Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As always at Hillerska social events, Wilhelm and Simon deliberately don’t talk to each other much for most of the evening.  They hang around with broadly the same group of people at most of these things; there are a few whom they would call friends, but most of the others toe a fine line between ‘would lend homework to’ and ‘would not want to do a group project with.’  Wilhelm has a long conversation with Henry about Djurgården’s prospects for this season, all the while sending surreptitious glances askance to where Simon is chatting with Maddie.  Simon does the same to him.  Every so often, they manage to do it at exactly the same time, and Wilhelm finds it difficult to look away.

Sometimes, as is the way on occasions such as this, the different groups ebb and flow and they find themselves part of the same conversation; Wilhelm uses these opportunities to introduce some sort of physical touch into the equation.  He stands as close as he can, and with the tiniest of movements, slides his pinky against Simon’s, thrilling at the way that Simon reacts, his body tensing so minutely that Wilhelm is the only one who can sense it.  Later, when the sky is starlit and the only other light is coming from the Valborg bonfire, Wilhelm’s hand moves across and caresses the perfect globe of Simon’s left arse cheek, the cloak of darkness allowing him to get away with far more than either of them would usually dare.  Simon has been deep in discussion with Alexander about the inadvisability of making a movie of the latest game they’re playing, and has to feign a coughing fit to disguise his reaction.

Simon gives as good as he gets.  Later on, as Wilhelm is getting a refill of his drink, Simon saunters up to him, whispers in his ear, ‘I’m spending the night, by the way.  I’m going to make you come like a freight train,’ and then walks off again, the picture of perfect innocence, like he hasn’t just made Wilhelm so hard that he has to think about toenails for two whole minutes to make it go down.

To the outside world, then, there is absolutely nothing going on between them.  Most hillisar, if asked, would say that the two of them are maybe friends?  Or, didn’t they work on a presentation together once?  Or, yeah, I think they’re on the rowing team together?  None of them, or at least Wilhelm sincerely hopes none of them, would have the slightest inkling that these two have been having a thing since February.  It’s how they both want it, for the time being at least: they can both put up with behaving like this in public when the private is so richly worth the trade off, and neither of them is ready to face the shitstorm that will inevitably happen when Wilhelm comes out.  Eventually, they have both agreed, after long, intense discussion, but not yet.  Wilhelm may only be the spare prince, but that doesn’t mean that people are not going to lose their shit when they find out about the world’s first out royal.  And his boyfriend. 

Simon has told his two friends, Ayub and Rosh.  Wilhelm has met them and they’re pretty sound, if somewhat intimidating to begin with; he’s not worried that they will betray any trusts.  And there are only three people here who know about them: Simon’s sister, Sara, knows her brother far too well not to have guessed immediately.  Then there’s Felice, because she’s Wilhelm’s bestie and she knows everything that’s going on with him.  She had to listen to Wilhelm whining on for most of the autumn term about how pretty Simon is, and do you think he likes boys, and I thought I caught him looking at me in maths, and his eyes, Felice, they’re just like boba.  Her reward for this soul-destroying demonstration of true friendship was to get all the tea when certain significant developments took place between him and Simon at the Valentine’s ball.  Wilhelm thinks he and Felice are square now, because he totally acted as her wingman when she set her sights on a second-year called Theo - which actually ended up very successfully - but the smirks and eyebrow raises that Felice has been throwing him all evening tell a different story.

The other is Nils.  Or at least Wilhelm thinks he knows, but he’s not going to ask.  Nils certainly knows Wilhelm is queer; his gaydar had pinged pretty soon after Wilhelm first arrived here.  Wilhelm isn’t worried about him saying anything; he’s so deep in the closet himself that to out Wilhelm might raise questions about his own sexuality that he wouldn’t want to answer.  Plus that would be a truly shitty thing to do, and while Nils is not exactly the world’s nicest person, even he wouldn’t be that nasty.  Even though Wilhelm sometimes wonders why, they are actually friends.  Whether they have more to bond over than just a deeply felt appreciation of the male form, Wilhelm doesn’t know, but it’s enough for now.

The party is not over yet, and is unlikely to be for a long time.  The fire is still burning well, somebody has dug out a guitar from somewhere, and they could be here until the early hours.  But all Wilhelm is able to think about is what Simon whispered in his ear just now.  His imagination has taken flight.  Simon made him a promise, and visions of exactly how Simon intends to keep that promise are playing through Wilhelm’s mind, to the exclusion of anything else.  His ears can hear Simon’s breathy moans, his eyes can see Simon’s face, contorted in ecstasy, his mouth can taste Simon’s cock, heavy on his tongue.  He is thinking of all the things he wants to do to Simon, and all the things he wants Simon to do to him.  He is not going to be able to sit here for a moment longer, if only because he is wearing extremely well-fitting trousers and they are pressing on his erection to a truly uncomfortable extent.

He pulls his phone out of the inner pocket of his school blazer and fires off a text.  I’m going back to my room, he writes.  Give it ten minutes and then come and find me.

When he walks past Simon on his way inside, Simon is putting his phone back in his pocket.  He catches Wilhelm’s gaze and gives him a knowing smile.

Wilhelm is hanging his blazer up in his wardrobe when Simon gets to his room, walking straight in without bothering to knock.

‘That wasn’t ten minutes,’ says Wille, loosening his tie and pulling it off.

‘Ten minutes was far too long to wait,’ complains Simon as he locks the door.  ‘I’ve been watching you all evening and thinking about what I was going to do to you.’

Wilhelm laughs.  ‘Same.’  He closes his wardrobe door and takes a step forward, drawing level with Simon.  He places his hand on himself, curling his fingers around his cock, gripping it through the fabric of his trousers so that Simon can see how hard he is.  ‘I’ve been like this for at least the last hour,’ he says, watching the way Simon’s eyes widen and breath hitches as he speaks.  Simon pushes him against the wall and presses into him as their lips crash together; he can feel that Simon is equally as aroused.

‘I have a suggestion,’ says Simon breathlessly, his lips still touching Wilhelm’s.  ‘I think we should make each other come quