushed about his friends.

Wille looked away from Simon so he could think clearly, without anything to distract his thoughts. Wille doesn’t know these people, but Simon does. So far, everyone Simon has introduced Wille to has been lovely people. Mind you, that has only been two people, but Simon seems like the kind of person to keep a tight circle of a few people who he ‘trusts with his life’.

“Okay. Yeah. Ayub and Rosh…” Wille answered finally.

Simon smiled slightly, suppressing it quickly to continue. “You sure? I’m not pressuring you into anything? They were understanding before, slightlyconfusedbuttheyunderstood - ” Simon rambled.

“I don’t know, Simon.” Wille cut him off.

Simon went quiet, just watching Wille for him to continue. He trusts Simon. He needs to stop being paranoid. But he has the right to be, right? He doesn’t know these people, but Simon does.

“No.”

“...What?”

Wille threw his good arm over his face. “Aarrrgghhh.”

“Don’t tell them?” Simon predicted gently. “Wille, that’s okay as well. You don’t know them, I don’t want to add any pressure on you. I’ll just tell them that no, thats okay.” Simon nudged Wille’s arm when he didn’t remove it. Underneath he’s smiling. How is it that he managed to meet such a nice, understanding, caring person right when he needed it most?

“Okay.” Wille said, still smiling.

Simon poked his arm with his index finger again. “All goods.” He said, poking him again.

“Stop,” Wille complained, wiggling away from Simon a little as he tried to poke him again.

Simon snickered, bringing up his other hand to poke him in the ribs.

“Aye!” Wille squawked, his body involuntarily curling away from the other, arms flying off his face to shove Simon’s hands away when he tried to attack again.

Simon grinned back at him from where he still lies, wiggling his index fingers threateningly. Wille raised his own finger, wiggling it from side to side and tutting as he did so.

Simon laughed, before diving his finger under Wille’s hand to poke him in the ribs again.

“Simon!” Wille yelped, trying to smack his hand only to miss. Instead, he sat up, rolling awkwardly across the bed to get away from him.

Simon arched his head back to look at Wille from where he now stands, wrapping his arms around his ribs to protect himself with a grin. Wille couldn’t help but admire the sharp cut of Simon’s jaw line from his angle, how his curls are smooshed into the blankets, definitely going to be more frizzy from that.

Simon burst out laughing, pushing himself off the bed to stand up.

The two boys ignored Martin and his gentle smile which they hadn’t noticed from where he now sits behind Wilhelm. Simon playfully narrowed his eyes and wiggled his fingers again. “You’re not safe over there, y'know - ” He said, trying to sound serious but laughing at the final word.

Wille snorted out a laugh, wrapping his arms around himself tighter as Simon prowled around the end of the bed and towards him, wiggling his fingers the whole way.

“Simon,” Wille said, trying to sound annoyed, but it was rather contradicting with the massive grin on his face.

Simon said nothing, grinning from ear to ear as he got closer, walking slowly and waggling his fingers.

“Simon,” Wille repeated, backing up into the wall. He glanced behind him to look out the window, which was a mistake, because Simon struck, stabbing him in the ribs on both sides.

“Aye!” Wille yelped again, managing to grab one of Simon's hands as he turned back. Simon didn’t try to pull his hand back, instead jabbing his other fingers into his side yet again. “Ayyye.” Wille tried to wiggle away while not letting go of Simon’s wrist, attempting to grab his other hand while laughing.

They’re face to face with Wille pressed against the wall, holding onto Simon’s wrist, trying to grab Simon’s hand which is darting around in attempts to stab Wille again. They’re both grinning, focussing too hard on attacking and defending to really care about the other person in the room, or the fact Wille probably shouldn’t be doing this.

Simon managed to get a final jab before Wille grabbed his hand, halting his movements with a victorious “ha!”

Simon laughed, before dropping his forehead on Wille’s shoulder, panting slightly and still grinning widely. The back of his head is frizzier than the rest of his hair. Wille smiles, not daring to let go of Simon’s wrist as he puts his head on Simon’s with a sigh, his head barely reaching his thanks to the thick ring of bandages.

Simon sighed deeply, before pulling away, Wille dropped his hands as he sat back on the bed again. “Well, that was fun.”

Wille narrowed his eyes, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms across his chest. “For you, maybe.”

“Don’t even lie, you were laughing the whole time.” Simon retorted, grinning contagiously up at him.

Wille looked to the side to hide his huge smile. “Maybe.” He muttered.

“Mmhmm. That’s what I thought.” Simon smiled, cheeks now bearing a pink tint as he runs a hand over his hair.

Wille watched with a soft smile, that had been fun, he hasn’t laughed that much in a long time. His ribs are kind of sore in a few places, but he doesn’t really care, that was fun. Wille’s already reminiscing the memories, missing the moments from mere seconds before.

Simon sighed, looking back at him again and Wille remembered what he’d been confused by earlier.

“Why were you in the forest this morning?” It’s still weird to call it ‘this morning’. 

He knew it would bring the mood down the second he asked, and he regretted it. But it’s too late to take it back, of course, they get 2 minutes of happiness before something goes wrong again.

For a moment Simon was still, eye’s glossing over as he clearly got trapped in his memories, eyes flicking to the side of Wille’s head unconsciously. 

Wille hadn’t really thought how it would mentally affect Simon to go through all of that, and he feels instant guilt for it. He’s apologised for the situation - should he do it again? Should Simon go to therapy, does he need therapy? What has it done to him, does he have nightmares, panic attacks, PTSD?

“I fell asleep studying.” Simon started to explain suddenly, catching Wille off guard. It’s not hard for everyone to share, he told himself.

“So…” Simon turned his head slowly, looking down at his lap. He gulped, and Wille compulsively traced the action down his throat, his stomach flipping. Why does it keep doing that - ? “So I jumped out the library window and ran across the school grounds. I figured that because it was such a bright night, I could cut through the woods. And, looking back on it, it was a good idea, since it provided me with more cover from being seen by teachers, students - whatever.” Simon paused, glancing at Wille, who’s just staring back, listening to his story silently. He’s done a lot of talking, a lot of sharing, and he’s realising now Simon hasn’t done nearly as much.

“Anyway, yeah, I started to run through the forest. I got a text so I looked at my phone, and then I tripped, looked up and saw…” He froze like someone had taken the words right from his mind, eyes unblinking as he stared at his lap. Wille gulped. He knows what he saw. “You know the rest.” Simon went quiet again, story ending.

Wille looked to the floor as well. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to - to see all of that, to go through that. I didn’t even think about how it’d make you feel, how it would affect you long term.” Wille looked at him again, and Simon finally looked back, blinking quickly as he watched him.

“Are you okay?” Wille asked into the silence.

Simon stared back for a moment, just looking at Wille. He opened his mouth to speak when the door then opened and a stream of light shot through the room. 

Chapter Text

Simon 

The two boys instantly sat up when the Queen entered the room with her head held high, gazing down her nose at them, her shoulders pressed back and spine rigid, like a piece of string is tied to her head, keeping her straight as a rod (in all senses).

Simon watched as his own mother, posture equally stiff, walked in behind her, alone. Sara had decided on staying behind in the end, saying she doesn't want any more stress than she's already dealt with. And she is still slightly sick with what had been keeping her home all week, and the family figured bringing a sick person into a hospital, isn't a good call.

Simon's eyes didn't leave the Queen's face as she trekked across the room, saying, "good to see you again, Simon." As she went.

Simon nodded stiffly to her comment, "you too, Your Majesty," he replied awkwardly. He saw Wille wince slightly from next to him, who has now gone equally stiff, fingers fiddling with one another nervously in his lap.

Linda's face genuinely lit up at the sight of Wille. "Hey, Wilhelm!" She beamed. "I hope you're feeling better."

Next to him, a small smile grew on Wille's own tired face. "I am feeling slightly better, thanks, Linda... Thanks for - for everything - "

"No need to thank me, Wilhelm." Linda smiled again, waving a hand passively for him to stop. "It's the right thing to do." Wilhelm nodded, lips quirked up at the sides.

Simon watched, trying to push down an embarrassingly big grin as Wille and Linda talked easily. Wille's tone of voice and his whole demeanour is noticeably different to when he's speaking to his mother, softer. He act's like he's speaking to a person rather than the Queen.

Simon had been scared about what he'd see when he saw Wilhelm in the hospital, and his mother had been very comforting. Simon feared Wille would hate him for calling the ambulance despite his begging. Would he yell for Simon to leave, screaming that he's ruined everything? Simon doesn't know what the care here is like - would Wille be hooked up to three million machines, unable to move? But what he'd seen just now, the smiling, the laughing, the teasing - it was frankly amazing. He hasn't seen Wille smile this much, ever. So whatever he's been through so far has to be helping.

"Wilhelm." Queen Kristina stepped out of the shadows, her face clean of emotions, and Wille's smile vanished like someone had plucked it right off his face. "They got the results for your assessment back a few hours ago, but we thought it would be best to give you a break, to let you sleep."

Keira suddenly appeared in the doorway (she had taken Simon and Linda to Wilhelm's room and explained her role in his healing process along the way, and Simon had decided in those 7 minutes that he likes this woman), hearing the last few words the Queen had spoken.

Simon felt his stomach flip nervously - he can't imagine how Wille's feeling. He glanced at the other boy, his eyes are flickering all over the place, his fingers picking at skin around his nail, his entire body looks painfully stiff as if he is braced for a punch. Simon thinks if you were to push him he simply wouldn't move.

Wille's fretting eyes momentarily met Simon's, and he tried to pour all his sympathy and "I'm right here"'s into the millisecond of eye contact between them.

Everyone else in the room waited patiently until Wilhelm said, "alright", his throat sounding thick with emotions. 

Simon really wants to grab his hand and stop his anxious twitching, but he doesn't feel like that is the right move, especially in front of the whole ass Queen who already looks like she's smelt something slightly stinky whenever Simon's in front of her.

Keira smiled calmly, taking a few steps to be standing in front of Wille, throwing Simon another gentle smile that he hastily returned. Simon glanced at his mother to the side, whose arms are crossed as she chews on her bottom lip, watching the scene. When she saw Simon looking at her she stopped, giving him a brave smile from where she is stood a few metres away.

"Just to make it easier, we can ask everyone else to leave the room while I tell you, Wilhelm," Keira said gently to Wille, eyes gazing softly at his, despite him staring at Simon's shoes again.

"Okay." He whispered.

Keira glanced at Simon, Linda, and Kristina, nodding for them to leave. Simon stood up, and Wille's eyes snapped to his like he wasn't expecting Simon to be a part of that group. He opened his mouth to speak but Simon put his hand on his shoulders, squeezing at the tight muscles there lightly.

"It'll be okay, Wille." He said, ignoring the multiple pairs of eyes boring into the back of his head as he spoke.

Wille closed his mouth after a moment, swallowing heavily and simply nodding, eyes breaking away from Simon's and he felt the unfamiliar need for Wille to be looking at him again.

Simon moved away, following the Queen and his mother out the door silently. The door closed with a gentle click, shutting off the quiet talking beginning to rise from inside.

Simon's got a fair guess on what's going to happen that he made by using common sense and his learnings from TV shows and movies: Wille will stay at the hospital for a bit, go to therapy and likely not be allowed a phone, or visitors. But he's not a doctor or psychiatrist, he's just a stressed teenager, so who's he to guess anything?

Linda lent on the wall a few meters down from Wilhelm's room, and Simon moved to stand next to her. He sighed heavily, staring at his shoes and the shiny, cold floor beneath them.

It's crazy, where he is right now. He'd never imagine in a million years that he'd wind up in a virtually empty hospital ward, waiting to find out what will happen to the Crown Prince of Sweden and actually caring, being actually worried about how it'll make said Crown Prince feel. He never thought the Queen would have spoken to him, looked at him, or even thought his name. But here he is, having basically told her off for her shitty parenting.

Simon took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing thoughts when the Queen positioned herself in front of Simon and his mother, her pale blue heels appearing in front of his crappy old Converse, which he's 99.99% sure are more comfortable than what she's wearing.

When Simon's mum had gotten off the phone and told him "we're going to see Wilhelm", Simon wasn't really thinking about what he was wearing, not really processing what he was doing as he threw on some ripped jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel and his puffer jacket before racing out the door, forgetting his phone in his haste to see Wille again. Now he regrets not even trying to tame his hair or chuck a mint in his mouth.

"I feel it is my duty, as Wilhelm's mother, to tell his friend and his mother what's going to happen." The Queen said slowly, looking between the two uncertaintly.

Simon thinks it might be the right thing to say "oh nooo you don't have to tell us", but he's curious so fuck it. And Linda didn't say anything, simply nodding.

"I'd also like to thank you, as well, Linda, for all the help you've given my son in the past day. Thank you for the accommodation, the food, the medical supplies and your time. We'll financially reimburse you shortly, of course."

Linda stood straighter, plastering on a fake, play-nice smile and replying, "Your Majesty, I am always more than happy to help anyone, anytime." She paused, before adding, "and Wilhelm - I don't believe - actually ate anything while he was there. He drank water but we didn't get a chance to give him breakfast..." She trailed off, glancing at Simon, who shrugged. He hadn't thought to offer food, which he now regrets - food is fuel, and Wille needs fuel.

Kristina glanced over her shoulder at a doctor. Simon followed her gaze and found a guy, bearing a man bun and what looks like a permanent smile, texting on his phone while leaning on the wall. Waiting for something?  

"Ah, I see." The Queen replied when she turned back to the conversation.

"And there is no need to reimburse us, Your Majesty. It was my choice, and my pleasure helping. I don't care about what I spent in favour of saving his life." Linda continued politely, nodding as she spoke.

Queen Kristina was quiet, looking between Simon and Linda. Simon can guess what she's thinking. 

She sighed. "You two are very similar. But very well, if that's what you want. And I'll tell you what I told Simon, if you are ever in need of anything, anytime, I'll give you Minou's number because I'll likely be busy, and she can sort you out."

Linda smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

As the two women exchanged Minou's phone number Simon was vibrating on the spot, becoming more and more impatient as time went on. What's going to happen to Wille? 

Finally, when they had finished, the Queen continued.

"Right. So Wilhelm - " 

Wille's room door opened and he came stumbling out, eyes wild, hair sticking up - undoubtedly from him running his fingers through it- hands shaking as he holds them in front of him like he is expecting to fall. 

Simon instantly stood straighter, "Wille - ?" He started at the same time Malin (who is standing next to the door) said "Crown Prince?" And Kristina said "Wilhelm, what's wrong?"

Wille looked up, eyes wide and watery, his chest heaving as he looked around at all the gaping people in the corridor right before he doubled over, and violently threw up all over the floor.

Chaos ensued as Wille puked, all his muscles locking as his stomach retched up most likely just water and painkillers. Simon really regrets not offering Wille some food.

Simon really doesn't know what to do. 

Keira appeared behind him again, looking slightly shaken as she put a hand on Wille's back, calling calmly over his head for 'Jackie' (now Simon can put a name to his smiley face) to go get Sophie, and for Martin to get a towel and some water.

Simon took a step towards Wille but his mother put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. He glanced back at her, unsure. "Give them space, Simon." She said gently, trying for another weak smile.

Simon looked back to Wille, who's now just doubled over, leaning on his knee's as he gags, breathing heavily, eyes wet and cheeks flushed. Simon's heart is slamming - what caused this? Well, his crippling anxiety, obviously... Keira was telling him what would happen - is it that bad? 

Simon's never had a strong stomach, but he's already thrown up today and definitely doesn't feel like it again, so he looked away, turning to face his Mum and her warm eyes instead.

"Do you want to go home?" Linda asked him quietly despite them having only been here for what felt like 10 minutes. She put a hand on his cheek while people talk gently and walk quickly in the background.

"No." Simon choked out instantly, shaking his head and discovering that his voice isn't quite working anymore. He cleared his throat aggressively, shaking himself and saying, "I want to be here for him."

Linda smiled sadly, stroking his cheek softly with the pad of her thumb. "Mi amor, I'm not sure you can help him right now. It's not to say you never can, he will need you I'm sure. But right now..." She took a deep breath, eyes flicking over his shoulder. "You're 16, Simon. 16. Not a 30-year-old professional who's studied for years for this situation, and that's okay - I'm not saying you can't help." She talked over Simon as he opened his mouth to argue he can help, he doesn't know how but he can. "I'm not degrading you. I believe that you care enough to figure out a way. Your presence is enough to make him smile. But..." She sighed, stroking his hair off his forehead carefully. "It's a fragile situation, sweetheart. It's complicated."

Simon pulled away slightly to glance back at Wille, who is now sitting on the floor, face buried in a towel that he's got pressed against his face, chest heaving. Kristina is crouched next to him, eyes worried as she speaks quietly with her hand hovering over his back. Wille just keeps shaking his head.

"I want to take his pain." Simon found himself admitting in a whisper. And he means it. If he could he would, 100%, three million times over. Even if it was just a snippet of the pain, that way they could deal with it together. Balance the feelings.

Linda smiled sadly, stroking his cheek again. "I believe you, mi amor. I really do. You're an  extremely caring person Simon."

Simon looked back at Wille again. He watched as he was encouraged to his feet, barely moving the towel off his face as he was led back into his room with only Martin, Keira and another nurse who Simon guessed was Sophie. The Queen stands there, smoothing out her skirt and very pointedly not looking at the pool of her sons throw-up next to her.

Linda rubbed his arms before letting him go. Simon looked back at the Queen, who is now talking to Malin. His eyes jumped to another moving figure - Jackie, walking down the hall towards them with a cleaner at his side. 

Before Simon really knew what he was doing he had walked across the hall, past Kristina and the puke and was in front of Jackie, who had already spotted him and had slowed to a stop. The cleaner just walked right on past.

"Hello, can I help you...?" Jackie started with a small smile.

"Simon. Hi - yes, I'm Simon." Simon rushed out, glancing at the cleaner who had walked past, seeming unbothered by the puke or Simon, who feels out of place in this corridor of rich people and doctors.

Jackie froze, before grinning and offering Simon a hand. "Simon, of course. Not to be creepy, but I know who you are."

Simon narrowed his eyes but shook his hand, the cold metal of his various rings pressing into his clammy skin. "Right..."

"I'm Jackie."

"I also know that." Simon retorted.

Jackie smiled again. "Well then Simon, what's up?'

Simon glanced behind him again. A lot is up, he couldn't possibly list it all.

"Sorry, yeah, that's poor wording." Jackie cleared his throat and schooled his features, not that Simon didn't mind the casualness. "What can I help you with?"

"What's going to happen to Wille - I mean Wilhelm." Simon blurted before he could lose his nerve and chicken out.

Jackie went quiet, pursing his lips.

"Queen Kristina was going to tell us, but, then - " Simon gestured helplessly over his shoulder. "We were distracted."

Jackie nodded solemnly, wringing his hands out as he thought. "I trust you, Simon, so I'm going to tell you. I am also assuming you have signed an NDA of sorts about not leaking information, so I trust you even more."

How do you know me? The question sat on the tip of Simon's tongue, but he doesn't want to derail the conversation, so he bit his tongue and simply nodded. He had signed an NDA, and so had his mother and Sara.

"Would you like to sit down first?" Jackie asked, gesturing to two seats behind him.

"Just tell me. All this suspense is killing me." He spoke so fast he wasn't entirely sure Jackie heard him. He's tempted to rip his hair out at his point, it's like the universe doesn't want him to know. Is it that bad? Wille threw up, his mind helpfully reminded him. It'll be fine. I'll be fine.

Jackie shrugged. "Alright, I'll lay it on you as gently as I can, Simon. Wilhelm will be put into inpatient hospitalization. Which basically means he stays at the hospital. Which I'm guessing you already figured out." Simon nodded, stomach dropping as his thoughts were confirmed, one by one. "He won't be allowed any tech for a while - especially considering that it can trigger him. Also, visitors that cause him any stress - " Jackie lent towards him, shielding his mouth from the Queen as he hissed with a coffee tainted breathe " - like his mother. Won't be allowed to visit. Which we're yet to tell her." Simon's brows raised, and he pointed to himself helplessly. "Nah you're all goods - I mean, you made him laugh, according to Martin. So unless you're secretly holding him at gunpoint, then you can visit at visiting hours."

Simon choked on his laugh, hands shaking at his sides. "How - how long? How long is he here for?"

"A week. Maybe longer. Depends on how Wilhelm improves, or declines." Jackie explained gently, eyes soft and understanding, Simon can tell he has experience handing out stressful news. "We're going to run a few tests, make sure everything's okay, and that he didn't damage his brain or accidentally alter his personality. He'll go to therapy, and expressive therapy. As well as psychiatry, and a few other methods of healing."

"And - and - and what about the press? People at school? What am I meant - ?" Simon trailed off, breath getting caught in his throat. "What do I fucking do? They're all - they're all gonna ask questions and I - I - what do I say - ?"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's alright Simon." Jackie put a hand on Simon's shoulder, shaking him slightly. "You won't be going back to school for a while, so don't even worry about it. And, legally, you can't say anything, so just tell them it's none of their business. Or lie. Once they know the truth they'll have to understand."

Simon struggled to breathe, desperately trying to inflate his lungs but it just isn't working. It hit him then, that this is a panic attack. 

"Simon. Simon. Look at me, okay? Can you do that, please?" Jackie asked, putting both hands on Simon's shoulders and standing directly in front of him.

Simon's eyes flickered around his face without really seeing anything. "They'll - they'll pressure me - August - he -"

"Simon, don't even think about that. Look at me and breathe along with me, okay? Ready, we're going to breathe in. Okay... breathe in ... and now breathe out... good. And breathe in... and out..." Simon's breathing steadied as he stared helplessly at Jackie, tears pooling in his eyes as he steadily calmed down.

He finally got in that deep breath of air. It's glorious, cold against his heated insides. It's like taking his first-ever breath, so healing and calming and makes him feel alive. Simon then became painfully aware of the multiple pairs of eyes now on him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Linda and Kristina standing together, watching him with varying concern. The bodyguards all looked away when he looked at them, the cleaner didn't even look up, simply sopping up Wille's throw-up.

Oh God Wille.

"Can I see Wille?" Simon asked, turning back to Jackie who barked out a laugh.

"Jesus, you two man..." He said with a grin, stepping back from Simon again and thankfully not mentioning his previous panic.

Simon frowned, folding his arms to hide his still-shaking hands. "What? Has Wille told you about me?"

Jackie mimicked his position, throwing his hair back dramatically. "Maybe. It's confidential."

Simon narrowed his eyes. "What'd he say?" He couldn't help but ask. Does he secretly hate me? "Can I see him, again?"

An amused smirk flourished on Jackie's face again. "I'll go check for you, aye?" Simon didn't miss the way he swerved Simon's other question, as he turned back to Wille's room and walked over.

Simon stared at where he'd been for a moment. Wille told Jackie about him, and Jackie seems amused. He'd said "Jesus, you two man..." ... like they both talk about each other, maybe a bit too much. Simon felt heat rise into his cheeks. Does he talk about Wille too much? It's kind of hard not to talk about him right now, he's the whole reason he's even here.

What has Wille said about him to Jackie? Don't overthink it...

Simon glanced back at his mother and Linda again, who are talking quietly, no longer looking at him. Linda is nodding along to something the Queen is saying with a sombre expression, wringing her hands nervously as she listens. The Queen's expression is tight and pained like she's trying to not show how she really feels, again. Simon doesn't like her, but that doesn't stop him from feeling horrible for her. He can't even imagine how she feels right now. She's lost one son and has nearly lost another.

He sighed, not wanting to intrude on their conversation. Simon looked back to Wille's closed door and just stared at it for a few minutes, only for it to not open. Every now and then he'd hear a slightly raised voice which is unmistakably Wille, and its worrying. What's wrong now? Is it Simon trying to see him?

Simon was just beginning to tumble into his thoughts when the door opened again and Jackie stepped out once more, eyes instantly finding Simon where he'd stopped pacing the corridor to stare at Jackie.

"What'd he say?" Simon said, meeting Jackie halfway across the corridor after he'd shut the door again.

Jackie glanced at Queen Kristina, whose eyes darted back to Linda who was speaking to her when Jackie met her eyes. (Simon angrily thought at least listen to my Mother when she's talking to you, since she's so attentive when you speak.)

"You can see him," Jackie said casually like a massive weight hadn't just been taken off Simon's lungs. He let out a breath, physically relaxing. "Now I'm going to tell our lovely Queen over there she isn't allowed to see her son for the next week, while you go visit your friend."

Simon raised his brows in sympathy, pursing his lips. "Yeah you have fun with that, I'm gonna go visit my friend." Simon hesitated until Jackie nodded in approval once more, and then he was gone, darting around the older man to stand in front of Wille's door. He knocked lightly before opening it.

Wille is standing at the window, looking out at the streets below, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Keira is talking to Martin and Sophie quietly, but threw a smile Simon's way when he steps into the room.

Simon closed the door a little harder than necessary to alert Wille of his presence, but he didn't move from his spot by the window, not even wincing at the unnaturally loud door.

As he approached, Simon saw that Wille is staring into the air in front of him, eyes unfocused and glazed over, unblinking.

"Wille," Simon said quietly, moving to stand at his side, his arm brushing Wille's elbow.

Wille hummed in response so quietly that Simon thought he might've imagined it.

Simon nearly asked "are you okay", but stopped himself. He already knows that answer. It's very obvious - the answer is right in front of him at this very moment.

Simon gulped back a big ball of emotion. It hurts him to know that Wille's sad and he can't do anything about it.

He wanted to be with Wille again, but now he's here he doesn't know what to say. He wants them to go back to how it was 10 minutes ago, Simon cornering Wille to poke him in the ribs as they both laughed and Wille tried to stay serious and defend himself.

"Everything is a mess." Wilhelm finally whispered, voice breaking off on the last word, punching a hole through the happy image Simon had been building in his mind.

Simon turned his head to glance at Wille, finding his eyes now focused, flickering over the cars below them. Simon agrees, it is a very messy situation. There are things he still doesn't understand and things he's unsure of. He feels like he has about a million questions but he can't think of any to ask. He has a mixture of feelings: wanting to run away and disassociate with the monarchy, go back to school and claim he was sick, and then there's another part of him that's glued on the spot next to Wille, unmoving and permanent.

"It's a mess and - and it's all my fault," Wille whispered harshly, brows gathering and lips pressing together firmly, nostrils flaring as he tries not to cry.

"Wille..." Was all Simon could say. "Don't think about it like that - "

"But it is my fault." Wilhelm interrupted, wrapping his arms tighter around his torso, fingers digging into the thin meat around his ribs. "I ran away from Hillerska with the full intent of not coming back. I ran from your room to let my emotions out in the bathroom, and I made myself bleed. I made you cry. How can you say 'don't think about it like that' when that's exactly how it is?" It was a rhetorical question, he didn't even look at Simon as he spoke.

Simon opened and closed his mouth helplessly, heart beginning to slam in his chest. He glanced back at Keira, Martin and Sophie, all of them are watching Simon with curious expressions.

Simon turned back to Wille, gulping loudly. "Wille, no one blames you... Yes, you did do those things, but if people hadn't pressured you, you wouldn't have."

"You don't know that," Wille replied, still whispering, tears brimming despite his desperate blinking. "I... what if I'm just fucked in the head? What if I would have done it anyway, without the bullying, the pressure, Erik dying? What if it's in my head?" Wille hissed, one of his hands unwound from his body to run through his hair, tugging roughly at the roots.

"Hey, hey, hey." Simon moved to stand in front of him, his own hands reaching up to clasp Wille's. Wille let his fingers gently untangle from his hair and rest in Simon's. Wille's damp eyes flicked between Simon's, his hand still shaking in Simon's own two hands, clasping his shaking limbs from both sides. 

"That's okay too," Simon continued quietly, having to look up at Wille. "If it is in your head, then we'll figure out why, and we can learn to live with it. You can get some medication to help ease it out. That's why you're here, remember? To get better. To do tests and figure things out."

To his left he can see the professionals watching him, making no move to add space between the two boys. The lack of space which Simon is trying to ignore, the fluttering inside him which he's pushing down, focussing on helping Wille self-hating moment.

Wille gulped, eyes moving down to their hands, which are still delicately held between them. Wille's hands are surprisingly soft, bigger than Simon's. Wille moved his other arm from around himself, eyes not moving from their clasped hands as he put his other hand around Simon's.

Everything's virtually silent. Wille's breathing has evened out more, but Simon's heart is racing, watching their tangled fingers gently holding each other. Simon stroked his thumb over Wille's hand carefully, feeling his stomach twirl at the simple action.

"Simon, I - I -" Wille began to whisper so quietly Simon had to lean fords to hear him better. His eyes met Simon's for a split second before he looked back to the floor, choking on his words. 

Simon waited quietly, giving his hands a little squeeze of encouragement, trying to calm his slamming heart. He can't decide what's caused his heart to race, is it the closeness they're sharing, their still clasped hands, the overall stress of the situation? 

Wille swallowed thickly, taking in a shaky breath. "I ... I took..." He trailed off, eyes boring into Simon's as tears welled up. Simon didn't dare to look away from his intense gaze, it's like he's trying to telepathically communicate with Simon, for him to understand without him needing to talk.

"You took what?" Simon whispered back.

Wille's mouth suddenly slammed shut and he closed his eyes tightly.

"I can't - " Wille suddenly pulled his hands out from Simon's, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair, breathing heavily again.

Simon wants to cry. It's like 1 step fords and 5 steps back. He's about to admit something and then everything crumbles. It's not Wille's fault. He tried to remind himself. He's been through a lot, I'm sure it's not that important, or people would already know... right?

Keira dashed over, wrapping an arm around Wille's shoulder as he stared at the floor, eyes closed, fists clenching his hair as he mumbles something that Simon can't make out from the new found distance.

Simon looked away, blinking rapidly and wiping at his nose. "I'm sorry." He whispered, turning around and beelining for the door. 

Martin and Sophie walked past Simon towards the other two, but Simon doesn't stick around long enough to find out what's going on. 

He closes the door behind him and instantly began to cry in the corridor, crouching on the floor and sobbing in his hands, suddenly unable to control his feelings.

Only moments later a warm hand falls on his back, and someone knelt down in front of him. Simon looked up and expected to see his mother, but instead, his eyes meet a vaguely unfamiliar face. It's one of the bodyguards, Malin.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her hand moves off his back as Linda appears, crouching down on Simon's other side.

"What happened mi amor?" Linda asked, looking distressed, brows creased.

Simon choked on his words, shaking his head and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I don't know, Mama. I don't know fucking anything." He heard Malin move away and he felt his mother wrap her arms around him in front of the door on the hospital floor, rubbing his back and whispering soothingly to him.

He doesn't know what to do anymore. He thought seeing Wille would help him, but so far he just feels like he's made things worse.

Simon's done, he's so done with crying, feeling helpless, useless. It hasn't even been a day. It hurts so bad because he knows that even if he tried, he couldn't leave. Simon wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left Wille. And he'd probably never recover if he left, and then something happened that he could have helped prevent. Simon can see that he makes Wille smile, but he can also see Wille stresses about making him sad. Simon has only been this sad one other time in his life, and then again, that sadness was more fear of being hurt, than fear of another hurting.

"He took something, Mama." Simon interrupted his mother's comforting rambles, pulling back to look her in the eyes, grabbing onto her hands to both steady himself and express his distress.

"What?" Linda replied, eyes widening slightly. She leant fords and whispered, " 'take' as in steal, or take as in... drugs?"

Simon shook his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times, gasping for breath and simultaneously struggling to find words. "I - I don't know, but he - he couldn't tell me without crying."

Guilt consumed him from the inside out, cold and sticky, gripping his insides and squeezing the air from his lungs. Wille was trying to tell him something, just him, and now he's gone and told Linda.

Linda's jaw steeled together, and she nodded calmly, suddenly suppressing all the stress and being strong for her youngest child.

"Alright. I'll tell someone." She cupped his face as he hiccupped on his sobs, cheeks damp from tears, lips quivering. "Thank you for telling me, mi amor. We're going to keep him safe."

Simon only nodded numbly, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks and trying to act like Wille can't hear him sobbing through the door. He wishes he could stop crying - fuck, he wishes for a lot of things right now. He wishes Wille was happier, he wishes they'd met differently, he wishes his family had a little bit more money, he wishes August went easier on him, he wishes his dad was never an addict, he wishes he knew what to do in tough situations, he wishes for a newer phone and for slightly longer showers after school. When he was 5, he'd wish for 10 million dollars and a dog for Christmas. When he was 10 he'd wish for a Nerf gun and to have a different dad. Now, at 16, he can't decide what to prioritize anymore.

Simon wasn't really paying attention to his mum talking to someone - he's numb to anything in the world but his own sobs, which are echoing loudly in his head. Every gasp made his chest ache, every sob scraped his throat, every sniff a little harder than the previous one, and every time he wiped his cheeks they got a little more red.

Chapter Text

Simon

Simon stared out the window with tears lining the inside of his eyes, his forehead resting on the freezing glass, eyes zipping over the passing cars, breath creating condensation on the glass in front of his nose and mouth, but he can't be bothered to wipe it away, even when the foggy glass begins to obscure his vision.

The roads are slick with water despite the fact it hasn’t rained for hours. (Simon guesses that now the sun is also gone, the water isn’t dissipating as quickly.) All around Simon water is being kicked up in misty sprays as car ties fling water onto Simon's window and obscure more of his vision every moment.

The small red car went through a big puddle, and water splashed all up the side of the car, managing to slam into Simon’s window and then dragged back down moments later. He didn’t even wince.

Linda reached over the console, taking one of Simon’s cold hands in hers. “Mi amor, what do you want?”

“Huh?” Simon mumbled, staring at the ground outside the car, which is now illuminated by some bright, artificial light. Simon wiped his cheeks to hide the tears that had continued to fall even once they’d left the hospital.

“From Mcdonalds,” Linda prompted gently, squeezing his cold hand in her warm one.

Simon sat up slowly, looking out at the bright sign which lit up his skin. He had to squint against the sudden brightness. “Oh… I’m not hungry.”

Linda tutted quietly, answering him in gentle Spanish, “come on Simon, just one little thing. It’ll be my treat.”

Simon shrugged, glancing at his mother. He appreciates the gesture, he really does, but he’s not five, and he doesn’t want food in compensation for the sad things happening to him. It’s late, and he’s tired despite his nap earlier. Simon’s had dinner, and he’s not hungry.

“Hmmm…” Linda watched his broken expression carefully, he was barely able to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. “Small fry’s?” Linda suggested to him.

“Sure...” Simon helpfully shrugged once more, turning back to his window to huff out a breath.

Linda hummed, letting go of his hand to put the car into drive and roll up to the drive-thru. Simon missed the comfort of her hand. Ridiculous, she’s right there, and you’re the one being a snobby little shit. Simon sighed heavily, watching cars mingle past on the main road, spraying each other with the dirty asphalt water.

They left the hospital about half an hour ago, and traffic has been a bitch, probably because it’s Friday night. The traffic lights changed to red, and the stream of cars Simon had been watching came to a halt, one by one. Simon found it satisfying to watch as each car took a moment or two more than the one in front to stop, he can’t explain how he finds it therapeutic to watch this one thing go right for once.

Simon jumped when a voice asked what they would like to order from outside Linda's window. He pulled the sleeves of his flannel over his hands and pressed them against his eyes, trying to suppress a groan. He wants to go home, not get crappy fast food. They have food at home. The irony doesn’t escape him. When he was younger, he’d ask for something to eat while they are out, and Linda would tell him “there’s food at home, Simon”, and he’d sulk because he doesn’t want a pottle of yogurt, or a jam sandwich, he wants a Mcdonald's burger, or a greasy pizza.

Linda ordered and then they drove onwards.

“Did you get something for Sara?” Simon mumbled, he wasn’t listening when she’d been ordering. He pulled the hood of his puffer over his curls, hating the way the smell of hospital taints the fabric.

“Mmhmm.” Linda replied, turning a corner slowly. “Chicken nuggets for Sara, a fish o’ filet for me, and small fry’s for you. We have Coke in the fridge at home from Ayub's birthday lunch.”

Simon didn’t verbally reply, instead nodding, before continuing to watch traffic. But now they’ve turned a corner all he can see is a hedge which was added for decoration. He turned to the radio, pressing the on button. Linda tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as they listened to a moment of static, before the quiet music of a radio station buzzed on, filling the car with a quiet piano.

With a sigh Simon changed the station. The next station was playing music from the 2000’s, quietly belting out a song that Simon had grown up listening to at school disco’s. He changed the station again. Linda chuckled quietly at his pickyness.

The next station is playing trending songs right now, but it happens to be a trending song Simon despises, it’s been overplayed and it makes him mildly homicidal. So he changed the station again. And again, and again, and again. At some point he stopped listening to the music, simply pressing the same button over and over, listening to the clicking instead of the music, blinking every few seconds, looking like he’s been put into some kind of musical trance. He was refreshed after his nap on Sara's bed, but apparently it doesn't take much for him to get completely drained of all that energy he'd had, and his brain has just ticked out.

Linda watched him with concern replacing the mild amusement, fiddling with her hands in her lap as they edged fords in the car. “Mi amor…” She said questioningly, but Simon wasn’t listening, steadily pressing the button with his index finger even as it began to grow sore.

“Simon, stop.” Linda spoke clearly, slightly louder than necessary, causing Simon to blink and stop suddenly. An ad played through the speakers, and this time, Linda turned off the radio entirely, and took a deep breath, watching her son.

“Simon, please tell me how to help. Do you want anything?” She asked gently, moving the car fords a little more as the white car in front moved, glancing at him every second.

Simon willed the drive-thru to speed up, he doesn’t want help, he wants… He doesn’t know. He needs to be alone so he can organize his thoughts, clear the cobwebs from his brain. He thought he knew what he wanted, but he was wrong.

“Mmm-mmm.” Was Simon’s reply.

Linda pursed her lips, turning to look out the window at the Mcdonald's brick wall for a few moments.

“I think you should go to the school counsellor.” Simon’s not even surprised, mostly because he’s also been thinking about that, but he doesn’t want to go, it’s not that bad.

“He’s a psychiatrist,” Simon grumbled instead of voicing his actual thoughts to her.

Linda tutted him again. “It doesn’t matter. He can still help you, no?”

“No. I don’t want help.” Simon mumbled, his voice slurred by the hand he’s leaning on with his elbow propped on the window.

“Simon, don’t start with that. Look at yourself honey, hood up, crying, not wanting Mcdonald's. You’re never like this.” She urged, watching him. “Getting help is never easy, you know you need it. There’s no shame in accepting an assisting hand.”

“I’m not crying, Mama.”

“You were a minute ago.”

Simon sniffed instinctively. “Whatever.” He muttered saltily.

“Simon - “

“I’ll look into the psychiatrist later, okay? Jesus…” Simon snapped. He instantly feels guilt clawing at his insides. His mother didn't deserve that, she’s just trying to help.

Simon sighed, rubbing his face a little harder than he needed to. Linda said nothing, sensing more words incoming. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m… I’m stressed. Yes, I can recognise I probably need to talk to someone, and it’s hypocritical of me to say all that stuff to Wille about getting help and then denying that I need it… But… I - I guess it’s easier said than done.” He finished quietly, staring at the brake lights of the car in front of him as his eyes burned, again. He told himself it was the bright lights instead of his emotions, because he's cried enough to last him a life time.

Linda hummed, nodding. “I agree.”

“And - and I don’t want people at school to find out.” He didn’t elaborate on why, and Linda didn’t ask. “I mean - what if I just need sleep, and a few days to recover?” What if the images of Wille hanging from a rope just fade with sleep? Really? His thoughts mocked him.“Then I’ll be good…”

Linda bit her lip, but she didn’t say anything, Simon knows what the answer to his wishful thinking.

Simon angrily groaned, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to keep the inside of his eyelids blank. “Doesn’t it cost money?” He whispered, eyes opening to stare at the roof instead.

Linda shrugged. “We can afford for you to get counselling, mi amor. And if we can’t, we could always ask - “

“No.”

“... Okay.”

They fell into a tense silence as the car in front rolled up the window, reaching out to take their food, before speeding off.

Neither spoke as they moved up the window, stopping with a jerkly jolt. Linda wound down her window, smiling as she took the food, handing them her card, and then drove onwards once it had been returned.

As they drove towards the exit slowly, Linda passed him both his and Sara’s food, winding up the window as they merged into the main road, cutting off the flow of chilly air that had been ruining Simon’s nicely warm, air-conditioned air.

“I’m sorry Mama. I keep snapping at you.” Simon whispered, staring at one of his floppy chips guiltily.

“It’s okay darling, I understand you’re very tired, emotionally drained... It’s okay.” She promised him, glancing at him with one of her warm smiles which he doesn't deserve.

Simon sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today, chucking a chip into his mouth and chewing it up slowly, once again gazing out the window.

The two Erikssons fell into a comfortable silence, the car filled with the sound of gentle chewing and the traffic in front of them, which is a lot more than Simon appreciates. Brakes are screeching, horns echoing, tires scraping.

They arrived back in their neighbourhood nearly half an hour later.

Earlier, Kristina - along with the hospital staff - had decided to take Wilhelm to a fairly local hospital, and without the traffic, it would probably only be a half-hour ish drive from Simon’s house. But traffic, plus their unhealthy detour made it an entire hour of painful driving, with Simon willing all his thoughts to just shut off for three minutes so he could have some peace.

Simon thought he knew what he was doing, for a bit. He thought that being with Wille would help settle this - this … this uncomfortable, longing feeling inside him, which had appeared. And for a few minutes, it had. They had giggled like school girls, teased each other, it had been easy to smile at that time, it wasn’t forced or meant to comfort someone else. It was on his face because he was happy. But then the Queen showed up, and their little moment had shattered into too many pieces to rebuild when Simon had re-entered after Wille had thrown up. When he came in he seemed to take those pieces and put them in a fucking blender until they were dust.

Okay… maybe that’s a bit dramatic. But that's what it felt like.

Simon took a shaky breath, focusing on his hands folding onto empty chip packet to ground him.

They passed Ayub’s road, and Linda glanced at Simon again. “Do you want to see your friends?” She asked gently, stopping to let a car go around the roundabout in front of them.

Simon shook his head. “I’ll text them later, or tomorrow,” Simon replied quietly. Linda only nodded, driving onwards. The lack of contact with his surely worried friend is yet another thing making him feel guilty.

Finally - finally - they arrived at Simon’s house, Sara’s food has long since gone cold in his lap, and the entire car smells of take-out.

Simon got out of the car and his cheeks instantly tingled from the cold nightair. The sun has basically set, only a few pinky remnants dotting the skyline around them. The sky is perfectly clear, a few stars can now be seen twinkling down at them, like glitter thrown into the sky by a careless hand.

I wonder if Wille's watching the stars right now as well. I wonder if we're looking at the same one despite being miles apart. Simon gazed up a the sky a moment longer, neck aching again, still slightly swollen from being kicked. I wonder what Wille's doing, is he sleeping, is he crying, is he talking to his mum for the last time this week, since she can't see him? Is he thinking of me, does he ...? hate me

Linda locked the car and then let them into the house. It’s warmer inside than it is out, but it doesn’t feel right. There’s a lingering sense of unsettled tension, and it’s not from Simon and Linda. Simon hates it, he knows why its there. The hallway seems darker than normal, he can see the edges of the bathroom door and he can practically feel the icy air radiating out from the room. It’s like there are the ghosts of two little boys who lost so much of themselves in the last two days walking around, bringing the cold and doom with them. Simon hasn’t even aged a day and he feels so changed, and so much older. He has a new friend, but he can barely sleep without jumping awake, he can’t go back into his own house without staring at the spot on the floor where he’d held Wille’s unconscious form, not knowing if he’d ever open his eyes again for the second time that day.

Simon toed off his shoes with a shiver while Linda called out to Sara that they are home, to which she replied from the lounge “okay”.

“Do you want to watch TV, Simon?” Linda asked as Simon handed her Sara’s cold chicken nuggets, taking off his puffer next, raising goosebumps on his arms.

“No thanks. I’ll have an early night.” Not that I'll be sleeping. I'll just lie in bed and try to organize my thoughts until I pass out with exhaustion. 

“Okay mi amor, let me know if you need anything.” She said, smiling at him, which he didn’t see, humming in response as he darted away to his bedroom.

Simon kept his head down as he walked down the hallway, prolonging his blink until he was in his doorway, still looking at his mismatched socks on top of the cream carpet. His hand found the light switch easily, and he flicked it on, finally looking up. His heart is thumping a surely unnecessary amount as he stares around at his room, which he shouldn’t be scared of.

His eyes fell on a dark spot on the ground from where his mum had cleaned away Wille’s blood. The bed sheets are still rumpled from where the two had frantically stood up. Simon can hear his own words echoing in his head as he gazes, unseeing, around his room, “what did you do?” “You’re NOT okay!” “How am I meant to trust you?” “It’s okay. We’ll fix it.” He remembers Wille's broken whisper of his name, the chill that had struck through Simon's body as he croaked out "Simon" before going slack. 

Hot, uncomfortable tears pooled in his eyes, blurring the room out of focus. Simon pressed his lips together and tried to push away the ever-building sadness. Everything is reminding him of Wilhelm, it’s like he’s died and his very ghost is haunting the room. Even just the thought of Wille dying made his stomach anxiously swoop.

Fuck, I’m so screwed.

Simon turned and marched out of his room, not even grabbing his phone to text Ayub and Rosh with an update, thinking fuck this, I’m not dealing with this bullshit right now, I’m so, so, so, so done with crying I might just rip my eyes out to stop it.

His legs carried him down the dark hall and through the kitchen, right into the lounge. Sara is sitting on the couch, eating her chicken nuggets off a plate, Simon guesses Linda heated them up for her. Linda is sitting next to her with a blanket draped over her lap, one knee tucked up under her chin, tapping the remote against the palm of her other hand.

Both their eyes shoot to Simon when he entered the room, hovering in the doorway with tears running down his cheeks, a - fucking -gain.

Linda instantly dropped her knee, looking at him with worry as she sits up straight. Simon hated how the relaxation of her face disappeared so fast just by looking at him.

“Simon, what's wrong?” She asked in Spanish.

“So much, Mama. So much is wrong. I - I go into my fucking room, and all I can think about is him.” Simon sobbed helplessly, he at too much of a loss for words to sensor himself anymore. "Wille hasn't been here for hours, you've cleaned away his blood and everything - but it feels like he's still here. And - and to a degree, I wish he was, so I could hug him, just so I can know he's safe. There's so fucking much I don't know - and I hate it. I hate not knowing. His - his clothes are in our dryer right now, my clothes are at the hospital. I ... " He doesn't even know why he said that, but it just feels so extremely contrasting, and he just blurted it out. "Wille's out there, all alone and yet surrounded by people, he wants to kill himself, he's taken something, he claims he wants to get better but forces himself to meet my eye as he says it. I want to believe him so I'm making myself think that but how does he go from suicidal to - to not in the same day? 

"I don't know what to fucking believe anymore. I trust the staff but I want to be there myself." Simon rambled on and on, hands shaking at his sides, gasping for breath every three seconds. Neither Linda nor Sara moved toward him, just letting him rant and splurge all his feeling and thoughts into the space between them with no filter. "I care about him and I'm scared it'll get me even more hurt. I know the hospital will only help but I feel like I - I know it's stupid, but I feel like I know more about him than they do. Which is dumb, because they have his medical files and shit..." On he went, tears still running as he talked for seven minutes straight.

The last time he stood in the lounge doorway crying like this was when he was merely single digits, having had a bad dream and hunting for his parents to comfort him. he'd find his mother in the lounge, just like he has now. Except his dad - who would normally be asleep on the armchair - is replaced by a worried-looking Sara, harmlessly munching on chicken nuggets, and very much conscious and not filled with alcohol and drugs to the point she passes out.

“Oh, mi amor.” Linda cooed, opening her arms as a signal for Simon to have a hug.

Simon walked over, sniffing and wiping his nose with the edge of his flannel, sitting down heavily next to his mother and leaning into her warm side. Linda wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him against her lovingly. Simon rests his head on her shoulder as he sniffled, eyes blurring the TV screen a few meters in front of him.

This is nice. He’s had hugs from his mum of course, but every time it's comforting. It feels right, something for once feels right. It feels right when I hug Wille… more than right. It’s really nice, because I can feel that we’re both safe with our arms around each other. Thinking like that about Wille only comforted him, a soft smile managing to creep onto his face.

To his right, he heard Sara shuffling around, and he felt her head drop onto his shoulder as she slightly draped herself across Simon’s side. He appreciated the gesture, lifting his arm to wrap it around her shoulder, mimicking how Linda is holding him.

And that's how the family stayed, wrapped up in each other, the smell of chicken nuggets and their houses air freshener filtering through the air, all their eyes on the screen, but none of them really focussing on it.

Simon's tears dried and he shifted slightly, wiping his nose and sniffing away boogers.

Sara then whispered, breaking the gentle silence, “you smell like a hospital.”

Simon snorted, causing all of them to jolt from his action. “I know. So does Mama.” She does, underneath her perfume, she smells like cheap soap and cleaning chemicals.

Linda chuckled lightly, shaking her head at his comment.

“Well, what’d you say we all get into our PJs and have a movie night?” Linda suggested as the siblings un-tangled themselves and sat up. Sara went right back to her chicken nuggets.

“Sure,” Sara shrugged nonchalantly, mouth full already.

Simon nodded, suppressing the growing dread of going into his room again, he reckons that hug lasted five minutes - can’t it have gone a little longer? He was safe there, his thoughts didn’t make him want to cry and he didn’t feel like curling up on himself.

“Alright, let's go!” Linda concluded, and they all jumped up from the couch to go get changed.

Simon didn’t allow himself time to think, he jogged into his room already shrugging off his flannel, refusing to let the smile slip from his face as he tugged his pants off to replace them with some comfy pyjama bottoms, swapping his shirt for a softer sleeping one, yanking his phone off where it’s sat, charging, and he darted out his room again.

As he passed through the kitchen he stopped, backtracking to go to the pantry to find some snacks.

Simon discovered they have some nearly expired microwave popcorn, which he chucked in the microwave, as well as the Coke that Linda had mentioned, and a block of half-eaten dark chocolate.

Simon broke the chocolate up and put it in a bowl, pouring out three glasses of Coke as Sara came in, somehow still eating her chicken nuggets. She's now wearing her pyjamas with a horse on the front and a dressing gown.

“Heyo.” She said through a mouthful, grabbing a glass and taking a sip of the flat Coke. “Mmm, non-carbonated fizzy drink.” Sara joked, smirking behind the rim of her glass at Simon.

Simon snorted, swivelling on the spot to take the popcorn out of the microwave as mini explosions sounded from the box. “I know right, I actually prefer it flat though, it makes it easier to drink, y’know… it doesn’t give you fizzy burps, or make your mouth tingle,” Simon replied genuinely.

Sara judgingly raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen benchtop with her hip. “You have some weird food preferences. First, it’s ketchup with spaghetti, then it's your obsession with oranges, and now you prefer flat Coke.”

Simon laughed again, tipping the popcorn into a big bowl and throwing a few pieces into his mouth. “Whatever, it just makes me interesting. You and your basic foods.” He muttered the last part under his breath, gesturing to Sara’s entire being as he spoke. This caused Sara to hit him on the shoulder, making him snicker.

“Shut up Simon.” She laughed, grabbing the bowl of chocolate and her glass, before leaving the room.

Moments later Linda came in, taking her own glass and the bowl of popcorn, thanking Simon. He followed her into the lounge and took his place between the two of them with a sigh. From next to him, Sara threw the edge of a blanket over his lap, and he quickly pulled further onto him, which made Sara yelp from the cold and grab the edge to yank over herself.

“Hmmm.” Linda hummed, grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch next to her while Sara and Simon fought over the blanket. “What are we watching tonight?”

Sara ended up with most of the blanket, shoulder pressed against Simon’s in a comforting way. She grabbed another chicken nugget - somehow still having some survivors- and said “Highschool Musical.”

Simon scrunched his nose, chucking some popcorn into his mouth as he looked through his Instagram instead of replying to his friends. “What? Why?”

“Because its hilarious, and cringey. And it’s hilarious to watch you cringe.” Sara replied with a ‘duh’ tone of voice.

Simon narrowed his eyes at her. “You just like watching me suffer.” He grumbled as Linda found said movie, laughing quietly at their harmless banter.

“Yup.” Sara replied with a grin, popping the ‘p’.

“It’s like a freaking horror movie,” Simon whispered to himself, throwing his phone away and shuffling into the couch more comfortably, taking a sip of his Coke.

Sara snickered at his comment, but not denying it as she took a bit of chocolate from the bowl and ate it, instantly following it with a bite of a chicken nugget.

Simon physically recoiled from her, causing Linda to glance over with a “what?” As the beginning of the movie played on screen.

“You did not just do that, Sara,” Simon said, continuing to lean away from her until he pressed against Linda’s shoulder.

Sara smirked, before covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed.

“What’d she do?” Linda asked again, smiling despite having no context, simply happy to see her kids finally smiling again.

“She just ate a chicken nugget with a piece of chocolate!” Simon cried, turning to face his mother, who only laughed at the discovery. Simon is still smiling, even if he is slightly horrified. How does that even taste good? The chicken nugget is squishy and crunchy, while the chocolate is soft and slightly brittle, it also tastes way more strong and is completely contrasting to the savoury chicken dipped in crispy batter.

“You mock me for my weird food combinations, and then you go eat that violation of chicken nugget and chocolate…” Simon continued.

Sara laughed again, shoving Simon’s shoulder as he moved back into his original place, shaking his head with a big grin. “Whatever. Shut up and watch the movie, Simon.” Sara teased lightly, grinning brightly the whole time.

Eventually, the three of them settled down - Not that Linda needed to 'settle down'0 snuggling under the same blanket, the two bowls of snacks resting on Simon’s lap since he is in the middle.

They laughed and endlessly mocked the cringey movie, adding their own little bits of commentary. Despite them all having watched it before, Simon still enjoyed it. He didn’t think about Wille once, instead he just basked in the warmth he got from listening to his mother and sister laugh, he let a smile rest on his face until his cheeks hurt from the position, and even then it didn’t drop.

When the movie ended, they put on the second one, this time without snacks or as much energy.

Simon found his head slipping to rest on Linda’s shoulder towards the end of the movie. Linda didn’t bother moving him, taking the bowls off his lap so he wouldn’t knock them in his sleep, and let him lay on her shoulder until the credits rolled over a black screen.

“Simon,” Linda whispered, stroking her son's forehead with her fingertips, trying to gently urge him awake.

Simon took a deep breath, sitting up slowly and stretching his arms out in front of him. He feels disoriented, and the dark TV screen only confuses him even more.

“Night Mama, night Simon,” Sara said, kicking Simon’s foot with her own as she walked past, making Simon startle.

“Good night Sara,” Linda replied to her, squeezing her hand as she passed.

“Hmm- night asshole - I mean Sara,” Simon muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Simon.” Linda scolded, shaking her head at him. Sara only snorted as she walked out of the room with her glass and finally empty chicken nugget plate.

Simon flopped down on the other side, where Sara had just been sitting. He’s too tired to move, his head is too heavy and he’s still swimming through a sleepy haze, warm and blissfully unaware of what's happening.

“Simon, do you want to sleep here?” Linda asked him gently, standing up from the couch to stack the bowls, her cup, and Simon’s cup together.

Simon only hummed in response, eyes already closed. Ah… this is nice, was really his only thought. The couch is well-worn and comfortable, smelling of Sara’s perfume and chicken nuggets.

“Alright mi amor, I’ll see you in the morning,” Linda whispered, reaching over to kiss his forehead then she dragged the blanket up to cover his body.

“Night, Mama. Love you,” Simon said sleepily, blinking his eyes open for a moment, catching a glimpse of his Mother walking out of the lounge.

“Good night Simon, I love you too mi amor.” She replied, before disappearing around the corner again.

Simon sighed in content, rolling around to get comfortable, pulling his legs properly onto the couch. Instantly, he fell asleep but was unfairly plagued by horrible dreams.

Simon sat up bolt right, his alarm echoing through his head loudly. He looked around rather frantically, trying to find the source of the obnoxious ringing, before his eyes fell on his phone on the coffee table, vibrating its way towards the edge quickly.

He lunged over, grabbing his phone and staring at the alarm, ‘school’, is what it reads. Fuck, I have school today? that sucks… Simon turned off the alarm, and stretched out his limbs one by one, feeling them crack from lack of use.

Simon went to his room and got changed into his Hillerska suit, not even thinking about the occasion that would encourage such clothing. The house is empty as he makes himself breakfast, but he didn’t think much of it. Sara must have gotten a ride with Linda, obviously.

He ate his breakfast in record time, he put his dishes in the sink and promised himself he’d do them later before he roughly pulled on his shoes and left the house with his backpack he couldn’t remember packing, and he stuffed his headphones in his ears.

The walk to his bus stop was short and fast, no one was around to see him so he hummed to his music as he walked. Simon was only waiting a few minutes before the bus pulled up, again, empty, not even a bus driver.

Simon thought nothing of it, bopping his head along to his music as he got on the bus, and took his place towards the back, quietly happy that he doesn’t have to worry about paying for this bus ride.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch a few moments of sleep that he’s missed. When he opened his eyes again, he is at Hillerska, and the bus has stopped, the doors open, allowing him to get off whenever he pleases.

Simon hopped off the bus and instinctively wandered  towards the Church, shoving his headphones into his bag as he went. Now he's moving faster, flying through the school grounds, he knows he's running late.

Once inside the familiar building, Simon stopped. It's already filled with people. They are all sitting, facing the front of the church where a casket rests on a podium that’s never been there, the podium is where the choir would normally be standing, isn't that why Simon's here?

Simon froze, his bag dropping onto the floor with a loud thunk. What’s going on? His heart clenched at some unknown realisation.

All the eyes in the room turned to him when his bag alerted them of his attention, making him jolt in shock. Stella, Fredrika, Felice, Sara, August, Vincent, Nills, Alexander, Walter, Henry, Miss Lilja, Boris, Mr Englund - every person Simon knows the name of are all staring at him with tears in their eyes, cheeks flushed, sniffling like they personally know the body in the casket. But Wille isn’t here, Simon realizes, a little sad, now he’s arrived at Hillerska he realises he misses the other boy.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, his voice sounds strange, like he’s underwater and listening to himself from several miles away, echoing around the space like it does when he’s singing.

No one replied to him, but Simon knew they’d heard him. Simon went to speak again when August stepped out into the aisle, standing several meters down from Simon.

For a moment the older boy just stared at Simon, as a tear traced a line over his ghostly pale skin. Then August turned sharply and walked down the aisle towards the casket.

Simon found himself following, eyes turning to the ground because every person in the room, apart from August, is following his movements, eyes unblinking and still crying, watching him walk to the casket.

Simon passed Sara, and he glanced at her. “What’s going on?” He asked, his voice fuzzy.

Sara had no reply for him, only sobbing aggressively, not even trying to smudge the tears from her face that were making her mascara run like a black waterfall down her red cheeks.

Simon gulped, looking back to the ground and following August, who’s now standing to the left of the casket.

“Come.” Was all August whispered, staring at Simon as everyone else is. It makes his skin crawl. He is used to being stared at, people judge him every day at school for his non-designer clothes, and he gets stared at on the bus for his expensive, second-hand Hillerska uniform. But it feels different, its like they aren't just judging him, but hating him.

“Why?” Simon replied, crossing his arms uncomfortably, standing a few meters away from the casket. “What does this have to do with me? Why are you always picking on me?” He feels like the rooms stretching around him, he wants to run, but somethings holding him back. His skin is hot and prickly like he’s got a weighted blanket on despite it just being his uniform.

“It’s entirely your fault, Simon. It has everything to do with you,” August spat, voice somehow right in Simon’s ears despite the large space between them. He sounds just like he does at training, everyone's failing and of course, it’s Simon’s fault.

Simon moved to the podium, standing on the opposite side of August. He looked down at the casket.

“It looks like Erik's. I saw it on TV. It’s even shut, like Erik’s is.” Simon whispered nervously, glancing at August to find his eyes piercing, face suddenly clear of his tears as his eyes burned a hole through Simon’s own. “Is it Erik’s?”

August didn’t speak, just staring at Simon as he shifted uncomfortably on the spot, feeling the need to push the air in front of him to get rid of this hot feeling. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. It’s too tight, he’s too hot, too trapped in his own body.

Suddenly, August took a step towards the casket, and ripped the lid off it.

No one gasped, no one even winced. It’s like he hadn’t just ripped this person's casket to splinters. Simon jumped away and covered his head, feeling the small pieces of wood bounce off his uniform like wooden hail.

Simon peeked through his fingers and saw August staring down into the casket, his face free of emotions.

Simon crept fords, heart beating hard, fingers twitching nervously, skin tingling. Then he saw the face. Deadly pale skin, wide, glassy hazel eyes, and soft golden hair placed accordingly. His neck - a ruined sight, bloody, bruised, revealing the flesh of his throat that should never see daylight. His wrist is slit, deep gouges of his skin taken out, it's all red and fleshy. He’s dressed in hospital robes.

Simon stared - unable to move, mouth agape - down at Wilhelm as his stomach did horrible flip flops, his heart thumping way too loudly inside of his head. It’s trapped, it needs to escape, why is it so loud?

Simon can’t breathe, staring down at his friend, who he’d just put in a hospital to keep safe. But he died.

Where are his parents? Why aren't they here for his funeral? The Crown Prince, dead, just like his brother.

“What did you do, Simon?” August asked.

Simon shook his head, looking back up at August, whose eyes are now on him again, unblinking as he quizzes him like his cousin isn’t lying dead in front of him.

“Where were you, Simon?”

Simon covered his mouth, gripping the side of the casket so tight it bit into the flesh of his other hand, his knuckles turning white.

“You weren’t replying to your friend's texts. What did you do? Why weren’t you at school the same day Wilhelm wasn’t? You go on about hating the monarchy - but why did you take it too far? It’s your fault, we all know it, just admit it before we out you. We’ll find the evidence, or we’ll pry it out of you.”

Simon tried to take a deep breath, but the mere heat is choking him. “I didn’t - I wouldn’t - “ He stuttered, staring at Wille’s cold, lifeless body, his lips are a dull pink, his entire body looks like a wax doll, emotionless and pale.

“But you did. We all know you did.” The entire room is speaking now, their voices mixing together, swirling around the room like a swarm of birds coming to hail down on Simon. It’s too loud. His heart is going too fast. Wille’s dead - he died in hospital, Simon just knows it.

“Simon. Admit it. What did he take? You told no one and look what it’s done.”

“I did tell - !”

“STOP LYING!”

“I’m not!” Simon sobbed, grabbing the casket with both hands as he helplessly yells back at August. “Stop it! I told Mama! She told Jackie! They’re - they’ll help! August - ”

“You know you did it!” The crowd roared at him.

Simon hit the floor, thump.

He groaned, rolling onto his back and propping himself up on his hands, blinking rapidly. Oh. Oh shit, it was a dream. Simon let out a breath shakily, he feels hot and clammy, sweat sticking his shirt to his back and under his arms, his heart is still beating way too fast, even as the memories of the dream began to slip away from him. Simon didn’t try to hold onto them.

Chapter Text

Simon hit the floor, thump.

He groaned, rolling onto his back and propping himself up on his hands, blinking rapidly. Oh. Oh shit, it was a dream. Simon let out a breath shakily, he feels hot and clammy, sweat sticking his shirt to his back and under his arms, his heart is still beating way too fast, even as the memories of the dream began to slip away from him. Simon didn’t try to hold onto them.

“Fuck…” Simon grumbled, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the couch. He didn’t dare to close his eyes, scared of what he might see. Instead, he stares down at his hands, shaking in between his legs, elbows propped on his knees, looking at the ground taking deep breaths to steady his racing heart.

Birds chirp in the background. Simon turned to look at the curtain, sunlight streams out around the edges of the curtain. He made it through the night, barely.

Simon reaches over to the coffee table and checked his phone to see it’s only 7 in the morning, so Sara and Linda are likely still asleep (he also has some messages from Ayub and Rosh). Simon wants to shower, to wash away the grime of the hospital and his horrible dream.

He’s fine. He’s in the hospital. Whatever he’s taken, they’ll figure it out, whether he stole something … His thoughts kind of trailed off, where would he have stolen from? Hillerska or Simon’s house? A weird feeling pricked inside him. Betrayal. Did Wille steal from us? From me?

Simon knows he can’t possibly find what Wille stole, because if it was like a computer ora  wallet, Simon would’ve been able to see him taking it, or he would have noticed the item's absence. Wille didn’t go into Linda or Sara’s room, and Wille was never alone in Simon's room to be able to steal anything. The only time he was alone was when he was talking to his Mum in the lounge, Linda and Simon were in the room over, and when he was in the bathroom…

Instantly Simon was off the couch, stumbling through the lounge doorway, the remnants of sleep falling off him as he flew into the bathroom, looking around with wide, desperate eyes.

His grip on the doorway is tight as he stares at the room, taking in every single detail, but nothing seems to have changed.

Simon carefully closed the bathroom door behind him, and then turned to the room. 

He popped open the cupboard behind the mirror, looking at the menstruation supplies for a moment with wide eyes, before closing the cupboard again. If he stole those, Simon doesn’t want to know why. He moved to the cupboard under the sink, which is full of cleaning supplies and spare toilet paper. He checked the first draw, which has medical scissors, plasters, bandages, and a thermometer... Next draw. Medicine, painkillers and motion sickness pills. Simon doesn’t remember the last time he checked in here, but the motion sickness pills are for Sara when they travel long distances, and they haven’t done that in years, and there’s only one strip left in the container.

“No…“ Simon whispered, his stomach dropping like he is on the downward fall of a rollercoaster. He fell back to sit on his butt on the cold tile floor, head spinning. Wille wouldn’t steal pills, right? He might be depressed but he’s not a thief…

Simon covered his face with his hands. “Fuck,” He whispered to himself. “What have I gotten myself into?” If Wille takes enough of those pills, it’ll get him high. If he took some of the painkillers as well… Simon took in a deep breath. There are also pills for diarrhea control, and all of those combined, he could overdose scarily easily.

Simon wants to scream, he wants to shout, he wants to cry and he wants to see Wille. He needs to know that he's okay. But how the fuck is he meant to do that?

With shaking hands, he dropped the packets back into the draw and closed it.

Wille’s done drugs, just like Micke. Simon's dreaded thoughts began to slip in again. It’s 7 in the fucking morning.

“No,” Simon said to himself sternly, standing up and catching his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, all he saw was a scared 10-year-old, stumbling across his dad doing lines on the bathroom counter. The worried little boy coming home from school to a house scented with cigarette smoke and covered in a fine layer of white powder, Simon didn’t know what it was until he was older.

Simon stared back at his wide brown eyes, brimming with yet more tears, his lips pressed into a thin line. His hair is wild and frizzy, his curls look oily and in desperate need of a good wash.

Simon tore his eyes away from himself. He looks ruined.

He told Linda that Wille took something, but would he be in trouble for admitting he thinks Wille might’ve stolen drugs? Does Wille still have them? Did they find them already? Did he even take them, or is Simon over reacting and simultaneously paranoid?

Fuck… Simon is really tempted to bike his way to the hospital at this point. He knows he should really get some more sleep, but while he is tired, while walking is draining, he still can’t bring himself to close his eyes for more than a few moments.

Simon opened the bathroom again and beelined down the hallway to his mother's room, and gently nudged the door open.

Kristina is likely to know what happened to Wille, right? Even if she isn't allowed to see him? That's what Simon is choosing to believe. And Linda has her phone number, and Simon knows her password. He accidentally saw her do it years ago, and he doesn't think it's changed.

Simon’s thoughts are spinning, it’s a horrible idea, it’s an invasion of her privacy, they have to know what Wille took by now - he might not have even taken pills, Simon, you could be overreacting. For a moment he just stared at his Mum, before deciding I’d much rather be safe than sorry, I’d rather be told that I’m being pedantic than Wille overdoses in a fucking hospital.

So Simon crept into Linda’s room, careful to shut the door behind him to block out the light. His mothers still asleep, lying with her back facing Simon, snoring gently. Her bed is in the middle of the room, with a dressing table to the side closest to Simon, making it easy for Simon to dart over, snag her phone from where it’s charging, and quickly depart from the room, silently apologizing to his mother. He’ll regret this later, he'll surely get told off, his mum will change her password, but that is future Simon’s problem. So screw it.

Simon shut her door gently, waiting until the handle had untwisted before he walked away, back into his bedroom, closing the door of the laundry room behind him.

Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it. Simon chanted that over and over in his head, picturing it in different fonts and colours in the blackness of his purposefully blankened mind.

He sat on the very edge of his bed, turning on her phone. Linda’s lock screen is a photo of Simon and Sara when they were younger, probably 5 and 7. Simon is having a piggyback ride on Sara’s back, who’s grinning under the weight of her younger brother, arms out in front of her in mid-fall, not expecting the sudden extra load he’d thrown on. Simon’s face is slightly blurry, but he can tell his eyes are closed as he grins with half his missing teeth, hands on Sara’s shoulders. His hair is slightly longer than he has it now, curls reaching down to his ears in tight, brown ringlets, glinting in the shining sun. Sara’s hair is in pigtails around her shoulders, shorter than it is now. They are standing in front of a fence, with two horses in the background.

Simon smiles down at the picture, he remembers this day, it’s Sara’s 7th birthday, and their family had gone to a farm owned by one of Linda’s friends so they could go horseback riding for free.

Simon felt his smile fade, because he remembers who is only two feet to the left of his photo, cropped out. His dad is standing there, holding Sara’s backpack, while Linda has Simon’s. He’s not even looking at the two kids, if Simon remembers correctly, he was looking at Linda.

Linda has cropped the photo so her ex-husband isn’t in it, it’s just her two children.

Simon snapped himself from the daze, swiping upwards to reveal the password. When the keyboard popped up, Simon guiltily typed out “Mama” and pressed enter. The phone faded for a moment, and then Linda’s home page appeared. "Mama" is Simon and Sara's first word, and Linda had always been very pleased with that.

“Sorry, Mama,” Simon whispered, opening the messages app.

The top two contacts are ‘Minou’, and ‘Her Majesty’.

“Uhm…” Simon brought his spare hand up to his mouth, chewing on the end of his nail. Will they even be awake? Glancing at the clock at the top of the screen, he discovered it’s now seven thirty in the morning. That’s an appropriate time for a member of the royal court to be awake, right?

Simon opened the contact, with there only being one new message.

Linda, 9:42 PM

Hello, this is Minou, correct? This is Her Majesty the Queen texting through Linda Eriksson’s phone to confirm she is allowed to have this number. If Miss Eriksson or her children need anything, they will text through here, and you are in charge of sorting it out, no matter the request.
Thanks, Her Majesty the Queen

Then Minou had replied with

Minou, 10:45 PM
Yes, this is my number. Understood Her Majesty.

Nice to acquaint with you, Miss Eriksson.
Minou

Simon glanced around his room. Shit, how does he word this? Why do old people text like it’s a fucking email?

He drafted a few different messages without sending and quickly gave up. He looked at the time again, it is nearly 8, and Linda's phone has lost 10%.

Simon groaned, flopping backwards on his bed to stare at the roof. Maybe he’ll just go into the hospital to visit Wille and discover himself. If he’s on Wille’s visitor list, he can go right in during visiting hours, right? No, I’ll probably need an adult supervisor, a guardian, because we’re both minors.

Simon sighed, looking at the dull light bulb stuck in his roof, and was reminded of when he was lying on the hospital bed with Wille. He'd had a compulsive urge to grab Wille’s hand when he was lying down, and it had scared him, so Simon had clasped his hands out of reach of Wille’s, and then Wille had done the same thing, which had made Simon's heartache in a weird way.

Before he could change his mind again, he quickly typed out “Good morning, Minou. This is one of Linda’s children, Simon, and I am texting with a concern for Wilhelm’s health. As I think you are aware, Wilhelm told me last night that he had taken something: what, I wasn’t sure, until this morning. I was thinking about when he would have been able to steal without us noticing, or if he even still had whatever he stole on him. I checked my house to calm a suspicion but came to a realization instead: I believe Wilhelm may have stolen some medications from our bathroom when he went in there alone. Again, I am not entirely sure, but I figured I should tell someone, just to be safe. They are normal-sized packets and could be tucked into the waistband of his pants, or his socks. Wilhelm may have got rid of them, I’m not sure. Thank you, Simon.” And he sent it. 

Chapter Text

Wilhelm wants to hate Simon, he really does. Simon snitched, Wille reminded himself for the hundredth time. It's kind of become his mantra at this point. Yes, but I was the fool who told him. Yeah, but he had the ability to not tell anyone. But you knew he wouldn't have kept that a secret - he cares too much to leave you in potential danger. Wille argued with himself. He doesn't hate Simon, he couldn't hate him, he was going to tell him so Simon could help him fix it because he didn't know how to on his own. Wille had felt safe in that little bubble with Simon, their hands twined together tightly, close enough to feel his breath. Simon's hand were soft and warm, firmly holding onto Wille's to keep them from shaking with anxiety. But then his brain had come back online. He needs those drugs, he needs to take them, they are his last chance at an escape from this nightmare.

Wille blinked away tears, he's not sure if crying during an x-ray is a good idea.

Wilhelm feels betrayed - no, no he wants to feel betrayed, but honestly, a part of him feels kind of relieved. Because now he has very limited ways of hurting or even killing himself, he has to get better to get out of here, or he could be stuck here for so long August takes the thrown, and Wille would rather die (that metaphor doesn't really work) than have August take that from him. Despite the relief that he is safer, he's still sad about it, the hopelessness settled in almost instantly, like a lead weight in his stomach. He's stuck on this horrible planet in a place he doesn't want to be in, hanging on for the sake of one person who he wants to see every second he is awake. 

When Simon left the room yesterday, Wille had cried - no, he'd ugly sobbed. He heard Simon crying, and he'd managed to cry harder. He wasn't sure if that was his brain trying to block out Simon's sadness with his own, or if he was trying to drown himself in his tears. Either way, he wasn't able to hear Simon over his own sobs.

Wille had felt nauseous - again - with the knowledge he made Simon cry, again. He'd crouched down and curled into himself with Keira next to him, trying to comfort him but he wasn't hearing any of her words. Jackie had come into the room to pull Keira aside a few minutes later, and Wille just kept sobbing because he could feel it coming. The meds had stabbed him in the side, almost like they're saying "yeah you idiot, you made this bed, now lie in it".

Keira had come back to Wille, and continued to help him calm down until he was breathing at the same pace as her, and could see past the tears. Martin moved away once he concluded Wille was done pulling his hair in distress.

Wille has since discovered Sophie is Wilhelm's assigned psychiatrist while he's here. So he has his own little crew. Martin stops him from hurting himself, Keira is the nurse who takes him to all his tests and explains shit, and Sophie is the psychiatrist. Sophie's nice enough, she had helped hi to calm down and asked him if he wanted anything. No he doesn't fucking want anything he just threw up. He doesn't want his mother and he doesn't want Simon.

They'd waited a few minutes, and then all four adults had left him alone to talk in a corner of his room. Wille had curled on his bed with his knees nearly reaching to his chin, sniffling quietly. Then Keira and Jackie had left, and Sohpie had reapproached Wille.

"Wilhelm," she'd said, sitting down next to him on the bed where he's curled up, not allowing any more tears to fall because despite how nice everyone here is, he doesn't want the attention. He doesn't need a hug every time he cries, he's fine, he's not 4, they don't need to kiss the boo-boo.

"We have a worry that you may have taken something." Sophie said gently, accent gently coming through with her words as she gazed at Wille with brown eyes.

Wille nearly burst into tears again. Fuck it, he'd thought in a spur or rage, fuck him, he'd regret thinking that later. "Why would you think that?" He had asked.

Sophie didn't miss a beat. "It's a suspicion. Will you tell me if you took anything, Wilhelm? Please?"

Wille had clenched his jaw, laying painfully on top of the medications. 2 minutes alone, that's all I need to end this nightmare. He feels unhinged, like a piece of him is dangling and he can't quite pull it backup to shield himself.

"I didn't take anything." Wille had replied through a clenched jaw, not looking at her as he ground his teeth into dust to stop himself from blurting out the truth.

Sophie had tilted her head to the side slightly. "Are you telling the truth?" She'd pressed for the answer she clearly already knows.

Say it. Wilhelm had thought, it felt like his thoughts were somehow yelling inside his head. Get rid of them. Don't say anything, lie, they can't give you a pat down until they have more than a few words of confirmation, right? Go to the bathroom and swallow the pills. Die.

"I took nothing."

"Why did Simon say you took something then, Wilhelm?"

Wille had gulped a boulder of emotions back down. Simon. "I don't know." He'd croaked, ever a horrible liar.

"Mmmhmm." Sophie had hummed. When she glanced at Martin Wilhelm closed his eyes, waiting for her to press even more, surely hoping to peel away Wille's layer of lies with every question, but in reality she was just adding more pressure to a thin layer of glass that was seconds away from shattering.

"Do you promise?" Sophie had asked.

Wille had snorted meekly, "what are we, five?" He'd dodged the question and hoped his unnecessary attitude would distract Sophie. Of course it fucking didn't. She's a professional.

"Wilhelm, we have no reason to distrust Simon, or you. So far, you have been excellent at telling the truth, don't sabotage that now."

"Stop fucking pressing - I didn't take anything." He'd whispered, voice hoarse as he'd lied. Wille had tried to put power into his words, attitude and something to make them believe him, but he just... can't.

Sophie had said nothing for another painful minute, giving Wille time to admit it. Don't say anything. Hand them over. Don't fucking do it. Do it. Don't. Do. Don't.

Wilhelm had covered his face with his hands, listening to his thumping heart and the arguing in his brain. "I..."

Sophie'd waited patiently, and despite the ball of anger towards Simon, Wille wished he was here instead of Sophie. Is it meant to be this hard, to heal? He's meant to trust these people, he's meant to trust Simon. Wille knows, despite having known Simon for less than a day, that he wouldn't do anything to hurt him, he doesn't think Simon would hurt anyone on purpose unless it was necessary or they really deserved it. He's just trying to help.

Wille could barely speak past the massive ball of fear that had been clotting his throat. The packets had felt uncomfortably hot against his skin, and hours later, lying still on an uncomfortable table, he feels like they are still there, like they have scarred his skin as yet another permanent reminder of all his wrongdoings.

"You don't need to say anything yet, Wilhelm, just show me." Sophie had said gently, her voice flows smoothly and quietly, it's annoyingly comforting. Wille closed his eyes for another moment before he moved his hands from his face and sat up.

Martin was still sat in the chair, reading his book inconspicuously, again.

Wilhelm took a deep breath, he knows that by not denying it again, and even moving into a less shielded, closed off position is saying "I have taken something, you're right." Wille slowly moved his shaking hands as he relocated the meds at his waist, pulling up his shirt just enough to reveal the packets lined up along his pale skin. They had rubbed, and left angry red marks along his hip. Wille ignored the way his hip bone was so pronounced, like he ignored how spindly and long his fingers look.

Sophie had nodded, and offered her hand, palm up, for Wille to put the meds in.

Wille had taken in a slow breath, and Sophie only nodded again. "It's alright, Wilhelm. Thank you for showing me. I understand that it's super scary."

Wille'd slipped his fingers around the meds, dragging them out of the waist band. They're warm in his hand from where they've been resting on his hot skin for too many hours. But he couldn't let them go from where they hovered over Sophie's hand, shaking in his tight grip.

He couldn't let go because it was his last chance at an escape.

"Do you want me to take them, Wilhelm?" Sophie had said softly as she looked at him sincerely. "This is already very good, it's brave. You've done well."

Wilhem's teeth were grinding, about to give him a headache. He took a deep breath through his nose - panic had then knocked that breath from his lungs as he'd dropped the meds, and Sophie's fingers had instantly curled around the edges and her hand had moved away.

Wille blinked away the memory as the swinging doors to the x-ray room opened again.

It's the next day now, and he's numb. That's what he's concluded from the hours he's been mostly alone with his thoughts. The maximum amount of time he's been alone has been in intervals of 10 minutes. Martin had sat outside his bathroom door while he'd showered, but the door was open a crack the whole time, and he'd ask Wilhelm every 10 minutes if he's okay.

Wille sat up slowly as Keira materialized at his side. Her hair is now wound in a long braid down her back, her normal and contagious smile on her face again. She looks ever so slightly more tired than when Wilhelm had seen her this morning when she'd come into his room to take him to Sophie, who gently questioned him on the drugs he'd taken, if he had already ingested then, where he got them. Basically, not only does he now feel vulnerable and painfully committed, but also like a guilty as prick who is meant to learning how to rule a country but stole drugs from his friend instead.

"Great Wilhelm, that was perfect." She praised him, offering him a hand as he slid off the x-ray table, which he wilfully ignored.

"Okay." He replied plainly.

Martin is standing in the doorway like a bodyguard, which he kind of is (even though one of Wille's own bodyguards is standing outside the door of whatever room he enters, 24/7). Does he need to be here. I'm surrounded by hospital staff, no one knows I'm here, and this war is virtually empty. But Wille didn't ask.

"Are you ready to do another test, Wilhelm, or do you want a break?" Keira asked, leading him from the room.

Wilhelm shrugged. "I'll do another test."

Keira smiled at him. "You sure?"

Wilhelm nodded, suppressing a hefty sigh. He honestly does not care, at least by doing tests Wille will have something to do apart from sitting and staring at the roof or talking to Martin, Sophie or Keira - who are constantly analyzing and questioning him. It's not always "are you alright" questions though, oh no, they have variety. It's also: "do you want something to eat Wilhelm?" "Do you have any questions Wilhelm?" "Do you want a break Wihelm?" He has so much freedom he doesn't know what to do with it, he almost wishes they were more like Queen Kristina and the Royal Court with telling him what to do. He realizes how embarrassing it is: he was raised with such a lack of space for his opinion and ability to just straight up think, that he doesn't fucking know how to do anything without being told. 

Wille knows one thing at least: he wants to talk to Jackie. He has mixed feelings about that man, but he just ... Jackie talked to Wille more like a stranger who wants to get to know him than an emotionally unstable excuse for a Crown Prince. Yeah, Keira's nice, she's lovely, sweet, patient, and even tries to make Wille laugh sometimes. Wille can't explain the feeling, he just knows that it's similar but different to the way he feels about Simon. If the time came he had to trust someone with his life, he would choose Simon over his own Mother, not that his life feels that important to his mother, or himself anyway. He'd rather die than put Simon in that kind of position to keep Wille alive.

"Yeah." Wille confirmed, and Keira nodded, beginning to walk out the door with Wille following. "What's next?" He tried to sound casual, flexing his stiff wrist at his side. The bodyguard - Lucas, Wille thinks his name is, he feels guilty he's not sure - followed behind quietly.

"Now you'll have an MRI scan. Do you know how an MRI works?" Keira spoke slowly and casually, leading Wille to what he guessed is the MRI roon. Martin walks on Wille's other side with the appearance he's calm and relaxed, hands in the pockets of his scrubs, but Wille's sure he's reading every signal Wille lets out and is stiff, ready to pounce if Wille tries anything.

"It's like an x-ray for your brain?" Wille guessed meekly. He knows what it looks like, he's seen it on TV, but he's never actually got one, or seen one in person.

Keira hummed. "Hmmm... kinda," she brought up one hand and tilted it from side to side before dropping it. "Basically, the machine uses very strong magnets and radio frequency pulses to generate signals from the body." She glanced at Wille, waiting for him to nod in understanding before she continued, talking with her hands. "Every hydrogen atom in your body acts like a tiny magnet, and an MRI scanner uses a huge magnet and radio waves to generate signals from the hydrogen ions. Make sense?"

No. "Yes." Idiot. Well, it's not like it matters if I know how it works, this is just small talk to make them feel like I feel like this is all fun and easy because I know how it works. Sure, they're nice, patient, and always know what to do, but I'd still rather I wasn't here - No. Wille scolded himself, frowning as he walked, staring down at the slides he'd been given to wear. I am here to get better. I am here so I can hangout with Simon. I am here so I can go to school like a normal kid... ignoring the whole glaring Crown Prince factor.

"Sorry, are you following, Wilhelm?"

Wille focussed back on the conversation, managing to avoid jerking his head up to look at Keira. He just hummed and allowed her to interpret it however she wanted.

Keira glanced ahead for a moment, stopping their little touring circus group outside another room. "The MRI can take anywhere from half an hour to an hour. As long as you stay awake, and don't move too much, it'll be all good, okay?"

Wille nodded again, glancing at the door in front of him before looking back to his feet, scuffing the end of his slides on the shiny floor underneath them. He wishes it could just crumble and eat him up. He wouldn't even scream.

"Okay," Keira said with a encouraging smile, before opening the door to reveal a small, dark office. 

The first thing to catch Wille's eye in the dim lighting are a bunch of computer monitors that are blinking, and displaying a variety of scans, documents and what looks like fucking coding are sat on top of a long, wall supported desk. Spinning chairs are sat in front of some of the monitors. Directly above all of that is a window, through it shows a bigger room, where the MRI machine itself sits in the middle of the vast white that contrasts the other, darker room. Wille thinks the glass is tinted from this side, so it's likely to be even brighter past this wall.

Keira moves through the dark room, greeting all the staff and introducing them all to Wilhelm as she goes. Barbra, Alex, Aaron, Payton... He instantly forgot their names and couldn't bring himself to care, but at least he managed to ever so slightly quirk up one side of his mouth to compensate for their friendly waves and aged, gentle smiles.

"While you are in the bed, you will hear a voice coming out from above you. It may give instructions, but it will probably tell you everything I've just said." Keira shrugged when she stopped talking, opening another door next to the desk to walk into the room with the MRI.

Wille followed slowly. Lucas stopped outside the dark room, allowing the door to edge shut on its own.

He doesn't know what he was hoping for, but an entire hour physically alone while people watch his brain and probably his spine and whatever's in his neck is not it. He's trapped in a white metal cage with only his thoughts...

"You will hear some loud noises, it's just the machine getting started, so don't worry it's not gonna fall on you." Keira tried for a laugh, but turned to the machine when Wille didn't join.

Wille poked the bed with his index finger, it looks, and feels uncomfortable. He didn't say anything.

"Do you want anything before you go in? Water? A toilet break? A quick snack?" Keira enquired, pressing a couple of buttons that made the inside of the machine turn on. Wille squinted against the brightness, this'll be fun.

"No ... thanks." He mumbled. His mother would scold him for his bad manners... she'd scold him for a lot of things right now, but she's not here, she can't even see him. Wille doesn't know how he feels about that at this moment. He's happy he doesn't have to see his mother, but despite the amount of stress she causes him nine times out of ten, there's that younger boy inside him who is still anxious to be in such a big building with all the staff, alone. Staff  that think they know him because they've read files about him.

"Alrighty, if you're all good, then we're ready to start!"

Wille doesn't know how long it took. While he lay there he just thought, tried to organize the chaos that lives in his brain like a parasite with no poison to kill. It got uncomfortable lying on his back after about 5 minutes of being in there, but he didn't move.

Wilhelm sorted out his problems... well, he tried to sort them into sections in his mind. His current problems are: actually living for everything else to become a problem, getting out of here stable enough (they explained to him that he won't completely heal in here, "it's like a way station between the places you'll travel in your healing journey", is what Keira had said). Erik's still dead and Wille's still not with him, and he's still Crown Prince.

Wille's future problems are: he'll inevitably be made to make a statement about all of this, he has to face his classmates, as well as his Father who he is yet to see (why, Wille's not sure) Befriending Simon (have we trauma bonded, or does he actually care?). Making it up to Linda, Sara, and Simon for stealing, as well as make something to really show his appreciation for their help, he's never felt more normal than he did watching that movie in their cozy little lounge.

Finally, things that he's not sure are problems: the scars he has... should he be ashamed? Wille knows some people aren't nervous about people seeing the permanent marks, they are proud they survived. Wille doesn't know how he feels yet, and while he tries to tell himself "that's okay, it's still a very fresh wound," he still doesn't know. Why can't someone just tell him how to feel right now, then he can pull up that mask and flounce around in it.

He then tried telling himself don't pretend, just feel. But he didn't stick with that thought process very long, no one likes it when he's himself. He'll be at some gathering with his parents, and he'll be told to smile even if he's sad. He'll have his own opinion in class about the political topic - but he can't share it. He has an idea for his own speech this Christmas - doesn't matter, Farima and her team have already written a speech for him, it's their job after all, and its his responsibility to do what he's told.

So, overall, Wilhelm doesn't feel like he really got anywhere in that hour, if anything he feels worse because now he's aware of somethings he hadn't got time to think about, like the scars, the statement, seeing his father.

He's still stressed, he's still sad, his thoughts still feel clumpy and stuck together and out of order, he still feels like he needs to itch his skin off, he still feels like if the hospital lit fire he wouldn't race to get out. So his near hour in the MRI did Jack shit.

Now Wille's sitting on his bed cross-legged, staring at the soup in front of him with zero attempt to cover the disgust. Apparently, it's chicken noodle soup, but he can't see any noodles, just chucks of vegetables. Wille's he's been given this plastic fork which looks like it would be used to feed babies to eat the soup, which is a fucking liquid. He's pretty sure other patients wouldn't be allowed forks, but this one looks particularly bluntened, and Martin's sitting right there with his sandwich.

Wille sighed, mixing his lovely brown soup, watching as some seasoning swirled around that had separated from the meal being untouched for so long. A chuck of some suspicious white meat floated to the top. Nope. Wille pushed the tray away and leaned back, staring up at the truly fascinating roof that he's grown accustomed to looking at. Leaning back on the pillows like his help his next to relax, taking the pressure off it to hold itself up, it almost stops aching when he lies down.

Martin watched him, swallowing a mouthful of his bacon salad sandwich before speaking, "do you want something else, Wilhelm?"

"No thanks," Wille replied quietly, not looking away from the roof. He doesn't feel hungry, in fact, he can't really feel that organ at all.

"Do you want a smoothie? There's a place down the road that I could get someone to stop off at, I'm sure one of your body guards wouldn't mind."

Wille sat up, staring at Martin now, ignoring the sudden ache in his next. "Is Malin still here?" He asked, he's not going to make her get him a god damn smoothie, he just wants a familiar face.

"I'm not entirely sure who Malin is." Martin admitted, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"She's a women, silvery hair thats either in a bun or one of those pony tail braids, average lady height, wears a suit, looks like she could deck an entire squad of wrestlers." Wille supplied, picturing the badass woman in his head as he spoke.

"She's not here, no. I believe she went with Her Majesty last night, but there is a man, Lucas, I think." Martin said with a thoughtful. "We can request for Malin to take a shift, if you want?"

Wille suppressed a groan. "No thanks." Spare her the suffering, she's already spent a few weeks following me around Hillerska. Its different if she's already here. 

"What am I doing next?" Wille changed topics, trying to not feel even more alone. Malin's hours away at the palace in Stockholm right now, along with his mother. Simon's only half an hour away... Will he want to visit, if he knows Wilhelm stole drugs from his house right under his nose the one time he was completely alone? Will he ever trust him again?

Martin cleared his throat, wiping his already clean - and dry- lips with a napkin. "Next you'll do a group therapy session."

Wille froze. "Idowhatnow?" He blurted, his brain is slow, he has to have hallucinated that. He thought this couldn't get any worse, this makes it worse by 100%.

"A group therapy session." Martin repeated. "Don't stress Wilhelm, you have no pressure to speak - " That doesn't matter, they will all stare at me, judge me, they know who I am. "No one has any way of contacting other people to tell them you are here. Your mother will handle out of hospital complications."

Complications. I forget I just complicate every fucking thing I look at. I've just complicated something else. "For someone who is meant to be helping me, this is not fucking helping." Wilhelm spat harshly, but Martin didn't even look phased. Wille's sure he's heard worse, and a horrible, cruel part of him wants to keep shitting on the man until he snaps back. "I don't want to go to fucking group therapy - I don't want any therapy, I've barely gotten over the fact I have to talk to a therapist and a psychiatrist like I'm a - a fucking murderous psychopath!" Wille fuemed, glaring daggers at Martin across the room, his pulse raising. He's being melodramatic, plenty of non murderous non psychopathic people see therapists and psychiatrists, logically he knows this, somewhere deep in his brain, buried behind scars and fear and embarrassment and denial. 

Martin smiled sadly, re-wrapping his sandwich in the aluminium foil he'd brought it in. "I'm sorry Wilhelm, we're just doing what is best for you. You might even enjoy it."

Wille sputtered, "enjoy it?" He parroted angrily. The irony doesn't miss him. Wilhelm takes it back, he doesn't want them to tell him what to do, he wants them to ask him, "oh Wilhelm, if you are feeling up to it, would you consider doing therapy with a bunch of other kids, who will judge you, who will stare with prying eyes, who may even have the nerve to make snide comments?" 

"Who - don't I get a choice in this? Can't I not go?" Wilhelm shot out. Deja vu stuck him, he's had a similar conversation in the back seat of a fancy black car with Farima, not even a month ago about making a statement around the fight he had gotten into, and enrolling at Hillerska. He'd asked the same thing, "but I haven't spoken to my parents." "No, I'm sorry but it's already been decided."

Martin rolled his lips together before speaking again, "you're mother agreed. I'm sorry Wilhelm, I know it's not what you want, but you are still a minor, and therefore your guardian made that decision on your behalf."

Deja vu is really hitting hard. His mother making decisions for her 16 year old son, with his own brain, thoughts and opinion yet again. But that's just how it is, until he - and the rest of his generation- turns 18, he's incabaple of making the really life changing descionons for himself. He understands why, some teenagers shouldn't be able to decide things for themselves, but is he really one of those kids?

Defeated, Wille slammed his mouth shut, he has nothing more to say that will help him get out of this. He would like to scream, and shout, maybe punch someone. He craves the need to make someone angry, everyone here is so fucking calm it's killing him slowly. Were's the basic set of emotions humans are born with, are these people just an exception? It reminds him of his mother and her carefully crafted masks that she can pick and choose between like they are more than a mental image she has categorized in her old as brain.

When the time came for Wille to go to this horrible fucking therapy session, he was not feeling any more optimistic.

"We're going to be moving you to another ward, this one will have other people in it. You won't share a room, but you will see other people more often. While everyone is going through a similar thing, none of you are the same, so we ask for respect and understanding. Please don't stare at anyone or ask questions that are personal. You can ask their names, their ages..." Wille listened to Keira drone on as they stand in the elevator.

Wille hopes this is a mutual thing: he won't ask why they are here, and they won't ask what he did. Wilhelm can't even imagine the look on the faces of other teenagers if he told them he tried to hang himself at Hillerska. Hillerska, the nicest school in Sweden where both Queen Kristina, Crown Prince Erik, and now Wilhelm all got their education. How would they react to the happy little prince who has recently lost his brother, who got into fights and use to only make the headlines when he caused drama, being sent to group therapy, all wrapped up in bandages with bags under his eyes, feeling ready to cry at stubbing his toe.

At least they managed to drop one of Wille's shadows. Keira, Wille, and Lucas are all crammed in the elevator together, while Martin has disappeared somewhere. 

Wille feels horrible for Lucas, this must be the worst job. He hopes it's well-paid, and it likely is. He can't imagine what Lucas signed up for. Following him around school? Driving him from interview to interview, photo shoot to photo shoot? Standing outside of an insane people ward for three hours straight until he swaps with another bodyguard?

The doors slide open and the group walks down a short hallway to another door. Wille can hear quiet chatter coming from inside, and it's making him even more anxious. How big is the group?

"You ready, Wilhelm?" Keira asked gently, eyeing him carefully, clearly reading all his rather obvious symptoms of anxiety..

Wille ran a hand through his hair before nodding a few times too many.

"It will be okay, alright? It's only for half an hour right now. Everyone is really nice, and unique. I've met all of them." Keira assured him, putting a gentle hand on Wille's shoulder, squeezing lightly. She doesn't know how much that makes him want to cry, why is this the nicest he's been treated his whole life? It's different though, there's no silver spoons and gold embroidered shoes, there's no waking up to a breakfast others would only dream of, there's no sending a text to have the newest Iphone within the same day, but it is warm hugs, it's "are you okay?"'s, it's paitetence and - mostly - waiting for his opinion. 

Wille only nodded, afraid he'd blurt all of this to this poor woman if he opens his mouth even an inch.

Keira opened the door, stepping inside first.

Wille took a deep breath, glancing at the unfamiliar bodyguard, who nodded back stiffly, robotaclly, respectfully. Wille pursed his lips, turning away. He misses Malin... He misses Simon, he misses Linda, and strangely, even Sara.

Wille forced his stiff legs to walk into the room, which fell quiet before he'd even gotten a chance to look at his surroundings. Eight teenagers of different heights, ethnicities, appearances, and ages are sitting in a circle on chairs, with a slightly older, young man making it nine people in the bright room. Each chair looks slightly different from the other, whether it's color, fluffiness, style, arm rests, pattern - it's, quite frankly, distracting. The cult circle of chairs is in the middle of the room, and directly behind them are a few windows with baby blue curtains, drawings littering the glass, encouraging "you got this!"'s, and "deep breath"'s in different colors and handwriting. The walls are cream with paintings of orange sunsets and blue shore lines. A fan hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the circle, above a fluffy blue mat that matches the curtains. To the left are three chairs, all huddled together around a little white table, and no one is sitting at them. To the right, against the wall next to a painting, is a locked wooden cupboard with obnoxiously rounded edges, in fact, anything with a corner is sanded into a curve.

"Wilhelm! It's good to meet you," the man beams, standing up to greet Wille. He opens his arms, and when Wille doesn't protest - even opens his own arms slightly - he gives him a short hug. Wille won't lie, it's not a bad hug, and he's been needing a hug. "I'm Max Ruthford." He says, curly blond hair bouncing around his head as he nodded, blue eyes friendly and framed by long lashes. He's only slightly taller than Wille, but in contrast to the younger boy, he is bearing a friendly smile.

"Hi - I'm Wilhelm," Wille said awkwardly, eyes flickering to the 8 pairs of eyes all dead set on him from over Max's shoulder. He gulped. "Nice to meet you too." He choked out.

Max nodded again, still smiling softly. "Keira, good to see you," he grinned at the other lady, who smiled brightly back. Why is everyone always smiling here, how are you all still fucking sane?

The two embraced, before saying a quick goodbye.

"Wilhelm," Keira stopped just as she was about to leave, putting her hand on Wille's arm, before quickly removing it as a second thought. "If you need anything, just ask. Max is lovely, if you trust my judgment on Jackie, trust it for Max as well. These kids are nice, I know you feel sceptical about this, but just have faith, okay?" She nodded, and Wille nodded back, swallowing a lump in his throat. Keira isn't his favourite person in the world, but he wishes she'd stay with him. He hates how he seems to be being passed from person to person in this hospital, can't one just stick with him? "I'm only a call away if you need anything." Wille nodded again, and then she was gone, shutting the door behind her.

"Alright, drag a chair over from there - " Max pointed to the little circle of chairs to the left " - and then we can introduce you to everyone." He gave Wille a short nod of encouragement.

Wille turned, and shuffled over to the chairs. He felt everyone's eyes slowly peel away from him as Max sat back down, saying "okay everyone, let's make some room for Wilhelm and make him feel welcome."

Wille wondered if it's too late to bolt, maybe he can smash a window with the chair he's currently dragging over. His anxiety is eating him inside, his gut feels tight, he hates it, why can't his organs just relax? Wille took a deep breath, dragging over a pale blue chair with a padded back and seat, no arms, and weirdly curled white legs.

For a moment, he could only stand awkwardly on the outside, looking at the small space that had been made between a girl and a boy, his heart pounding like he's got a gun to his head and not like he's at group therapy, where he should feel safe and happy, right?

The girl looked him dead in the eyes, while the boy only glanced at him every few seconds, looking bored and angry at the same time.

"You can sit there," the girl said, voice surprisingly soft considering her bruised exterior. She has dark skin, and a bandage around her head. Her hair is shortly cropped and in curls that reach her jaw, matching the coffee brown of her eyes.

"Thanks." Wille croaked, pulling his chair up and sitting down gingerly. Half an hour. I can do this. Half an hour.

Wille kept his eyes on his lap while everyone remained quiet for a second, staring at him again. He feels like the new kid in class. Well, he is. He's the famous new kid who these kids have now discovered has a fucking mental issues, and has clearly tried to both hang himself and slit his wrist. Thank you chunky bandages.

"Alright, let's introduce ourselves." Max prompted, rubbing his hands together like he's excited. Imagine.

The boy to Wille's left glanced at Wille again, before looking at his own lap as well. The boy looks older than Wille, unlike the girl who looks younger. He's got a lanky build, long arms that are folded, and even longer legs that are stretched out in front of him. His skin is pale, with freckles seeming to dot every inch of it, his red hair flaming in a messy mop on top of his head, green eyes dull as they stare at his thighs.

"Ian, you can start," Max said. The red-headed boy spoke, finally making continuous - but intense - eye contact with Wille as he did.

"I'm Ian." He said helpfully.

Wille nodded, "um - Hi, Ian. I'm - I'm Wilhelm." Wille croaked, clearing his throat awkwardly. Where's all that princey-manners training, it's like he threw it up last night in the corridor.

"We - I know," Ian replied, again, very helpful.

Wille ducked his head. "I know you know." He muttered back.

"I'm Leah, I'm 15, and I think Ian is a prick." The girl to Wille's right blurted out, causing Wille to look up at her suddenly, slightly shocked at the confidence outburst.

"Leah, that's not nice." Max scolded, sounding every bit a disappointed older sibling.

Ian's head shot up, orange eyebrows gathering. "No one fucking asked Leah - "

"Alright, everyone please calm down, or you will be asked to leave." Max interrupted, his voice suddenly hard as he sat up straighter. Meanwhile, Leah and Ian shot laser beams at each other over Wille, and he suddenly regrets sitting here.

"Uhm - nice to meet you, Leah. I'm Wilhelm." Wille told Leah, looking between the two of them. 

The girl next to Ian snorted. Wille ignored her, slowly gaining confidence - it's probably Leah, to be honest, she reeks of confidence and is someone Wille would like to have as a friend. She reminds him of Madi, back at Hillerska, that girl was never afriad to speak her mind. Neither was Simon. His brain helpfully reminded him. Simon always has a good opinion.

Leah's dark eyes settled on Wille, and she nodded shortly. "Nice to meet you, Wilhelm."

Then, the girl next to Ian spoke up, "I'm Nathalia, but everyone calls me Nat instead." Wille turned to look at her, finding a small smile there. Nat looks to be around Wille's age, she's got a thin build of tan skin, long blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Wille forced his own, shakier smile. "Cool. You can call me Wille."

Around the circle they went. The girl next to Nat is called Ami, and the boy next to her is called Brody. There is a boy next to Leah who is in a wheelchair, and his name is Zack, and the girl to his right is Lily. And finally, next to Lily is Ethan, who has Max on his other side, followed by Brody.

As they introduced themselves, they all - in varying levels of confidence - shared a little something about themselves, which varied on the scale of importance and probably-shouldn't-have-been-told. 

Wille felt he'd actually learnt a lot: Leah and Ian have some kind of feud that everyone seems already aware of and completely unbothered by. Ami has a tattoo of her cat on her shin that she flexed immediately. Zack wasn't ashamed to admit he threw himself off a roof and broke both his legs, he said all of this with absolutely no expression, blinking slowly every few seconds, which honestly concerned Wille more than it amused it. Nat would rather be called Nat than Nathalia. Brody said he's actually met Wille before, and Wille immediately felt bad because he doesn't remember him, and he admitted it. Brody told him he's not surprised, but still looked slightly sad, so Wille died a little bit inside. Lily is an Aries. And Ethan is planning to kill the Queen, to which Wille only smiled.

It's safe to say by simply doing that, Wille feel's more at ease. The tension in his body is still very much there, but he no longer wants to jump out a window.

"Cool!" Max grinned around the circle, getting a few stiff smiles in reply. "Okay, right before you joined us Wille, we were talking about our favourite memories," Max explained. "Fortuneatly, we only got through me, so I'll go again, and then we can go around the circle." Max waited for everyone to nod or hum in acknowledgement, before adding, "and let me just reiterate: this is a safe space, anything said in this room will stay within these walls, and be kept in our minds. No one is to laugh or judge anyone else, it's basic respect guys. You do not have to share, but it is encouraged. If you need to leave, you may. Okay, let's start!" Wille's getting serious whiplash.

"My happiest moment was probably at my wedding." Everyone nodded quietly, apart from Nat, who went, "awwwww. Againnnn."

Max chuckled. "Yeah, again, haha. Anyway - it rained, but it made for some beautiful photos. Lucky for my fiance and myself, all our family and friends could all make it, no one was sick or stuck in another country, which made us all extremely happy. The food was amazing, so were the speeches, and the venue looked lovely in the rain. And that evening we found out my wife was pregnant, and my mother-in-law claimed it was a shotgun wedding and we knew the whole time." Max laughed, and Wille even found himself smiling slightly. "Ahh, good times, good times. Alright," Max dramatically turned his head to Ethan. "Ethan, your turn, if you want."

Ethan sighed, rubbing his sunken brown eyes. Ethan looks very much like he would kill the Queen, his messy black hair, sunken eyes, pale skin - he looks like he would get blood on his face and laugh about it. Wille tried not to shiver. He quietly hopes Ethan will say something like "when I finished my plan of murdering the Queen", or "I'll only be happy when the Queen drops dead", because that'd be funny, but instead he said, "when my Mum brought me a pufferfish."

"Aww, cute." Max cooed comedically.

"Because it killed all my other fish." Ethan finished with a small smile, staring Wille dead in the eyes as he spoke.

"Um." Wille shifted nervously. "Are pufferfish even legal pets in Sweden?"

Next to him, Leah laughed behind her hand.

"Why would I know?" Ethan shot back, eyes firey, like the question was offensive. Honestly, the nerve he has to have attitude to Wille, when he's the one who's trying to kill Wille's Mother. It's funny

"You owned one..."

"That's interesting, Ethan," Max said with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Lily! Happiest moment?"

Lily looked at the ceiling for a few moments.

"While we wait for Lily guys, think of your own happy memory," Max suggested, looking at everyone around the circle again.

"Waitwaitwait, I got it." Lily said suddenly, shifting in her seat to sit up straighter. She sniffed, wiping a bandaged hand up her nose quickly. "Okay, so when I was like, 9, I went to the zoo with my school, and the freaking lion got out."

"Oh my god." Max muttered.

"Yeah, but shut up because that's not even the craziest part." Lily rolled her eyes, and Wille had to suppress a snort. "Because my mum was there, right, and she was crazy abusive. Like mental, physical, what's another - psychological? Anyway, basically, the lion bit her shoulder, burst her artery, and she died dead, for realzies."

"Damn," Leah mumbled, blinking a few times.

Max rubbed his face. "I understand why you would enjoy that moment, I hope everyone else got out okay."

Wille remembers seeing this on the news, he knows that one other person was injured before the zookeeper's got control of the lion. But that was many, many years ago now. How is that the happiest moment of Lily's entire life?

"I mean, my teacher got her foot half bitten off, it was kinda just dangling there..." Lily shrugged-  her head suddenly jerked sideways. Wille blinked, wondering if he's imagined it because no one else reacted.

Max's eye brows raised. "Right, that can't have been pleasant to see. Is there anything else, a birthday, a holiday, a school day?" Max prompted, waving his hand gently in circles as he listed off different times Lily could've been happy.

Lily randomly snapped her fingers and her head jerked again. Wille's eyes moved around the circle, he definitely isn't imaging that - Then it clicked in Wille's brain. He doesn't want to guess wrong, but it looks like she has some kind of Tourette.

Just to be sure, while Max was trying to figure out if Lily had another, happier moment, Wille leaned over to Leah and whispered, "hey, um, does Lily have Tourettes? I don't want to, like, be an ass or anything - "

"Calm down, dude," Leah interrupted, leaning in as well, which Wille appreciated. "It's alright to ask. And yeah, she does, no biggie."

"No, no, of course. I just wanted to get it clear in my head..." Wille trailed off, leaning back in his chair again. Leah nodded at him, eyes flicking back to Lily, who was saying "I enjoyed this day at school once, we had this guy, dressed up as Batman come in, and he gave us free ice cream. That evening I went home to my Aunts house and she gave me and my cousin this cup, filled with icing sugar, oats and normal sugar with a spoon to eat it it with."

"Yum." Leah said, running her tongue over her lips.

"Yeah, at the time. I was like... 7?" Lily shrugged again. "I think she was trying to kill me looking back on it, but I enjoyed the day." Lily took a deep breath, throwing a quick smile at everyone. Wille's pretty sure everybody here recognised that as her deflecting, but no one pointed it out.

"I'm glad you have good memories, Lily," Max said gently, nodding his head once. "Zack, do you have a memory you'd like to share - ?"

"Pass." Zack interupted.

"Alright, that's cool, I hope you'll feel able to share next time." Max threw Zack a little smile of encouragement, which the older boy didn't return, his thin lips staying in a straight line. "Leah?" Max moved his gaze to the girl sitting next to Zack, and everyone's eyes turned to her

"Okay, so mines actually happy." Leah started, twisting her fingers together in her lap. "So when I was around 8 ish - still believing in Santa and all that shit - I asked for a horse for Christmas, because I have expensive taste, still do."

"Period." Lily interjected, picking at her blunt nails.

"Yes, anyways. Yeah, so - When Christmas day came, there was no horse, obviously." Leah used hand gestures as she talked, and Wille found it strangely interesting. "And I was a super sad little shit, and when my Mum saw how sad I was, the next day she low-key sold like half her and my dads wardrobe, and spent most of her savings, and brought me a frickin horse. It stayed at this farm, but it was mine."

Wille's brow rose in surprise, he couldn't imagine his Mum doing that for him... then again, he'd probably get the horse the first time he asks. But Wille didn't say that. It's the thought that counts, it's the sacrifice and dedication her mother had to see her happy.

The rest of the group expressed their surprise, and Max went on to ask a few questions. 

Wille observed. He noticed that the group jokes and teases each other until there are actual stories being shared, things that are personal and you likely wouldn't share with a stranger if you weren't at group therapy. Not even Ian had a snide comment about Leah's story. They know when they can joke, but also when to be respectful, which Wille likes.

"Wille, what's your happiest moment?" Max asked.

The entire room fell silent, everyone awaiting Wille to share what would likely be something they don't know about him. Wille thought, looking at his feet instead of the not-so-subtle prying eyes. 

His mind instantly jumped to all the good times he's had with Simon so far. The boys house, his hugs, his room, watching TV, lying on Wille's hospital bed together, even getting poked his ribs, giggling and trying to smack his hands away. Simon's the first person to make him happy in a very, very long time. Before him it was Erik. Wille remembers saying bye to Erik, not even looking up from his phone, not realizing that it would be his last interaction with his brother. Wille shoved the sadder memories away. When has he smiled with Erik? A better question, when has he not smiled with Erik? Wille's 13th birthday was super fun, Erik - comedically - brought him a packet of condoms, and gave it to him once they had escaped Wille's big birthday party. Wille's cheeks had gone red when he realized what it was, and Erik had teased him mercilessly. Another time... Erik and Wille sitting on Erik's giant bed in the palace, drowning in snacks during a Christmas break, talking about Erik's time at Hillerska. When Erik made the news headlines because he choked on gum in public. They had laughed until their ribs ached and Wille thought he might be crying because he was in pain, and not because it was funny. Erik was clearly embarrassed at this, his cheeks a tell-tale kind of red, but he still ran out of breath laughing at Wille's side, pointing at his bright red face, centred in the middle of the TV screen.

Sharing any of those moments feels like giving the group a part of himself, which he's not sure he can do... but that's the point, isn't it? To build trust, to learn how to share something that you hold close to your heart. Wille's guessing the reasoning is if it's something life-threatening, you've then built the confidence to share?

"Wille?" Wilhelm then realized he's been quiet for too long, smiling slightly to himself, lost in memory. "What's going on up there?" Max asked gently.

Wille looked up, and not so surprisingly found everyone still staring at him, looking slightly more curious than before.

"It's okay if you don't want to share." Max smiled easily, "baby steps."

Wille sighed. "No, I'll share. I'll share." He muttered, wiggling around in his chair, which isn't as soft as it looked. "I think ... I think when Erik came back from Hillerska at Christmas break awhile ago... that was a super happy time for me. He was 16, I was ... 10? We were sitting on his bed at what must have been 2 in the morning while he told me about the crazy parties he'd gone too. He also told me all the secrets people had told him, as well as all the embarrassing things August had done. We - we had snacks that he'd brought from Bjärstad when he'd gone out one weekend. Looking back on it, I'm 90% sure some gummies were edibles, because him telling me August fell in the lake during rowing practice wasn't that funny." A few quiet chuckles chorused around the room, reminding Wille he is not alone as he reminisce with an unfocused gaze - people are listening.

But when he looked up, nervous again, everyone - apart from Zack, and homicidal Ethan - had soft, almost sad expressions. Wille knows - or at least hopes - that they know they never knew Erik like Wille did, but they can clearly still imagine the former Crown Prince doing such things with his little brother. Everyone loved Erik, they knew he was kind-hearted and genuinely cared for the people, especially his little brother. The whole country mourned when he died, Wilhelm knows it wasn't just him frozen in shock when he heard the news, and it wasn't just him crying at the funeral, it just felt like it was. And then the entire country had turned their gazes to Wille, wanting him to fill the shoes Erik had left behind in his spontaneous death, but they were, and always have been, several sizes to big for him.

Wille sniffed, blinking rapidly. Fuck, he misses Erik, he hates to think about it because he can get so worked up. It's like someone flicks a switch, one minute his eyes are dry and he's smiling, the next their's tears tracking down his cheeks and he can't stop. "Yeah." He sniffed again. "Or hanging out with my - my friend, Simon, he's super... sweet."

"Cool, that's really cool, Wille." Max said after taking a deep breath. "I'm glad you enjoy hanging out with Simon, and I am sorry about your brother."

Wille took his own deep breath, simmering down some bubbling emotions. "Yeah - um - thanks... yeah, thanks." He finished awkwardly, itching his arm above the bandage, a new nervous habit.

The group moved on, going around the entire circle until they were back at Max.

"Alright guys, that was really good! I'm proud of everyone who shared, and everyone who didn't, being able to admit you can't is as good as being able to admit you can." Max said with another one of his bright smiles. "I think you all feel better as well, I still see a few frowns, but mostly smiles." He pointed jokingly around the circle as he talked. "How do we all feel?"

Wille sighed, glancing down at his hands, his blunt nails and bandaged wrist. He feels lighter, like sharing a good moment somehow equalled to sharing a bad moment. Maybe it's just the fact he shared at all. Wille's smiling, he knows he's smiling. It's not a big grin like in those happy moments, but at least he's not crying.

"Okay great! I think we'll end that here today, we don't want to run out of energy for the rest of our days." Max clapped his hands once, standing up with way too much enthusiasm.

Everyone followed suit.

"That wasn't so bad." Wille found himself muttering to Leah as they dragged their chairs over to the corner Wille had got his from.

"I know right? I was expecting to hate it when I first came as well." Leah agreed with a heavy sigh, giving her chair an unnecessary kick with her slide, matching Wille's.

Wille nodded, glancing out the window a few feet away, he no longer feels like jumping out that window. Well, that's an improvement, but he's expecting he'll come back in next session and this weird, light, calm feeling with have long since evaporated, and he'll be praying for the building to crumble on him.

"So, why are you here?" Leah asked, staring up at him with big, brown eyes that remind him of Simon's.

Wille sighed, eyes flickering around to find Max. Is he even allowed to share? It's not like she can tell anyone. She wasn't even meant to ask...

"I mean, you don't have to tell me - Here, I'll tell you why I'm here." Leah cleared her throat, smoothing out her hospital gown as they slowly walked towards the door. Wille doesn't know what he'll do once he's out, is Keira waiting for him to take him back to his room? "I got high from some shit my cousin drugged me with," she blurted out. Wille made sure to school his features, only nodding along, despite the shock at both her outburst and the content of it. God damn, you look 14 years old...

"You don't have to tell me either, Leah." Wille told her before she could continue.

Leah shook her head, her confidence suddenly falling away. "No no no, it would be good to tell someone, I think."

Wille shrugged, stopping a few feet from the door so Zack can wheel out in front of him. "Okay, if you want."

Leah nodded aggressively, and Wille wondered if it was bad for her bandaged head. "So, I had a history of depression and - and self-harm already, so once I was high off my mind, I decided I hate myself, again. So I repeatedly hit myself on the head with a metal lamp until I was bleeding." Leah rolled her lips together. Wille's own stomach churned at the thought, he can't imagine what her's is doing at the memory, does she remember it if she was high?

"Damn." Wille breathed, trying not to imagine young Leah doing that, he can't imagine current Leah doing that. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, we're all sorry for each other. It's fine. I healed. Now I have seizures if I don't take my meds because it bled onto my brain." Leah shrugged, taking another deep breath.

Wille paused as they both stepped into the cold corridor, overcome with the urge to hug her, he feels like he's in shock. In his head, Wilhelm knows shit like that goes down all the time, but its different knowing it could be happening, and then having a victim of it standing right in fucking front of you. "I suppose you're right, but I still want you to know I'm sorry it happened. I hope your cousins in jail."

Leah stopped in front of Wille, fixing him with her big brown eyes. What did he say wrong? His stomach dropped, he's new to this, he thought he was saying the right things.

"I..." Leah paused again, frowning at her feet before meeting Wille's gaze once more. "Yes. I'm sad it happened, it's going to change my life forever. But, I'm glad it's gone, it's in the past, and I'm never going to let it happen again, you know?" Wille wondered how someone so much younger than him could say such wise things. He also wondered if maybe it's not wise and he just has no brain cells.

Wille nodded, thinking back on everything that's happened to him, that is in the past. "There's still so much left to come, though." He mumbled, glancing at his feet instead of Leah's hard, determined gaze, running through the mental list of 'future Wille problems' he created in the MRI.

"Yeah, and this horrible experience will definitely leave some soft spots." Leah paused, glancing over her shoulder at Lucas, who is pretending to be looking the other way. Around them, everyone is slipping back into rooms with different people wearing scrubs and gentle smiles. Leah suddenly punched Wille in the bicep of his good arm. Before Wille could react in his shock, Leah spoke, "like that. That will likely leave a little bruise, or it could even be gone in a few minutes. It's a weak spot. If I poked it again - " She went to prod the fresh bruise, but Wille ducked out the way. Leah snorted. "If I poked it, it would hurt, right? But - like I said, tomorrow, it'll be gone, and I'll poke it, and it won't hurt anymore. Make sense? It hurts now, but its already in the past, in the future, it won't hurt, you'll heal. We've already made it through all our worst days."

Wille sniffed, rubbing his arm. It does make sense, kinda. "So, you're saying that in a few years, months, whatever, this -" Wille pointed to himself, and then around him at the hospital " - won't hurt anymore?" He concluded.

Leah nodded, grinning proudly. "Yeah! Was that wise?"

Wille snorted, shaking his head with a smile. "Sure, I guess. It makes sense - "

"Hello," a man appeared next to them, wearing a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry, am I interrupting?"

"No." Wille said at the same time Leah said, "yes."

The man raised his brows, "sorry?"

"It's fine." Wille said with a shrug, noticing Keira standing a few feet away watching. She approached when she saw Wille notice her, clearly having chosen to let him and Leah finish their conversation.

"Leah, are you ready to go back to your room? If you're feeling up to it, we'd like to do another quick check on that smart head of yours." The man spoke calmly.

Leah sighed, throwing an eye roll at Wille, which made his brows rise again. "Alright, see you later, Wille." Leah said. 

"Bye, Leah. Nice to meet you." Wille said his goodbyes, and then Leah was walking off down the hallway with the man. Wille still has many questions for her, "how old are you?" "How long have you been here?" "Is your cousin in jail, if not, whats his name, and address?" "How are you so confident and appear so calm and put together?" It's like her history doesn't weigh anything, while Wilhelm's feels like a million tons.

Chapter Text

Minou
Good morning Simon. Thank you for sharing this information. Thankfully, Crown Prince Wilhelm has admitted to having stolen some medications, therefore your suspicions were correct. I apologize for Crown Prince Wilhelm taking your property, we will pay you back anything he took once we have the specifications of what was stolen. Our apologies.
Kind regards, Minou
10:46 AM

Simon stared at the message like an idiot, mouth agape. Wille had stolen from him, from his mother, and from Sara. He'd taken their medication - which isn't cheap. He'd stolen, after everything they had done for him. The nerve.

Simon's jaw clenched, and his grip around Linda's phone tightened until his knuckles had turned white and the corners had dented into his skin. Simon blinked rapidly, trying to process this. He would never take Wille as a thief. Sure, he had his suspicions and evidence that Wille may have stolen, but ... a part of him was really fucking hoping that he was wrong, that he had just falsely accused the Crown Prince of stealing from a random, poor family in Bjärstad. But no, Wilhelm took what was theirs without asking.

He owned up to it. Is it because Simon messaged Minou and they had to look into it? When did he hand them over - assuming he has, the hospital wouldn't let him run around with enough meds he could use to overdose, surely, surely. Did Wille hand them over last night when Linda told Jackie, was it then? He hopes it's then. Simon wishes Wille had done it sooner.

"Good morning, Simon."

Simon jumped, turning to look at where his mother has just walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with one hand and wrapping a robe around herself with the other. She clearly hasn't noticed her phone is missing.

Right, of course, because she doesn't check it first thing when she wakes up, unlike myself, or Sara.

Simon's knee is bouncing quickly under the table as he releases the phone from his grasp, laying it face down on the table.

"Morning, Mama," Simon croaked in reply, clearing his throat quickly.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Linda asked, turning on the tap to fill the kettle with water for her morning tea.

Simon shook his head, "Mmm-mmm," glancing nervously out the window at the sunny day laid out in front of him, a nice day he's already jeopardized. It's Wille's fault.

Linda looked at him briefly, failing to notice her phone sitting in front of Simon. But normally Simon's phone would be in it's place, so she didn't even think to examine the device. "Are you alright, mi amor? You look pale," then she hesitantly added, "and angry."

Simon feels horrible. "I'm alright." He replied weakly. His stomach is churning with anger and guilt, it's a miserable sensation, like someones clenching his stomach mercilessly in their fist, making him want to double over and bang his head on the table.

"Do you want me to put some toast down for you?"

"Uhm - yes, please, Mama," Simon muttered.

Linda hummed in response, moving around the kitchen to grab a loaf of bread from the fridge, taking out two slices to put in their small red toaster, and pressing them down into the heat moments later.

"Um," Simon tried to speak, but failed. Wille stole from us. I just stole from my Mama. Fuck fuck fuck. "I ..." Simon cleared his throat a few times, sitting up straight. "Mama?" Simon got his mother's attention, and she turned to look at him.

"Hmmm?" She poured hot water into a mug, the tea bag inside the china floated gently to the top as the water changed color in pale swirls.

Simon took a deep breath, and Linda watched him, frowning slightly. "What's happened?" Simon could hear the caution in her voice, he saw how her muscles tightened slightly as she put down the kettle. "Is it Wilhelm, mi amor?"

Simon gulped thickly. "Partly," he whispered.

Linda nodded, not saying another word as she shuffled around the kitchen island to sit next to Simon at the dinner table, her tea abandoned at the counter. Again, the older woman failed to notice her phone sitting in front of Simon.

"Tell me," she said gently, reaching out to take Simon's hand in hers.

He takes it back, he doesn't feel horrible, he feels like a fucking monster. His mother, so kind, so caring, so gentle and patient, and he stole from her. So did Wille. Fuck, what does he tell her first, that her son stole or that his friend stole?

Simon looked away from her gentle brown eyes, trying to not fidget under her careful gaze.

"Um, Wille... he, he stole... from... us," Simon said slowly, staring at his lap as he forced every word out his mouth. Linda frowned, gazing at her son, but she didn't speak. Simon gulped again, "He stole some medicine from our bathroom." And now he waits for the inevitable -

"Is he okay?"

Oh God, Simon's going to cry. That's not what he was expecting - he thought his mother would instantly be suspicious of how he knows that, and ask him such questions. But no, not his amazing mother, she instead was instantly worried for the other boy, just like a mother should.

"I don't know." Simon choked out. "I'm - I'm angry at him, but I'm also ... I'm worried. I'm always worried about him." His anxiety has never been as high as it has been the past two days, never in his life. Sure, he's had his fair share of panic attacks in the past, he did grow up being told he'll be dead by 50 and that he eats a credit card amount of plastic each year, plus an addict for a dad - but this is a whole nother kind of stress.

Linda nodded sadly, stroking his hand in hers softly. "We can ask Minou, can't we?"

Simon tensed instantly, and Linda noticed. She gently tilted her head to the side, a sad smile growing on her face. "Simon, there's nothing wrong with checking in with her about Wilhelm's safety. You care, I can tell, and so do I - "

"That's not it, Mama." Simon interrupted, voice cracking slightly. He looked up, glimpsing her confused expression before his eyes flicked to her phone, sitting innocently in front of Simon, and Linda's eyes followed, realisation drawing on her features.

Linda lent back from Simon so her back rested on her chair properly, instead of being hunched over to Simon's eye height and in his space.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I had to know in the moment, and - and you were asleep, and I was freaking out," Simon rambled, breaking free of his mother's gentle grip to swipe at his eyes. "I'm so sorry." He finished, taking a deep breath to try to compose himself, even though he knows he doesn't need to be calm in front of his mother.

"Simon, you stole my phone?" Linda asked carefully, reaching out to take her phone away from Simon's space, turning it out so the background lit up, little Simon and Sara grinned up at her.

Simon nodded, staring at the table and not at his mother's disappointed gaze. "I already knew your password. I just texted Minou, though, I promise. I only read the text she sent in reply, and I didn't open your phone again. Promise."

Linda sighed, running a hand over her face. "I'm disappointed you took my phone, Simon, for multiple reasons: Firstly, you could have just woken me up and asked, I would have said yes. And the obvious one, you took from me." Linda paused, allowing her words to sink in. "But I'm also proud that you took initiative, and didn't let things escalate with knowledge that could've help."

"We don't know if I helped, Minou didn't specify when Wille owned up to having - having stolen." The word tastes bad on his tongue, stealing shouldn't be something he associates with Wille.

Linda nodded a few times, gazing down at her blank screen for a moment. "Well, we could find out today?" Simon shrugged. "Thank you for telling me, Simon, and not just putting my phone back like nothing happened."

"You're welcome." Was all he said, all he could manage.

Linda sighed, looking up at her son again, who is still guiltily staring at the table. "Simon, don't feel bad, I forgive you," Linda told him, craning her neck down to get into his line of vision. "Come here," Linda stood up, opening her arms for him. "You look like you need a hug, mi amor."

Simon's heart feels all warm now. He stands up as well, falling into his mother's welcoming embrace. He tries not to sob at how comforting he finds it. What an amazing mother he's landed himself with. This world doesn't deserve her kind heart.

Simon held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder while she rubs his back, placing the other hand on the back of Simon's head, like you would a smaller child. The iron clad grip on Simon's insides loosened slightly. She forgives me. Do I forgive Wille?

Linda pulled back, cupping his face gently. "Are we going to visit Wilhelm today, Simon?"

"I'm still kinda mad at him," Simon admitted shamelessly.

Linda nodded, smoothing out his curls lovingly. "That's understandable, but try to remember, and I mean this with all due respect for Wilhelm, but he is not in the best head space right now, and I'm willing to bet he is very guilty for having stolen from us. He's not a bad boy - granted, I don't know him well, but from what I've seen of him, and how you are with him..." Linda seemed to hesitate, giving Simon a thoughtful once over. "Just... you might have to be slightly more forgiving than normal, give him more than one chance. You're good at that though, so I have a feeling that won't be an issue for you."

-

Yesterday
9:47pm

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
hang out tomorrow?
Pls im a lonely guy with no friends🥲
9:47pm

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
Stfu what do i look like to you a fucking roach??
9:49pm

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
One smexy roach😘
9:49pm

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
Tanks babe😘😘
Also i can hangout tmrw
9:50pm

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
Slay
9:50pm

@Looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll
9:53pm

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
simon
everything good??
10:20 pm

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
Hope everythings not to bad
We're right here if you need anything bro
10:32pm

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
Ofc
10:32pm

Today
8:32am

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
@ Looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll
You coming today??
We're meeting at mine at 10
8:32am

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
Leaving now🏃💨
9:42am
@ Looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll
9:42am

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
Stop sending elaborate texts and hurry the fuck up
9:43 am

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
Stfu thats not even that elaborate
9:43am

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
STFU AND LEAVE ALREADY ROSH OMG
9:43 am

Looks like could kill you and would actually kill you

🫵🧍👊🛌💀

9:44 am

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
Girl dont punch a poor guy
9:44am

Looks like could kill you and would actually kill you
Omfg ok im leaving now fr
9:45 am

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll
Bitch where tf are you
Ur taking so long
9:59am

Nvm I see you lol
10:01am

Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you
Stfu
11:43am

@ Looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll
We're going out of ayubs house text us if you still wanna come

Simon stared at the messages, trying to suppress the urge to naw down on his nails, a habit he now realizes he picked up from Wille. Instead, he picks up his jam toast and took a bite of his slightly burnt breakfast.

His friends are amazing, let him start there. He could rant for years about how much they have helped him, how much he appreciates them, how supportive they are and always have been, and also how much they can piss him off sometimes. But Simon loves them, and now he feels like a total asshat for ghosting them.

Simon's not gonna spill Wille's beans, because it's his beans to spill, but Simon could've at least told them he is fine. He could have told them that yesterday.

Looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll
Hey sorry guys im a douche
Im all good
12:13 pm

Its just been stressful and i havent rly slept a whole lot but im ok
I cant tell you what happened yet bc its personal for someone else, but i talked to the person and they are safe now
12:14 pm

Yall are the best ill hangout next time

Simon sighed, relieved that he's just ticked another thing off his checklist. He's not sure if they will reply right now, if their data isn't on and they are still out then probably not, he'll be on his toes for a reply though: no more ghosting them.

Sara popped her head in the door of the lounge to find Simon sitting cross-legged on the couch with a plate in his lap, "uhm, Simon," she said.

"Hmm," Simon hummed in response, looking up at her from his phone.

"Wille's stuff is still in our washing machine."

Simon stilled, his fingers freezing over his keypad. Oh yeah... He forgot about that, he forgot he even had Wille's clothes in his house in the first place. "Oh...um, is it clean?" Was his intelligent response.

"Yeah..." Sara didn't even make a comment about how she had already told him it came from the fucking washing machine.

Neither sibling is sure how to go about this.

The Crown Prince's underwear is currently sitting in their washing machine: Wille had uncontrollably peed at some point during the traumatic morning, which is understandable. Simon didn't let himself think about it for too long.

He is currently wearing my underwear. Oh my God Simon that's weird, don't think about anything to do with that or underwear... but my entire body build is smaller than his - "Uhm let's just put it on for another round because - because it'll probably be dirty still," Simon said quickly, his voice kind of shaky and an octave higher than before.

Sara raised an eyebrow, but graciously said nothing, nodding before disappearing back around the corner.

Linda said she'll tell Sara about Wille stealing so Simon wouldn't have too, which he is very grateful for.

The day dragged on, and as it did, Simon started to feel more and more guilty. He feels bad enough with everything he's put his family through in the past two days, so he's planning to use his bus card to get himself to the hospital, but maybe a part of him already knew his mother would say "Simon, we have a car for a reason. I'll drive you. I'm also pretty sure you aren't allowed to be there unsupervised."

So Simon found himself in the car with his Mama, driving to the hospital again. A little box of chocolates and a $2 "get well soon" card that made him cringe sitting on his lap - but Linda had insisted on the normal, and kind gesture. Simon had scribbled inside the card "Thanks for being my friend. I hope you see how well you're doing. From Simon", and cringed the whole time. Linda had written, "Keep being brave, Wilhelm, I'm proud of you, Love Linda." Sara had even added her own words, "I hope you feel better. Your laugh is contagious btw, from Sara."

Today, Simon made sure he's slightly more put together, his Converse's laces aren't in a knot and his hair isn't frizzy. He even washed his face before he left, not that the Queen will be there, she is not allowed. Maybe it's wrong, but Simon's fuck-the-monarchy self feels victorious with the knowledge he's allowed somewhere the Queen isn't.

Simon heaved a sigh, staring out the window. He kind of zoned out, the world outside of the car blurring as he tumbled into his thoughts.

What will I say to Wille? "I hope you're okay, I really do, but fuck you for stealing." "I get you're depressed and anxious and that drugs numb that shit, but stealing is crossing a line." "Just so you know, I forgive you, but still fuck you for stealing."

Simon doesn't hate Wille, but of course, he is still slightly angry. If it was under different circumstances, he would have been fucking furious - he would have sued, he would have told everyone he knew that the Crown Prince stole from him, he would have gone to Wille and straight up yelled in his face at school. But he knows Wille's not okay, he knows people use drugs to get rid of those bad feelings, and he's seen first-hand how it goes. You use them once and love the feeling, but promise your family you'll never do it again. Some shit goes down and you do it again, and again, and again, and then you're addicted. You're so addicted, you'd risk putting your family into poverty just to get one blissed second without pain or guilt.

But Wille isn't like that, he's not Simon's dad, he would never hit Simon, never scream at him, never dangle him on the edge of homelessness for his selfish reasons, and never abuse medication in front of mine.

With many hours to sit and think Simon's come to the conclusion that his mother is right: Wille with 10/10 feel guilty for stealing, he's not in a good head space, as Linda said, but he was even worse yesterday. Te tried to commit suicide and he self-harmed in the span of one day. It - painfully - makes sense that he turned to something to just numb it all.

Simon understands.

The hospital is rather busy when they arrive, people in scrubs flow in and out of every doorway, open or closed. Swinging doors squeak particularly loud to the left of the reception desk, a direct route into the hospital. An elevator bings somewhere nearby, and the chatter of people and the tapping of shoes is almost overwhelming. The melody of traffic shoots through the sliding doors along with a chilly breeze every time they slide open.

Simon takes a deep breath, following his mother towards the reception desk. Behind it is sat an old man, probably mid-'40s, whose head instantly knocks up from his computer to stare at them when they approach, his blue, bulging eyeballs dull.

"Hello, how can I help?" He said, his raspy voice sounding mechanic, like he has asked this question many times.

How do you say you are here to see the literal Crown Prince? He'll surely call their bullshit. Simon is not in the mood to have his bullshit called out on. He wants to see Wille, and he wants his apology and then to forget about this. The last time when they'd arrived Keira had been literally waiting for them at this same reception desk, and she had led them away quickly, not saying anything until they were alone in an elevator, where a bodyguard had been standing and had produced an NDA which both Linda and Simon signed, and Sara would have to sign next time she came. 

Linda smiled nervously, shifting on the spot. "Hi, we're here to see - " Linda lowered her voice, leaning over the desk slightly " - Crown Prince Wilhelm, we also have some of his clothes." Linda lifted her hand to reveal a paper bag which has Wille's clothes folded neatly inside.

The man blinked once, twice, clearly trying to decide if they are being for real. His eyes paused on Simon's scowl. "I'm sorry, Crown Prince Wilhelm isn't in the hospital." He said, bulged eyes flicking to click something on his computer.

Simon's stomach dropped. Listen here meathead-

"I'm Linda Eriksson, and this is Simon Eriksson," Linda said, gesturing between herself and her son.

The man narrowed his eyes at them, again, just staring between the two of them. His eyes are very expressive. Simon held in the impulsive urge to flip the man off, just let us in already.

"Okay." The man finally said, before fixing his hard gaze back on his computer, typing aggressively against his keys.

"Okay." He said again. "Sign in here. I'll give you each a pass which you must give to me on your way out. He's on the 3rd floor, go to the door with a bodyguard outside, his room is number 305., but it also has a bodyguard outside." He pulled a clipboard out of thin air and passed it over the desk to Linda.

Simon tried not to gape at the number of boxes waiting to be checked.

"I'll take his clothes and put them in a locker, he will get them once he is discharged," he instructed, standing up and offering a hand. Linda passed the bag over the desk, and the man disappeared into a backroom for a few minutes.

Once Linda had checked several boxes and written her signature, she handed it to Simon to do the same. He flipped over her page and worked through the questions and checkboxes.

Linda handed back the clipboard and the man traded them two laminated lanyard passes. Simon barely got to read "special guest" before Linda was whisking him out of the queue and towards the elevators after thanking the man.

"Wasn't he a very happy-looking guy?" Linda mumbled as they waited for the elevator.

Simon hummed, glancing nervously around.

The elevator arrived and it was thankfully empty, so their trip to the third floor was mostly uneventful.

"Do you think Wille will hate me?" Simon blurted, chuckling nervously after saying it. He's the one who is angry with Wille, he's not sure what he'll do if the feeling is mutual.

Linda shrugged gently. "I don't think so, mi amor. He's such a sweet boy..."

Most of the time, Simon thought sadly. But everyone has their moments.

The doors slid open with another quiet bing, revealing Keira, who is typing on her phone with a clipboard and a folder held under one arm, a portable coffee mug tucked between her lower arm and her chest.

"Good afternoon, Keira," Linda greeted as she stepped past her into the corridor. 

Simon followed his mother like a disorientated toddler, nearly walking into her, his eyes glued on the bodyguard he can see standing outside a door halfway down the corridor, his vision narrowed to his destination. His body is practically vibrating, he's so close to Wille, so close. He's lost his anger, its simply evaporated, and now he needs Wille. His heart's beginning to go harder, faster, responding to the thoughts swarming into his head.

Keira's head shot up, and for a moment she appeared confused, before realization painted over her features. "Oh! Hello Linda, Simon. Nice to see you." She smiled, nodding her head at each of them. Simon barely returned the smile.

"Sorry - I have a meeting in like 20 seconds, but Wilhelm really wants to tell you about his day, Simon. It's good to see you, have a nice day!" And she was gone, slipping into the elevator right before the doors slid shut.

"Well, there's your answer," Linda said, nudging Simon with her own shoulder slightly.

"Wille wants to tell me about his day?" Simon repeated like an idiot, eyes wide and voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Does he not hate me? How can he not be slightly angry? I exposed him when he trusted me - "

"Simon, don't spiral." Linda put both her hands firmly on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. "I am very, very, very proud of you. You have handled all of this amazingly, you've been so strong, so brave, and so supportive. Of course, Wilhelm will be slightly betrayed, but he must have known that telling you would lead to more than just you in the know." Linda explained, her own dark eyes flicking between Simon's. "Wilhelm wants to tell you about his day. So, go talk to him. Let's go?" She cocked her head down the hallway towards the bodyguard.

Simon nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, let's go."

The bodyguard looked at their passes and let them through the door, revealing yet another lonely-looking corridor. Another male bodyguard is standing outside a room, and he stands up straighter when he sees the two of them, slipping his phone into his pant pocket. Simon doesn't recognize him.

Simon instantly beelined for that door, shoes squeaking as he walks, clenching the lanyard in his fist. Linda trails behind him, heels clicking on the shiny white floor.

"Hey, I'm - I'm Simon," Simon told the bodyguard, offering his lanyard to the buff man.

The guys got a dark complex, black hair and brown eyes, his suit well fitting and flawless. The other bodyguard had been even buffer, blonde hair tied in a small man bun, brown eyes emotionless and jaw set, a feature this guy doesn't share.

"Simon." The guy said in a gruff voice, contrasting a small, blindingly white smile. Simon nodded anxiously, trying to keep eye contact and not stare at Wille's door. "I'm Lucas," he said, and Simon nodded again.

Simon glanced at his mother, who stepped fords to pass her lanyard to Lucas as well. "Linda." Lucas nodded. "I'm Lucas. Nice to meet you both."

"You too. Can I - ?" Simon gestured to Wille's door.

"Of course." Lucas stepped aside for Simon to move closer to the door without being uncomfortably near to Lucas. Lucas passed their lanyards back to Linda, who thanked him.

"Wilhelm wants to tell you about his day."

Simon raised his fist and knocked a few times, dropping his hand to await an answer, his Mother standing a step behind him with a gentle smile on her face, covering her own anxiety for her son's sake.

"Come in." Wille's voice floated through the door almost instantly, his words were muffled by the door and were too far away for Simon's liking, but it still made his stomach drop. Wille Wille Wille Wille, his mind chanted as he stepped fords again. No no no. Angry. We're slightly angry. He stole. A little bit angry, he has to be expecting that, right?

Simon grabbed the door handle and opened the door, taking a hesitant step into the new room. Martin is sitting in the corner, reading his book again. Then Simon's eyes found Wille's, and the first thing Simon noticed was his growing smile. Wille's sitting on his bed cross legged, grinning at Simon. Simon struggled to hold onto his angry thoughts when he saw the bright smile on Wille's face. He looks so beautiful when he smiles. Simon always thought the Crown Prince was pretty when he'd see him in a magazine, or at school, but his press smile is so much different to when he's actually smiling.

A million thoughts flooded into Simon's brain in the span of 1 second. Wille looks so beautiful, despite the hospital robes, the bandages, the baggy eyes - he looks ... so pretty. He's all floppy golden hair, hazeley eyes, cute, crooked grin.

Simon found himself slowly grinning back at Wilhelm, and at the confirmed action of affection, Wille instantly bounced up from his bed. Simon moved as well, he didn't even have to tell his legs to do anything as they moved him to where he wanted to be. His heart clenched up in the milliseconds leading up to Wille meeting him in a fierce hug, then relaxed - which would more accurately be described as a body slam, knocking him back a few steps towards the door. He melted into the embrace naturally, the tight muscles inside him loosening even more as he wrapped his own arms around Wille's middle like it was meant to be.

Not even a day they've been apart, but the hours since Simon last held Wille have been too long, and they moulded perfectly against one another the first chance they get.

But now Simon is here, he feels perfectly whole and comfortable right now, and he closed his eyes as he felt a bubbly feeling ignite in his stomach, making his insides go from hard and clenched to hot and messy, in the best way.

Wille's hugs are tight, and they are yet to fail at making Simon feel warm, not just on the outside, but inside as well. Even when they were in the rain for those few seconds before Malin saved them, he was warm in Wille's arms. He wonders if Wille feels the same about all of it: the pain that always comes from being apart, the uncontrollable need to care and worry for the other, and the mental warmth from his hugs.

Simon buried his nose in Wille's neck, trying to find something that doesn't smell like cleaning chemicals or hospital soap.

However, Wille pulled back, still grinning at Simon as a piece of golden hair fell into his line of vision. Simon wants to brush it back, again, but he managed refrain himself this time.

"Hi," Wille said breathlessly, eyes flickering between Simon's, still holding onto Simon just above his waist.

Simon's own smile managed to split even wider, he worried his entire face was about to tear in half. "Hi," he replied through his smile.

"Hey, Wilhelm!" Linda said from behind Simon, making him jump a little. Wille seemed equally shocked, hands falling away from Simon and dragging his warmth with them.

"Oh - hey, Linda, hi. Good to see you." Wille said, and even more to Simon's surprise, he ducked past Simon, their shoulders brushing gently, and hugged Linda as well. It didn't last as long as Simon and Wilhelm's, but it still made Linda smile in both surprise and happiness, and she hugged him back gently.

"You too Wilhelm," she said as she pulled back from the younger and surprisingly enthusiastic boy. "Oh, you look so good." Linda smiled at him, brushing some imaginary dust off his shoulder. Her comment sounded genuine, and she's right, Wille look's so cute with a smile on his face, he lights up the entire room. It's contagious, it's real.

Wille's cheeks are slightly coloured when he glances back at Simon with a derpy grin that he can't help but return. "Thanks, but I'm sure I look dead." Linda chuckled and instantly told him how wrong he was.

Simon snorted at his mother's antics, and covered it as a cough, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to walk into Wille's room.

"Do you want to come in?" Wille asked Linda, turning back to her and moving aside so she could walk into the room.

Linda hesitated, her eyes moving from Wille's smile to Simon's back, before speaking, "No, I'll let you guys have some space."

Simon looked down judgingly at what looks like a styrofoam bowl of lettuce with some white sauce on top. It's untouched, which is both slightly worrying and also understanding.

"Okay... wait, here's Simon's clothes," Wille turned, grabbing a paper bag from next to Martin and handing it back to Linda. "The hospital cleaned them for you guys. Thanks for letting me borrow them. Um, yeah." Simon could hear the unspoken, "sorry for ruining them".

But Linda still thanked him for making them keep them, before retiring to sit in a chair in the corridor, prompting a conversation with Lucas.

Wille shut the door and then appeared next to Simon, looking at the bowl as well. "What? Do you want it?" Wille said sarcastically, sniffing in disgust at the food, before collapsing onto his bed, leaning against the pillows.

Simon snorted again. He glanced at Martin, who he wasn't expecting to be looking back. Martin gave him a little wave, which he returned hesitantly.

When Simon looked away from the older man, his next instinct was to move the floating tray out of his way so he could sit with Wille, but Simon stopped himself, lowering his hands back to his sides firmly.

Wille watched him, his smile losing some of its shine as he realized what's happening. Wille rubbed his arm, on top of his bandages, glancing out the window to Simon's left before meeting his eye again.

Neither spoke. Simon doesn't really know how to approach this anymore, Simon's willing to let this go, but he at least wants an apology first. Simon feels like Wille understands his silence and why he hasn't sat with him, but he too, isn't too sure how to go on from here.

"Um," Wille's fingers picked harder at the bandages, and Simon half wondered if he realized he's making the fabric fray, despite his bluntened nails. "I'm sorry." He started nervously.

Simon rolled his lips together, not saying anything. What is he really meant to say anyway? It's not okay. Yes, Simon can forgive and forget this, once Wille properly apologizes for stealing drugs.

Wilhelm took a deep breath, shifting on his bed and leaving the fraying bandages alone in favour of picking at his nails. Simon really wants to just grab his hands and hold them in his own until he stops, he wants to put his own hands on top of his so they take the blunt instead of Wille's already beaten-up cuticles. But he didn't.

"I'm really, really sorry, Simon. I was..." Wille spoke slowly, clearly thinking over every word in his brain before speaking them to Simon, not allowing himself to ramble. "I know I shouldn't have taken them, and I regret it, a lot. I was so guilty from the moment I left the bathroom and went into your room, but I didn't know how to tell anyone." Wille said, barely meeting Simon's eye as he spoke, guilt shining in through his pupils. "And then you saw me bleeding, and that wasn't exactly the best moment to admit I'd stolen."

Simon winced, "Yeah, I wasn't in the best head space then." He regrets showing how stressed - and almost angry he'd gotten at Wille during that moment, it wasn't even close to the right approach. But he's learnt, and he's not going to react like that again, he just hopes Wille won't have to go through that again.

Wille nodded, "I wasn't either. But that still didn't give me the right to steal from you, no matter my head space. You guys were so caring, and kind, and I just stole in repay. I'm so sorry. I'll apologize to Linda and Sara - Is Sara here?"

Simon shook his head. "She said she'll come next time." Simon crossed his arms so they weren't hanging awkwardly by his sides.

Wille shrugged. "Okay. I'm so sorr - "

"I forgive you." Oh my fucking God you sap. Simon scolded himself, he wasn't meant to say that yet. 

Wille's eyes instantly flew to meet Simon's again, frowning slightly, shock and confusion mixing in his facial features. "Wait - really?"

Simon rolled his neck, before shrugging. "Yes, I forgive you. It's not okay, because, well - " He threw a hand up, and it fell back to hit his thigh, before he folded it again. Wille nodded in understanding, "But I forgive you for it."

Wille took a deep breath, letting it out shakily. "I'm so sorry. We'll pay you back."

"Yeah, so I've been told." Simon sighed, dropping his arms back to his side. "Okay, is that all cleared from the air now?"

Wille took a deep breath, looking around the room as if he could physically see the tension that had built before his apology. "Can I say sorry again?"

"No," Simon found himself laughing as he said the word. "Let's move on, this topic isn't a vibe."

"Okay," Wille said simply, shuffling around on his bed to make space next to himself with a small smile. He patted the empty spot, a clear sign for Simon to sit with him.

Simon felt his lips quirk again, he feels lighter now they've talked about it.

He moved the floating tray away to the side of the bed, before flopping himself next to Wille with such force he bounced back up slightly, causing Wille to chuckle lightly.

For a moment they just sat in a comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of talking through some conflict. It feels good to get it out of the air and clear it from Simon's mind.

Simon dropped his head on Wille's shoulder with a sigh, staring at his shoes next to Wille's socks.

"Should I take off my dirty shoes?" Simon mumbled, wiggling his ankle so his toe hit the side of Wille's foot.

"Probably," Wille replied, bumping his own foot into Simon's with more force than Simon had used.

"I'd kick you harder, but I'm wearing shoes, so it wouldn't be fair," Simon told him matter of factly.

Wille paused for a moment, a smile lacing his voice as he spoke, "So take your shoes off?"

Simon sat up with an annoyed groan, contrasting with his smile. He scooted to the edge of the bed to flick off his shoes without undoing the laces. "It's like you want to be kicked," Simon told him over his shoulder, wiggling back until he was next to Wille again, giving his foot a firm jab with one of his mismatching socks.

"Ouch," Wille says.

Simon turned his head to look at him, narrowing his eyes at Wille, who was looking back at him with an evil smirk. "Don't say ouch you little sh - rat... head..."

Wille raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a grin as he cocked his head to the side while Simon stuttered for something to say. "You - I - shut uppp. You literally asked for it, to be kicked, and then you complain." Simon rambled on, trying to move on from his horrible attempt to cover up nearly swearing in front of Martin (who he's sure wouldn't comment on it, but its too late to go back anyway.)

"Whatever, whatever - Can we talk about how you just called me a rat head?" Wille teased, smirking as he looked over at Simon, an expression Simon has not seen on Wille before. His lips are pressed together, curled up slightly at the edges, eyes narrowed a little bit. It probably shouldn't have made Simon's stomach drop, but it did, and he kind of loved the feeling.

Simon groaned in embarrassment, curling his legs up to hide his face in his knees, socks sliding over the smooth covers.

"How primary school of you," Wille continued to torture him with a growing grin.

"Well, maybe you are a rat head, Wille, ever thought of that, hmm?" Simon smartly retaliated, using all his three brain cells to make up with a comeback that he's sure 6-year-old him would have whooped at. Six-year-old Simon would probably lose his shit about Simon calling the Crown Prince a rat head, he'd think it was the best thing in the world.

"Sorry to interrupt your 'primary school' banter, but I need to use the loo, so if you are all good...?" Martin spoke up suddenly. His book is now shut, and he is slowly standing from his chair, awaiting Wilhelm's approval or something.

Wille nodded slowly, looking quietly confused, "okay."

Simon frowned slightly as Martin left the room instead of going into Wille's little toilet off to the side. But the more privacy the two boys have, the better.

Simon made sure he didn't instantly bring the mood down though, he's enjoying, as Martin put it, their primary school banter. It's fun, it's easy, easier than talking about everything outside the bubble they managed to recreate. Simon doesn't know how, or when, but he's found all those shattered pieces, and he's rebuilding the fragile shelter around them that locks in the happy and blocks out the arguing.

Simon sighed, turning to look at Wille again. "So, Wilhelm, how has your day been? I'm guessing it's horrible, since I was not here to grace you with my presence."

Wille's cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink and oh, Simon just wants to kiss him.

Wait.

Simon blinked at his own thoughts, while Wille said "Actually, I had a decent day without you." Simon nodded, trying to not show the realization that he's just had on his face. Instead of facing Wille, Simon turned around and shuffled to the end of the bed, leaning on the end part with his legs out in front of him. His heart is slamming against his ribs, he thinks Wille could probably have felt it through the their shoulders that had been touching.

"Oh, really?" Simon croaked, clearing his throat. Wille's smile wavered at his voice, eyes flicking over his form like he could find his discomfort on his body. Simon hopes he doesn't think he moved away because they were touching, Simon likes when they touch, and now he's realised why. He thought it was platonic, like how he enjoys hugging Rosh and Ayub, the comfort that comes from it, but apparently, his brain doesn't think like that with Wille. He didn't know.

"I mean, I'd rather you were here - " Wille started nervously. Simon tried to will his brain to catch up. He wanted to kiss Wille? His stomach dropped. Oh my God, he does, I mean, everyone feels that way. His lips look soft, gentle, pink and very kissable to everyone, right?

"No, I mean, that's great!" Simon choked. "I actually, um, bumped into Keira, in the - the elevator, and she told me you wanted to tell me about your day, so I was just - um, trying to start that conversation." Simon stumbled over his words like an idiot.

Wille barely suppressed a frown, but Simon saw it. "Are you okay?" Wille asked slowly.

Simon blurted out the first thing he could think of. "Well my Mum made me buy you this card and some chocolate but she has it right now and I just remembered that," he said all to quickly.

Wille froze, blinking a few times as he stared at Simon. Can he see right through me? Then he smiled, and his grin kept growing. "Wait, really?" He said, cheeks growing pink again.

Simon willed his brain to just stop, it's not a big deal, he already knew he was gay, it's just that he likes Wille, Wille who he's barely known a day. When the fuck did those feelings appear? How long have they been building? Are they mutual?

"Yup. She has it right now," Simon said, his voice slowly lowering from the octave it had grown in. "I'll go get it." Simon didn't hesitate to jump up from the bed, slipping on the floor in his rush to get away. "Ouch. Fuck."

"You good?" Wille asked, shifting on the bed to move over to Simon, who was scrambling up from his ass where he'd just fallen, heartbeat ringing in his ears, skipping a beat at Wille's worry.

"Yup, mhm. Okay. Be right back." Simon threw a smile over his shoulder and slid out the room, 

Lucas is standing to the side, and he gave Simon a small smile when looking up from his phone, which Simon weakly returned, hoping the bodyguard wouldn't find him as suspicious as he surely looks. Simon shut the door as his eyes found his Mum, sitting on a chair with her handbag containing Wille's things, scrolling through her phone.

The rest of the corridor is empty, so Simon let himself breathe for a few moments while his Mother's attention stayed on her phone, Lucas doing a similar thing.

Fuck, he likes Wille, the Crown Prince. That wouldn't be a problem, he could have a crush on the Crown Prince of Sweden from a distance, just like thousands of other people all over the world. He's cute, and looks damn good when he wears one of those perfect-fitting suits, but now he's Simon's friend, his friend who loves physical touch, and Simon loves his touch. Maybe he's mistaken all the signs of attraction for anxiety, stomach dropping, heart skipping beats. But there have barely been moments where they've just been domestic, and haven't been crying or arguing or asleep. Clearly, that's still been enough for Simon's too-big heart to get attached and grow feelings.

Simon took another deep breath in an attempt to calm his heart, which feels, and sounds like it's beating inside of his ears - scratch that, it's all over his body. He's sure if he looked down, he'd be able to see his heart beating in his chest, and his stomach, and his wrists, and his neck. It's so hard, he can feel it jolting his clothes. The blood rushing through his head is louder than any thoughts he's having in the moment, which is making it even harder to think this over.

It's fine. Simon's had crushes on his friends before, everyone has. It's just normally way easier to cover it up, which is what Simon will do do: cover it up, because Wille doesn't like boys, or at least he hasn't come out about it, so there's no chance Simon can be with him. He'll have to like him quietly, he'll freak out about his adorable cheeks flushing red internally, and he'll scream into his pillow after a day of watching him run his hands through his golden, floppy hair...

But... what are the chances of the cute, anxious, Crown fucking Prince being into boys? Especially poor boys with brown skin, like Simon.

Jackie's words came back to him. "Jesus, you two man..." "What? Has Wille told you about me?" "Maybe. It's confidential."

Oh my God, he knew. He fucking knew. Simon realized, trying to stand straighter as Lucas glanced at him with a small frown, probably wondering why he's standing there with a distressed expression. Am I that obvious? Does Wille know I like him - will he push me away if he finds out? Is he pretending he hasn't noticed so we can stay friends?

Simon glanced at his mother again. He's taking too long, Wille's going to get suspicious.

Simon took yet another deep breath. He'll have to suppress his feelings so he can stay friends with Wille. But he'll have to physically distance himself from him by not touching him as much. He can be his friend without giving him hugs...even though their entire relationship seems to be built on physical affection, and less vocal.

He forced himself to walk over to his mother. "Mama," He said, finding his voice to be steadier than he was expecting. Suppress suppress suppress. Think straight boy thoughts about Wille... What are those? Simon's not ashamed to be gay, if Wille asked, he'd tell him he's gay, but he doesn't want to like Wille, especially if he doesn't like boys, he'll just get hurt from it, again.

"Oh, hi mi amor. Are you ready to leave already?" Linda frowned, glancing down at the time at the top of her too-bright phone screen.

"No, I'm just going to get the stuff to give to Wille." He explained, thoughts flying a million miles an hour like he's chugged three Monsters (which he did once with Ayub and Rosh, it took him hours to stop twitching and vibrating on the spot.)

Linda nodded, moving to her handbag. "You look a little shaken, Simon, is everything okay in there?"

Simon nodded as well. "Yeah, we're all good. He apologized, and said he'll apologize to you and Sara later."

"Tell him it's okay, I forgive him as well."

Simon took a shaky breath as he took the box of chocolates and the card from her. "Alright. See you." He said simply, turning around and walking back to the door in his socks, surely picking up all the dirt and grime from the floor which will turn them from white to grey.

Simon was just about to open the door when he heard the first, horrible, guttural scream echoing from a room a few doors down from Wille's, across what had been a quiet hall, sounding gathering concerningly like a dragged out "no!"

Instantly, his head shot in that direction, eyes wide as his blood ran cold and his body tensed. What the fuck was that?

Simon looked at Lucas, who was frowning at the door where the sound had come from, phone gone, body tense with one arm reaching back towards Wille's room.

The corridor was deadly silent for a moment before someone screamed again and Simon jumped, blinking rapidly, his gay crisis forgotten. A raised voice spoke back, too muffled by the door for Simon to make out any real words.

Simon stayed frozen on the spot as Wille's door flew open and he stood there, eyes meeting Simon's. He instantly saw what he's planning on his face - in the tenseness of his muscles, in his wild, challenging eyes.

"Wille - " Simon had barely started speaking before Wille was ducking past Simon, yet again, and dodging Lucas's big hands, this time he was not moving to embrace Simon's mother, but instead to run across a corridor to the closed door that the screams have come from.

Simon spun on the spot and grabbed his wrist before he could take more than three steps, managing to beat Lucas to it, halting Wille's movements with a jerk and an annoyed grunt. In the process to stop Wille, he dropped the gifts and the chocolate box split open and sent the little treats rolling across the floor.

Everythings happening so quickly, Simon barely got over one thing when the next happened.

Doors all down the hall opened in succession, and a bunch of teenagers burst out, staring around at each other and the door, taking hesitant and worried steps towards the door.

"Hey! Go back in your rooms!" Lucas yelled, putting a firm hand on Wille's shoulder, but not taking him from Simon's already tight grip. None of them looked at Lucas for more than a second, either unbothered or used to the bigger man.

A girl, directly in front of Simon and Wille, took several steps towards the door where the screaming came from, her eyes darting back to Wille every few moments. She looks younger than Simon, with a bandage around her forehead and wide, frightened eyes.

"It's Lily's room." Was all the girl said, all it took for Wille to freeze in Simon and Lucas's grasp, going completely motionless.

"Lily?" Simon said questioningly, God, he's so confused right now.

"What's wrong with her, Leah?" Wille asked the girl, voice shaking.

The girl - Leah - looked back at her room, then back to Wille. She opened her mouth to speak when a man came from her room and grabbed her hand, pulling her back a step.

"Leah, please come back to your room, the other doctors will deal with it," the man said, voice eerily calm.

Chaos absorbed the hallway as men and women all appeared to take the kids back into their rooms, they all fought and argued and tried to pull back, but against the fully grown, trained adults, they didn't stand a chance. The door to Simon's right shut especially hard, and the click of a lock followed, keeping a fierce-looking boy inside. He had been giving Wille death looks that unnerved Simon more than Wille, who hadn't even noticed him.

Linda materialized at their side as two more staff members burst through a door at the end of the corridor, running down the hallway towards Lily's room, which Simon can now hear sobbing and yelling coming from. It's like someone has died there - His stomach dropped, all his organs stopped, frozen in place. This ward doesn't exactly have the most emotionally stable people in it...

"Simon, stop it- " Wille tried to argue, but was cut off by another scream, which made him and Simon both jump, and Linda winced next to them, Lucas didn't even have a reaction, instead turning to Wilhelm and saying again, this time more firmly, "lets go back into your room, please, Crown Prince."

"Fucking hell - " A voice yelled from inside the room.

"Please go back into your room, Wilhelm." A nurse repeated to Wille as she rushed past towards Lily's room.

When she opened the door, another scream shot out, this one way louder than before. Wille jolted towards the door, dragging Simon a step with him before Lucas fully grabbed both his biceps, jolting Simon's iron grip off of him. Simon half thinks his hold was so tight because he's fucking scared, who is screaming? And Wille knows the patient by name, he hopes they are okay.

The other doctor followed the woman in and slammed the door behind him, but the screaming had already stopped again. It's on and off, feeling unpredictable and desperate, beginning to sound more and more like "no" and "do something".

Lucas pulled a struggling Wille back a step, and then another. Wille tried to shove him off, eyes darting from the door to Simon, who is standing like an idiot, his own eyes doing similar things. His heart is still beating quickly, too quickly, almost worse than before, his hands shaking with fear. Clearly, his flight or fight reaction isn't either, but instead is freeze.

"Okay!" Wille shoved Lucas off. "I'm going," Lucas put his hands up in surrender, allowing Wille to walk a step back to his room.

Simon followed his movement with his eyes, and was fully expecting it when Wille turned and bolted the other way, so Simon was ready to jump fords into his path, grabbing his shoulders to stop him from running. 

"Wille- " 

"Okay! I'm fucking going!" Wille snapped, turning roughly away from Simon, stalking back towards his room slowly, breathing hard as he glanced back at Lily's door.

"Thank you, Crown Prince," Lucas said. Simon sighed shakily, before shaking out his arms.

It looks like nothing happened. The corridor is empty, everyone has been locked back into their rooms. If you couldn't hear, you wouldn't think anything was wrong. But it's loud, people are yelling, banging on doors, demanding to know what happened to Lily.

"Who is Lily?" Simon asked, maneuvering to walk next to Wille, who had made it about 5 steps across the corridor in total, walking extremely slowly. His heart is still beating very quickly inside of him, but he's trying to calm down, if he's learnt anything from these unexpected and stressful situations, it's that stressing in them doesn't help anyone.

Linda opened her mouth, about to say something when Wille spoke.

"A girl from my group therapy," Wille replied, looking over his shoulder at the door again, managing to walk even slower. "I - I don't know why she's here, she had bandages on her hands but - but - " Wille stopped walking fully, looking past Lucas at the room, eyes wide and scared.

Simon's heart aches for him, for this boy who cares about people just as quickly as Simon, who's heart is too big and is worn on his sleeve. A girl from his group therapy. Who knows what's happening in that room? Simon moved his hands to Wille's shoulders, standing directly in front of him, holding him firmly in place as he tried to go around Simon. "Wille. It's not your job to keep her safe."

Where the fuck is Martin?

"I know, I know, I just want to know she's okay," Wille said firmly, barely meeting Simon's eye. "She - she has Tourettes, that makes people scream, right?" He's right, but not like that, Simon thinks. Not prolonged, pained screams, and they sound older than a teenage girl. But maybe. Simon doesn't know. He hopes.

"Wille -" What does Simon say? He's equally curious and worried, probably not as much as Wille, who actually knows her, but anyone who hears screaming in a hospital would be concerned for the person screaming. Simon took a deep breath through his nose.

"Wilhelm, you should go back into your room. They'll tell you eventually." Linda finally spoke, moving to stand next to Simon. She's got her Mum face on, assertive and firm. "Okay? We'll go with you. C'mon." She didn't really leave it up for debate, turning Wille on the spot and putting an arm around his shoulder to lead him back inside his room, Lucas waited behind Simon.

Simon looked around the corridor, wincing as a feminine voice screamed "TELL US WHAT IS GOING ON!" From the door next to Leah. There are chocolates scattered everywhere.

Simon inhaled sharply, just enough oxygen to speak. "I'll just - just pick these up, I'll be right there," Simon told Lucas, who nodded, before slipping inside and shutting the door.

Simon scrambled around, shoving them back into the box and putting the container on the chair Linda had been sitting on only minutes ago, grabbing her handbag as well as the paper bag of clothes. His heart is going way to fast despite the slow, measured breaths he takes as he cleans up quickly, blocking out the loud sobbing from the room meters away.

Simon opened Wille's door, eyes first falling on Linda, who is sitting next to Wille on his bed. Wille's chewing on his nails while looking at the floor in front of him with a dazed expression. Lucas is standing just next to the door, and he gestured for Simon to come inside all the way.

Simon gulped, peeking out Wille's door one last time with an armful of stuff to see Martin appear at the end of the corridor, followed by Keira not even a second later. They're talking, and walking at such a fast pace it could count as jogging. Simon used to be a very good lip reader, and maybe if he was paying attention to their mouths he would have been able to make out the words they are speaking. But Simon's not even looking at them. His eyes widened, and he grabbed the doorframe to stop himself from collapsing from the overwhelming shock of what he's just seen, the bags dropped to the floor along with Simon's heart, and everyone turned to look at him.

This is some movie bullshit, you see this stuff happen on screens and you read about it in books, Simon knows it can happen in the real world, it happens everyday, every second. But... 

He's going to faint. The breath has been knocked right from his lungs, he's winded without even being hit. He's going to throw up. He has to be seeing wrong, there's no way... how did it even happen...

Running behind Keira and Martin are three other doctors. Ba-boom. Simon's heart slams in his chest. Two of the doctors are wheeling a gurney between them. Ba-boom. Everything is happening in slow motion. Sitting on top of the gurney is a hollow body bag. Ba-boom. The wheels squeak painfully - ba-boom - cutting through Simon's brain like an arrow. Ba-boom. They're going towards Lily's room. Ba-boom.

Chapter Text

It's not okay, none of this is okay. Simon started acting weird when they got close, and then he left Wille, alone, in a room with multiple things he could've used to kill himself. He probably shouldn't have panicked as much as he did at being left alone for what should have been thirty seconds - a minute max - while Simon got stuff from his Mum. But Simon was gone and Wille was panicking, because for some reason, those were his first thoughts.

Two minutes into his panic attack and someone started screaming, and Wille didn't know what to do, he didn't even know who was screaming. Wille sat on his bed like an idiot, frowning at the door, preying hes not hearing right, because why would someone be screaming right now, during visiting hours, if something isn't wrong? Nothing can be wrong. Not when too much has started to go right.

Wilhelm's legs took him to his door before he could really think "I should leave it to the doctors". Simon was standing right there when he opened the door. The look that had been on his face when he left the room - the shock, the confusion- it was gone, replaced with naked, unfiltered fear. He looked terrified. Eyes the size of saucers, mouth slightly agape - Wille knew the screaming was real, not some cursed figment of his imagination.

Everything turned to chaos. Everything was a blur - who was grabbing him? Simon? Lucas? Linda? Is it Martin? Who's screaming, is it Lily, her visitor, the doctor looking after her? The others from group came out, Wille didn't get many glimpses of their worried faces, to busy fighting his own battles while they fought theirs.

Hours later, and Wille can still hear the screaming, he's lying in bed staring at the roof, it must be past midnight, and the hospital is dead silent. Somewhere in the hospital is a morgue, filled with bodies, and Lily's just joined them. Somewhere in this city is a mother who couldn't stop screaming, a mother with a family who just lost their child. Somewhere there are friends who are about to hear the worst thing imaginable: their friend in a psych ward has died.

It's really strange, Wille barely knew Lily, and he still found himself sobbing in Simon's arms when the body bag left the room. He was shocked and scared and confused, and Simon was familiar, and warm, and comforting. He momentarily forgot about Simon's strange behavior for the sake of his comfort. 

Following out the gurney was a mourning mother, who collapsed to her knees in the corridor and screamed her throat raw while a nurse crowded at her side, trying to get her to move. Everyone else from his group were locked in their rooms, and Wille was forced into his own moments later, but he knew they must know what happened, the woman was screaming Lily's name. Kiera told him the following day his group had indeed been informed.

Wille sighed heavily, pushing away the memory of it all. Two weeks later, and its still fresh in his mind.

In front of Wille, Simon is biting his lip in concentration, the Jenga tower between them tilting dangerously to one side. Simon eyed the precarious tower of bricks, and Wille was really tempted to give the pile a little poke so it would crumble in Simon's lap. But he didn't, he bit his nails and focused on not bouncing his knee, a mistake he's already made but won't make again.

Wille sighed again, more dramatically this time.

"Oh my God, Simon," Sara groaned from Simon's side, crossed legged next to him on the bed. Wille smirked slightly, good to know he's not the only one dying.

Turns out, Simon is really competitive, and so is Wille, so poor Sara has been there on multiple occasions to prevent them from slitting each others throats.

"You totally just cheated!" Wille blurted out a little too loudly. Martin glanced over the top of his book at them with a small frown, almost never having heard raised voices that have been actually negative.

Simon's brows scrunched as he scoffed at Wille. "I didn't, that's how I play." Simon gestured to the pile of UNO cards between them. He's just won the game by putting down three 4s, which were all different colours. That's not how Wille plays.

"You're meant to have one card to win the game, that's why it's called UNO, genius," Wille mumbled the sarcastically used insult under his breath, throwing down his cards.

So maybe Simon left Wille's room before the visiting hours were up, but he came back the next day and said he felt bad, so all good things in the end. The apology would have felt even more complete with a hug, but Simon's been really weird about that recently. If Wille moves to close to him, he'll find some excuse to move away, whether its out of the entire fucking room, to sit somewhere else, or complaining himself or Wille smells bad, trying to make it seem like a joke, when Wille just feels hurt. He can pinpoint the exact moment Simon changed: Simon had just asked how Wille's day was, saying it must have been horrible because Simon wasn't there to "grace you with my presence". Wille had felt his cheeks heat up, brain momentarily slugging to a stop, but he saw it happen. Simon tensed like someone had turned his insides to ice, and his smile had dropped, before he picked it up again, the edges flickering like a glitching hologram. It reminds Wille of someone who's trying to hide the horrible news they just remembered.

Simon finally made his move, taking out a brick three from the bottom. The three teens held their breath as he pulled it out, and then placed it on top without anything falling.

"Fuck," Wille mumbled, rubbing his face.

Wille is still blessed with bandages around both his wrist and his neck, but he's gotten used to the uncomfortable feeling and the regular changes, very pointedly looking away whenever the final layer is removed, leaving his skin feeling cold and clammy. He's used to the warm washcloth gliding over the sensitive skin, he's used to the sharp inhales and the way he clenches his opposite fist to suppress tears, because it hurts like a bitch, even if its warm and Kiera is gentle.

It's been two weeks, he kind of had to get used to it.

Apparently, a lot has happened out in the world, according to his two sources: Simon and Sara.

Sara said they both went back to school yesterday - which was Monday and they heard 0 rumors about the Crown Princes whereabouts, just gossip about the truth.

The day after Lily died as a horrible fucking day for Wilhelm. One bad thing just seemed to snow ball into another.

Simon couldn't visit because Linda had work all day, and she couldn't cancel again since she'd missed three whole days of work to be with her kids, and Simon isn't allowed to come to the hospital without parental supervision.

Wille had his first psychiatry session with Sophie, and he did not enjoy it. They only talked for 10 minutes before Wille felt the need to grab his hair to stop his thoughts coming out, because he knows what Sophie does: she'll pick apart his brain and leave him feeling emotionless, he won't feel anything if he tells her whats going on.

Wilhelm didn't have group that day, since Lily had just passed, they were giving everyone a moment to themselves (which is what everyone in the group opted for, despite Keira's gentle pressing that it would probably help to be together)

So Wille had been sitting on his window sill moping, and had fallen asleep there. Which initially would be a great thing, Wilhelm's sleeping instead of trying to kill himself, yay! He'd thought hours after the disaster had struck.

Someone had looked up at the hospital for whatever reason, and managed to pick out the sleeping form of the Crown Prince 3 floors up. The genius had taken a photo and posted it on Instagram. Apparently, and not so surprisingly the internet blew the fuck up. Reporters swarmed the hospital for days on end, questioning anyone who went in or out if Wilhelm was actually there, if they were visiting, if he'd been attacked at school, if he'd died, if there was an another car accident.

Some people had lied, they said they knew Wilhelm personally, said they knew why he was there and made stories to back it up. Then they had a few reporters follow them home and complained about it, like stirring that shit spoon wouldn't come with consequences.

Wille wasn't allowed near any uncovered windows for quite some time. Wille had been really confused why no one was letting him by a window, because he'd never verbally expressed a want to throw himself out of one, until Simon told him what had happened, Simon, who didn't touch him the entire time he was there that day, which left Wille even more on edge.

He hadn't actually known the public knew until Simon came the following Tuesday and told him. Apparently he'd been woken up by Sara bursting into his room and throwing her phone at him with the posts about Wille's hospitalization at 6 in the morning. Wilhelm was touched Sara cared, and even more touched Simon was willing to stay out of his house for so long after some horrible experiences. He could see by the look on his friends face that he clearly didn't enjoy being in the city, or being swarmed by reporters every time he left and came back. 

Simon was then promptly told off by Martin because it caused Wille to be quite panicked, demanding to look out the windows and being continuously denied the right, as reporters could be looking at that inconvient three seconds he's gaping down at the crowd. The crowd took up nearly half the car park, but because that inconvineced a fucking hospital, the police came and assured most of them away, or sent them to the side walks inside of drive ways.

Simon had been very apologetic, nearly sending himself into a panic attack about it, admitting he wasn't really thinking and was also extremely shaken by the news on behalf of his friend. The reporters out front hadn't left him any less flustered either.

Wille hadn't known what to think about this. He wanted to make a statement about it, but not like this, not by being outed. He wondered what his social media looked like, but he didn't even bother asking for his phone.

Later that day, Kristina called the hospital and spoke to Wilhelm on the phone, telling him they are going to make a statement about why Wilhelm is there, like they were planning to do in the first place, just sooner than Wille had thought. Wille had a question on the very tip of his tongue the entire time they planned, "why aren't you here with me? With your son, who very obviously needs your support?"

Five hours later, and the statement was going out. Wille actually got a say in it, which he loved.

WARNING: VIEWERS SENSITIVE ABOUT SELF HARM, DEPRESSION, AND ANXIETY ARE CAUTIONED WHEN READING.
We encourage you to read our brief summary here instead, or view another articles about Crown Prince Wilhelm's rebellious past, and our predictions for his rough future.

Crown Prince Wilhelm Talks About His Mental Health

Mental health issues are becoming more common amongst the younger generation, and I, Crown Prince Wilhelm, am no exception. I'm only human, meaning I feel the same emotions as any other teenage boy, with the additional pressure of being the proud Crown Prince of Sweden, and the unsettled grief of Crown Prince Erik's recent passing.

A short time ago, I reached rock bottom and found myself hospitalised after I made some tragic decisions whilst at Hillerska. By now, everyone is aware I am indeed at a hospital, and I will stay there for a while. But as they say, once you're at rock bottom, there's nowhere else to go but upwards. As I heal, I ask for respect from the public. It is, respectfully, none of your business why I am here, not only because it is personal to me, and my family, but it is sensitive information.

Nevertheless, after a lot of consideration, I have decided to share the beginning of my mental health journey.

High school puts a lot of pressure on any teenager's life. Add anxiety, lack of sleep, grief, and unachievable expectations to the mix, and some ugly emotions could surface in one's mind. This is how I found myself attempting suicide. Details will be left out. Of course, I am a proud survivor of this attempt, which I am since grateful for. I am very lucky to be blessed with another chance at life. However, not everyone comes out as fortunate.

Losing yourself to the craving of suicide, or self-harm, is nothing short of pleasant to recover from. It is a slippery slope, and many do not make it up the steep climb. I ask everyone to be considerate of those around you and take a moment to check in with your loved ones right now.

Be patient with people, and yourself. Allow yourself time to breathe, time to heal, time to mourn, or whatever it is you may need, you deserve to put a few minutes or hours aside in your day to think about it. You should put your own emotions before others. If you do not think you can be the person somebody unreservedly vents to, that is completely, and utterly acceptable. Emotions are a human thing, so do not try to suppress them. Simply feel what you feel, don't try to hide it, and request help if needed. (Call 020-18 18 00, Sweden's suicide hotline)

I ask everyone to be respectful to those who struggle with mental health, and to be considerate about your 'jokes'. Please do not fake anything for attention, because it is highly likely that people are aware you are a fraud bearing those emotions.

I know from personal experience that while a helping hand is not always appreciated, it is often needed. Not a permanent crutch, but instead, an encouraging nudge up the cliff face so you can get some solid footing. Whether that nudge comes from a friend, a family member, a colleague at work, a teacher, or professional help - it does not matter. I encourage you to seek help if you feel you need it, even when it is not easy. I too resisted help the first time it was offered. Getting help may very well be the hardest part, admitting you are not okay is challenging, especially if you don't realise it is okay to not be mentally stable, and it is more than acceptable to ask for help.

I understand as your Crown Prince, people are concerned for me, and I thank you for your sympathy in these hard times. But I also ask for the same respect you show the people you know who struggle with mental health. I ask people to not pry into my life. When I feel ready, I may choose to share my healing journey because I understand it could assist other people through their own.

As soon as I am well again, I will continue my studies at Hillerska boarding school, where I hope to remain until I eventually graduate. I will take my fresh new steps to ensure that this does not happen again, and I encourage anyone else struggling to do the same.

I thank everyone for your good wishes, and I thank every single soul who has helped me, right from the person who found me attempting, to the cooks at this hospital, they deserve more than I could ever offer.

Now take a moment to think about how you feel.

Wilhelm had had many ideas on what he wanted to say despite not having really thought about it much. Everything just came to him in the spur of the moment: I want to admit I attempted, I want to encourage people to get help, I want to go back to Hillerska, and I want people to know.

Not everything he wanted was included in the speech: Minou said some things didn't need to be shared with the public.

Looking back on it, Wille feels like it should have been easier  to write a speech with Minou, her team, and his Mother, but it just wasn't. Every time he said something, they'd go quiet, or they'd put him on hold to talk about it, or, even worse, they'd whisper, as if Wilhelm couldn't hear through the extremely sensitive speaker.

Admitting to things - despite him having done it multiple times already - was hard. Wille hoped it would have gotten easier - and he supposes it has, considering he did wind up helping to write a statement about it - but he still found himself stumbling over words like a child first learning how to speak, his throat still closed over against his will and his heart started racing for no reason.

"Wille."

Wilhelm head snapped up, blinking as he caught Simon's gaze, then flicking to Sara. He wonders how long they've been trying to get his attention.

Rain lashes against the window, echoing in the silence that quickly fills the room. In the corner of the room, Wille's red LED's glow from where they are sitting on an empty shelf. Malin had brought them over a few days ago, and she said there are other things she bought from Wille's room at Hillerska that he will be allowed later on. Malin is now on his security rotations with Lucas, they do six hour shifts on and off, so Wilhelm gets to see them both through the course of the day.

Simon's concerned gaze bores into Wille's head as he slowly looks back at him from the window. "Are you okay? We called you several times..."

Sara pursed her lips, looking away from Wille, down to the Jenga tower, and then back to Simon, who glanced back at her.

"Sorry, sorry, what?" Wille kept his gaze steady on Simon, praying he'd look back at him like he'd been doing for about two seconds.

"Your turn." Simon mumbled, meeting his eye for a moment, before looking back at the tower.

Wille blinked, taking in a shaky, sharp breath. "Right, sorry." His hands are shaking. Fuck. "Sorry," Wille repeated, moving to stand up suddenly, impulsively. Simon's gaze snapped to him, tracking Wille as he clambered off the bed, accidentally rocking it too much so the delicately stacked tower crumbled towards him, narrowly missing the fingers he pulled off his bed.

"Sorry, sorry," Wille chanted, staring at the mess Simon and Sara scooped towards them.

"It's okay, Wille, we'll rebuild it -" Sara said, looking up at Wille from where she sits next to her silent brother. "- For the next round..." she trailed off, "Do you need a moment?" Sara asked, eyes flicking over Wille.

Wille shrugged helplessly, feeling like a wild animal - no one knows what his next move will be, not even himself. Right now it is just these three in the room, no more Martin. Initially, it was nice to no longer have a shadow in the form of an older, muscular man, but it was kind of lonely, and unnerving to be alone in a room, despite Lucas and Malin being outside the door, or the multiple help buttons surrounding them.

Wille then nodded, looking between Simon and Sara. Can't Simon look at him? Is he that fucking hideous now? "I'll just - " Wille threw a thumb over his shoulder, taking in a shaky breath. "Bathroom." Sara nodded, and Simon nodded at the covers, hearing, but barely acknowledging Wille's panic. It hurts.

"Okay, call us if you need anything though," Sara said hesitantly, glancing at Simon. She too must think it's weird that he's been being strange for the past 2 weeks, Wille thinks it might be killing him almost as much as his own brain is. 

Wille turned on the heel of his grippy sock - which squeaked embarrassingly - and walked into his little bathroom, trying to hide his heavy breathing as he closed the door. Well, he pushed it shut, it doesn't actually close, with a slanted top so Wille can't hang himself, and door handles that point down so he, yup you guessed it, can't hang himself.

Wille doesn't want to now, but he can practically feel it building. He may never acknowledge it, but every time Simon avoids his gaze, or dodges his hugs, a small spring inside him reels back further, ready to jump fords and smash into his heart, ready for him to release back into self harm. It's so much easier to do it than to resist it, Wille thought every time he was sat in front of his selective doctors, but he knew that statement could change everything, its the one thing he was keeping to himself, hoping they hadn't noticed.

He moved over to the sink, staring down at the white porcelain which is beginning to swirl in his eyes. He knows they shouldn't have left him alone at the beginning of his panic attack, but he also knows Sara's not sure what she's doing, and Simon seems to be afraid to make eye contact, so they let him go.

Fuck, Wille's scared to be alone.

Wilhelm splashed his face with ice cold water a few times until he was gasping for breath from something other than a panic attack, continuing to stare down at the sink, the water falling from his face feeling similar to tears dropping off his cheeks and nose.

"Fuck," he whispered, looking up sharply, flicking strands of water sodden hair back off his face, and he stared at himself.

Despite the vitamins he's been getting fed, his skin still looks gaunt and pale, almost sickly. His eyes are sunken in, with dark bags resting underneath them. Depression and stress are eating away at his physical appearance. His hair is oily and - despite it only having been a month since he got it cut - it feels too long and in his way.

Wille realised he's scowling at himself, disgusted by what he sees. No wonder people left such harsh comments, he is hard to look at, no wonder Simon can't meet his eye. His skin is draped in a layer of acne, pimples, and texture - Wille hates it. Some people look good with acne, he is not one of those people. How is anyone ever going to look at those sunken cheeks and pale skin and find him attractive?

Wille blinked harshly, forcing his eyes off his reflection. He dried his face with the soft towel and abandoned the bathroom.

Wilhelm noticed Sara's absence as he returned, leaving Simon alone on the bed. He then instantly noticed the posture of the other boy, he's holding himself like someone who's about to deliver horrible news, stiff and pointedly not making eye contact with Wilhelm. He's packed up the game, and sitting on the tray is Wille's dinner. The nurse with his food must have come while he was hiding in the bathroom, he must have taken longer than he thought.

"Where's Sara?" Wille asked, even though he already knows: She's gone to fetch dinner for Linda, Simon and herself, as they tend to stay from whenever they arrive to the end of the evening visiting hours. Everything has to be worked around Linda and her shifts at work, and Simon has already warned Wille regular school hours, plus choir, and Linda's work he may only see him a few times a week. Wilhelm just hopes he gets out of here soon.

Simon slowly reached over the edge of the bed to put the Jenga box on the floor. "She went to get food." He confirmed. "I can text her to get some for you?" He suggested, glancing at Wille as he scootched to the back of the bed, while Wille settled at his pillows. Wille's still hasn't grown used to Simon being on the opposite side of the bed to him, being so far away. But he can hardly blame him, Wille can't look at himself, how can he except Simon to hug that?

Tonight for dinner he's been blessed with plain pasta, some red-orange curry he guesses is butter chicken, since there are chunks in it, and a pile of boiled green beans. Wille knows they don't try to make it horribly unpleasant, it's a hospital, they're meant to make everything as comfortable and easy as possible, but they have hundreds of mouths to feed a night, so the food has to go around.

"No, it's alright, I'll eat this... stuff," Wille replied, picking up his spoon to scoop up a bean, only for it to fall into his butter chicken on the way to his mouth.

Simon nodded, rolling his lips together nervously.

The tension is thick, the rain not making it any less awkward.

Wille pursed his lips, staring down at his beans as he bounced the spoon between his thumb and index finger, plotting what he'll say. He's not the best at confrontation, but Simon's easy to talk to, or he was, when he could look at him.

Wille looked up at Simon, and found him also staring at Wille's food. It's like he's not letting himself look at Wilhelm, is he that horrible to look at? Simon's seen him worse, he's sure.

"How's everyone in group?" Simon asked, knee bouncing anxiously.

Wille sighed, putting down his spoon. He has no appetite tonight. Simon looked up at him when he put down his spoon, which really only encouraged him to leave it abandoned on his plate, contradicting Simon's slightly narrowed eyes, daring him to pick it up again.

"They're okay." Last week Ethan attempted to kill his assigned nurse and hasn't been seen since, no one told the group, but they all knew he was strapped to a bed in another ward. "Leah's being discharged in a few days." Amy somehow convinced her friend to bring her a paracetamol everyday since she'd first arrived here and overdosed herself in the shower, as she'd been storing every single pill. She lived, and seems the exact same, which is kind of concerning. "And Zack started his physical therapy."

Simon nodded, smiling slightly. "That's good. Do you think Leah will visit?" He's making small talk. It hurts. Why can't they talk like normal? How is Simon feeling? Wille doesn't know how to ask all these questions.

Wilhelm shrugged, staring at Simon even when he looked away again, giving up at his eye telepathy for Wille to eat. "I hope. She'll be on my visitor list at least. I know she doesn't go to Hillerska, but I've memorized her Instagram for when I get my phone back." Another thing Wille has been without for two weeks. It's made him feel oddly light - the lack of his phone. He never really noticed because it was always there, but its presence has added some kind of invisible but heavy weight to his life. It's also nice to know that since the release of the statement, no one will be making fake posts on his Instagram pretending that he's okay. Some mornings he'd wake up at school and his Instagram would have a fresh post about some up and coming event, or of some photo he'd sent in three weeks ago of a location he hasn't been at for weeks.

"Well, I wish her all the best," Simon added awkwardly.

Wille nodded. "Me too."

He hopes Sara comes back quickly.

"You should eat." Wille's eyes snapped back to Simon, who's own eyes flickered away when their gazes met. Look at me Simon. What did I do wrong? Tell me, because it's killing me. What happened to our friendship?

"I'm not hungry." Wille knew that wouldn't do anything.

Simon glanced back at him, and his gaze seemed to catch, surprisingly firm. "You need the energy."

"I'm not hungry." Wille reiterated, staring him dead in the eye, preying he wouldn't look away. He feels physically connected to him, even though they're a few feet apart, by their gazes.

Simon gulped, eyes flicking to the full plate of already cold hospital food, then back to Wille's eyes. "We could swap?"

"I'm not hungry, Simon."

For a moment they just stared, Simon's eyes dimming in their assertiveness until his gaze broke again, and he lent down into his hands, rubbing his face so hard Wille winced for him. "I know you're not hungry, but by eating slowly, you'll be more hungry next time from stretching your stomach, and you need some energy."

Wille knows that, he's been told about a billion times already, and Simon fucking knows it. "I'll just throw it up."

Simon looked up at him, gaze so broken and wrecked Wille wanted to take it back. Thats not entirely true, he hasn't thrown up while at the hospital, but he has in the past. "I'm not trying to pressure you," Simon started shakily. "Sorry... I just don't know how to help, or what to say to encourage you anymore."

Wille tried not to collapse as Simon just has. He's dried Simon out of his encouragement? How do you even do that? Wille's eyes flickered over Simon's own frame, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's. Wille never stared at him when they were at Hillerska, but his hands are noticeably thinner, and his clothes seem to hang slightly more. "Are you eating?" He questioned back.

Simon's eyes widened slightly. "That literally doesn't matter - "

"Then me eating doesn't matter either." Wille interrupted, pushing his floating tray away.

Simon froze, mouth half open. He sighed, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to look relaxed, but it didn't work, not with his knee bouncing and his fists clenching. "That's different, Wille. I'm okay."

"And what? I'm not? You're clearly not okay. No ones fucking okay in this world. No one." Wille replied harshly, the words stinging himself to say.

Simon bristled, spine straightening like he's offended at being called not okay, like he hadn't said something similar to Wille two weeks ago in his bedroom. "Like I said, it's different if I don't eat and if you don't eat." Simon said firmly.

"How is it different?" Wille challenged him, mimicking his posture as he sat up straighter, crossing his arms. Simon did not find this amusing, continuing to stare at Wille as he stuttered for words, it wasn't the stare Wille wanted, it wasn't the soft, playful looks.

"Because - Because," Simon paused, eyes flicking around the room like his inspiration is hidden among the hospital equipment. The rain thrashes, almost as enraged as them. "Because - "

"Because what Simon?" Wille pressed, annoyed, waiting.

"You're the one in the fucking hospital, Wille!" Simon blurted out loudly.

Wille went deadly still.

He's right, Wille is the one in hospital, and while you shouldn't compare mental states, his is worse than Simons. Wille is the one in hospital because he got so mentally ill, but that doesn't mean Simon's okay because he's not in a hospital, and not eating. So far, Simon's never separated them for that difference. He's never really brought up the fact at all. Wilhelm can see on his face that he instantly regrets it. Wille was pushing Simon for an answer, but that still feels uncalled for. 

The angry energy in the room instantly fizzled out into nothing, leaving them in a tense silence.

"Sorry," Simon said almost instantly, starting fords like he's going to try to hug Wille or something. If he did, Wille would've accepted it, but Simon stopped, resting his hands on the mattress in front of him and squeezing his eyes fords. "I'm sorry, that was - that wasn't fair."

Wille lent back against his pillows again, trying to not curl up against them and hide, or laugh and scoff in Simon's face, because clearly that's something he's been wanting to say.

Simon sighed, leaning back again. "I know it's not an excuse, and I don't want it to be one, really. But I'm super fucking tired, thinking hurts, and thinking about what to say, the right thing to say, is like trying to stop a hurtling train with my bare hands. I don't want to fuck up and hurt you." His voice cracked on the last two words, and he cleared his throat quickly, barely meeting Wilhelm's eyes as he spoke. "I don't know..." He trailed off, words weak. He looks tired, bags building under his eyes.

Wilhelm thinks its a reasonable excuse. Lack of sleep can make someone anxious and irritable, Wille knows from science and experience, no matter who the person is you're talking to, theres a chance you'll snap.

"Do you get nightmares?" Wille found himself asking before his brain could really process the words.

Simon's eyes shot to him, and even if he hadn't answered with a "yeah", Wille would've known he'd hit a nerve anyway. "I get..." He cleared his throat again, shifting on the spot. "I get nightmares about the night we met. I sleep in the lounge at least three days a week."

Wille's eyes widened, and he tried to suppress his surprise. He's not shocked he gets nightmares about that dreadful night, because Wille occasionaly does too. But is he not sleeping in his own bed?

"Is it because of - of what happened, in your room?" Wille asked, gauging Simon's reaction, ducking his head slightly to see his eyes again. Simon's blinking fast, breathing hard. Oh fuck.

Wille started to move, but then he stopped. Will it make Simon more comfortable, or make his panic worse? Screw it. Wille thought, moving to be on his knees, scooching over to sit in front of Simon, cross legged, mirroring his position. He hesitated for a moment, before settling his hand on Simon's shoulder. He waited, waiting for Simon to shove him off, to say "I should go see where Sara is", but he didn't, he just closed his eyes and looked almost pained.

"You don't have to talk about it, but if it would help? It helps me." Wille left it open, allowing Simon to answer or not, like Max and Sophie do for Wille in their one on one sessions.

Simon kept his eyes scrunched shut, and Wille might be hallucinating, but he thinks he saw Simon's hands twitch towards him.

"Sorry," Simon whispered.

Wille picked his brain for why, sorry for stressing over something that plagues him with nightmares? For his hands twitching?

"Why?" Wilhelm asked

Simon gulped again, sitting up straighter. Wille pulled his hand back as Simon looked up at the roof, trying to rid his building tears as he took a shaky breath. "I'm trying to be like, the strong ... friend, who you can always have to lean on, but I've just fucked it up." He choked, wiping his eyes furiously with his sweater paws.

"Oh. Oh Simon, you're allowed to be sad as well. It's a mutual thing, y'know? I lean on you, you lean on me. You support me, I support you," Wille explained. He low-key thought Simon knew that. Apparently, he didn't though, so Wille will happily clarify it.

Simon finally met his gaze, big brown eyes damp, eyelashes stuck together with his repressed tears. "I know. Well, I know but I - I didn't really let myself. You know?"

Wille nodded honestly. "Yeah, I know."

Simon chuckled slightly, wiping his face again as he sighed shakily, before allowing his gaze to settle on Wille's face. He braced himself for Simon to look away, to stand up an announce he has to leave... Wille stared back. Maybe it should've felt weird, inches between their faces, practically sharing body heat, staring and not talking, but... it didn't, and his stomach is doing some weird things.

"Can I have a hug, please?" Simon finally whispered, like music to Wilhelm's ears.

Wille wants to grin until his face splits, to jump up and down and scream in victory, Simon's finally asking for physical touch! Two weeks without hugs so fuck yeah. But he kept it to a soft, tame smile, "yeah, of course," He said, opening his arms for Simon to lean into however he wants, which he did. His hug was different to how they've been in the past, Simon's head didn't go for Wille's shoulder - whether it was the angle Wille wasn't sure - instead his forehead landed on Wille's chest with a soft thud, virtually leaning against his collar bone. It kind of just ... fell there on its own, like all Simon's muscles had relaxed and that's where it landed him. Wille didn't complain about it, he just hoped Simon didn't feel the spike in his pulse at the movement. Simon wrapped his arms losely around Wille's waist to seal them together, like a near perfect puzzle. Wille thinks of it as near perfect because it feels like its lacking something, something so big and so small at the same time, but he doesn't know what that something is.

Wille dropped his chin onto the back of Simon's head easily, since it was virtually there already, feeling Simon's soft curls brush against his lips, even softer than he'd been expecting. Wille mirrored Simon by slinging his arms around and over his back to hold him gently.

"You're a good hugger, Wille." Simon told him, not bothering moving his head up to talk to his face. Wille could imagine his eyes closed as his breathing steadies, leaning on Wille like he always can.

Wille grinned to himself, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of Simon's words, and his hug wash over him in the best way. He wishes to drown in this feeling, he wishes to enclose it in a bottle only to release it again right after to feel the rush of it every new minute. He hopes it makes Simon feel like he does, because it's bloody glorious. "Thanks. You're pretty cozy to hug as well."

Simon snorted, head butting him lightly. "This isn't uncomfortable?"

"Nope." Wille popped the "p", arching his neck down further to rest the edge of his cheek on his curls, feeling them brush his nose and cheek, soft and delicate and tightly coiled, smelling of Simon's citrus shampoo.

Simon sighed, arms trailing away before he pulled his head back, staring back at Wille with an expression filled with so much unguarded, unfiltered, vulnerable affection and admiration Wille might die. He grins back at Simon's soft features, drinking in every angle of it. He's glad Simon's not being weird anymore, he prefers him this way anyway, as long as it makes Simon as happy as it makes him.

-

Simon lasted two weeks. Two. Whole. Weeks. 336 painful hours. 20,160 really hard minutes. Two weeks, and then he crumbled.

Honestly, he commends himself, he managed to resist crumbling into Wille's adorable little smiles and his cute personality for fourteen whole days. Simon knows Wille doesn't love himself, he saw it in how he avoided any and all reflective things at his house, and how he immediately rebounds any compliments like they can hurt him. But Simon likes everything about him, from his floppy hair to his height, and not telling Wille that hurt.

To a degree, Simon liked being able to have these thoughts and finally realize it's because he likes the other boy, but on the other hand, it kills him to not say it to his face. So he avoided thinking it. He didn't look at Wille, didn't touch him - the whole shabang. He knows he was acting weird, and he also knows that everyone noticed, Sara, Linda, Wille, shit, probably Martin noticed.

Simon kind of blames it on the shock he felt that evening as well, he was pretty shaken by Lily's death. He's not sure he's ever seen a body bag outside of a TV screen, much less heard the scream of a mother who just lost her baby to a heart attack, while she's in a hospital. Simon figured what made her so unable to be resuscitated was the fact they didn't have a defibrillator in this ward, so by the time it got there, her heart had been stopped for several minutes. It may not be necessary, it should've been there in precaution. Shit, Simon's seen defibrillators at Hillerska.

Simon had barely been able to process anything, one moment he was staring at the gurney rolling away, and the next Wille was collapsing on him and he just couldn't let him go, even if he'd wanted to. He held Wille on the floor for an amount of time he doesn't even know or care about, Wille couldn't hold himself, and Martin can't provide the comfort like Simon can. He did not let himself think about how much his own heart is aching, or how his realization is fresh in his mind, or how this feels like that moment in the hallway of his house several days ago. 

Two weeks later, Simon decided, right then when Wille saw his panic and comforted him - despite his cold shoulder, despite his strange behavior, that he gave up. He's not strong enough to deny himself the right to look at Wille's beauty any longer. He's not going to try to hide it, he's going to hug Wille and lean on his shoulder and bump their feet together and hug him again and again - because he gives good fucking hugs - and if Wille figures it out and tells him what Simon knows, that "a Crown Prince can't be with the poor Venezulean-Swedish boy from Bjärstad", at least Simon will have good memories to reminisce on. Sure, he knows it'll hurt when he's inevitably removed from Wilhelm's visitors list because Wille will surely be uncomfortable if he knows he likes him, but he'll take it. He's been hurt before for being gay, and not just from homophobic people, but also from people using him, kissing him in the shadows of classrooms, and not liking him back (which isn't their fault, but it still hurts).

He quietly hopes Wille won't notice, since he clearly loves hugs and is a touchy feely kind of person. He hopes they can keep being themselves now, and Simon will suffer in silence. He'll tell Wille about how the nightmares that haunt him, but he won't tell him how his fantasies about him really keep his brain spinning at night. He'll tell Wille about the bedroom he can barely stand in, but not about his over-loving heart that's eating him from the inside out.

From here on out, Simon isn't pretending anymore.

"Y'know, you never actually answered my question, all those nights ago," Wille said, picking up a green bean between his index finger and his thumb before chucking it in his mouth and grimacing.

Simon looked up from his sushi at the other boy, shamelessly drinking in his features. Okay don't get carried away now.

Outside the room is Sara and Linda, giving Simon and Wille some space. Sara came into the room and froze, staring at the two boys who were significantly closer and more smiley than they were when she left. She gave Simon his sushi and a secret side-eye that clearly translated to "we're talking about this later", before leaving the room without a word to either of them.

"What question was that?" Simon asked, before tearing open his soy sauce packet to dribble onto his katsu chicken sushi.

"Are you okay?"

Simon paused, before putting down the sashay, and looking up at Wille with a sarcastic, crooked smile. "Well, take a wild guess what the answer is?" He tried to keep the air light and easy, but Wille has other ideas.

"C'mon Simon, you know what I mean. We kinda talked about your nightmares, I kinda guessed what stops you sleeping in your room, but is there other stuff? Yay or neigh." Wille said, eyes never leaving his as she spoke.

Simon felt his stupid heart flutter at Wille's own big and oblivious heart caring for him like he does with everyone. Like he does with everyone. Simon reminded himself firmly. He does it to everyone. He's very attentive. You're not special.

"Uhm, well, you were right," Simon picked up a piece of sushi between his chopsticks, not to avoid Wille's caring gaze, but to avoid Wille's gaze in general. "It's because of what happened in my room that night. Every time I go in, I kind of..." Simon took a deep breath, putting down the piece again, pursing his lips before speaking. "I hear myself, and you, arguing. Memories kind of flash in my mind - like they say it does when you're dying, I guess, but I'm not physically dying."

Wille nodded, putting another bean in his mouth thoughtfully, his cutlery abandoned on the side. Simon can't help but think his mother would be hysterical over the lack of table manners, but Simon just finds it ... almost enthralling. "I'm sorry we argued," Wille replied eventually.

Simon's gaze snapped up to Wille's. "It's my fault as well."

Wille opened his mouth, and then closed it with a small smile. "We'll agree to be mutually sorry and not argue over who is more sorry. Even though it's me, 'cause it's my fault."

Simon found himself rolling his eyes playfully, nodding along. "Yeah yeah." He finally put that piece of sushi in his mouth, chewing it as he watched Wille eyeing his food, and then his cutlery, before looking up to meet Simon's eyes, his gaze gentle.

"Do you want to talk about your nightmares?" Wille asked him quietly, using his spoon to scoop up a piece of pasta which he'd wiggled a bean inside of, like a cursed burrito.

Simon didn't mention that horrible looking pasta-bean burrito, and kept to the topic. "I guess... I - Prompt me, on... uh - how to start." Simon suggested, eating another piece of sushi while Wille thought as he too, chewed his dinner.

"What is the most common, recurring one?" Wille asked Simon. It could've sounded like they're playing a game of 20 questions, and not talking about Simon's trauma.

Simon thought, staring at the bed sheets between them. Simon has had a recurring dream of stumbling across Wille in the woods and every single time he'll get to the CPR part, but, Wilhelm won't make it. Everything will be the exact same as how he remembers it, right from the cold wind blowing, to the words he screams, but Wille won't survive. His ribs will crack under the force of Simon's chest compression, but his heart won't beat. Simon will scream, but he won't comfort him. He'll blow air into his lungs, but his lips will grow colder every time because he died, because Simon wasn't enough to help him live.

Wille didn't speak, waiting patiently as Simon organised his thoughts so he could speak them.

"I dream often of the first night we met, but I always fail on the CPR, and you die... there... I don't know what happens in the dream after that, because I always wake up at that point. It makes me more anxious not knowing what will happen next." Simon explained slowly, poking his food around the clear plastic container. "And I have another one ..." He hesitated, looking up at Wille. There's no way this doesn't strike a nerve with him - talking about it. But Wille is clearly trying to shoulder some of Simon's trauma, as if it's his responsibility. "Wille, is this a good thing for you to be doing?" Simon asked the other boy, straightening his spine from where it had been hunched over his sushi.

Wille sniffed, stirring his pasta into the butter chicken, and if Simon was trying to derail the conversation he would have most definitely said something about that.

"It's okay if you can't help me talk through it just yet, you're still healing as well," Simon said gently, hoping Wille understood. Simon wants to tell him about his nightmares, what he's told him so far has made him feel somewhat better, but Wille needs to put his own mental health before anyone else's, and it's not selfish for him to do so.

Wille didn't verbally respond, he sucked his teeth quietly and looked back at his dinner.

"I'm going to start seeing the school counsellor, I'm yet to book a session." Simon told him, picking up another piece of sushi and putting it carefully in his mouth, chewing slowly. He really does love sushi, it's probably in the top 10 of his favourite foods. He hopes Wille likes sushi as well, maybe they could go get some together one day.

"Well, that's good." Wille said honestly, before shovelling some of his own food into his mouth. Simon watched, happy that he's eating, and not just picking at it.

"Mmm," Simon hummed in agreement as he finished his mouthful. "I am nervous though, I've never been to counseling before, or therapy." He admitted.

Wille glanced at him, tilting his head to the side as he clearly thought hard about what he's going to say. "I think it'd be good for you ..." then he took a deep breath. "I know lots of kids talk about therapy being horrible, and how it doesn't help, and how its confidential until they actually talk about the things that hurt, and then their parents get told. But I think it's good. The counsellor, the therapist, whatever - they do their job well, and it's their responsibility to keep us safe which sometimes means telling our parents. I think it's gotten easier for me to talk someday's, I think it is definitely easier because my parents already know everything, so there's nothing Max and Sophie can tell them that they don't already know. Does that make sense?"

Simon feels like this kind of went from advice into a rant, but he agrees, so he nodded and Wilhelm continued. "Anyway, I've never been to the school counsellor either, but I briefly met him on my first day. First impressions really matter, y'know? He seemed nice, had a friendly, approachable vibe to him, said if I ever needed anything that I could talk to him... about - about Erik." Wille stopped talking promptly, staring just to the right of Simon's head with glossed over eyes.

Simon has seen Boris around the school, he always smiles and greets people and gives small waves. Simon never thought he'd need to go to Boris though, he was never that anxious about school, or his home life. Well, until now. Now small things feel like big things. Simon stubs his toe on a doorway and that could make him cry. He remembered all the fucking school work he's missed being spontaneously absent for two weeks and he did cry.

Sara's similar - stressed about going back to school again, but she said she's fine and doesn't need to go to the counsellor, the time off she had to gather herself and rid her system of the shock has been enough.

Simon and Wille haven't really talked about Erik, nor the impact it's had on Wilhelm. Sure, they've brought him up, his death is part of the reason they are here right now, but they've never fully inspected how it affected Wille. Simon assumes he does that in his sessions.

But Simon isn't his therapist, that's Max's job (Wille has talked about his sessions with him before, and while Simon can't always recognise the face he knows who Wille means, and on the occasion he'll bump into a happy staff member in the corridor who knows who Simon is, and he has to squint at the name badge to identify them quickly) He still likes to hear how Wille feels though, whether it's the nitty gritty or the big stuff.

Simon gazed at Wille, still staring into space, lost in thought, completely still. It's not the first time he's zoned out on Simon, and he's not entirely sure if he's meant to bring him back, or let him sit in his thoughts. Is he sitting, or is he drowning?

"Wille," Simon said gently, tilting his head slowly until it was in Wille's line of vision.

For a moment longer he stared, before he blinked a few times and turned his head to the side. "Sorry," Wille moved around a bit, shuffling on the spot to stretch his legs out in front of him, and they nearly brushed Simon's still folded ones, which shouldn't have distracted him as much as it did. "Hi, what did you say?" He asked, which sounded much like a rehearsed line.

Simon pursed his lips, also not the first time that happened. "Nothing."

Wille's eyes widened ever so slightly, before he turned his attention back to his food quickly, but he looked even less interested in it than he was before, nudging the food around his plate instead of eating it.

Simon swallowed a mouthful, thinking about what he'll say. So far, he feels they have had... decent communication. Okay, so they're communication has been a little lackluster, but it's mostly Simon's fault. Yes, they have had their moments where they should've said something and they didn't, like when Wilhelm stole the med's, or when Simon realised he liked Wille and tried to make the feelings go away by distancing himself when Wille needed him. But they aren't as bad as they could've been, they've talked about feelings and they've made plans. So Simon won't sabotage it - AGAIN.

"Have you talked to people about the... whole zoning out thing?" Simon asked, watching Wille poke his food, smearing the curry sauce over the white plate.

"Yeah," Wille admitted, which made Simon proud. "Apparently, it's because of multiple reasons: one, I'm stressed. Two, I'm sleep deprived. And three, people who have gone through ... hard times, like a break up, or a lose, or - or what I'm going through, tend to zone out a little more than others."

"Oh," Simon hummed. "So, do you know how to stop it?"

Wille shrugged, still gazing at his food. "Meditate. Sleep. Therapy."

Simon found that slightly amusing, not the fact he's stressed, tired and traumatised, but the unusual list he just rattled off. 

"Is it working?"

"Dunno..."

Simon glanced out the window, only to be met by rain droplets racing down the smooth surface, pooling at the bottom and dripping onto unsuspecting by passers. He hates the fact he has to go out into that weather soon, he'll have to go home and prepare for his second day back at school. Can't be worse than the first.

"I can't wait for you to come back to school." Simon found himself blurting, lost in his own thoughts. Whoops, derailed that.

Wille smiled softly at his food, which instantly calmed the whirlwind of thoughts that started up in Simon's brain, consisting of, will he even want to be seen with me? Is he coming back to school, I know what his statement said but... If he does hang out with me, will people see I like him. They'll definitely judge, August will hate me, but what else is new?

"I don't want to go back to school, but I want to hang out with you, like a normal teenager." Wille said, smiling wider the more he spoke.

Simon found himself smiling back, god dammit this boy. Simon could be bleeding out on the floor, and Wille would give him that gentle, shy smile, and he'd be grinning up at the stars like an idiot. It's so contagious, lighting up his face in the best way, Simon doesn't know how people ever hated him. How is Wille single with that face, personality and body? There are plenty of teenage girls all over Sweden - all over the world. Wille is pretty well known from the fights he got into, his brother dying, and now his statement - who would date him in a heartbeat, what's stopping him from being with them? Does he not want to? Don't get your hopes up Simon, he may like being single.

"I'm excited for that too." Simon admitted, brain jumping back to his sushi idea. Of course, things will never be a mirror image of other teenage boys lives, because while Simon hates to think it, hates to let it separate them, Wille's a Crown Prince, the Crown Prince, the last immediate heir to the throne, and that will always hold him back from doing some things. But Simon is more than fucking willing for them to work around it, Wille can still go for walks around Bjärstad, go to the cheap pizzeria, the movies, he'll just be accompanied by some body guards. And then there's Simon's growing feelings for him, and he'll always want more than he'll let himself have. He can wrap an arm jokingly around his shoulders for a few seconds as they walk, but he can't hold his hand the whole time. They can hug when they part ways, but Simon can't kiss him goodbye. And that will always hurt.

"What are you most looking forward to once you're out of here?" Simon asked, straightening out his legs in front of them so they slotted between Wille's, barely making it to his thighs. Freaking giant.

"Hmmm," Wille hummed as he thought, putting a spoonful of food in his mouth as he went, grinning quietly at the physical contact between them. Simon saw how it hurt him when he would leave quickly or instantly sit when he came in to avoid hugs. It pained Simon to know how much he hurt him. "Probably the food." He said with a smirk, and Simon rolled his eyes.

"I do love me some food."

Wille laughed, agreeing with Simon once more. "I already said hanging out with you. Ummmm..." Wille smacked his lips, before another grin split his face. "My phone. I miss scrolling through Tik Tok at 3am on my anonymous account."

This time it was Simon's turn to laugh. "Okay then, vibes. Rank them in order, most looking forward to to least." Simon said, putting more food in his mouth.

Wille scoffed at him, "easy. Tik Tok is first. I miss the sweet, racist, sexist, homophobic internet. Then food, because this stuff - " he gestured to the hospital food on his plate " - tastes like when my Mum tries to cook - which is bad. And then last is hanging out with you, because all you do is use me for my title," Wille pretended to wipe a tear from below his eye, making his voice dramatically shaky.

Simon laughed, giving Wille's shin a jab with the end of his chopsticks. "Well I can't wait to hang out with your Mother again! She's just so fun, so chill, and so - so down with the times. Y'know? She's all like "slay" and - and "I woke up in a new Bugatti"." Simon could barely form a sentence through the fit of laughter trying to make its way up his throat.

The two boys laughed together, trying to avoid knocking their food over and also kicking each other. It felt good, sure they've had a few laughs in the two weeks, there's been teasing and jokes and selfies and memories, but this has been lacking.

Once they had calmed down more, Wille said, "no no no, I'll rank again, for real this time. I'm most looking forward to hanging out with you. Food stays in the middle, because I like a good carrot cake. And the internet is last, for, well, obvious reasons." Wille restated.

Simon instantly made a mental note to bring Wille some of his Mama's homemade carrot cake next visit. "Okay, first off awww. Second off, you just flipped it around. And third off, of course you like freaking carrot cake." He rolled his eyes jokingly.

"What? What's wrong with enjoying carrot cake?" Wille said, munching on pasta.

Simon shrugged. "I just find it funny. It's such a white person thing"

Wille snorted loudly, covering his mouth with his hand to smother it. Simon grinned at him. "Mkay then. What's your favourite dessert?"

"That's your favourite dessert of all time!?" Simon gasped.

"Shut up! Answer the question!" Wille replied, cheeks turning slightly pink in a way which made Simon want to coo again. Wille's all embarrassed about liking carrot cake? Freaking adorable.

"Ummmmmm," Simon really dragged out the sound, staring up at the roof as he thought. He knows there's lots of good, traditional Swedish desserts, as well as some nice English ones (like carrot cake) but his favorite would probably be one his Mama sometimes makes. "I think ... an Negro en Camisa."

Wille physically recoiled, blinking a few times. "I'm sorry - that was - that was not Swedish." He said, looking rather confused. "Or did I just mishear?"

Simon couldn't help but chuckle at his confusion. "No, yeah, that wasn't Swedish, it's a classic Venezuelan dessert. It's... it's basically a dark chocolate cake, and cream. It's really good. Hey, you could come to Bjärstad sometime and my Mama could make it!" Simon suggested, suddenly even more enthused at the thought of his favourite meal and his favourite person in the same moment. Favourite person... I really need to start thinking these things over before they just appear in my mind, like, when did he appear next to Sara and Mama on my favourite person pedestal?

Wille's face lit up instantly. "Oh my God yes! I love dark chocolate!" He grinned. "I don't think I've ever had any Venezuelan food before to be honest. I also didn't know your Venezuelan, which is cool." Wille said, smiling softly at Simon with a fascination in his eye that Simon's never seen before. Sure, some people really do care about what he has to say, but none of them look at him like his words are the most important thing being said, like he needs to drink in every single syllable and understand every word and its deeper meaning. Or maybe, Simon's projecting his fantasies into the real world, seeing things that aren't there, because why the fuck would Wille be so interested in a Venezuelan-Swedish boy? There's plenty of mixed race people in the world, plenty of trilingual people. Simon's not special.

They talked until Wille's plate was mostly clean, and Simon's container was empty. Then they talked and played a hand game Simon remembered Sara teaching him years ago, which was mostly just an excuse for him to keep touching Wille and hold his hands, guiding them through the movements. Then they talked more about shitty primary school teachers. But then there was a gentle knock on the door, and their good evening came to a close, ending with a tight hug.

-

Simon wasn't expecting to be jumped by his sister three seconds after their mother leaves the car.

There Simon was, sitting in the passenger seat on their car coming back from the hospital, texting Ayub and Rosh on his phone, ranting about school, when Sara's head appeared, and she blurted "so, you and Wille aren't acting like fake friends anymore," in a very matter of fact tone.

Simon jumped higher than he cares to admit. "Whatthefuck?" Simon squawked, turning to look at her. She blinked back at him. "Wait no - wait, what the fuck?" He repeated slower.

Sara narrowed her eyes, before dropping back into her seat with a grunt. "You heard me."

"We weren't acting like fake friends." Simon scoffed.

Sara shrugged, "you were being weird then. But then I came in to give you food, and he's staring at you like you're Jesus, and you're looking at him like he's... also Jesus, if Jesus had a gay look alike, and you both believed in Jesus. Is that rude?"

Simon could only blink at her. "Calling Jesus gay? I don't think so. I mean, if someone is homophobic and believes in him then probably, but you didn't use it in a mean way," Simon desperately tried to steer the conversation away from him and Wille, because they weren't looking at each other like they're Jesus? "But I'm pretty sure Jesus was straight. Anyway, that was a horrible comparison and you probably should never say it again."

Sara thought for a moment, before shrugging again. "Anyway - you're so obvious Simon - "

"I don't know what you mean," Simon turned away from her to stare out the window at the bus stop across from the gas station very intently.

Sara's head popped up again. "Is he over there? Is that why you're staring?"

"Sara!"

"It's like your eyes are magnets, and he's... something magnetic, I don't know I failed science. Wait no - "

"Saaaraaaa - " Simon groaned, only for her to continue.

" - It was the other way around, because you were being homophobic and blocking out your feelings for him, and he was just staring all the fucking time - "

"Sara! What the shit?" Simon gaped, staring at her. He knew his sister knows him well, she knows his secrets and has a shit ton of blackmail from his childhood if she ever may need it, but he managed to forget how observant she is, how she'll stand in the shadows and hear everything.

Sara frowned at him, a smirk trying to form on her lips despite it. "What?" Then her emotions fell from her face. "Oh my God, don't tell me I jumped ahead and you didn't know that yet."

Simon groaned, dropping his head to the dashboard with a thunk that legitimately hurt.

Sara stayed silent, but she moved to the driver's seat, watching Simon impatiently. "Spill the beans, Simon."

"No."

Sara poked his biceps. "Loser. Share. Do Rosh and Ayub know you likey likey him?"

Simon sat up to glare at her, but his heart wasn't in it. He might pretend to resist, but he's going to tell her anyway, he's honestly surprised she waited so long to jump him on the matter. Simon tells Sara everything, they promised to never keep a secret. "You can't just call me a loser, and then tell me to share stuff with you."

"So there is stuff!" Sara declared with a triumphant grin.

"Oh my God! Where's Mama? Oh I think she needs help - " Click. Sara used her driver's door advantages to lock Simon's door before he could 'escape' to help his mother who is completely fine and filling up the tank.

Simon spilt the beans. "So..."

Sara nodded excitedly. "Did you guys kiss?"

Simon turned to look at her sharply. "Wha - ?"

"Did you kiss the Crown Prince?!" Sara squealed, grinning at him.

Simon felt heat burn up into his face. Despite the embarrassment of all this, he's missed these kinds of conversations with his sister, everything has been understandably stressful and full on, and even when it wasn't, even when they were sitting in silence alone, leaning on one another, it wasn't the right time to bring up Simon's "obvious" crush.

"I did not kiss Wille, Sara," Simon said, shaking his head.

Sara glanced at their mother who is tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for the tank to fill. "What's happening with you two? I mean, when I first saw you two together I didn't think anything of it because of what you'd just been through, and for the following couple of days," Sara explained her point of view. "I was pretty distracted as well, I wasn't looking out for your romantic feelings, I just wanted everyone to be okay, and to be able to close my eyes and not see you holding his unconscious body ... in our hallway..." Sara trailed off, and Simon shook the screams Wille had unleashed from his mind.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat.

Sara blinked a few times, shifting in the seat to fold a leg over the other, leaning back into the door with a sigh. "Yeah. Anyway. Then when Lily passed, I wasn't looking and examining how you treated each other, but I still noticed you being weird. I thought maybe it was because of Lily's passing, but I didn't think you were like that, and you could barely look at him. Theeen it clicked when I came across you stalking his Instagram at the table during breakfast a couple days ago." Sara scoffed as Simon opened his mouth to protest that he hadn't been doing that - even though he had indeed been thumbing through his posts - "I can't believe how long it took me to realise you liked him, I mean, all the signs were there."

"Please don't."

Sara did. "You guys were always hugging, touching, leaning on each other, always giving these awkward little smiles and both your moods were almost always 10 times better after visiting," Sara continued casually, and Simon only smiled softly at that.

Simon's attention was ripped from Sara when Linda walked around the car to her door, opening it to frown at Sara. "Move mi amor, I need some tea right now," Linda said with a sigh, waiting for Sara to scramble into the back before plopping into the car. "That woman over there was smoking, what an idiot. Let's get out of here before it explodes," Linda grumbled in Spanish as she pulled out.

Simon chuckled under his breath, not daring to look back at his sister. His phone buzzed.

Sara
This conversation isn't over
8:22 pm

-

"Hey, Sara! Simon!"

Simon trailed off the sentence he'd been speaking to Sara, stopping to look over his shoulder. The setting sun dances across Hillerska, casting long shadows and leaving any night-touched ground freezing.

Simon had been at choir practise, and Sara decided to stay late at the stables, so together the siblings are going to the bus stop to wait for Linda to pick them up before they go to the hospital to see Wille.

Felice is walking towards them at a brisk pace, slowing the closer she gets, cheeks and the tip of her nose tinted slightly red, curly hair haloing her hair. She grinned at them. "Sorry, I had to run from the music room to the Manor House to get this and then run here," she gestured at a hefty-sized basket in her hand, the contents covered in blue wrapping paper.

"Uhm, what is that?" Simon asked, adjusting the strap of his bag anxiously.

Felice glanced at the package and sighed. "It's for Wille."

They both physically tensed. "Why - why would you give that to us if it's for him, though?" Simon said. He was not expecting this on a random Wednesday afternoon after choir practice. How did Felice find out? Has something been leaked? A photo of them together?

Felice looked between them, a small smirk growing on her lips. "I'm sure you've had to sign an NDA or some shit, so don't say anything, just take this. It's from me to Wille. Tell him it's from me," Felice hefted the twine basket, offering it to Sara, who hesitated, before taking it.

Simon just blinked once, twice, while Sara's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as Felice smiled, and oh, Simon is going to destroy her for that later.

"We - we - " Simon stuttered, choking on his tongue, looking from the basket to Felice.

"If you seriously haven't been seeing him - " Simon flushed " - then just keep the insides," Felice shrugged. "Then, think of it as a 'congrats you no longer have whatever plague kept you away from school for two weeks' gift." Felice's smile wavered. "I hope you guys are okay," a knowing, sympathetic look swarmed her sombre expression. "I know whatevever yo - you know what, I'll just stop talking, you can't say anything back." Her smile picked right back up and she sighed again.

Simon watched her, glancing at Sara.

"Uhm, thanks," Sara said, but it sounded more like a question. She shifted the basket in her grip, arms tensed to support its weight.

Felice beamed, nodding. "Of course! See you tomorrow guys!" And she turned and skipped away towards the sunset right as Linda pulled up behind them.

And then Simon opened the car door and saw his Mama's tight, sad, and borderline scared expression.

-

Three hours later - or has it been five? Half an hour...? Either way, Simon can't bring himself to move, not even an inch. He can't twitch his fingers or move his leg, he can only blink numbly at the ceiling to try and stop tears overflowing, a mainly unsuccessful endeavour.

"Simon." The memory rang in his head.

Another tear slid out the corner of his eye, slowly tracing a wet path along the curve of his cheek and dropping off his chin into the growing damp spot on both sides of his hoodie.

"It's Wilhelm..."

The TV's talking in the background, muffled by into numbness to Simon's ears, it's just fuzzy words that don't make sense to his over used, overwhelmed brain.

"Sit down, Simon."

No one tried to talk to the boy, Linda sat next to him, and Sara's in her room. His phone is vibrating non-stop on the coffee table from the Hillerska group chat Simon mistakenly agreed to join. All they ever do is spread gossip, or send reels, or ask for notes.

"Wilhelm, he's, uh..."

Simon blinked again, staring up at the same spot he's been gazing at for... how long has he been here? He really doesn't know how much time has passed. His neck isn't working, he can't lift his head off where it's resting on the couch. His hands sit limp in his lap, body completely still as another silent tear drops.

"Wilhelm's relapsed." He's relapsed. Simon thought those two words over in his head, turned them over, examined them carefully, trying to find some secret meaning he's missed that isn't what he thinks it is. He's relapsed... how badly?

"He's alive." He's alive.

"But... he's unconscious, at the moment." He's unconscious.

Linda glanced over at Simon, the naked pain on his face making her want to bundle him in her arms, wrapped in bubble wrap and safe from the pain the world causes him. His brows are oh so slightly scrunched, lip quivering as he sniffs every now and then, staring at the same spot on the roof like he can't look away from it. She didn't interrupt him - he's mourning.

"Why is he unconscious?"

"So he can't hurt himself anymore. He's safe."

"He's unconscious..." He's fucking unconscious.

Simon may have whispered the three words out loud, because Linda looked over again. "Pardon, mi amor?" She asked gently.

Simon didn't reply, pressing his lips together and shaking his head slightly, enough that Linda got the message. She nodded, "okay."

"Can I see him?"

"Simon... he's unconscious."

"So? I want to see him."

Simon squeezed his eyes closed, feeling multiple tears drop hotly onto his face, uncomfortable and warm against his skin. He misses Wille, even though he saw him on Sunday, because now his Mama works on Mondays.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Simon, look at yourself. You're shaking. Being there right now, like this, wouldn't help him."

Simon can recognise now that Sara is right with that fact, but he didn't fucking care then.

"I can pull myself together - "

"No, Simon. No. I'm not taking you."

He'd wanted to say so many things, looking between his sister at his mother, "fuck you" on the tip of his tongue. He was shaking with rage and fear and shock, so he'd pressed his hands, palm down, against the table so no one could see just how much they were shaking.

"I - I - Rosh. Rosh and Ayub can take me."

He sounded insane. He needs parent supervision to go in, and Wille was unconscious anyway.

"I'll fucking get to the hospital. I swear to fucking God - I can help! I want to fucking help him!"

He was close to just screaming, hoping that would get his message across.

"No, mi amor -"

"Fuck - FUCK!"

Simon's chair had flown backwards, landing on its back with a crash as he'd stood up harshly.

"Simon - "

"Let me see him!"

He's glad they didn't let Simon see Wille.

"No."

"Mama please!"

He was sobbing, yelling, basically screaming at his family, threatening to find his own way out, becoming violent as his anger built. Tears had rolled down his cheeks uncontrollably. But Sara could see right through him like he is made of glass.

"Simon."

She'd walked over to him, completely unafraid when she should have been scared, scared because Simon was acting like his fucking father, yelling at his family, hitting things, saying he'll be okay if he just gets to do this one thing. His addiction is different, his isn't drugs, it's Wille.

"Fuck off Sara - I don't need a fucking hug - "

Sara clenched her jaw, ignoring the vulgar words he threw her way, grabbing him in a tight embrace. Simon didn't fight her in that. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she stood on tiptoes, holding Simon against her while he buried his head in her shoulder, sobbing into it.

"He was doing so well."

"I know, Simon, I know."

"I'm still proud of him. I don't know how because he's relapsed but - but I am."

"That's okay. It'll be okay. I'm proud of him too."

Simon had just held his sister, unable to do anything else, say anything else. It was a month since Wilhelm had been admitted to the hospital, which meant three weeks of school. It had been a rough, emotional month if anything, but Simon still hadn't seen it coming.

Simon blinked again and willed everything to just stop, well, it had, for almost a month. It was going well. Wille had been smiling and laughing and talking nonstop about his day, Simon would have listened to him talk all day, and all night. Of course, no one heals that quickly. Wille had his bad times as well, the times he'd be buried under his covers when Simon would come in. Simon stayed though, he lay on Wille's bed and stared at the roof, or he turned on the TV and lay with Wille until he asked him to change the channel, or asked him how his day was, or blurted out what's making him sad. Other days he'd try to smile, his laughs would pain them both, and Simon would only have to be silent and look at him for him to crumble. It wasn't easy, by no means was it easy to arrive at the hospital almost every day and have no idea what's going to be there, but it was getting easier, because he knew how to act in the varying situation. He's at a loss right now.

Linda mumbled something about the bathroom, and handed the remote to Simon, the contact dragging him from his dark, spiralling mind.

Simon took in a very shaky breath, wiping his eyes. He forced his head down to look at the chunky black remote in his hand, then he looked up at the TV, where a cringe reality TV show was playing. "Fuck that," Simon muttered. Any filter he's had is gone, washed away by the tears.

He picked up the remote and changed the channel. It's of a guy climbing a mountain, dragging an underpaid camera crew with him. Simon changed the channel. A baking show in which kids cry over what they cook despite it being their best work. Wow. I feel so positive right now. Simon heaved a sigh, wiping his damp eye lashes on his jumper sleeve, changing the channel again.

The news began to play, so Simon settled for that, because what's more depressing than the news? He put down the remote and shuffled around, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on top, pulling the hood over his curls and sniffling away his boogers.

"Tomorrow you can expect winds from the south east at 35 kilometres per hour, with the average temperature being around 10 degrees..." Simon tuned out the TV's sound from his mind, watching the bright, swirling colours of the up and coming weather to be expected for this week. What Simon's gathered from the colours is that it's cold - "Furthermore, the statement made by Crown Prince Wilhelm last month has taken the world by storm. We have Rebecca in the streets talking to a fan of Crown Prince Wilhelm's about the statement. On to you, Rebecca." Simon sat up straighter, frowning at the screen. Wille's name has caught his attention again.

A moment of silence, in which this fancy looking brown haired girl just stared at the screen, a boy Simon recognises is stood next to him. "Thank you Teresa. I am here with Marcus, who is in his last year of high school. We were just talking about Crown Prince Wilhelm's statement, and Marcus had quite an opinion about it. Marcus, please share what you were thinking." Simon stiffened significantly, he knew Marcus, he went to Marieberg. Simon actively tried to avoid the guy, he just never gave off the best of vibes, and was always staring at Simon and his friends. This can't be good. Simon thought, bracing himself for the worse.

"Yes," Marcus craned his neck to reach the mic that Rebecca is holding, probably lower than needed. "I am a few years older than the Crown Prince, but my feelings are still relevant. Where does he mention the effect that financial struggle has on young adults? Of course, he wouldn't know that struggle, as he simply sucks the money out of everyone in the class's below him, but it doesn't mean it's not there."

Simon raised an eyebrow at the guy on screen. The fucking statement wasn't about you, it was about Wille, as it should be. You don't understand. It has nothing to do with financial struggle because, yes, Wille doesn't struggle with that, he never said it wasn't there though -

"People will say he's brave for talking about his mental health, but it's the exact opposite. He has what, two paragraphs talking about someone apart from himself? I bet,the Crown was going to cover it up, but his depression is too obvious to hide from the public, the scars he has from cutting himse - "

"Alright, Marcus, thank you for sharing - "

"No, but is he for real? I think it's fake. He says himself that mental health issues are becoming more and more common amongst people, they're doing it for clout - "

"ThankyouMarcus. Back to you, Teresa."

The screen cut and Marcus was gone, leaving Simon to scowl at Teresa, who continued to talk about the statement like it's not about someone's feelings, like it's just there. He appreciates at least that they cut Marcus off, playing something like that on live TV is never a good idea, and they'll likely end up with some complaints about it.

No one understands. It makes Simon's blood boil, his entire body light on fire, cheeks red hot, but a single thought ruined that all - I used to be like that.

He was, he really was like that. "Oh they're being so dramatic, they wouldn't know struggle if it was sitting right in front of them", "no one gives a shit that the party prince who is now the Crown Prince, he'll grow up", "we all know who the biggest welfare receivers are".

Because I didn't know Wille then, I didn't know, I didn't realize... But he should have. No matter how much make up was slapped on his young face, no matter how many speeches forced down his throat, no matter how many items of clothing he wore but didn't choose to put on, made from underpaid workers in some foreign country, he still had feelings. Despite it all, he was still a person. Wille still had feelings, feelings that no one cared about. People commented on his posts like he wouldn't see their cruel words, people wrote articles about him like he's more than a teenage boy trying to find himself, struggling to stay at the surface of his depression. And people like Marcus - they'll blabber on about how Wille's feelings are fake like he's not in a fucking hospital, because he doesn't know any better. He hasn't seen Wille bleeding, hasn't held him as he cries, hasn't been there as his friend is taken away in a body bag. Wille's been through so much, too much, and he's only 16.

Simon stares at the TV with wide eyes, muscles slack, not processing the ad break that's come on, thoughts spinning.

Hearing Marcus say that made Simon angry for his... friend, how would he feel if it was about him? Could Simon deal with people picking apart his every look? Could he deal with people screaming and writing fan fiction when he likes a girl's post? He couldn't deal with that. Then double it, because Erik's gone, there aren't two Princes to be talking about, just one. He's open in the spotlight, and everyone is staring right at him. Every place that talked about Erik wiped his name and wrote 'Wilhelm' instead, the new, younger, shiny Crown Prince.

Simon hates his past self. At least he never went on TV and talked about it, never made obnoxious posts on Instagram thinking he'll never be seen, he slipped a snide comment in during class once targeting Wille's entire family... Did that still hurt him?

Simon's heart clenched.

Was he another weight added to Wille's chest?

-

Simon stands in the doorway of his bedroom. It's 11:30, and Linda decided to call it a night for her and Simon, dropping her son at his bedroom door because she knows if she doesn't, he will just sit and watch TV all night until he physically passes out.

He looks around, and finds himself wishing it was Wille's hospital room. Not because its a hospital, not because its full of helpful people, but because it'll be Wille's room, slowly filling with Wille's things. His LED's, some photos Malin took from his room in Hillerska, the card from the Eriksson's. It's becoming more him. And of course, Wille's in there.

Simon wishes he had some way to see him right now, but Wille is probably still unconscious in a bed somewhere across the city, not even thinking about Simon.

Simon slowly walked across his room, glancing at his fishes, Olle, Oski and Felle, all swimming in circles, their lives never changing, the biggest shake they'll experience is moving, or one of them dying. Simon's life feels like a train that's long since gone off the tracks, hurtling through layers of smoke, he can't see where he's going, can't tell when it'll end because it's going downhill, and every time the brakes start working again, another one breaks off, and they fall faster. They break through tree's, houses, over animals and through rivers, but never stop, no matter how fucked up the train gets. Simon can't get off. Wille can't get off. No one can get off. It's too late to stop it.

The fish continued to swim around the murky tank, repeating the same trip for the millionth time while their owner collapsed on his bed, grabbing his phone.

The first thing he saw was the 200+ messages from the group chat he foolishly joined. It's called "Hille's Babies 😩🍑". Simon opened the chat, and scrolled through the messages, stopping every now and then to read a short conversation.

Mother hen
Someone better send mr engluds notes right tf now
4:33 pm

Wall
Stop sleeping in class and take them yourself
4:33pm

Mother hen
Istfg walter give me the fucking notes before i bust down ur door and take them by force
4:34pm

Wall
I fucking dare you
Coward
4:34pm

Fredy
Now now boys, go flirt on another gc
But send the notes first pls
Notes before bfs
4:41pm

Fredy
IM FUCKING SERIOUS YOU TWO DONT FUCK BEFORE YOU GIVE ME THE NOTES
4:41

Winx chick #2
@ Alex the great  go interrupt their fuck session to get us notes
4:42

Alex the great
Istg im a slave
4:42

Lice
I work all night i work all day to pay the bills i have to payyy
4:42pm

Alex the great
Stfu felice im getting notes for you slackers
4:43pm

Simon scrolled further down, skimming over Henry and Walter's outrage at people thinking they were fucking. Their senseless banter makes him feel slightly better.

McCool
YALLLL
5:58pm

McCool
@ Winx chick#2 @Fredy @ Mother hen @ Alex the great @ Wall @ Seamom @ Sriracha @ Lice @ Sof @ Zac and quack @ Gusto @ Wille(Open for negotiation)
6:00pm

Lice
No bc im literally in the same room as u
6:00pm

Winx chick #2
💀
6:00pm

McCool
Shut up
Did you see augusts latest post
6:01pm

Mother hen
Omg yes wait no bc i thought he flashed me😭
6:01 pm

Sof
Frrr tho
Smash
6:01pm

Lice
OMG EW SOFIA
6:01pm

Winx chick#2
GIRL NO PASS THAT SHIT
6:02pm

Simon snorted, vaguely reading Sofia - a girl he's interacted with maybe twice - get slammed by the entire rest of the group chat, at one point she was removed, before being added, and then removed again, and then re added. The conversation ended with:

Mother hen
Yall i dont want to go to school tmrw
9:25pm

Alex the great
Frr i have a test
9:27pm

Mother hen
We're in the same fucking class
9:27pm

Alex the great
We've got a test*
9:27 pm

Mother hen
ALEX????
I was not aware of a test
9:32 pm

Alex the great
Omfg
9:33 pm

Its the one you stole walters fucking notes for Genius omg
9:33 pm

Wall
💀
9:34pm

Simon sighed, this group chat is a nightmare, in the best way. Simon has been a part of maybe 7 conversations since joining his first week back at school via Felice. He likes how the group chat collectively went at August's Instagram post, Simon doesn't follow August, so he was spared.

Maybe they've all have become a little friend group... and Simon is the straggler on the side. They all sit together for workies, hang out after school, talk during lunch, dinner, breakfast when Simon and Sara aren't there. Only one hangout has been organized in the group chat Simon and Sara are apart of, excluding the siblings, and Wille, but that's different.

Simon jumped a little bit when a typing bubble appeared next to Stella's profile picture.

Winx chick #2
Guys
Would it be a bad idea to like make something for wille when he gets back to school
12:32 am

Simon chewed on his lip. Stella will be able to see he's read the message, he's just hoping she won't call him out on it. He thinks it would be a bad idea.

Winx chick #2
@ Seamom i can see you read the message
What do you think
12:33 am

Seamom
Personally if id gone thru what willes gone thru then i wouldnt want it to be a big thing
I mean the press and shit have already exploded abt it
Idk i wouldnt do anything
12:33 am

Winx chick #2
True true
Personally id want smth
and I'm pretty sure august is planning smth already
12:34am

Seamon
Yah but augusts dumb and its just a rumour
Plus we dont know how he feels tho....
12:34 am

Winx chick#2
Hmmmmmmmmmmm ok i wont do anything but i want too
12:34 am

Seamon
K
12:34 am

Sriracha
Simon go tf to sleep
12:34 am

Winx chick #2
💀lmao imagine
12:35am

Seamon
🏃💨
12:35am

Wall

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ
Lmao losers
12:35am

Winx chick #2
🔫🔫🔫THE NERVE DUDE ISTG I ALREADY GET RICK ROLLED 5 TIMES A DAY BY FRICKING MADDIE
12:36 am

Wall
Make it 6
12:36 am

Seamon
Omfg walter
🔫🔫
12:36 am

Sriracha
OMGGG
12:36 am

Wall
Im sorry i had too❤
12:37 am

Winx chick#2
🖕🖕
12:37 am

Wall
❤
12:37
Seen

Chapter Text

Wille

“Hey, Wille.” Wille looked up from his canvas, meeting Amy’s friendly eyes.

“Hi,” he replied under his breath, turning his gaze quickly to the mess he’s making on the small, fabric square he’s painting on, oh, no sorry, he's "using it as a healthy way to realise his the emotions he doesn't know how to talk about." Yeah. That.

Today in group therapy they are doing painting. Wille’s chosen a variety of blues and purples that he’s mixing together, not really making anything in particular, just some galaxy throw up. Some parts have turned brown from mixing, others are still bright blue and purple, remaining uncontaminated by the colours. 

He does know that he’s planning to give this canvas to Simon as a gift, and he’ll make two more for Linda and Sara. It’s honestly the least he can do, it’s pathetic, weak, a tiny gesture compared to what they’ve done, but it's a start. No. Don't think about yourself like that... yeah, but it's easier thinking like that than not. 

Amy looked over at what he’s doing from her fluffy chair next to him, only knee up and the other down. “What are you making?” She asked, wiping her nose.

Wille shrugged helpfully, waving a hand over his canvas and awkwardly saying “art,” even though its clearly not art, Wilhelm never has, and never will be an artist guy. Amy just nodded, going quiet again.

The group is sitting around a rectangle table, relaxing music plays in the background. Everyone is here, apart from Ethan, Leah, and Lily. Leah’s been discharged and the group has become noticeably quieter. Ethan is still nowhere to be seen. And Lily… well, Lily won’t be back, ever, and Wille has found himself attached to Amy. She’s quieter than what Leah was like, she also reminds Wille of Simon because of her gentle understanding. Ian’s also been rather quiet since his argument partner has left, and he is painting next to Max and Nat, occasionally adding some snide comment into their conversation.

“I’m making a sunset,” Amy said, gesturing to her own canvas.

Wille glanced over, taking in the reds, oranges, purples and pinks that does indeed make up something resembling a sunset.

“It’s pretty," he commented.

“Thanks,” Amy smiled, dipping her paintbrush in more orange paint, before continuing to blend the orange and red in the sky.

Wille tries not to think about it. Think about how a few days ago Amy was unconscious after an overdose, and now she’s back, smiling and making conversation. Is it that easy for her to move on? Wille’s worried. He’s worried about everyone at this table, if he’s being honest. He’s worried about people who aren’t even at this table, like Simon.

Down the table, Max brings out his phone to show Nat photos of his baby, and she’s cooing and squealing every three seconds, her black painted canvas abandoned as her attention is redirected onto the device. Ian has now ditched their conversation and has gone back to painting a red flower. Zack is painting with greens,  purples waiting to be used. Brody is sitting by himself, humming to something playing through his headphones at the opposite end of the table to Max. Wille quietly hopes they add more people to their group, because it is depressingly small.

Wille stared at his painting for a few seconds, it could use something, something to make it pop and break through the purple and blue (and brown). Wille reached over the table to grab white from the centre. This was a mistake, and Wille winced, hissing in pain from his newest injury down his arm.

Amy glanced at him, but Wille didn’t look back, settling into his chair quietly, cheeks heating.

Everyone knows. Wille knows they don’t care - or at least pretend to not care - because why would they? They’re all here for similar but different reasons, they aren’t going to judge him, Wille accepted that the moment he realised he survived again and that he’s well enough to continue seeing his new friends, not even a day later. He's learnt that there are big ups and downs to psych wards, he can't speak for everyone psych ward, but he can speak on the care he's receiving. The ward knows he almost never gets to make his own decisions at the palace, so that's what they try to do - give him control over something ... but when Wille is screaming to be for them to let go , because the way he's being pulled around hurts the fresh cuts, because none of his preferred staff are on the job at that one hour to listen to him, because they aren't listening when he says he'll calm down if they let go of him, and he doesn't need sedation, it's not a great place at all. In fact, it's terrifying, the memories make him feel like a cold hand is crawling up his spine, freezing him in place, clenching his lungs - 

“Guys, oh my God,” Nat said suddenly, turning to the rest of the table, but mostly Amy and Wille, as the other three aren’t as responsive as Amy and Wille are together. “Look at this photo of Max’s baby, Damion.” She shoved a phone into their faces, and Wille had to pull back slightly for the image to be in focus. A little blonde haired boy with dimpled cheeks and big blue eyes stared back at him, looking like something that would come up if you searched “cute babies” on Google.

“Cute,” was all Wille said, before resuming with his painting, adding a few streaks of white, and blending them. Great, not he hates the way it looks... It's too late now.

“Thank you Wille!” Max beamed, looking every bit the proud father. “Do any of you guys want kids?”

Wille kept very, very quiet. He has to have kids, they all know this, whether he really wants to or not. It’s something he never thought he’d have to deal with, and he tries to avoid thinking about it. Like Max, Sophie, Keira and on the occasion Jackie pops in and says, “you only have to take it day by day Wilhelm, nothing more.”

“Probably not. I don’t want a relationship either, I think I can be happy single,” Amy said with a shrug. “It might change if I meet someone, y’know, like it does in the books and movies. But for now, I’m good being single and depressed. It’s an aesthetic.”

“Pfft, that's not a fucking aesthetic,” Ian grumbled, and Amy pulled a face at him and said “you’re face isn’t aesthetic, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

“That’s nice, to be happy single, I mean. That's cool, Amy,” Max nodded firmly, putting his phone away. “And can we remember to be respectful of each other's goals and beliefs, please? I’m not going to let that stuff slid anymore.”

“I want kids,” Brody said suddenly, and they all turned to the other boy, who’s now half wearing his headphones. When he started to listen in, Wilhelm’s not sure. “I want two kids, so they won’t be lonely. 2 years apart. I want a pretty wife, and I want us to work until we have enough money to raise our kids together, and not have to focus or worry about work. I want us to take our kids on adventures, and watch them grow up side by side. I want my kids to grow up feeling loved, cared about and seen, unlike me. I want them to remember their childhood and smile, because I’m going to give them everything I didn’t have. I want at least one of my children to have kids, so I can be a granddad with my wife. We can watch them grow up as well, and then we’ll die together, some day, in the far future.”

Everyone stared at him, even Zack and Ian, with slightly shocked expressions. Wille was definitely not expecting quiet Brody to blurt all his plans for the future during a random Tuesday session.

“That’s beautiful, Brody, it’s really amazing to see you have such beautiful plans for the future. I’m actually super proud,” Max said, still sounding like a proud dad.

Brody grinned back at him. “Yeah," he said, cheeks growing slightly pink.

“I’d love to meet your wife and kids one day, I think you’d make an excellent father.”

Brody beamed, “I hope so. Well, I know everything not to do, so I’ll go from there.”

“You could attend parenting classes,” Nat piped up, looking between Brody and Max. “My mum does antenatal classes - teaching parents about both pregnancy and early child care. I think they’re really helpful, personally. I’ve seen a few in my life time.”

Brody nodded, frowning for a moment as if he’s adding it to a mental list. “I’ll do that as well, my wife and I will go. I’ll buy her everything she wants and needs while she’s pregnant. She’ll feel like a goddess.”

“God damn,” Zack muttered, brows raised as he went back to painting.

Wille has a lot of questions: What if your wife doesn’t want kids? What if your kids don’t want kids? What if your babies die? What if your wife dies? What if by the time you have enough money to raise two kids in Sweden, you’re too old to have babies? What if you die? But Wille didn’t share his pessimistic thoughts, no one wants to hear what his sad, stupid brain cooked up.

Everyone else continued to talk over Brody’s future plans while Wille, Zack and Ian painted quietly. Wille glanced up when he felt like he was being watched, and found Zack's dark eyes peering into his own. Wille raised his brows slightly and turned his head an inch, hoping his expression says “what?” Zack just looked away quietly, shifting in his wheelchair. Zack's physical therapy is going well, Wille's heard and he found himself proud of the older boy's progress.

Wille still doesn’t know what Nat, Amy, Ian or Brody are in for, and while he hates to assume things, they seem okay. Brody seems to have mood swings and occasionally misses a session, and Nat can get very snappy with people some days. Ian is actually quite sensitive and snappy, but Wille's seen his self harm scars. But Amy seems okay.

Once the conversation died down, Wille turned to look over at Amy, who looked up at him as well.

“What?” She asked.

“What are you in for?” Wille replied with his own question, which made her blink like she hadn’t quite heard, and was surprised. Maybe Wille would be surprised by his outburst... He doesn’t really feel anything. He’s used to this feeling: he’ll cut and feel so fucking alive, and afterwards he feels nothing, like all his emotions have just evaporated, apart from fear and dread, but those have passed over last night. 

“Uhm,” Amy paused, frowning as she dabbed her work with her paint brush gently.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Wille mumbled to her, turning back to his own work. “Just wondering.”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t really care, I just wasn’t expecting the question, is all, since you seem to be having a quiet day.” Wille nodded, he is ‘having a quiet day’. It’s obvious, but he’s still kind of surprised Amy noticed. “I’m an alcoholic. Or, I was. I’ve been clean for a month, but I’m still here because I can feel that if I left, I’d relapse. I want alcohol all the time, I feel fucking thirsty even if I drink water. I feel too much, and I can’t sleep unless I drink. I drank because my parents would probably have rather watched me peel my own skin off then lose a cent of their fortune… In other words, they didn’t care about me, so it was easy to lose myself in feeling as little as they did. They practically jumped at the opportunity to send me to a psych ward.” Amy laughed drily, but Wille could see the pain behind her eyes.

For whatever reason, Zack looked up sharply, eyes judgy as he looked at Amy, who failed to notice this. Zack didn’t look at Wille, so he didn’t see his annoyed expression, who’s he to judge?

“I’m sorry. Family pressure sucks ass,” Wille said to Amy.

Amy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, clearly calculating his words. “Yeah, that's something we have in common.” Wille nodded again, pressing his lips together with a sigh.

“Yup,” he replied.

Amy nodded absentmindedly a few times. “Yeah, I was so scared to come here, because I knew no one would visit. I was scared I’d get forgotten, fade into the shadows…” Wille watched her, watching as she got lost in thought for a moment. “Anyway - it's a whole thing, we won’t go into detail though. But it's better than what it was, I guess. I mean, I never drank to kill myself, just to feel… less. But I can fall asleep most nights without alcohol, thanks to all the fucking drugs they assign to me.”

Wille nodded slowly, “you seem good.”

Amy turned her head sharply to look at him, eyes gentle but face hard. “I may look okay, Wille, but I don’t feel okay. It’s a face I can put on. You do it too.”

Wille also turned to look at her, annoyed at his slow mind today. Called out, his brain taunted as he struggled to come up with a reply. “Fuck - I know that, sorry, sorry. I’m not trying to say you’re fine, because how would I fucking know? I just meant that I agree, you are doing better, we all are, but we’re talking about you, so - so, yes. I agree. You are doing better Amy.”

Amy smiled slightly, raising an eyebrow at his stumbling, “you didn’t even see me at my worst to compare then to now.”

Wille rolled his eyes, turning back to his drying canvas. “Shut up and take the compliment.”

Amy snickered, but she let them sit in silence, small smiles on their faces for a few minutes before she spoke. “What are you in for?”

Wille side eyed her, much like she’d done to him. She has to know what he’s in for, she can see it, but for the sake of normality, she’s returned the question.

Wille pursed his lips, eyes sliding to his arms, flicking between the wrists. The bandages are slightly thicker on one wrist - thank you, plastic fucking fork, for that, Wille thought to himself. Last night wasn't as bad as at Simon's, the fork isn't as sharp as scissors, but it's fresher.

“Uhm, I attempted... Suicide.” Wille cleared his throat, and Amy nodded. “Hanging,” he pointed to his bandaged neck. “Cutting,” he waved at his wrists. “Yay.” He added sarcastically. He knows he didn’t have to share those details, he hopes he won't trigger Amy in any way.

“I’m happy you’re still here, Wille,” Amy admitted gently, smiling at him in a way he thinks is genuine.

Wille glanced at her, sighing. “I’m happy to be here sometimes, as well. Like right now. I’m okay right now. I like talking to you. But sometimes I don’t want to be here.”

“Yeah, I get that. I struggle with suicide ideation,” Amy said, cleaning her paintbrush in a cup of murky water. “Zack, can you pass me another canvas, please?” She said to the other boy, who threw one across the table at her, which Amy caught. “So, want to talk any more about it? What makes you happy, or sad, or not, which is okay, as well, you just seem more able to talk than you did in our first session. Progress is still progress, no matter how slow, y'know?”

Wille sighed, watching as Amy smeared light blue paint all over her fresh canvas’s background. “My Mum makes me sad. Simon makes me happy. School makes me sad. Group therapy makes me happy… most of the time.”

“So true. Who's this Simon character who makes you happy?”

“He found me attempting to hang myself, in the woods.” Wille was surprised about how fast he said it, it didn’t clog his throat like something he’s forbidden from saying, it just came out. Progress is progress, no matter how slow. “He’s super nice, and so is his family. He’s cute. Visits all the time. I’m guessing I’ll see him this afternoon.”

Amy nodded thoughtfully, watching her painting but listening to Wille, which he doesn’t mind. “You could bring him into the common room, y’know? We could all play a game together.”

The common room is a space Wille was gradually introduced to as he got to know his peers better. It’s a colourful room, filled with soft furniture, board games, a TV, art supplies, and video games. Everything is still foolproof in case they tried to use it violently or in a self harming way: the furniture is far to heavy for them to lift, none of the board games contain anything remotely sharp and they have to hand them into a staff member who counts all the pieces before and after use. The TV is behind glass, the art supplies are all ton toxic, with no scissors. The video games are all very specifically chosen so it is non-triggering for the users, and there is a large variety so there's basically one from everyone, ranging from Minecraft to car racing games to satisfying house cleaning simulators. 

It quickly became one of Wille’s favourite spaces, because it can feel so normal when they’re all crowded around the TV, passing controllers around, laughing and swearing and handing the snack bowl around the couches. Like they did the day before Leah left. Everyone was there, Ethan, Leah, Amy, Nat, Brody - even Zack and Ian joined in and laughed. It easily made it into Wille’s top 10 moments in life.

Wille grinned to himself, imagining Simon playing ping pong with Amy while he stands to the side, watching his two friends bond. Twisting his body and laughing as they play twister on the painted yoga mat built into the floor in the corner. His arm pulsed like a toxic reminder, and he swallowed, hard. 

“I, um, haven’t seen him since I cut again. I don’t know what he’ll be like. He could be a mess, or he could be fine… I think he will be better than… last time, because he’s had longer to think about it and wasn’t there minutes after it happened… Yeah. I - I don’t know.” Wille mumbled, realising he’s begun to ramble out his nervous thoughts. He can still remember Simon's expression through his foggy vision, tear covered cheeks, wide eyes, nose bleeding and hair sweaty, moonlight flickering through the leaves like a horror movie.

Amy turned to look at him again, a serious expression on her face, “well that's okay as well. I’d just like to meet the boy who made you blush.” She said it all too casually.

Wille whipped his head to look at her so fast it probably wasn’t good for his neck. “Excuse me?” He said, flabbergasted. “I did not just blush.” But now he can feel his cheeks getting all hot, feel his heart having fucking heart palpitations, and he feels betrayed by his own body for this.

Amy slowly turned her head to look at him, raising one of her  arched brows. “Really, Mr Cheeks Are So Red They Match Ronald McDonald's Fucking Nose?”

Wille struggled to find the right words to reply to this, putting down his paint brush to press his palms against his cheeks, feeling the burning and uneven skin underneath his sensitive palm. “Okay, so - so what? Everyone thinks their friends are cute, it’s a normal thing.”

“Wille… Okay okay, wait, let me just get this straight,” Amy cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. “I agree, completely and wholeheartedly. Two friends can find one another cute and not want to date or feel any more attraction. People of the same gender can look at each other and think they look good, while not wanting anything more than a friendship. A-fucking-greed. But riddle me this,” Amy lent towards Wille, lacing her fingers over the arm of her chair. Wille feels genuinely scared for his dignity right now. “Do you think Nat and Brody are the same cute as Simon?”

Wille looked at the two example people, taking in their features. “I mean… sure, but they’re not - he’s not - they’re not my type. Imean - arghhh. Shut upppp."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Your smirk did!"

"Now is not the time for an identity crisis!"

"It doesn't need to be an identity crisis, no crisis needed, just be you, you don't need to realise something right now I'm just saaayyyingggg, blushing when talking about your guy bestie westie is kinda..." Amy gestured with her hands. "Y'know? It's fruity."

"Look, I’ve madeoutwithaboybefore, but he said it's what all guy friends do, so whatever, it’s whatever,” Wille exclaimed, accidentally blurting out a fact which made Amy’s jaw drop to the ground. Wille covered his eyes with his hands, bracing for what's about to come.

“Back the fucking truck up Wille,” Amy said with a laugh, putting down her own paintbrush to lean back dramatically in her chair. “When did you kiss a boy? Story time me, Wille, tell me all the fucking tea dude.”

Wille groaned into his hands. “It’s not a big deallll.”

“No, I know, I don’t give a shit if you’re gay, or whatever - “ Wille quietly screamed, the entire room has become wayyyy to hot suddenly. “I’m just curious as fuck… So I guess that means I do care… Well, I mean I’m not a homophobe, I mean, PFFT, look at me.” Amy gestured to herself. “I haven’t been a homophobe since year 5 when being gay was worse than not having roller blade shoes… Wait, were you the kid with light up shoes and roller blades - Stop distracting me!” Amy laughed again, whether it’s at herself or Wille’s pink cheeks, he isn't sure. “When did you make out with a guy and why did he no-homo you? You’re a total babe, what a missed opportunity.” Amy tutted.

Wille groaned again, hiding from Amy and leaning his forehead against the cool table, still covering his face. Max glanced over, but when he saw the smiles he didn’t say anything, moving back to his conversation with Nat about gas prices.

“I was super fucking drunk at a thing, at my old school,” Wille started slowly, recounting that interesting night. Normally, he wouldn’t want to talk about this stuff, especially because of the dumb traditions at Hillerska that make him so uncomfortable, but it’s different with Amy because she is his friend, and while she might press for the information, she won’t force it out of him... he hopes. 

“I was friends with this guy, but he wasn’t gay, or bi, or pan, or whatever. He made homophobic jokes all the time. He was hot, I guess.” 

Amy laughed. “You guess,” she teased lightly, shoving Wille’s shoulder.

“Shut up! Do you want to hear the story or not?” Wille said, sitting up to glare at her, but it instantly turned into a grin when he saw the massive smile he caused on her face.

“Yes, yes! Oh my God yes! I love this part of friendships! It’s so much fun! It’s like bonding. It brings us closer, because now you trust me with this information to not share, and I promise I won’t - “

“Amy!” But Wille agrees with everything she’s just said.

“Sorry! Go on, sorry.” Amy slapped a hand over her mouth dramatically.

Wille sighed, shaking his head at her. “He was hot. We were both drunk. He stumbled and I caught his arm to help, and he grabbed my face and just started making out with me. That's it.” 

“Details, Wille, give me fucking details. Whenever my friends would ask about hookups, the details were the best parts. You tell them all the juicy little things that you promised not to tell anyone but then you go and tell people.” Amy blurted, gesturing with her hands for Wille to say more.

Wille rolled his eyes, “Oh my God - okay whatever. There was a little bit of tongue, and, he like, pushed me against a wall - “

“OOOOOO - “

“Amy, please be slightly quieter, please," Max spoke up from the end of the table, staring at them with a confused expression.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Amy said quickly, before turning back to Wille and his pink face, completely shameless in her questions. “Did you like it? How did it not make the news?”

“It was an invite only rave.”

“You’ve been to raves?!”

“Yes!”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“The rave?”

Amy stared at him, looking very exasperated. “No, not the fucking rave - I - I mean the kissing. What did you think of his tongue, his lips, his smell - oooo, what were his hands doing - “

“What does it matter if I enjoyed it?” Wille interrupted, smile fading. “He pulled back and said, word for word, “by the way, I’ve done this with all my guy friends, it means nothing,” and then he left, and we never spoke of it again. Went to class the following week and said literally nothing… He also had a hickey on his neck - that I didn’t give him,” Will confirmed before Amy could say anything, and she closed her mouth with a gentle, “oh.”

“I don’t even talk to him anymore.” Wille muttered. It hasn’t really bothered him until now, he was pretty drunk, and the amount of alcohol in his system, mixed with whatever someone had slipped into his drink, the loud music and the encouragement from the crowd would have made him do anything. The thought seemed to have stayed at the back of his mind ever since.

Amy stared at him, suddenly at a loss for words, jaw slack. “What?” She whispered-shouted. “This guy makes out with a Prince and is then like “no homo man this is a totally hetero bro thing”? He really said “smash, oh wait, pass”.” Amy put on a fake, deep voice that sounded like a scratchy impersonation of The Rock.

Wille nodded, pursing his lips as he thought, ignoring her last sentence. “You know, it’s starting to sound more and more like he’s - “

“In denial? Making homophobic jokes so everyone will think he’s homophobic but he’s actually a raging gay? Has a massive crush on the Prince and totally tripped on purpose, at the perfect angle so that you’d catch him, and have a wall behind you? Making out with all his guy friends because he’s a slut - “

“Okay! So I made out with a closeted gay guy! What does that have to do with Simon?”

Amy stared at him like he’d just stripped naked and been a elephant.

“What does - I - oh my fucking God.” Amy slapped her forehead, groaning angrily. “You’re so dumb…” Wille just stared at her, eyebrows raised in confusion as the heat in his cheeks began to fade.

“What?”

“Okay.” Amy sat up suddenly, like she hadn’t just been having a small crisis. “Whatever. I’ll wait patiently for you to figure it out.” She went on a mini rant under her breath that Wille couldn’t hear, and he was sure if she wanted him to hear it, she’d rant at his face.

Wille blinked at her, frowning as he glanced at his drying work. “What? Amy, what does that mean? Simon's not gay, y'know.”

Amy turned dramatically to look at him, flicking her black hair over her shoulder for added flare. For a moment Amy just stared at him, mouth pressed shut, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, as if Wille would be able to read something off her expanded eyeballs.

“What?” Wille said, completely exasperated.

Amy just continued to blink at him in long, extensive blinks. “You have lived such a sheltered life in your big fancy palace, living off our taxes.”

“You remind me of Simon.”

Amy snorted, laughing boldly, almost hysterically. “I like Simon then.”

Wille smiled to himself, looking down at his painting “yeah, you two would get along pretty well. I think you could rant on for hours with one another. It’s a good thing.”

Amy grinned at him. “I was thinking more because I said “you live off our taxes'', and you said “you remind me of this Simon I won’t stop talking about”, you were implying we both hate the monarchy but think you’re cool, which it cool, because all my friends are in love with you, or your Mother."

“What?!” Wille yelped, gaping at Amy. “My Mother? She’s like, so old, and wrinkly - “

“Wille, please quiet down about your Mother,” Max interrupted them again, gently. “I would literally hate to separate you two, and I really didn’t see this friendship coming, but it's really nice to watch, so slay quietly.”

“Sir, did you just tell them to slay quietly?” Nat asked, voice purposely cracking on “sir”.

Max looked back at her, frowning slightly. “What? I thought that's what you all say nowadays. “Slayyy girlll, worrrk iiiit, material girl - “

“Oh my good lord.” Amy shook her head with a pained laugh. “No no no, no one says ‘material girl’, or ‘work it’, what the fuck - Here, lets educate you.”

-

Wille shuffled deep into his bed, staring at the TV which is currently playing an episode of Sponge Bob. Wille doesn’t remember a lot from his childhood, he’s been told by Sophie that this is likely for two reasons: many people don’t remember a lot of their childhood because your brain is still developing, and secondly because it could have been very traumatic, so to protect him, his brain has forgotten a lot of the bad things. Anyway, Wille remembers watching Sponge Bob. He remembers waking up 2 minutes until 7 am, and running into the family lounge so he could be there when Sponge Bob would start to say "aye aye Captain!" as loud as possible. He remembers racing into the family kitchen to grab the cereal Erik had made him and running back during the ad breaks. He remembers the day he woke up 20 minutes past 7, and simply rolled over and went back to sleep, and how Erik had come into his room to wake up half an hour later, asking if he realised he slept in, and Wille had replied he doesn’t want to watch Sponge Bob anymore.

Wille knows he’s not the only one who fucking hates growing up.

In the corner of the room, Martin is also watching Sponge Bob, eating spaghetti out of his container, seeming interested in the show.

Wille sniffed, looking over at his dinner, which is mac and cheese, with a coleslaw on the side. Wille had the option to eat in the common room with everyone else, but he’s learnt he has something like a social battery, and he wants to see Simon tonight, so he doesn’t want to drain his social battery being with the group, and then be flat with Simon. Wille hopes he’s doing the right thing being away from the group, because being with them definitely drains his social battery, he has to be careful what he says as to not offend anymore, even though he knows he shouldn’t. But being with Simon is easy, when they’re not arguing, that is. Talking to him is as easy as breathing most days.

Visiting hours are happening right now, and Wille’s hoping Simon will come, he hopes Linda’s shifts allow her to drive Simon and Sara to the hospital, and hopes the Tuesday traffic isn’t too bad. He couldn’t see them last night, as he was found and dragged around and stabbed with a sedative, while no one listened to him screaming "LET ME GO I PROMISE I'LL CALM DOWN! THAT HURTS! STOP!"

Wille had barely started on his mac and cheese when there was a gentle knock on his door.

“Yes, come in," Wille said, heart dropping as his nerves grew. Wille sat up, folding his arms loosely around his waist, resting on his thighs, hoping he was being subtle about hiding his wrists. It’s instinct. It’s like those rare occasions he’d have to wear short sleeves. He’d be sweating through the layers of make up with his arms crossed, facing downwards, trying to be really expressionate to keep peoples gazes off his wrists. Wille learnt other people cut on different places than their wrists to avoid people seeing them, but at the moment, Wille just found it easiest, and most convenient to cut his wrists.

The door opened, and Simon’s curly head popped in, before he opened the door fully. Wille didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned over his body, and his virtually untouched food as he walked into the room, wearing his signature yellow backpack, and holding a basket at his side, which made Wille frown.

“Hi, Wille,” Simon said, approaching the bed, he smiled softly as he put down the basket, leaning over to hug Wille from where he sits. Wille honestly should have seen it coming, but he didn’t, and it was a nice surprise. “It’s good to see you.” Simon whispered, and Wille hugged him tighter because for some reason, those words mean so much to him.

Simon moved away for Sara to do the same thing, muttering her greetings in the process of their short hug. They’re not saying it, but Wille can tell the family is still getting over the shock from what Wille did.

Next was Linda, and her motherly hugs always make Wille want to melt into a sad, touch starved puddle on the floor, the way she rubs his back and squeezes him at the same time. The hugs he got from his mother were always stiff, like hugging a tree, but Linda is kind and soft and moulds around him, smelling of the Eriksson's household.

Simon sat on Wille’s bed with a sigh, eye flickering all over his face, then behind him to Martin. “Hi, Martin," Simon said quietly, voice shaking slightly, causing him to clear his throat aggressively.

Martin looked over with a smile. “Hello, Simon. Linda, Sara.” Linda sat in the visiting chair, and Sara lent against the windowsill, slightly further away, and they both said hello.

“Uhm,” Wille refolded his arms, despite the itch on the back of his neck. The air is thick with tension, and Wille hates it, he almost wishes they’d bring up the news they have definitely heard. “What's that?” He nodded towards the basket, the contents covered by this thin, blue, fabric looking paper.

Simon moved to pick it up off the floor, and Wille moved his food tray so Simon could balance it next to Wille.

“It’s, uh, actually from Felice,” he explained, and Wille frowned at Simon.

“But I thought you didn’t tell anyone you were associated with me?”

“No, I didn’t tell anyone I was your friend, because of the - the thing I signed,” Simon explained, scratching the back of his neck, looking more nervous than normal. He took a deep breath, before continuing, “she just came up to me and Sara, wished us well, gave us this and basically told us that she knows we can’t legally say anything, so we don’t have to talk, we just have to take it to you. She means well.” Simon paused, while Wille just blinked at him. “Open it.”

Wille blinked again. He isn’t friends with Felice, he doesn’t think. He knew her in kindergarten, but that was over ten years ago. He talks with her at class, and sometimes she strikes up conversation between classes, but Wille wouldn’t classify her a friend, nor someone doing this for the attention.

“Uh, well, tell her thank you, if you can,” Wille said, slowly unfolding his arms to pull at the paper.

“Felice sounds nice,” Linda commented from the chair, giving Wille a soft smile when he glanced at her, which he returned quickly.

“I help her in the stables. She is nice," Sara added her input, and Wille nodded to her comment.

Once he’d pulled off the paper, he gazed at the contents. There’s a box of Favourites, a Chap stick, a packet of spicy Doritos chips, one of those small rubber bouncy balls, two pairs of fluffy socks, and a card. Wille gaped at the contents, unable to help the smile overtaking his face. Shit, he might cry. Linda brought Wille cake, Simon’s seen him every time he’s been able to, Sara’s come along as well, the entire family got him a card, and now Felice got him a get well basket.

“Awww,” Simon cooed, looking over at the basket. With a glance around the room, it revealed everyone else's happy and emotional faces. “I definitely like Felice, that's sweet.” Simon grinned at the basket, and then Wille, who smiled back happily.

Wille reached for the card, which has a blue gummy bear with a bandage around its face, being hugged by two red and yellow gummy bears, reading in big, swirly letters ``get well soon”. Wille opened up the card, and read over Felice's neat handwriting.

Dear Wilhelm

Hi, first off, if Simon doesn’t actually know you, then I’m George Washington.

Second, really sorry that the media sucks ass, maybe sometime as a friend bonding activity we can go burn down some news building? <3 Vibes, honestly.

Thirdly, most of my friends at school are worried about you, so I sneakily put this together, don’t worry though, I didn’t expose Simon and Sara.

I hope you’re doing okay, or at least better than before. Know that I’m proud to know such a strong, brave person (seriously, your statement low-key made me cry, I can’t even know the bravery it must have taken to be so open and honest with everyone)

When you’re feeling up to school, just know that you now have me, as well as Sara and Simon. Whether you need us to frame August for something (or kill him, idc) give you homework notes (bc ofc) or simply act like nothing happened (Which is what I’m planning to do??) know we’ll do it.

Text me whenever, 09 302 2879

From Felice <3

“Aww,” Wille said, smiling softly at the letter. “She said you guys can help me frame August for something,” Wille laughed, wiping his damp eyes.

Simon laughed, leaning his head back to do so, and Wille watched, maybe a bit intently, as his entire neck became exposed, golden tanned skin, and his razor sharp jawline. Wille blinked, looking over at Sara, who’s also laughing, Linda just looks slightly confused and Martin is watching muted Sponge Bob.

“Also,” Simon continued, reaching for his backpack while Wille broke open the box of Favourites, and offered them around. “Rosh and Ayub got you this. Again, I didn’t tell, they just put it together.” Simon pulled out a baby blue dinosaur, and Wille’s jaw dropped. “It’s a weighted dinosaur plushy! Apparently, it helps with anxiety,” Simon said proudly, offering the dino plushy to Wille.

“Oh my God,” Wille grabbed it instantly, the fabric soft and squishy against his palms, and he hugged it tightly, feeling more like a 7 year old than a sixteen year old. It’s weighted alright, but in a good way. Wille feels that if he were having a panic attack, feeling this hard but soft weight on his chest would help, because it wouldn’t suffocate him, but more ground him. “I love it. I’m naming it…”

“Fossil,” Sara snorted, taking the box of Favourites that's moving around the room, taking out a Crunchie, before passing it to Linda, who moved around the bed to offer it to Martin.

Wille chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at the little blue face. He can feel Simon’s gaze on his face, in a good way, no longer as worried and more fond and affectionate. He likes it. He hopes Simon will look at him like that forever.

“I think you should name it Squishy.”

“Like the Jellyfish from Finding Nemo? That Dory named?” Sara asked her brother, raising her brows as she walked over to sit on the opposite side of the bed to Simon, pushing the wrapper into her pocket.

“Erik,” Wille blurted out, and everyone fell silent. Martin looked over.

“Erik,” Simon was first to speak, smiling more sadly at the stuffed toy. “Yeah. Erik, I think that's a good name.”

Wille smiled back at him, watching his features soften as he gazed back, giving a small nod.

“Agreed. All in favour for Erik,” Linda added, taking her seat again.

“Yup.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm.”

“Erik it is.”

“I actually made something for you three,” Wille blurted, resting Erik in his lap.

Simon grinned at Wille, “really?”

Wille felt his cheeks heat up anxiously. “Uhm, yeah. In expressive art therapy.” He dared to glance at the three Eriksson’s, and he found smiles on every single face. “It’s kind of a - a thank you, for everything. I mean, I know it doesn’t counter the trauma, time, stress - “

“Wille,” Simon interrupted, shaking his head at him. “You don’t have to pay us back for that. We choose to help you. We’re choosing to stick to you like a parasite through his. We appreciate the gift, but you don’t owe us.”

Wille gazed back at Simon’s deep brown eyes, filled with so many different shades of brown and complex emotions Wille can only dream of understanding, unravelling and acknowledging. He nodded, glancing at Linda and Sara, who both nodded back.

He cleared his throat, leaning over to his night stand, opening the draw to take out three small canvas’s. He handed the mostly purple one to Simon, a lime, white and pale yellow to Linda, and a dark blue, pink and white one to Sara. On each canvas the colours have been swirled together, like someone threw up some colours onto the canvas in a vaguely artistic way.

When he sat down again, Simon was grinning at his canvas. “It’s very pretty,” he told Wille, running his finger over the textured paint. Wille grinned, watching him.

“Thank you, Wille,” Sara said, smiling at him when he looked over to her.

“I agree with Simon, the colours all go. It reminds me of the those splatter paintings I see on TV for 3 million dollars,” Linda said.

Wille laughed, itching at his nape. “Yeah right.”

Linda smiled back. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Wille nodded, feeling all warm and happy inside, gooey like melted chocolate. The only person who’s ever acknowledged the things made for them is Erik. His mother would always says something like, “very nice. Go show it to Erik,” even if Wille was trying to give it to her. But these wonderful people see his work, they’re holding it, admiring it. It’s not his best work, but art isn’t a hobby of Wille’s.

“I’ll put it in my room,” Simon said, before tucking it carefully into his backpack.

-

Later that evening, Wille decided to brave going into the common room. Sara said she’d rather just eat all Wille’s chocolates and watch Sponge Bob, so it was just Simon and Wille. Don’t get him wrong, Wille loves the company of Sara and Linda, less so Martin, because he feels reminded every time he looks at him that he’s mentally unstable, but he misses being alone with Simon.

“So, there’s Amy, she has a tattoo of her cat which she’s really proud of. There’s Zack, he’s in a wheelchair but he can take like 7 steps without falling over now,” Wille listed off on his fingers.

“He was getting physical therapy, right?”

“Yeah.” Wille clarified as they walked very slowly down the hallway, while Wille gives Simon a quick recount on all his group members, even if he’ll introduce them all once they’re in the room. “Also Nat, she reminds me of Maddi. Brody, who is quiet most of the time, unless you’re talking about the future, apparently. And Ian, Ian is… uhm, very opinionated, but he’s cool. Likes Star Wars. It’s a… small group.”

Simon nodded. “Amy, Zack, Nat, Ian and Brody.” Simon nodded again as they stopped outside a door. “Cool. What are we gonna do there?” He asked, looking up at Wille slightly despite being the one in shoes, and Wille is wearing the blue pair of socks Felice got him.

Wille shrugged, “there’s lots to do. There’s ping pong, video games, a TV, tables, art stuff. They might be in their rooms though. Nat and Amy seem to enjoy the company of others more than being alone, especially each others company. Zack kinda just hangs out in the background, I think he secretly likes being in our presence. Brody can be quite on and off, so is Ian, since Leah left.”

“Alright. Well, just so you know, I’m wicked good at ping pong,” Simon nodded confidently, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

Wille rested his hand on the slanted door handle. “Good for you, Simon, because I suck, and Brody is amazing at it.”

Simon laughed, dropping his arms, and their hands brushed, sending a shot of electricity through Wille at light speed, exploding in his stomach in a storm of butterflies. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Wille opened the door, and stepped into the room. It smells of paint, and the caramel air freshener - that's actually locked in a cupboard with air holes.

Zack is sitting at a table doing a puzzle, a younger girl sitting next to him talking at rapid speed. She looks just like him but as a girl, and about 7 years younger, and she looks happier, her mouth almost never closing, barely breathing as she rambles on. Nat is lying on one of the couches, taking up the entire two cushions, watching an episode of the Kardashians. Brody is sitting on another couch with a boy of similar age sitting next to him, and they aren’t talking, just sitting and watching. Amy and Ian aren’t in the room.

Wille has seen the visiting girl and the visiting boy before. The girl is Zack’s little sister, and the boy is Brody’s best friend. Wille finds it both interesting and sad that he hasn’t seen a single parent apart from Linda and Lily’s mother in the ward during his time here, excepting Nat’s older brother who Wille’s only seen a few times, but he's not a parent. Other parents have to be somewhere, because otherwise, these kids aren’t allowed up, but they don't seem to care enough to really interact with the people here.

Wille glanced at Simon, who’s looking around the room, taking the entire space in, and Wille felt weirdly anxious for Simon to like the common room, it's become his favourite space in this place, the bright colours, the smell, the activities, the people and the overall vibes.

Sitting at a desk is Doctor Young, who is a tall young man with tan skin, fluffy black hair and brown eyes. He is currently watching over the common room in case anyone tries anything, and he smiled at Simon and Wille warmly, who smiled and waved back.

“What do you want to do?” Wille asked, his voice gaining Nat’s attention. She peeked over the edge of the couch, eyeing the two of them.

“Hello there,” Nat said, only her eyes visible over the top of the purple couch.

“Hey, I’m Simon,” said Simon, walking over to her confidently, Wille following after.

“I’m Nat,” she said, moving around to be crouched on the couch, her TV show forgotten. Brody and his friend, Peter, are watching them. “You Wille’s friend?”

Simon nodded, stopping to swing his arms. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

“Mmm. How old are you?” Nat asked, crossing her arms along the back of the couch to brace herself.

Simon raised his eyebrow slightly. “I’m 16, why?”

“Your skin is flawless,” Nat said with an emotionless expression, just stating facts. Wilhelm agree’s.

Simon snorted, cheeks colouring slightly. “Thanks. I like your hair.”

Nat laughed, flicking her long blonde braid over her shoulder dramatically. “Thanks, I take great pride in the quality, considering the tiny dollop of shampoo we get. I'm gonna shave it all off when I'm outta here though. Anyway, come watch these rich bitches with me. You too Wille, stop being the standing emoji.”

Simon grinned at Wille, who couldn’t help but smile back, before moving around the couch to sit next to Nat, who has now moved her legs. Simon moved over enough that Wille could squish onto the 2 person couch next to Simon, who left a comfortable amount of space between him and Nat, and less between Wille and himself. But it was comfortable, the heat radiating off Simon’s body was nice, ever the personal heat pack.

“This is Brody, and his friend, who I always forget the name of,” Nat clicked her finger, trying to bring the bald headed boy's name to mind.

“Peter,” the guy supplied, voice scratchy. “I’m Peter.” He nodded to Simon then, who smiled back.

“I’m Simon,” he said, looking at both Brody and Peter. Brody nodded.

“Wille’s mentioned you,” he said, and Simon’s head swivelled to look at Wille, grinning.

“You know, I get told that a lot, actually.” Wille smacked his forehead, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh my God - “ He started to complain, falling back onto the couch while Nat laughed loudly.

“What has he said about me now?” Simon asked with a smirk, bumping Wille’s shoulder with his, making sure he knows it's a joke. Wille secretly (or probably not so secretly) loves all the teasing, it makes their relationship feel normal and not like it sprouted from trauma.

Brody grinned, glancing at Nat with a knowing look. “Just that you make him happy.” Wille’s grateful he didn’t fully expose how being with Simon was one of his most favourite moments, or that Simon’s his favourite person, or that he likes being alive with Simon, and how he looks forwards to seeing Simon, and hanging out with him in the future. Maybe “Simon” is the answer to too many of the questions asked, maybe it's weird, but no one seems concerned about it.

Simon grinned over at Wille. “Aww,” He said, dropping his head onto Wille’s shoulder for a moment. “You make me happy as well.” And that should not have made Wille’s heart skip such a large beat like it did. Simon sat up, staring at Wille with his big, brown eyes, and he could have lived in that moment forever, Simon’s full attention on him, and him only. He would’ve traded everything else in the world just to sit and stare at his perfect face, his flawless smile, his beauty never ageing.

“Aww, shut the fuck up y’all are so cute,” Nat grumbled, smiling behind her frown as she shook her head at them.

Before anyone could retaliate, the door to the common room opened, and Amy walked in, causing everyone’s heads to rotata and stare at her.

“Hi Amy,” Wille called, waving slightly to get her attention. Amy, who had been heading for the book shelf by Doctor Young, turned around at being called, standing still for a moment as she took in the group, before she beelined over, eyes pinned dead on Simon, and Wille instantly regretted calling her. Their conversation from earlier came to mind, and Wille looked over at Simon. 

“Hi Wille, and Simon. You’re Simon, right? Oh my God, HI,” Amy said in a squeaky voice, practically bouncing around the couch, while Simon looked slightly concerned.

“Uh - yeah, I’m Simon. Let me guess: Wille talks about me a lot?” He threw Wille a smirk, and he pulled a face in response.

“Yes! All the fucking time oh my Goddd, it’s adorable, but its also so annoying. It’s like his entire brain is made out of your name. I could be like “oh, the sky is pretty tonight”, and he’d basically say “yeah, Simon’s prettier - “

“ShutupAmy! I do not speak like that, Simon, believe me,” Wille interupted, turning to look at Simon with desperate eyes. Simon’s cheeks have turned a few shades darker, a massive, embarrassed grin on his face.

“You’re adorable,” Simon said, before his eyes widened.

Amy laughed, and Wille just closed his eyes and stared at the roof, feigning annoyance to cover the warmth that just washed over him at Simon’s words. Never has he felt like this. Never has he had a group of friends that make him so genuinely happy, never has he felt more cared about and seen, and not like he’s keeping a million secrets, or just one secret that weight a million.

“So, what school are you at, because I haven’t seen you at mine,” Peter asked Simon, bringing up one of his legs to lean on his knee, watching Simon with piercing blue eyes.

“I, uh, go to Hillerska,” Simon said, slightly awkward.

“I go to Norra Real. You know Zack goes there too? I’ve known him my entire schooling life,” Amy told everyone. Wille wasn’t sure if it was to cover for Simon’s anxiety about admitting he goes to Hillerska, or just because she wants to share. “Well, from like year 4 up.”

Silence fell over their small group when Amy stopped talking, and Wille rolled his lips together. Everyone knows Wille goes there - it was in the fucking news, and they probably could have put together that that's where Wille first saw Simon, but he guesses they never really thought about it.

“Is it worth 5/5 stars?” Nat asked, reaching over to the coffee table's snack basket to grab a small packet of chips, popping it open, but not actually eating anything for a few minutes.

"Norra Real? Girl - "

"Noo, shut up Amy, I meant Hillerska," Nat rolled her eyes. "Simon?"

Simon shrugged half heartedly. “I mean, the food is good, the teaching is good, it looks beautiful most of the time, but the students kind of suck. Some of them are angles,” Wille instantly thought of Simon himself, then Sara, and Felice. Simon continued, “but some are like little spawns of Satan.” Simon glanced at Wille, before saying “like his - what, third, second cousin? August.” Simon shuddered comedically. “Nightmare material.”

Wille snorted at that. “I agree with that,” Wille nodded.

Simon eyed Wille for a second, before saying, without breaking eye contact, “yeah, he gives off the most straight, frat guy vibes I’ve ever gotten.” Not Simon’s normal comment, or tone of voice. It’s almost like he’s challenging Wille.

“Again, I agree,” Wille said, staring back at Simon.

“Wise things Simon says, wise things,” Nat commented, before munching loudly on a chip. “Oh hi, yeah, we’re all still here.”

The topic moved on from Simon and Wille, and they ended up listening to Amy rant about her old old school. At one point, Zack’s little sister, who none of them know the name of, ran over, grabbed a milky bar, and ran back to Zack, handing the treat to her brother, who thanked her quietly, before they resumed on the puzzle.

“- no because I’d be on the bus going to school, every single day, and this group of fucking boys at the back of the bus would play the loudest, most obnoxious fucking raps songs. It’d be like “slap her ass yeah juicy now fuck your dawg-friends but no homo”.” Simon snorted, covering his mouth and then nodding along solemnly. Wille watched with a smile.

It’s strange, because they’re in the middle of a psych ward, and there are about 4 security cameras in this room, and probably like 17 help buttons. Doctor Young in the corner, made of muscle and also kind words, ready to intervene, and their conversations are on recording, but it feels nice. It’s not like when Simon and Wille are alone, that feels different, closer, less big and loud and social. But it's still nice. Wille feels like if he were to admit that he actually swallowed an entire car and that he sharts rainbows, that he wouldn’t be judged. He could admit his deepest darkest secrets, and they would never leave the room. He barely even knows Peter, and they still exchanged Instagrams, even though Wille can’t follow him back until he gets his phone. Simon and Peter exchanged Instagram as well.

Keira eventually came to fetch all the visitors, saying they’d actually overstayed because Doctor Young had messaged Keira to tell her how well it was all going, so they’d stayed an entire extra half hour.

Nat insisted on hugging everyone on the way out, she even got Zack for the briefest moment, and Wille swears he saw him smile slightly.

Wille felt amazing that night as he went to bed, lips freshly covered with chapstick, LED’s glowing, stomach full of chips and chocolate and warmth, covered with his new blanket, Erik pressed against the absent pressure in his chest, and all the wounds suddenly didn’t hurt.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm

“Do you want to reconsider your mother visiting?”

Wille froze from where he’d been strategically making his bed, now decorated with his blanket and his new favourite stuffed toy, Erik. Amy already made fun of him for returning to his 8 year old self, before admitting she has a stuffed elephant with a bandaged leg from when she tried to perform an operation on it as a toddler in her room. So, like, hypocrite.

He turned back to look at Keira, who looked up from her clipboard at his silence. She sighed. “It’s just a suggestion, Wille, but, did you know she’s been calling the hospital almost every evening asking how you are? She does care about you.” Wille just stared, because he doubts that, full disrespect to his Mother intended. “But if you don’t feel ready, then that's okay,” Keira nodded with a small smile, waiting a moment before her eyes fell back to her clipboard, and she crossed something off.

Wilhelm shrugged helpfully, turning back to his bed to continue smoothing his blanket over the plain white sheets carefully, running a hand through his hair to keep it from his eyes with his opposite hand.

“You haven’t seen her in nearly a month and a half, but she knows everything that’s been happening with you,” Keira added gently, watching Wille again, clipboard hugged against her chest.

“I don’t know,” Wille muttered.

Keira waited. Wille often has that as an answer, and then he’ll turn around and say something else. Does he want to see his Mum?

“Break down the feelings,” Keira suggested, moving further into the room to sit on the visiting chair, and not his nicely made bed. Wilhelm sat down on his freshly made bed anyway, losing the motivation to make it smooth at the talk of his Mother. 

Wilhelm pursed his lips, chewing on the inside of his cheek, before he realised what he was doing, what he was feeling. He grabbed Erik off his pillows, leaving a soft dent in them, setting Erik in his lap. 

“It makes me feel anxious, but Max says you sometimes need to do things that make us anxious so we can learn how to live with it and stuff,” Wille mumbled to the cartoon face, smoothing out the short fluff in the same direction. He honestly feels ridicule, sitting her playing with his toys, but he keeps telling himself if it helps, it doesn’t matter how stupid he looks. 

“I agree with Max. I like to think of it as trying a new food, to a degree. You dislike mushrooms when you’re little, but try mushrooms again when you’re older, and your taste buds have developed, and you may find you like mushrooms. Or, you may still dislike them.” Wille hummed in acknowledgement. “But other things it can be good to avoid. Like an allergy, or a phobia.” Keira nodded, and Wille nodded back. “What else do you feel?”

“I feel… Sad. I wish - I wish I wasn’t anxious to talk to her, to see her. I wish she was a … better Mum,” Wille said, voice going from unsure to a fucking whisper . He’s grown significantly better at talking about how he feels, especially with his group and Keira, Sophie, Max, and Jackie, when he visits. Oh - and especially with Simon. Wille really likes seeing Simon, he can say with 100% confidence that those are his favourite times of the day, and he even thinks it might be the same for Simon.

Some days, Simon will sit on the end of his bed, or in the common room, and do homework, and sometimes Wille would help him, or distract him. 

Somedays they’d go for walks around the ward because sitting still actually gets really boring sometimes. One time, they were allowed to bring one visitor into a group session, and they did charades, pictionary, and some drawings with Simon, Peter, Zack’s little sister Abby, Nat’s older sister Maja, Ian’s friend Hugo, and the group. Wilhelm had heaps of fun that day. He hadn’t heard Zack laugh until that evening. At one point when Max was trying to act out ‘dolphin’ and was seemingly convulsing on the floor, Wille had looked around and saw every single person in that room laughing. Time had seemed to slow, and Wille had felt so warm inside as he watched everyone’s smile lines fill, clutching their stomachs and each other for support, doubled over with hysterical giggles. Simon had turned to look at Wille, his grin lighting up the entire room, a light switched on that Wille didn’t realise was off, and he’d thrown his head down on Wille’s shoulder for a moment, still laughing.

Most days they sat in Wille’s room and talked about everything and nothing at the same time, finding mutual hobbies (buying Boba, sleeping in, ice skating, music, though Simon is more into making music and Wille’s more into listening), and giving Wille any Hillerska tea.

But that entire time, Wilhelm hasn’t seen, or talked with his Mum - with the exception of the phone call to arrange his statement.

Kiera’s face twisted in sympathy. It’s not the first time she’s heard such sentences from Wilhelm, but it doesn’t seem to make it any easier. “I’m sorry that you feel that way, Wilhelm. I don’t want my opinion to too heavily affect your final decision, but half my job is providing you with advice.” She paused, and Wille nodded for her to continue. Kiera sighed, resting the clipboard on her thighs sharply. “From what I have heard of your Mother, she’s worried and sounds almost guilty. She has asked us to apologise to you for the pressure she applies, but we have told her on multiple occasions that if she wants to mean it, to say it to you herself. Fair?”

“Mmmhmm.” He dragged out the sounds, a awkward, anxious habit.

“Right,” Kiera nodded again, throwing out a small smile briefly. “Wilhelm, she genuinely cares about you. She always has, but right now she has realised she was meant to have been expressing these feelings.

“I think you should see her, if only for 10 minutes then that is okay. But you have to understand that once you leave here, you will be staying at home for a while, so you will see her, despite coming for checkups here.”

He could just hide in his room, but he has a feeling his Mother would freak the fuck out, and would steal his door, and add security camera’s, if she hasn’t already done that. 

“How close to leaving am I?” Wille asked, taking in a shaky breath as he looked up at Kiera’s soft expression, her face always holding such comfort. Wille feels like a hug. He wrapped his arms around Erik like a child might, but he doesn’t feel judged, not in front of Kiera.

Kiera pursed her lips, eyes flicking over the room as she thought. “You’re improving quite rapidly if I’m being honest,” she added a smile. “So I’d say another week, and then we’d consider having you leave the waypoint that is inpatient hospitalisation, and move onto outpatient hospitalisation.”

“How come everyone else is still here?” Wille asked. The group all came in before him, and is still here, apart from those three. Ethan is still yet to rejoin their group sessions.

“While I can’t really disclose their personal situations, I can say that some are very close to leaving. You’ll get told a few days before they leave by the staff, but sooner if they choose to tell you themselves,” Kiera answered.

“Who’s closest?” Wille questioned, trying to not let the panic flare in himself. This is a reason he fucking hates making friends and getting close to people. He hasn’t seen Leah since she left, what if Amy leaves as well? He’s gotten close with Amy. Or Brody? Brody’s cool. Or Nat, or Ian, or Zack? Wille might not be as close with them, but he still knows they’re there if he wants to talk… well, maybe not Zack…

“To leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Kiera considered this for a moment, probably wondering if it’ll help Wilhelm to know at all. “Well, I’m your nurse, not theirs, so I don’t fully know what’s going on with the others, but both Brody and Nat are leaving soon, and Zack is doing quite well as well. With Zack, we’re more watching his physical symptoms than his mental, as his mental health is pretty good. Buddy might seem gloomy, but he’s an amazing guy. Of course, we are still considering his mental health, that's the most important state. A broken arm can heal within 6 weeks, but mental health is for a lifetime.” 

Wille nodded a few times, not having a real reply to that. What about Ian? What about Amy? Are they not getting better? Wilhelm tried to suppress a growing fear for his friends, staring down at his socked feet instead.

“How are your scars feeling, Wilhelm?” Kiera asked, continuing her morning check-in.

Wilhelm felt a grin grow, and Kiera smiled back slowly. “Yeah? Good?” She guessed, a smile lacing her voice.

Wille nodded, flexing his wrist at the thought. Last week, he got his bandages taken off his neck, a week before that they were taken from his wrists. Several weeks ago he got all his scans back with confirmation that nothing was damaged more than the tissue and muscle, and of course, his mental state. But it’s been amazing to feel the wind on his neck again, even more amazing to feel Simon’s curly hair against it, because man has he been missing out. 

The scars are, well, scars. He has wobbly, thick, white, prominent lines going around his neck, with dozens of smaller white lines covering his wrists. Kiera promised his scars will heal even more with time, that some small ones on his wrists may even disappear by the time he’sgraduated. Shealso told him that once they’d healed, he could get them removed entirely. Wille wasn’t sure about that, but Kiera was quick to remind him they’re still healing, he has a while to think on it.

“It’s good. Sometimes they hurt if I bump into something, or if I try to crack my neck, but it feels good.” Wille confirmed, nodding a few times again.

Kiera grinned broadly at him, before writing something on her paper. “That’s amazing to hear, I’m happy for you, Wilhelm, genuinely I am.” And Wille believed her. “I do discourage you from cracking your neck, because the skin is still fragile, and the muscles are bruised, to avoid further damage, or slower healing, practise those stretches to help build the muscles back in your neck instead, yeah?”

Wille nodded. He hasn’t had to hold up his own head in weeks, thanks to the thick neck bandage, that simultaneously acted like a brace, keeping his head upright, and now his neck muscles are slightly weaker than they were before.

“Alright, so, today's schedule young man, you have about half an hour until we put on a movie in the common room - which is open right now - which everyone will sit down and watch. After the movie you’ll have some free time, it’s also visiting hours, but Simon’s at school. No Mum?”

“... No Mum.”

“All good, Wilhelm, one step at a time,” Kiera smiled gently, encouragingly, before continuing. “Alright, in that case, free time until 3, when there’s a group with Max and two support puppies in training. Ooh, that sounds fun, you should go and tell me about it tomorrow.” She winked, and Wille rolled his eyes. He’s gotten far enough that some group sessions have become optional now. “After that Simon will be here. Hmm, it’s a Tuesday, his Mama isn’t working Tuesday evenings, right? She works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday evenings…?”

“Yeah. I think.” Wille doesn’t think, he knows , he’s memorised the schedule to the minute.

“Right,” she smiled. “Dinner’s at 6:30, we’re going to go out tonight to do star gazing around 9 ish for anyone who’s up to it, and knowing you and your friends, it’ll be all of you. Aaand that’s your day bud!”

-

They ended up watching the old, cartoon version of Snow White. This led to a lot of mocking from everyone - apart from Brody, who doesn’t seem very interested in Disney movies, but who can blame him? - about the sexism of the whole thing. Honestly, it was tragic, but what else were they expecting? It’s a Disney movie written by old white men in the 1930’s? Wille appreciated that they didn’t put on some movie about mental health as a role model kind of thing, like they would do in year 8 health classes. 

Wille sat on the corner of the couch with Amy to his right, a bowl of mixed popcorn and M&M’s on her lap, with Nat sprawled next to Amy. Ian and Brody on the other couch, and Zack in his wheelchair, which he only really uses as a chair now, able to walk most places, apart from stairs, or really long distances.

It was pretty cosy, snacks, a cringe movie and Wille’s friends. He’s proud to call them his friend. It’s like a dysfunctional family, all they’re missing is Simon. Wille wishes Simon was here, but he’s like an hour or longer away at Hillerska, doing school work. Ew. 

Wille will miss moments like this when he’s discharged, and suffering through maths glass with Mr Englund. Eww . 

What’ll he do for hours at the palace, alone? His Mother will be busy, and he kiiinda hopes his Dad doesn’t try to talk to him. When was the last time he held a conversation with his Father since he left for Hillerska? Dunno .

When the movie ended, Wille ended up playing video games with Nat while Amy literally napped because she’s a fucking cat . Ian went back to his room because his Nona is visiting (Wilhelm was embarrassingly surprised to discover Ian had a close relationship with his Nona, but it was also extremely sweet. Wille’s Nana is dead. The old lady had brought a shit ton of cookies with her to the hospital the first time she visited three weeks ago, and the staff had to politely tell her to stop bringing an entire box every day because they were running out of people to give it too) 

Zack grabbed a book and sat by a window in the sun in his wheelchair, also like a fucking cat.

“Oh! Fuck off,” Nat grumbled as Wille won the second race of Mario Kart with a victorious yell.

“Ha! Hell yeah,” Wille grinned at Nat, who stuck her tongue out in response.

“Nah nah nah - that was pure luck , I’m telling you, I’ma boss at this fuckin’ game,” Nat replied, jumping up from the couch to fold her legs under herself again. Wille scoffed.

“Shut up guys, I’m napping,” Amy grumbled, grabbing a pillow to smash against her face. Brody hummed from were he’s sitting, having taken up a spot in the air chair after Nat moved.

“Sorry,” Wille said in a stage whisper, still grinning as Nat chose a new character. 

Amy only groaned in response to him, throwing the pillow in their general direction and rolling over to face the back of the couch, her back to them, ignoring the fact the pillow fell flat a foot from their couch.

“I’m gonna kick your ass now! Haha! Luigi for the win!” Nat cheered loudly, bouncing around on the couch and bumping into Wille in the process.

Wille shoved her away with a grin. “Whatever. I’m Princess Peach, so suck it - “ And then Brody was moving, standing up suddenly and swiping the container of junk food off the coffee table and towards the TV, thankfully covered in glass for almost this exact reason.

Both Wille and Nat jumped. Amy rolled over sharply and propped herself up with her arms, eyes wide. “The fuck - “

Brody grabbed the edges of the table and attempted to flip it in a way that would have caused it to smash right into Amy, but he it didn’t move, as it’s bolted into the floor.

“Brody!” Nat yelped, dropping her controller on the floor. “Marshal! Marshal oh my God - “ Nat stood up from the couch, while Wille stared at the angry tears cascading down Brody’s face like a pipe had burst in his tear ducts, still holding his controller. The game beeped at them from the TV.

Marshall was already running over, and Brody just yelled incoherently as he approached, Wille could only make out anger from his tone of voice. He has no idea what’s going on, Brody has never done this before.

“Brody, my man, I understand what you’re going through right now is hard, but it’ll get better, believe me, dude - “

“I fucking hate this!” Brody sobbed loudly, still trying to flip the table, muscles in his arms straining and legs tightening as he tried to lift the furniture that is literally bound to the floor holding them all up.

Amy slowly retracted herself from the couch, grabbing Nat’s arm and waving vaguely for Wille to move away. Nat walked around the couch, clutching onto Amy while Wille stood up from the couch, dropping his controller quietly behind him. Brody is only three feet away from him, but he isn’t paying attention to him. Wille instantly felt bad for thinking of him like a wild animal about to snap at him... But he has no idea what’s going on, is Brody going to try to hurt him? What triggered this? Was it their yelling? What did they even trigger?

 “I know Brody, but you won’t feel like this forever, alright? Can I help you right now dude?” Marshal asked gently, allowing Brody to struggle.

Another doctor came into the room, a man called Bradley who Wille recognises, and he nodded for Amy, Nat, Wille and Zack to move out of the room. Zack had been watching from his wheelchair across the room, and he left his book on the small table next to him, standing to wheel his chair out the door in front of him. 

Wille glanced back at Brody and Marshal before leaving the room, heart pounding in his chest anxiously, seeing his form folded over the table heavily, back heaving as he sobs, Marshal crouched at his side with a hand on his back, talking quietly. Wille swears he heard the words “no one’s coming for you” uttered. 

Malin is standing in the corridor, and she frowned as the four teens swarmed out the door suddenly, each wearing distressed and concerned expressions

“Everything okay there?” Malin asked Wille, before looking at Bradley, who was watching from the doorway.

Bradley sighed, running a hand over his face. “He’s having a bipolar episode. We might have to change his ward if he appears to be violent.”

Wille’s jaw dropped. “He has bipolar?” He whisper-yelled, and Amy elbowed him. He looked over at her, ignoring the way his heart was pounding from the shock of what just happened with zero warning. “What? No one fucking tells me anything,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, Wilhelm,” Bradley replied, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“Will he be okay?” Nat asked, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, nails scratching at the skin. Wille watched the white lines indent into her arms, before gently taking both her hands away from her arms. Nat squeezed his hand, hard , but he allowed it, gulping down the pain. He wonders if the others knew.

Bradley nodded, “Yes, I’m pretty sure. It could last from a week to a month, but we’ll keep him safe.” Safe from himself? Wille thought but didn’t say. “You guys can go back to your rooms, or to someone's room together, or you can chill in the group room. We’ll likely move Brody somewhere he’ll be safer than the common room, we’ll tell you when you can come back.”  He explained, and they all nodded in understanding. “Do you guys need anything? Does anyone need someone to talk to? Some water? Snacks?”

Wille wants to be alone, but he knows now that’s not always a good idea when he’s feeling distressed or shocked or sad. He wants to see Simon, to rant to him about how no one tells him Jack shit in here, just like at the palace. But Simon’s at school right now, it’s lunch in an hour, and he’s not even halfway through the day. It’s hours until he’ll see Simon.

Amy looked around the group. “I’m good.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mmmm.”

“Alright, good,” Bradley nodded, running a hand over his re-growing stubble, deep brown eyes examining each and every teen for lies. Wille’s lying, and Bradely can likely see it, but who cares.

“Common room?” Amy suggested. 

“I’m going back to my room,” Zack announced, turning to walk away, wheeling his chair with him.

“You sure?” Wille asked him as Nat took in a deep breath, before releasing Wille’s hand with a quiet apology.

Zack turned back to them, eyeing Wille as if he’d just spat at him. Wille tried to not let his anxiety show. Zack’s still a pretty cold, hard guy, and it seems like he’s almost scared to get close to everyone else, but they still try.

“Well, what are you planning to do in the group room?” Zack snapped back.

Bradley peeked back into the common room. “Wherever you’re going, please go quickly, guys.” He explained as if on cue, another distressed yell echoed from the common room, sounding like a mix of a sob and “THEY’RE WATCHING”. A shiver coursed through Wilhelm, he doesn’t know anything about bipolar, apart from it’s mood swings, he needs to do some research, educate himself. 

Wille nodded to Bradely a few times. “Okay. Well, we’re going to the group room,” he told Zack, who only fucking sneered in response. It took everything in Wille to not pull a harsh face back at him.

The three teens and Malin turned towards the group room, and Zack went the opposite way.

Once in the group room, Wille moved to stand in front of the window, staring out at the city around them, looking past the sealed window edges and the thick glass. Wille’s learnt that in the stages of security and safety of each inpatient ward, there’s is pretty loose, that they are the more mentally stable group. This kind of concerns Wille, because some days he doesn’t feel stable, some days he wishes he could just get a blade to release the pain building inside of himself through the blood. Wilhelm hopes everyone else in this hospital is doing better than that, because this feeling sucks, but he knows there are people who feel worse than him. 

The sky is clear today, pure blue, making it a pretty cold morning despite the bright sun drying the night's dew. They’re overlooking a small mall, the roof covered in vents and extraction fan-looking things, some places really dirty and yuck, others new and white, others with messy scrawlings of graffiti Wille can’t make out.

He rolled his neck slowly, feeling the stretch and pull of the muscles flexing in his neck, the small flare of pain that made him look straight again.

“Wille, wanna play truth or dare like intermediate level kids?” Amy asked Wille. He turned to the two girls, who are sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor on a new, fluffy mat, a spare spot next to them for Wille to close the circle… or… triangle. Whatever.

Wille sighed quietly, looking once more out the window. Somewhere out there is Simon, probably not even thinking about him, because unlike Wille, Simon seems capable of not having his every thought relate back to Simon. He’s too busy living, learning at Hillerska, surrounded by friends and family. 

“Sure,” Wille finally replied, turning back to his two friends, taking a step towards them and then flinching when he heard another scream of, “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND - THEY’RE FUCKING WATCHING ME!” 

-

The puppies helped to lighten the mood significantly. Brody didn’t join them, so it was just Wilhelm, Amy, Nat, Zack and Ian sitting in the group room with two little, bouncy golden retrievers who really want to eat their grippy socks, and each others ears.

Wille’s pretty sure even Zack and Ian had a good time, as the two boys both laughed when the girl puppy, Ruby, jumped on the boy puppy, called Matty, who was peacefully sitting in Wille’s lap. Ruby landed on just the wrong sport, making him yelp in pain from the tiny little paws on sensitive boy parts. At least everyone got a good laugh out of it.

After that they all retired back to the common room, which looked like nothing had happened, the snacks all back in the container which is back on the coffee table. Even Zack’s book had been put away.

Wille sat at a table and did some colouring while Amy, Nat and Ian watched TV, and Zack read by the window, again. Wille glanced at the cover of the book - I Kissed Shara Wheeler, Wille thinks it says. Interesting. 

At one point Annabell came in with a plate of peanut butter, banana, and crackers for everyone to snack from as an afternoon tea kind of meal. Wille wasn’t hungry, in fact, barely anyone was. Amy ate two plain crackers, and Ian ate several pieces of banana and peanut butter. When Annabell came back for the plater, she looked slightly worried and asked if they wanted anything else. Surprise surprise, they didn’t want food but instead asked:

“Will we see Brody again this week?” Nat spoke up, and Wille recalled Kiera mentioning how she was leaving soon.

Annabell pursed her lips, “I’m not sure. Sorry, Nat.”

-

Simon

Simon practically bounced down the hallway in front of Linda. Sara decided to stay home tonight, or, more realistically, at the stables with Felice, her newfound bestie , and she’s taking the bus home.

Simon has been thinking about Wilhelm all day, which is kind of embarrassing… no, it’s hugely embarrassing, because Wille is perfectly capale of not living on thoughts of Simon. Just the thought of Wille thinking of him made his stomach flutter. 

Simon didn’t see him yesterday, so it’s offically been more than 24 hours since he got a hug, so it’s only fair he’s plaguing his mind. Well, he’s always on his brain, he believes he’s developed selective hearing for the words “Wille”, “Wilhelm”, “Crown Prince”, or anything to do with his floppy haired crush.

The corridor was almost weirdly quiet, not that he could normally hear anything coming from any of the rooms, but it kind of felt … tense. Like something’s happened.

“Hi Lucas,” Simon said, coming to a stop in front of the older man.

“Hello, Simon, Linda.” Lucas nodded to both of them. “Just a warning, Simon,” he said, eyes focussing back on Simon. He felt his smile waver, well, that’s never good. Lucas does this: if Wille’s had a bad day, or something has happened, he normally gives Simon a little heads up so he doesn’t burst into the room and demand hugs and start ranting when Wille just wants to cry. “He seems a bit distant today, if he wants, he’ll tell you, but I believe he’s looking forward to right now.” He smiled with perfectly white teeth and then gestured to the door. “All yours.”

Simon tried not to frown, what happened now? Simon feels a familiar anxious feeling building in his chest, a feeling he gets every time he’s told this before he see’s Wille. Will he be able to help Wille through this? Should he make him feel better, or allow him to be sad for a bit? He’s allowed to be sad, but how sad is that? Linda put a hand on his shoulder, firm and gentle at the same time.

“Simon, go in, see what's happening, and judge it from there.” She told him gently, smoothing a hand over his curls only for Simon to swipe at them again. They’ve started to grow out a bit, curling further around his ears. “Don’t panic before you know what's going on, mi amor.”

Simon nodded, turning back to the door.

He knocked a few times, and heard a quiet, “Come in.”

Simon pushed open the door and walked in slowly, careful to not seem to upbeat. Wille’s sitting on his windowsill again, looking out the window, down at the streets. His windows have been tinted now to prevent any more invasive photos, but he can still see everyone outside.

Simon hasn’t seen photographers outside for awhile, at least three weeks he thinks. They didn’t give up easy, ignoring the pleas in Wille’s statement for privacy, and the fact that the staff kept denying them access inside with their cameras and recorders. They would camp outside at night and keep cameras pointed at Wille’s window until Malin, Lucas or other security came and took them away.

“Hey, Wille,” Simon said gently, moving across the room, dropping his bag at the foot of the neatly made bed, and standing next to Wille.

Simon thinks he may be watching a group of old guys going down the road on their obnoxiously bright scooters…or maybe he’s watching the run-down ice cream truck stuck in traffic that has dark smoke coming out it’s exhaust pipe, or maybe he’s gazing at the tree in the middle of the car park which is blowing in the wind, shadowing some cars. Either way, Simon wants to know,

“Hey,” Wille replied, turning his head to look over at Simon, leaning his head back against the window sill, the sun shining on one side of his beautiful face, illuminating his shining skin, outlining his sharp jawline and making one eye glow like amber. Simon, rather embarrassingly, really just wants to make out with him right here, right now, to kiss him and never stop, and it's probably the worst timing his 16-year-old brain could have. It’s not fair how Wille gets to look that good.

Simon gulped away a dry throat. “How are you?” His voice shook a little, so he cleared his throat again.

Wille hummed lowly, closing his eyes and sighing, and Simon can’t even be blamed for staring. “It’s been an emotional rollercoaster of a day,” he said gently. Simon smiled sympathetically, humming like Wille had just done, acknowledging him.

“Hug?” Wille asked, cracking his eyes open, and turning sideways so his legs dangled off the window sill, legs apart, arms spread.

Oh, Simon’s poor little gay heart can’t take this bullshit from him. Simon grinned, stepping into his arms and his embrace. Wille’s warm from both his body heat and the sun he’s basking in, absorbing it like a cold blooded lizard. His skin is soft, as you would expect royal skin to be, and his hug is tight. His neck is warm and real and textured against Simon’s own, he hates it and he loves it at the same time. He loves Wille’s hugs, he loves how they fit together, Simon standing between his legs, so close to him, but then he also hates how close he is to him . Simon has never hugged anyone like this, it feels like something only a couple would do, but they’re not a couple, they’re just Simon and Wille, Wille and Simon, and only one of them is helplessly falling for the other, but, well, he’ll manifest it anyway.

Simon stepped back and Wille sighed again, leaning against the window with a soft thud, gazing back at Simon, a content little smile on his lips. 

“Why’s today been an emotional rollercoaster?” Simon asked, settling in the visitor's chair next to the window, knee bouncing, a safe distance from Wille.

“Kiera wants me to talk to Mama, we watched Snow White, Brody had a bipolar episode, Zack’s a meanie, we got to play with puppies, the common room felt like Lily had died all over again - “ Wille physically winced as he said it. “Damn. I didn’t realise what it felt like till I said it,” he laughed, sounding more anxious and awkward than amused. Relatable.

Simon pursed his lips. “Well, yeah… that sounds like a rollercoaster, to be honest, “ he replied awkwardly.

Wille sighed again , closing his eyes for a few moments. “I didn’t know Brody was bipolar. No one told me. Why does no one tell me this? I had no idea what was wrong when he started throwing the snack bowl off the coffee table, or when he tried to fucking flip the table.”

Simon watched Wille as he took in a shaky breath. “I’m guessing this has more to do with him having a bipolar episode?”

Then it just came flowing out of Wille, clearly its been building up. “It just reminded me of the fucking palace, how I didn’t know what was happening. Like - like some mornings - at the palace - I would wake up to staff bursting into my bedroom and telling me I have a photoshoot in half an hour and that I missed breakfast. One time, I was told I a charity event so I’m missing a school trip when I was 11, as I was eating my breakfast that morning. But this hospital was good at not doing that. I’d wake up by myself most mornings, and then Kiera would come up with a schedule that has hours of free time and so much flexibility. I didn’t know Lily had Tourettes so I had to ask. I didn’t mind asking , but it would have been nice to be told, you know? Like, imagine if I commented on it and everyone thought I was some kind of fucking ableist bigot?”

Simon shrugged. “I get that, but no one could blame you for not knowing she had Tourette’s and therefore commenting on her tics.”

“Yeah,” Wille grunted. “And I had no idea Brody had bipolar, but it makes sense now. I don’t know a lot about bipolar because the only person with bipolar I’ve ever met was this girl called Hannah in year 7, who I knew, but wasn’t friends with,” Wille rambled so fast Simon really had to concentrate to string the jumbled words into coherent sentences, adding mental grammar. “I mean, imagine if I knew Brody had bipolar, I could have seen the signs of his bipolar episode building, because clearly his doctors fucking didn’t.” He finished angrily, running a hand through his hair harshly.

Simon waited for a beat, but he didn’t continue. Simon reached over to Wille’s bed, offering him Erik, which Wille took and strangled. Simon’s really, really glad Ayub and Rosh’s gift has had such good use. “Do you want to do some research on bipolar? To understand better?” 

Wille paused, blinking like he’d just had a revelation, before nodding. “Yeah, good idea.”

They crowded on Wille’s bed around Simon’s phone and indulged in research. They watched videos and read articles from people with bipolar and doctors for at least half an hour. By the end, Wille was still grumpy that he hadn’t been told, but he confirmed that the signs had been there: Brody seemed distracted and almost disassociated from conversations and the movie, and the day before Brody had been full of energy and words and opinions. It’s strange no one saw it coming, but now Wille is armed with knowledge, so he can help.

“Knowledge is only power if you use it…” Simon said, aiming to sound vaguely wise, nodding along to his comment to support that goal. Wille snorted as Simon shoved his phone back in his bag, and push it onto the floor again

“You sure that’s even how the quote goes?” Wille questioned, raising a brow at him smoothly.

“I made it up, so it goes however I say it. I’m original like that,” Simon shrugged, snorting at himself before building up composure again.

Wille narrowed his eyes at him playfully. “You made that up? Why does it sound so familiar then, Simon? Copyright?” 

It took him a moment to think of a reply, because Wille’s face is right there, and the way he says Simon’s name is just … it’s different. It’s different.

“Uh - I might have stolen it, by accident?” Simon admitted, looking away from Wille, and snatching Erik from the space between them, to smoosh his little green cheeks. 

Wille snorted. “On accident?” He repeated.

Simon scoffed, and glanced at Wille. “You know - Like, I saw it somewhere, heard it, read it, whatever, and then forgot, but my subconscious remembered it, so I accidentally stole it and claimed it as my own.” 

“Too many big words,” Wille sighed dramatically, looking straight ahead as well, it must be easier on his neck.

“Whatever. Can we go to the common room now?” Simon asked, turning back to look at Wille, whose dark eyes instantly met his. A piece of his hair fell into his eye, and Simon had to clench his fists into Erik’s face to stop himself from brushing it behind his ear. Wille’s hair is so god damn soft and silky, it should be fucking illegal. How can people expect Simon to not touch his hair when it feels like something hand strung by a God? 

Wille scoffed dramatically. “Oh? Is my presence not enough for you anymore?”

Simon laughed, shoving Wille’s shoulder as he stood up from his bed and stretched, cold seeping through his socks into the balls of his feet, shoes abandoned by his bag. “Fuck off, you know what I meant.”

“That you want to ditch me for Amy? Or Nat?” Wille cried, throwing a hand against his heart, gasping.

“What about Zack, dude? Maybe I wanna hang out with Zack ,” Simon told him with a shake of his head, planting his hands on his hips and staring down at Wille, who’s now thrown himself across the bed towards Simon. 

Wille squinted up at him. “Mmkay, you social bee. Don’t you have homework?” He sat up and turned to sit cross legged in front of Simon, still on the bed.

Simon rolled his eyes. “When has my homework ever stopped you from doing anything before?”

“I dunno what you mean,” Wille said with over dramatised vagueness, turning his waist to gaze at the roof next to Simon.

“Let me remind you, Wille,” Simon laughed, flicking his forehead gently, causing Wille to whack at his hand gently. “I try to do homework, and you’re all like ‘Siiimonn, Simon you’re so booorring, stop ignoring me, Simon I’m an attention whoreee acknowledge meee’,” Simon said, making his voice squeaky for no reason other than aggravating Wille, waving his hands around.  

Wille’s jaw dropped. “Rude! I am not!”

“So now you’re lying, huh?”

“I mean - no, yeah, I do do that, but - “

“So you admit it!” Simon laughed.

Wille huffed out an annoyed sigh, seemingly accepting defeat, stretching as he stood up from the bed. “Shut up Simon. Do you wanna go to the common room, or keep insulting me?”

Simon pretended to think about it, resting an elbow on Wille’s shoulder - which is actually kinda hard, because Wille’s at least an inch taller than him, if even that - and tapping his lip thoughtfully.

 “I just dunno what the vibes will be like in there. I think Nat has a visitor, as does Ian, but his Nona might be in the common room like last week,” Wille shuddered and Simon laughed, dropping his elbow off of Wille. Ian’s Nona was amazing, offering cookies and hugs to any of the teens who looked her way, then she’d sat down and absolutely destroyed Simon, Ian, Wille and Amy at a game of Monopoly.

“She’s amazing,” Simon laughed.

Wille snorted, giving Simon a little shove towards the door. “She does make some pretty bomb cookies if I do say so. I’ve never had a cookie that’s 90% chocolate chips and 10% batter.” 

Simon agrees.

Chapter Text

Simon

“So, Simon-Weemon, how’s rich-people-boarding-school going? Any tea for the poor?” Amy asked.

Simon choked on the cookie he was eating. “Simon-Weemon?” He repeated weakly, waving away Wille’s offer to slap him on the back.

Amy laughed while Nona (she insists everyone calls her Nona) looked over at Simon sharply. “Oh, what school do you go to, sweet boy?” 

“Um,” Simon shifted. Everyone else here knows he goes to Hillerska - except Nona, duhh - but everyone else at Hillerska would probably enjoy flexing the fact they go to the best school in Sweden, but Simon does not for that exact reason. “Hillerska.”

Nona’s grey brows raised, revealing more of her green eyes. With all due respect, this woman looks to be about 100 years old, not 70, but still manages to have kindness in every feature. “Oh really? Hillerska boarding school?” She nodded. “Damn. Rich Mama?”

Simon laughed, eating a bit of his cookie and shrugging to avoid answering. No, not a rich Mama, nor a rich Papa, but that’s not a conversation to have with someone else’s Nona.

The group of Wilhelm, Simon, Amy, Ian and Nona are all sitting on the couches by the TV, eating cookies and chatting. Zack and Nat are nowhere to be seen, as is Brody. Simon can’t help but wonder if Brody’s disappearance will be like Ethan’s - he just won’t be back. 

“Nona, can I ask you a question?” Amy asked, leaning towards the elder woman.

“Fire away my girl,” Nona replied boldly, smiling her dentures at Amy.

“Are you dating anyone?” Amy asked with a malicious grin.

Nona let out a hearty, croaky laugh. “No, my husband died last year. But, I’ll tell you this - “ 

“Nona,” Ian warned, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

“What, honey? I’m just telling Amy here the… “

“Tea?” Wille prompted, nibbling on a cookie, sitting between Simon and Amy. Ian is sitting on a couch by himself and Nona is on an armchair.

“Ah yes, that is what y’all youngests say. All trendy and shit. The tea , thank you, Wilhelm, my dear,” Nona nodded, before turning back to Amy. “This guy, Davis, at book club,” she leant back in her armchair, pursing her lips and nodding a few times. “He’s checking me out, I swear to you.”

Most of the group burst out laughing, and Ian only shook his head, grinning down at his lap quietly. 

“Smash or pass, Nona?” Amy asked, still trying to contain her extensive giggles behind a giant cookie, brown eyes squinted from her smile.

Nona frowned. “Smash or pass? What, what does that mean?” Nona turned to look around the group, who all went very quiet.  

“Amy, you’ve started this,” Simon pointed out, “you explain smash or pass to her.” 

Amy narrowed her eyes, glancing at Ian, who only shrugged. “So, basically , Nona. Smash means like you want to … make out, with that person, and pass is, well - skip, no thanks . So, smash or pass Davis from the book club?”

“Oh, pass, definitely pass,” Nona laughed. “Easy choice really, he doesn’t even have dentures, but his teeth are fucking horrible. Oh - excuse my language darlings.” Everyone fell into a chorus of laughter once more.

-

Hille’s Babies 😩🍑

Wille(up for negotiation)
Hey hey
11:40 am

McCool
OMFG WILLE UP FOR NEGOTIATION ITS YOUUUUU
11:41 am

Seamom
WILLEEEE
11:41 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
Arent u guys meant to be at school rn???

McCool
Fuck that shit how are you dude???
11:41 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
💀💀
Im good
11:41 am

Lice
WILLE HIIIII
11:42 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
Wtf are these names
11:42 am

Seamom
Maddi assigned them when we join and idk how to change them
Sorry i mean McCool*
11:42 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
Lol okay
Can i get mine changed then McCool
11:42 am

McCool
Ofc ofc thats why yours is up for negotiation
11:42 am

@ Winx chick#2 @Fredy @ Mother hen @ Alex the great @ Wall @ Seamom @ Sahracha @ Lice @ Sof @ Zac and quack @ Gusto @ Wille(Open for negotiation)
11:43 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
Im literally still here
11:43 am

Seamom
Same
11:43am

Lice
Same
11:43am

Wall
Same
11:43 am

McCool
Stfu wALl you HAVENT even said ANYthing u DONT counT
11:44 am

Winx chick #2
Wtf maddi we’re literally in math rn
11:44 am

McCool
Coward
Join the conversation
Get freddy as well ik shes ghosting me rn
I’ll throw paper at the back of her head in a moment
11:45 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
💀
11:45 am

Freddy
Fuck off fucking madison fucking mccoy ill fucking snitch fuck
11:45 am

McCool
GASP you wouldnt
11:45 am

Freddy
GASp i would test me i dare u
11:46 am

Mother hen
Stfu guys
Whats the meeting about
11:47 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
Changing my name
11: 47 am

Mother hen
WILLE OMG
11:47 am

Freddy
WHAO WHEN TF
HIHIHIHI
11:47 am

Winx chick #2
HOW TF DID I MISS THAT ASBHNJS
11:47 am

Mother hen
HOW R U DUDE @WALL WHY DIDNT U TELL ME IM RIGHT NEXT TO U
11:48 am

Wall
HENRY JUST FUCKING PUNCHED ME GUYS
11:48 am

Seamom
Ik i saw lol
11:49 am

Alex the great
Me too lmao
11:49 am

Sahracha
Guys my phone actually sounded like someone was ringing it with how many notifications you send PER MINUTE

Also hi wille :)
11:50 am

Wille(up for negotiation)
Hiya
We can discuss this later dont fail math
11:50 am

Guys…
11:51 am

Omg did you guys get caught 💀
11:53 am

Haha losers
11:53 am

Simon knew Wille was going to get his phone back today, he just wasn’t expecting him to text them halfway through Math that Friday. Before he took the jump and opened the group chat, he’d been messaging Simon, and Simon had been replying.

Wille
SIMONNNN
SIMON I GOT MY PHONE☺
11:23 am

I HAVE SO MANY NOTIFICATIONS AGHUNJS
11:23 am

Simon
OMG YAYYYY❤PROUD OF U
11:24 am

Wille
TYTYTY
11:24 am

WHAT CLASS R U IN RN?
11:25 am

Simon
Math :(
11:25 am

Wille
Haha sucks to be u
11:25 am

Simon
🔫bitch
11:25 am

Wille
❤❤❤
11:25 am

And Simon’s gay little heart could barely fucking take Wille sending him three whole love hearts , not even a yellow heart for friendship, but instead three red hearts. Simon nearly cried in Math, and Sara gave him a judgmental side-eye from her seat next to him as he continued to text under his desk, looking up every few seconds so the teacher wouldn’t get suspicious, blushing like the dumb teenage boy he is.

Simon
Stfu 

Omg wille guess what august asked me to do this morning
11:27 am

Wille
What
11:27 am

Simon
He asked me to sell drugs to him🫢
11:27 am

Wille
Simon
Simon thats pretty serious
11:28 am

Simon
Ik ik but seriously??? Who tf does he think i fucking am??
11:28 am

Wille
Why tf does he want drugs tho
11:28 am

Simon
He didnt say

I think he got anxious when i said no and thinks im gonna snitch
11:30 am

Wille
Are u?
11:30 am

Simon
Idk
Idrc abt him tbh
He’d probably just say it was a joke or that i lied
And we all know who the school would believe
11:30 am

Wille
:( i believe u tho
Got the crown prince on ur side
11:31 am

Simon
Omg yayyyy we can get august expelled togetherrrr
11:31 am

Wille
Sure if thats what u want
11:31 am

Seriously tho we could
11:32 am

Simon
That sounds like a lot of effort and yk im a very busy guy
Spill im curious how would u get him expelled
11:32 am

Wille
I’d frame him for smth
11:32 am

Simon
What a well-thought-out plan you have
11:33 am

Wille
Shut up sim on🙄
11:33 am
Wait
11:34 am

Simon
What
WHAT?????
11:34 am

Wille changed Simon’s name to Bebé Linda
Wille changed their name to Friend best

Simon face planted on the desk. Bebé Linda is an inside joke they developed over the month and a half of knowing each other from a Tik Tok Simon found and saved and then showed Wille. That same day Wille surprised Simon with the amount of Spanish he knew. Simon had been impressed, to say the least, maybe even proud, and had taught Wilhelm some more Spanish. 

Bebé Linda
Dude you spelt best friend wrong
11:35 am

Friend best
Shit
Oh well💀
11:35 am

Simon could feel his thoughts spinning at the words of confirmation, stomach fluttering like clothes tumbling through a drier. Wille considers him as best friend? That means the world to Simon. His friends are very, very important to him - and yes , he just got friend zoned to the face so hard, but he doesn’t care, Wille is very, very important to him, so he deserves that title. Boyfriend would look real good next to his name as well, but he’ll keep that one in his fantasies. 

He remembered how he used to think he could only have one best friend, because it’s best friend , not best friends . That was before he met Rosh and Ayub, and realised that Sara can’t keep the best friend card, he needs three best friends. (Rosh and Ayub teased him for calling his literal sister his best friend, but he didn’t care, Simon still looks at her that way. He admires, and loves his older sister.) 

Bebé linda
Lol well then
Friend best
When r u gonna go to the group chat
11:36 am

Friend best
Well friend best
Idk
The hillies babies one looks scary
11:36 am

Bebé linda
Oh it fucking is friend best
11:36 am

Friend best
Thats reeeaall encouraging of u friend best i feel just so fucking motivated to go look at the 99+ messages
11:37 am

Bebé linda
Ofc friend best
No but srsly dont go on it if ur not ready
That talked abt u a little bit but haven't in ages
11:38 am

Friend best
Ima do it
Should I be expecting instant replies?
11:38 am

Bebé linda
A quick scan of the classroom tells me yes
Everyone looks so bored rn
11:38 am

Friend best
Omg wow
I’ll message it soon
11:38 am

Bebé linda
Oke
11:39 am

Friend best
Have a good day simon my friend best
11:39 am

Bebé linda
Have a good day wille my friend best
11:39 am

-

Simon, Walter, Henry, Felice, Maddi and Stella all got caug ht texting because it turns out, Mr Englund was watching them the entire fucking time and seemed to see a new student texting every time he turned around, just building his list of idiots to tell off. It’s honestly humiliating, but they all look an equal mixture of relieved and happy that Wille texted them.

“You can all come to get your phones at the end of the day,” Mr Englund told them with a disappointed tut as they all filled back to their seats with guilty expressions, the rest of the classroom looking at them in bewilderment, apart from Alexander, Sara and Fredrika, who managed to not get caught. “You are at school to learn, not swipe through the Tok Tok. Do that in your spare time, it is vital to be focusing in class right now. Especially you, Simon.”

Simon scowled at his desk as he sat down. “Yes, sir,” he grunted. 

Mr Englund is not wrong, the B on Simon’s last test is not looking too fine at all. Yes - it’s a pass , but why should he go for a pass when he knows he can get better than that? He needs good grades to get somewhere in life. Simon loves his hometown, it’s full of friends, and good memories - but also lots of bad ones, and he doesn’t want to be stuck there forever.

He pushed away the gnawing fear of a failing grade, focussing on the lightness he felt after Wilhelm joined in their group chat again. But his mood feels fucking plagued by Mr Englund and the whole August fiasco this morning.

A few hours prior

“Hey, you - Socialist boy!” 

Simon threw a frown over his shoulder as August materialised next to him, a stupid grin on his face, looking cocky and self-amused by his nickname.

“Simon,” Simon supplied through gritted teeth, grabbing the straps of his backpack and speeding towards his first class.

“Huh?” August grunted intelligently, easily walking beside him.

“My name is Simon,” he repeated. This man, something comes in one ear and goes out the other.

“Simon,” August repeated, clicking his tongue. “August, a pleasure.” He stuck out his hand towards Simon, pale and clammy looking. 

Simon suppressed the urge to wrinkle his nose. “Is this some kind of prank?” He replied, ignoring his hand in favour of looking around, checking for any phones pointed his way or groups of students trying, and failing, to look inconspicuous.

“No, I just wanted to say hi,” August said, hand still hovering awkwardly in front of himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

Simon actually scoffed. “I’ve been here for nearly two months, but sure.” He spared his eyes and looked away from August, picking up his pace, the classroom in view. It’s like a safehouse, and August is a demon chasing him towards it. It’s only motivating him to move faster, to be honest.

August, not getting the message, sped up, borderline jogging next to him. “Well, I need to ask you something,” he grabbed Simon’s elbow to stop him in his tracks. Simon pulled away from him, but stopped, the classroom just in view.

“What?” I swear to God, if he fucking asks me about Wille, I’m gonna throw something at Felice, and Simon really likes Felice, he’d hate to throw something at her.

August grinned as uf Simon had already agreed to whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull off. “Would you mind getting me some shit?”

Simon blinked at him. “Go to the toilet.” Was his truly smart reply.

August laughed obnoxiously, painfully fake chortles. “Funny. You’re a funny guy, Spencer.”

Simon gave him a deadpan look. “My name is Simon.”

August bristled, blinking a few times. “Oh, I could’ve sworn you said Spencer.”

Simon blinked at him, unamused.

“Anyway,” August laughed. “Would you be interested?”

Simon wonders if he knows how fucking obvious he’s being. “You know I’m not going to do something for you just because you’re trying - and might I add, failing - to be nice.” He told August, watching Stella and Fredrika go into the classroom, casting Simon a side eye for just standing with August. He grounds his teeth.

“Simon,” August ignored the majority of his sentence. “Just yes or no, can you get me some drugs or not?”

Simon scoffed, “Not, August, what the fuck? Do you just assume every non-res is a fucking dealer?” 

Simon saw the moment he realized he’d fucked up. He was really confident Simon would say yes, and his fake smile dropped when he realised Simon won’t. 

“Oh. Oh okay. Well - the - the party, I was planning for,” August cleared his throat, gaining himself another two seconds to make up a lie Simon won’t fall for. Maybe Simon should spare him, walk away and stop his stumbling, but where's the fun in that? “You could’ve been invited if you’d bought it for us. But you won’t, and I’ll have to call off the whole thing.” August shrugged.

“Okay.” And Simon walked away, leaving August to blink at where he’d been.

Simon blinked again and the memory was gone, the old, creepy streets of Bjärstad sliding past the window steadily. Next to him, Sara is reading a book, eyes flickering over the words in what feels like should be a record speed.

Simon had choir practice and Sara was in the stables, so tonight they’re taking the last bus home together, which means there’s no Rosh or Ayub for him to talk to or distract his thoughts with their harmless banter, and easy conversations.

He heaved a sigh. Another week come and gone. He hopes Wille will be back to school soon, but Simon knows that before he’s at school, he’ll be at home, so there’s likely still a few weeks until Simon can sit with him in class, or at workies. But he’ll endure the weeks without him if he’s getting better. Plus, Simon still sees him frequently during the week, and he can now text him, which has become a hobby of his, and he’d be doing it right now if his phone wasn’t at a lovely 5%, because his charger died last night. He added ‘buying a new charger’ to his mental checklist, he would add it to his phones notes, but, well -

Sara glanced out the window, sighed, and then pressed the red button next to Simon for the bus to stop at the next stop with a, beep.

“Oh, sorry,” Simon mumbled, looking back out the window to see their street gliding past. Missed their stop, oops. Simon was too lost in thought. He has a lot of thoughts recently, it’s becoming hard to get them to stop.

Sara shrugged, shoving her book into her school bag and standing, signalling for Simon to do the same. Simon stood and grabbed his own bag before walking through the near-empty bus and hovering by the driver until the bus came to a halt, before they clambered off together.

“What were you thinking about to miss our stop?” Sara questioned as they trudged towards their house together, the sun setting behind them, lighting up the clouds a pretty pink and orange colour, soon to fade into darkness.

Simon sighed, kicking a stone in front of his shoes until it rolled onto the road and was lost under the tire of a car sharply. “Just … stuff,” he answered vaguely. He’s feeling vaguely brain dead right now, it’s a Friday afternoon post choir practise, fucking sue him.

“Wille stuff,” Sara hummed.

Simon didn’t even deny it. He sighed. “Wille stuff.” 

Sara hummed again, glancing at Simon, before bumping his shoulder with hers lightly. “Why do you seem down? Did something happen?” Simon’s mind supplied the unspoken “ again ”, and he clenched his fist in payback to himself. It is becoming more and more draining every time, he should try to find coping mechanisms, humour or boxing or something. Probably not boxing.

Simon shrugged. “I just …miss him.”

Sara scoffed, shaking her head as she looked ahead.

“What?” Simon asked, frowning across her.

Sara looked back to him, eyes amused more than annoyed, by the annoyance is still there. “You saw him yesterday,” she pointed out.

Simon sighed again. “I know - “

“And you were texting him today in class, and then walking between classes, at lunch, for half the bus ride - “

“Okay! Okay I get it! I’m just happy I can communicate with him, finally,” Simon interrupted, shoving Sara so she stumbled onto someone's lawn and she laughed. She pushed him back, but not hard enough he fell on the road.

“Does him having a phone mean he’ll be released soon?” Sara asked Simon once they’d domesticated their walking again. Sibling things.

Simon’s head turned to look at her, wiping his nose which is beginning to run in the growing cold. He hadn’t thought of that. Is Wille going to be out sooner than expected? He’d been thinking about what will happen during his time as an outpatient, but he never thought of when Wille would be out. That’s exciting! Simon hates the hospital. He reined back his excitement before answering. “Dunno. I could ask him.”

Sara smiled knowingly, and Simon pretended he didn’t see it. “Sure. You do that for me, Simon.”

Simon whipped out his phone in record speed, he’s gotta be quick, of course, because his phone is dying, no other reason. He opened his messages - because now he has Wille’s number, and asked him the question. It’s about 7 o’clock right now, Simon’s starving, so Wille’s likely having his dinner, or hanging out in the common room, probably not even with his phone - Simon’s phone buzzed in reply before it could even turn itself off.

Bebé Linda
Sara asked if u having ur phone means youll be discharged soon
7:02 pm

Friend Best
Kiera told me on tuesday another week until i go back to the palace
Idk how long after that
7:03 pm

Simon grinned at his phone like a fool. “A week until he goes to the palace!” He cheered, and Sara jumped, having adapted to the silence as Simon texted.

“Oh, wow,” Sara’s brows rose, and a grin spread from Simon’s face onto hers, contagious, bright and happy. “That’s great.”

“I know!” Simon squeaked, voice embarrassingly high. Sara, of course, laughed at him.

Bebé Linda
YAYAYAY
Wait
How do u feel abt going home
Have u seen ur mum
7:04 pm

Friend Best
I think ima be hella bored at the palace so im gonna make mama buy puzzles and colouring books and paint so i can be busy but she’ll prob give me work
7:04 pm

Bebe Linda
Ik its so u dont get overwhelmed and all but i wish i could stay home and do colouring all day
SIGH
lucky you
7:04 pm

wyd
7:05 pm

Did that offend you?
7:06 pm

Wille im sorry i was joking
7:10 pm

Im rly glad ur getting discharged soon, can i visit at the palace?
7:40 pm

Im sorry i didnt know it would make u sad
8:20 pm

Do u feel like any snacks? I can bring them tmrw
8:27 pm

Wille can i call u?
8:30 pm
Seen

Wilhelm

Wilhelm reread at the string of messages Simon had sent to him, and then he went to brush his teeth, stilling thinking them over, scowling at his reflection. He was staring at them again when Kiera came in for her last check up of the day. He was still scowling at his screen when Malin poked her head in a few minutes later to announce that she’s here for the next four hours. Wilhelm was thinking of them as he was trying to fall asleep, picking at the skin around his nails that’s already raw and red, running his smooth lips together anxiously.

He’s sure Simon didn’t mean them like that , because Simon is… fucking amazing, and has never hurt Wille on purpose, but he has hurt him on accident. Everyone makes mistakes, and while Simon may seem perfect, he’s no exception. He’s never physically hurt Wille, it’s just small, emotional stabs. 

He feels somewhat belittled. “I know its so you don’t get overwhelmed and all but I wish I could stay home and do colouring. SIGH. Lucky.” Lucky?! He feels betrayed. Why would Simon try to joke about this like that? He’s hit the nail on the head though, Wilhelm is going to bring his colouring too not get overwhelmed, or for when he is overwhelmed, to detox and distract himself. He already felt ashamed of it, what kind of 16 year old Crown Prince does meditative colouring? Now he feels even worse. 

Wille rolled over aggressively, staring at the fairy lights sitting on the shelf, a small slit of light coming in from under the door, the rumbling sounds of traffic floating in through the tinted windows, horns honking and brakes screeching. 

Simon clearly regrets saying it, hence the several apologies, but he still said it. Maybe Wille’s being petty right now. He’s probably being petty… Simon should know better.

Wille rolled over again and grabbed his phone, unlocking it, and was instantly greeted by -

Bebé Linda
This message was deleted

7:04 pm
This message was deleted
7:05 pm
This message was deleted
7:06 pm
This message was deleted
7:10 pm

This message was deleted
7:40 pm
This message was deleted
8:20 pm

Do u feel like any snacks? I can bring them tmrw
8:27 pm
Wille can i call u?
8:30 pm

It was impulsive, it was really, really fucking dumb and not at all well thought out, but Wille started tapping away on the keyboard, squinting at the screen, anger flaring in his chest like poison blossoming from a stab wound. He watched as the message slide from his typing box, live into the chat, and the two little ticks appeared. Delivered and received. His heart thumped in his ears, body curling around his phone like he needs to protect it.

Friend Best
Dont bother visiting tmrw
11:43 pm

He put his phone back on his side table and rolled away from it, scowling into the dim lighting of the hospital room, grabbing Erik from next to him to squish against the growing pressure in his chest. Buzz… His phone vibrated. Buzz. Buzz.

Don’t look. Don’t read them. Look at them in the morning. Sleep is important.

Wille groaned into Erik the dinosaur before he flipped over to grab his phone again, more aggressively then he really needed too. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Simon had replied, before swiping his phone open.

Bebé Linda
Srsly??
Wtf did i do wrong wille?

I was joking…
11:43 pm

Wilhelm scoffed at his screen, squinting against the unfiltered brightness it brought.

Friend Best
It wasnt fucking funny simon what part of that message was a joke to you

11:44 pm

Put your phone down, his brain scolded him. It’s not worth arguing with him. You’re both tired, you’ll regret it in the morning. He needs to learn that not everything is funny, though.

Bebé Linda
Ok so saying it was a joke was a bad way to phrase it
11:45 pm

Friend Best
No shit
11:45 pm

Bebé Linda
I didnt mean to offend u i just meant id rather be at home than do school work
11:46 pm 

Friend Best
At home with a brain that hates itself whenever it feels like it??

Do you want to do colouring bc no one knows if schoolwork will make you suicidal or not and they dont want to risk it?

11:46 pm

Bebé Linda
Im sorry wille i srsly didnt mean it badly
I wasnt trying to compare us or anything
11:46 pm

Friend Best
It still wasnt funny
11:47 pm

Bebé Linda
I didnt fucking say it was funny??
11:47 pm

Friend Best
Okay fine
11:48 pm

Bebé Linda
wtf
11:48 pm
Seen

Wille glared at the phone, glared at Simon’s and his own messages for a few moments, before slamming his screen shut and shoving it roughly onto his side table, knocking the card Simon had given him to the floor with a soft thud . He rolled away and buried his face in Erik’s soft body. Does it all have to be so complicated? Is he making it worse? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon

Simon threw his phone haphazardly onto his bedroom floor, ripping it from the charger he’s borrowing from Linda, hearing it hit the carpet and skid into his wall with a harsh thud . He ripped his pillow out from under his head, smashing it against his face and screaming into it, flailing his legs and kicking his bed until it had absorbed all his angry tears and muffled yells. FUCK.

Chapter Text

“What happened?” 

Wilhelm shrugged, staring down at his lap. He is very extremely hyper-aware of how obvious he's being. Max has been his therapist long enough to see all  Wille's nervous tics and cues when he’s lying, but despite that, Wille still tries to pretend nothing is wrong. It’s instinctive practise, because “you don’t want the press posting pictures of you frowning, do you, Wilhelm?” “This photo has made the entire royal family look bad, do you understand, Wilhelm?” “Look at how your brother is smiling - don’t look at your feet, look at me when I speak to you. That is disrespectful and improper. Look at how Erik’s smiling, smile like that. You smile like you’re dead inside.”

He risked a glance up to meet Max’s bright blue eyes, gazing softly at him. “Kiera said you weren’t very hungry this morning.”

Wille shrugged again, mentally thinking don’t be suspicious. Nothing is wrong. Simon and I are perfectly fine and I don’t miss him spam sending me reels at all.  He had Instagram for not even a day, but he still has an ambience of notifications that all look like Simon sent you a reel, Simon sent you a reel, Simon sent you a reel, that stopped about an hour before their argument. 

Max hummed in acknowledgement, shifting to cross one of his legs over the other, brushing a blonde curl off his face with the back of his hand daintily. 

They’re currently in Max’s office, where Wille has his therapy sessions four times a week, this is one of his last sessions before he becomes an outpatient, he will still have to come back every week for checkups before going back to Hillerska. It’s a cosy room, it has three of these plush chairs - one pale pink, one blue and one yellow (yes it looks like mustard) They each have a decorative purple and blue sequin pillow that Wille enjoys fiddling with. In the corner is Max’s desk with a modern computer monitor, a vase of pink flowers, folders and a framed photo of Max and his sister at the beach. There’s a bookshelf on the wall to Wilhelm’s left, with books he never really looked at covering every shelf, bright colours with flowing words like "meditation" and "DIY anxiety toy". The door is to Wille’s right, with another two chairs against the opposite wall, one of which Max is sitting in.

“I want to see my Mum,” Wille blurted, dodging the topic of Simon and his argument. He’s been running it through his mind all night, and it’s made him feel like shit because he feels he was a bit out of line. To be frank, Wilhelm hates himself for some of the things he said last night, he stands by what Simon said was not funny, maybe he'll joke about it later on, when he's feeling better, but not right now. Wille hasn't dared to reach out either. Wille isn’t sure what kind of person Simon is in these situations - does he want time to cool off, or does he do instant confrontation and communication? What's the right thing to do? It might be the thing Wille is most scared to do.

Maybe the August situation caught up to Simon and made him even more stressed?

“Oh?” Max smiled, his proud expression making Wille’s cheeks heat. “That’s great, Wille! Do you want me to tell Keira, or do you want to do it? I, personally, think you should do it, she’s gonna want to hug you.” Max talks slowly, casually, as if he has all the time in the world, but still manages to make it sound like he's rambling.

Wille smiled softly, gazing down at the pillow in his lap to hide his expression. In his sessions, both with Max, and Sophie, even in group or during his checkups with Keira, the subject of his mother and the pressure she applies - … applied , whatever - to Wilhelm has come up, and now everyone knows its a very touchy subject. Traumatic things hit like that Kristina.

“I’ll tell her this afternoon,” Wille answered to the pillow, sectioning out a square of purple sequins to draw his finger back through to make it blue again.

“Perfect,” Max nodded, eyes darting out the window for a moment. “How are you feeling about that? Nervous, excited, proud?” 

Wilhelm watched his blunt, chewed-down nails move through the sequins for a moment, thinking the question over. “Well, I’m nervous, obviously. I haven’t seen her in awhile, and I wouldn’t say it’s been great because, well, it hasn’t always been amazing, and calm and easy, but it has been easier without her there. I've missed having a mother figure, I always have, really, but being in the hospital and knowing she, or Papa could be with me right now but aren’t… “

“It’s hard?” Max supplied when he didn’t speak up again.

“It’s hard . It makes me feel kind of like I’m not worth it, even though I’m the one who said they can’t visit. And I know Mama attempted to get hold of me to talk, Keira told me, so I can’t complain that much. I dunno, it’s complicated…” Wille trailed off, realising he is just talking in circles.

Max hummed before saying, “Right. Explain why you think it’s complicated. Blurt it all out if you want, I’ll make some sense of it, I’m sure.”

Wille sighed, before opening the floodgates of his mind. “It’s really weird because when I see Linda, I wish she was my Mama, and that I wasn’t Crown Prince and that my Mother wasn’t the Queen and I was some normal kid. But then I almost feel bad, and I feel like it’s because Mama always told me I have everything I could ever want, that I was rich and had a stable life and was handsome, like - like that was all I’d ever need.” He paused, trying to organise the storm of words in his mind, lowering his hands which had been moving around as he spoke. They took off when he spoke again. “Basically, I feel like she made me feel bad for hating her, even though she was a shitty parent who only acknowledged my existence whenever I was an inconvenience or when she needed something.” 

Wilhelm re-told his memories of when he was little - trying to find his Mother while she's in meetings, only to be told off. Attempting to tell her about his video games at lunchtime, or dinner and being shut down instantly, because that’s not a table conversation, she doesn’t want to hear about the new gun he unlocked over dinner. Making her flower crowns in between the Christmas photo shoots in the gardens, only for her to tell him to go wash his hands and stop ruining the flower beds. Max was sympathetic, as a good therapist should be. They talked for a while, the exact time Wille wasn’t entirely sure, but he feels lighter and more clear-headed.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” Wille said, shifting his legs, which are folded underneath him on the chair carefully. “I don’t miss my Mother, I just want a Mum who actually cares, and treats me like their child, and not a parasite growing on her. It’s… my inner child… it’s - he’s still hurt from years of neglect, and - and also her recent action. Which is her ignoring the fact I'm anxious and depressed, even when I told her.” Max nodded along appropriately. “I’m still not sure why I feel guilty for not letting her see me, I’m assuming that's just because she’s my Mother, and … and all my life, I’ve not really been able to hide anything from her because she has access to most things I do online, she can pry into my real life, talk to teachers and friends and staff members. I’m not used to having control over anything. For me, it's been normalized to not have secrets. But at this hospital, she can’t get into all of the - the juicy stuff, she just gets the rough outlines or whatever because she’s my guardian and I'm a minor. For some reason that's made me feel guilty…” Is it because of the years of barely having any privacy? “Maybe … Maybe because my entire life, as I said, there wasn’t much I had as a secret, and every secret I did have a secret, it felt like a hundred-pound weight on my chest. I hate that I feel guilty for not sharing everything, for shutting her out, but at the same time, I don’t. I got to tell my Mother, the Queen of Sweden , that she can’t visit me in the hospital, and that felt good.”

“Yup, as it should. Clearly, it was the right decision for you to make, so I’m proud and on your side,” Max nodded again. “And while I can’t tell you why you may feel that guilt, I can instead help you to understand it, or stretch your thoughts towards an answer I myself don’t know.”

Wille nodded as well, pursing his lips and stroking the sequins back and forth, awaiting Max’s words.

“I feel you’re on the right track with going from having zero privacy, to suddenly having privacy and the right and ability to not share everything with your Mother leading to some guilt. Do we think it could also have something to do with not your Mother entirely, but some fear of what happens when you keep secrets? When they build up, I mean.” Max suggested placidly like Wilhelm’s entire world wasn’t shaking about because what? Is it?

Wille has a love-hate relationship with these moments. Something in his brain just clicks from Max’s words. He hates it because why didn’t he fucking think of that? But he loves it because that's what Max is there for, to help those things click, to help him cope, to listen and give advice and opinions when needed.

They wrapped up the session without another mention of Wille’s strange behaviour as a result of his fallout with Simon. Is it a fallout? Wilhelm wondered as he walked back towards the common room, Malin walking a step behind him with her hands in her pockets, somehow managing to look kind and borderline soft in her sharp suit with her hair slicked back, smiling at everyone with a relaxed posture. It’s nice. 

Was that just an argument, or is he going to hate me forever? Wille resisted the urge to chew on his nails. Does Simon want me to try to fix whatever I fucked up? Why did I fuck up? He can feel his heart rate picking up and his anxiety spiking. He’s suddenly very glad he’s no longer hooked up to a heart monitor.

Wilhelm sighed, eyes drifting to his own room. His phone is in there. He could go to it right now and text Simon, tell him he should come to the hospital, it’s Saturday so he could. Tell him he’s so sorry that he got some aggressive when all Simon needed was one sentence of correction. How does he make this right? A hug? Millions of hugs? Some chocolate? Never telling him he’s wrong ever again? No, he couldn't do that, he'd hate to be one of those people who agree with everything someone says to seem appealing. Wille's been friends with them all his life.

Wille thinks he’s willing to do anything at this point. He feels like a part of him has been physically chipped out of his body. Wille needs it back.

He turned to the common room and pushed the door open. Zack’s the only person in here apart from Marshall. Zack is sitting on the couch watching Lightning McQueen, looking bored out of his mind with his legs crossed like a pretzel, head propped up in his palm, fiddling with the hem of his track pants.

Wille walked over and sat on the armchair silently,  Zack didn’t say anything.

When he first got admitted, W ilhelm thought he was going to spend the entire time wearing a hospital robe, but he got normal clothes quickly. Right now he’s wearing his blue grippy socks, track pants, and shirt with a hoodie. Everything is soft and loose, with no drawstrings or tearable fabrics, it’s cosy, but Wilhelm still can’t wait to be wearing his own clothes again. 

Out of the corner of Wille’s eye, he saw Zack glance at him with his sharp brown eyes, olive skin shining in the mostly artificial lighting of their common room. It smells like lavender in here today, a new air freshener, Wille noticed. Wille noted Zack’s wheelchair isn’t with him right now, nor is his sister, even though it’s a weekend during visiting hours.

For several minutes they sat in silence, it wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either, it just was. Wille didn’t mind. The movie distracted his brain, and not talking let him relax into the cushions, folding his legs up and wrapping his arms loosely around them at the shins. 

“Do you know when we have group?” Zack asked, eyes not leaving the screen when Wilhelm turned to him to answer. Zack looks tense, almost nervous. Huh, strange.

“Uhm,” Wille scratched his chin thoughtfully. “After lunch, I think.”

“Do you know what we’re doing?”

“Duno... we haven’t done painting this week so maybe that,” Wille replied simply. “Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Okay.” Wille turned back to the movie, but even Maiter rambling on couldn’t shun the awkward silence that filled the room. Wille brought a hand up to chew on his nail, glancing at Zack again.

“Zack,” Wilhelm said suddenly, and the older boy looked over at him again. “Are you okay?” That question. Wille isn’t sure the last time someone asked if he was okay, they say it differently, “How are you today?” “Do you need anything?” “Are you comfortable?” “Anything I can do to help?” And there’s nothing wrong with those questions, but “Are you okay” feels almost more personal. 

Zack’s dark eyes settled on Wille’s, cold and hard, almost always unblinking and such a deep, dark brown it's hard to find his pupils. That, or they're just so small because he hates Wille, who knows with this guy? For a moment he didn’t reply, just sat and stared.

“No," he stated. 

Wilhelm’s lips curled downwards sympathetically, “want to talk about it?” But he already knew the answer.

Again, Zack took a while to reply. Wille could practically see the thoughts twirling in his mind, his eyes analysing, and body still. “You, Brody and Nat are all meant to be leaving soon, Leah’s already left, Ethan is probably in some psych ward in a room he never leaves, Lily’s fucking dead, and Amy, Ian and I aren’t able to leave because we’re too 'emotionally unstable'. You know what I think?” Zack lent fords, legs dropping to the ground, eyes growing almost angry. Wille gulped, shrugging, this is know the answer he was expecting. He was told my Keira that Zack was doing better - has he declined again, or is Keira not aware?

“I think it’s all fucked,” Zack hissed, and if Wille didn’t know better, he’d say Zack looks sad. Maybe he doesn’t know better. “We meet this group, we grow close, we become besties, and then we fucking leave . What’s the point of all that group building if we just leave each other - ?”

“Zack,” Wilhelm interrupted, frowning at him. “Zack, we’ve all got each other’s Instagram, we’re not losing contact. You - you should be proud that the other are being discharged.” Is that the right thing to say? Wille hopes it is, he feels it is.

Zack blinked, seeming kind of surprised Wille interrupted him, let alone spoke up for himself. It’s a new development, okay?

“Of course, I’m proud of you guys,” Zack replied like it was plain obvious. New's flash, it's not, nothing with Zack ever seems to be obvious anymore. “I’m happy you guys are getting better, that’s great, for you . Meanwhile, us who can’t fucking heal as fast get left in your motherfucking dust. Reason that for me?”

Wille ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room. “I’m - I’m not sure I even understand the question,” he admitted.

Zack scoffed, running his hands up and down his arms anxiously. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his eyes flickering around. Wille watched in silence as Zack took in a deep breath through his nose, and exhaled it sharply out his mouth, before repeating the motion slower. 

When he opened his eyes, there was significantly less fire burning in them. “We’re being left behind because we can’t get better, or good enough , to leave at the same time as the rest of you guys. When are you leaving?”

Wilhelm rubbed his nose. “Well, I’m meeting with my Mother tomorrow, and we have to make a plan or whatever. Probably, like, next week Tuesday or Wednesday.” Zack just nodded, and Wille watched as his friend revealed this new side of himself, seeming anxious to do so. He needs Zack to know he’s not judging him for this, that he still supports him, and is proud of how far Zack’s come in the nearly two months of knowing him. “Zack, it’s not a race of who can get out of here first, it’s not meant to be like that, and that's not how me or the others see it. Just because you’re not leaving yet doesn’t mean you’re not healing… but,” Wille rubbed his face again, and Zack watched quietly.

He sighed heavily, before speaking, “I feel like people have kinda been giving us, or at least me, mixed messages,” Wille explained. Zack tilted his head to the side, a sign for Wilhelm to go on. “We don’t heal. Well, physically, we get better, and mentally, we get stronger but… this doesn’t go away. I have depression,” he gestured to himself as he spoke.” And it is for life, and so is my anxiety, it’s not going to be gone when I’m out of here. I’ll have anti-depressants, a sleep schedule, and probably a therapist - shit, who knows, I might fucking relapse…” He laughed nervously, a hand wandering to rub his chest. “My point is,” Wille gulped, looking back at Zack and finding him wearing an expression he normally bears when talking to his sister - it’s gentle, relaxed, open. He’s listening.

“This - we’ll call it a dark blob in our - our brains,” Wille explained, shifting in his seat. “It grew bigger, so we came here, and it’s gotten smaller, so we leave, but it’s not gone. We can’t get rid of it, we’re not meant to, because it’s a part of us. We can learn to live with it though, which I’m pretty sure is what we’re meant to do. I dunno…” Wille trailed off. In his head, that sounded big and grand and strong, but out loud… it went from a solid, metal plan, to a floppy, overcooked piece of spaghetti.

Zack blinked, looking away from Wille to the snack table with an unreadable expression on his face. “Learn to live with it,” Zack mumbled, eyes pinned on a packet of chips. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Wille shrugged awkwardly. “Everyone’s been saying ‘heal’, and ‘get better’, but I’m pretty sure it’s not going anywhere, so we learn to adapt with it. Adaption. Like animals do as we build civilizations around them.”

“I know what adaptation is,” Zack muttered, but there was no heat behind his words. “Wille, who knew you could be so wise?” He chuckled, and then he smiled at Wille, by himself, because Wille made him smile . It’s not one of Nat’s jokes, it’s not Amy’s teasing, it’s not Simon's cute awkwardness, but at Wille, because he was ‘wise’.

Wilhelm smiled at his socked feet. “Thanks?”

Zack pursed his lips. “I mean, you’re right, I agree.”

-

“What happened to Ethan?” Wilhelm asked Keira.

Keira looked back to Wille, and a sadness built up in her eyes. Wille almost wanted to take it back and say “Never mind”. But it’s not never mind, he barely knew Ethan apart from his craving for murder and scary gaze, but Wille doesn’t think he can leave here not knowing what happened to the guy.

“He was moved to a different ward,” Keira replied simply, lowering her clipboard because she knows by now, that answer wouldn’t sustain Wille.

“Yeah, but where? Like, what level or security?” Wille knows he’s on a level with less security, excluding his own bodyguards, not none, but less. 

Keira pursed her lips and didn’t answer, clearly thinking very hard. He needs to know, it’s been niggling at the back of his mind for months.

“Please, I just want to know, I’m not gonna … do something bad with the knowledge,” Wille pleaded, perched on the edge of his bed, awaiting his Mother’s arrival Sunday morning.

“He might move back to this ward,” Keira said with an air of finality. 

“Why did he try to kill his nurse?” Why not be straight up instead of dancing around the corners? 

Keira sighed, giving Wille a withered look. A month ago, he would have taken a simple “it’s none of your business”. It’s still not his business to know what’s up with Ethan, but he’s borderline worried, and no one else on this floor knows, not even the other nurses because they’ve all asked multiple times.

“Is he alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive.” Keira sighed heavily. “We had another rare case, which seems like a trend in this ward. Ethan suddenly developed schizophrenia. It is more common for it to show symptoms before arrival, but in some cases, it can just spontaneously appear. It’s very rare. But Ethan is one of those rare people.”

Schizophrenia.

“Sorry, can you just explain what schizophrenia is, again? Because I know it’s like hallucinations,” Wille said. “But I didn’t know it could make people so…” he gestured vaguely with his hands.

“Homicidal?” Keira supplied. Wille pursed his lips in a silent ‘yes’ response. “Schizophrenia is when someone, to put it simply, loses a sense of reality. Yes, they hallucinate, they can hear voices, interpret things that aren’t real or misinterpret how things may actually seem, and also get amnesia. There are a lot of symptoms and effects, but it’s vaguely treatable. Ethan’s in treatment right now. I'm staying vague, because boy, it’s none of your business - even if you are his friend.”

Wille nodded. Wilhelm’s not entirely sure why they didn’t just tell them that. “Why didn’t you tell us that? We’re out here thinking Ethan’s lost his marbles when he actually has schizophrenia? Something he can’t help.” Wille muttered.

Keira answered gently, “We weren’t sure if it would help you guys to know.”

“We didn’t even know if he was alive!” Wille snapped.

“You never asked.”

“The others asked!”

“ You never asked.”

“We shouldn’t have to,” He seethed back.

Keira sighed and then smiled slightly. “Ethan asked us to not tell the group.”

Wille’s jaw snapped shut. “He what?”

“Ethan told us that he had been hallucinating for days, hearing voices, but he managed to hide it until he snapped at his nurse,” Keira explained, and Wilhelm could only listen and stare, trying to not look shocked because he should know Ethan has his own feelings despite the cold exterior he presented like Zack did. “He was embarrassed, and didn’t admit it, but scared - “

“I don’t need to know anymore,” Wille interrupted. He’s pried enough, he knows where Ethan is, he knows he’s safe, he knows how he feels, and he doesn’t want to know the details if Ethan doesn’t want them to.

Keira nodded, rolling her shoulders back. “Alright, all good. I’m glad you can recognize his privacy barrier is being stretched.”

Wille winced. “Sorry, I was being pushy.” Simon surfaced to his mind, their seen but unanswered messages from two days ago. Wille sighed, and Keira stayed quiet, sensing something arising. “I had an argument, with Simon, over text,” he admitted, and his chest stung like a fresh wound. His phone’s presence seemed to grow from his dresser, face down and silent, tugging at him like it suddenly grew a magnetic pull to his chest. 

Keira sat down in the visitor's chair gently. “Alright, what about?”

Wille sighed again, “It was dumb. He said something vaguely insensitive, but he meant it as a joke. I snapped. Here, I’ll just - “ he reached over, grabbed his phone, and handed it to Keira with his messages with Simon open. “He deleted most of them, but you can get the gist of it.”

While Keira read, Wille took deep breaths to calm himself down. Of course, he trusts Keira to give him advice, or listen, whatever he needs, but the mixture of knowing he is going to see his Mother today, Ethan being schizophrenic, and his argument with Simon are weighing on him. He should have told someone sooner, should have apologized, should have never argued in the first fucking place. He has what, 3-4 different adults who know him and his deepest feelings, and now it’s taken him over 30 hours to get some advice.

“Ah,” Keira handed it back to him. “I’m going to say the obvious, Wille: what he said, could very well be taken as a joke if you felt it could, but, you have boudries, and he crossed them without knowing. Communicate this. You should start by apologising, more than likely, he'll say it’s alright and apologies as well, and then you’ll be all good. Friends have spats all the time, and giving it time to cool off is good for some, others like instant confrontation, some like none, but none is not a good idea.” Keira hummed, leaning back in the chair and cracking her fingers. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Wille admitted. “Whenever I’d argue with Erik, he’d always come to talk to me about it. Mama and Papa just let me sit and think, and I never argued with my friends because they would always back down, I was always right, whatever I thought was the best opinion from the whole group.” He sighed heavily, the memories physically weighing on him.

Keira nodded. “I think it’s better to talk face to face, but if text, or phone calls are easier, then it’s easier - “

A few knocks cut them off.

Wille nodded to the door, then Keira. “Come in,” he called. 

Jackie opened the door, grinning brightly. “Hey, Wille,” he said, closing the door behind him. Wille jumped up and bound over, enveloping the other man in a hug, who hugged him back tightly.

“Hi,” Wille mumbled into his shoulder. He still smells like his expensive perfumes that manage to be fragrant without suffocating, unlike those boys at school who you walk past and end up choking on their colognes. Wille always thought it smelt like they'd used an entire bottle of cologne, instead of a few spritzs. 

“It’s good to see you,” Jackie said with a smile as they pulled back. “You’re looking good.” He ruffled Wille’s hair like he was a child, and Wille snorted, stepping back and fixing his hair by simply running his fingers through it, getting it off his face and finding a few knots along the way.

Keira stood and the two friends hugged, exchanging quick greetings and “How are you”’s.

Wille’s eyes snapped to the door when he heard two high heels on the laminate floor. He might be being dramatic, it’s probably because he knows what’s coming, but he swears he can feel her fucking presence . His Mother. She’s outside. She’s waiting to see him… It’s gonna be so awkward. Wille wishes Simon was here right now, even if he just sat next to Wille and stared at his hands, his presence is so much warmer than his Mothers.

Wille chewed on his lips and looked back to Keira and Jackie. Jackie turned from Keira back to Wilhelm, and he smiled sympathetically at Wille, who sat back down on his bed heavily.

“How we feeling?” Jackie asked Wille gently, ducking his head slightly to be more on Wille’s level.

Wille gulped. “I’m anxious as fuck.”

Jackie nodded. “Understandable. Do you need anything?”

“No. I want to get it over with.”

“Okay, great. I’m wondering if you don’t want to do the meeting in here because this is a safe space, or if you do, for the same reason,” Jackie left the offer open, trailing off quietly.

Wille looked around his room. He really wishes Simon was here. “Here’s okay," he mumbled, releasing his now red lip from his teeth.

“Perfect,” Jackie flashed his thumbs up, swivelling to Keira who nodded, then back to Wilhelm. “Keira will be in here the whole time, do you want me to stay as well?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice, alright,” Jackie put his hands on Wille’s shoulders, drawing his attention back to him. “You’re brave Wille, alright? Remember that. Besides, I’m sure I could take her if I needed to,” Jackie nodded confidently, and Wille smiled.

His nerves feel like they are physically pinging right now, he might explode if they don’t get this over with fast as fuck.

“Alrighty, I’ll let her in,” Jackie nodded at Wille, who nodded back, hands shaking as he grabbed Erik. Man, he really needs his older brother here right now, the thought made his heart ache. Deep breaths Wille.  

Jackie walked to the door and opened it. “Your Majesty, you can come in now.”

A few hours later

Friend best
Do you want to come in tmrw?
4:42pm

Bebe Linda
Okay
4:42pm
Seen

Chapter Text

“Alright, I refuse to do that awkward, cliche thing where we dance around the elephant in the room for a few minutes and then awkwardly point it out and have a big, emotional, heartfelt apology, so I’m just gonna say it. I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t realise that it wasn’t an appropriate joke, but I will stand by my feeling that you slightly overreacted with it.”

Wilhelm blinked a few times, his brain still understanding the first sentence Simon had blurted. Wille said “Come in”, and then there he was, marching into the room with his yellow backpack on one shoulder, waving his other hand aggressively as he spoke.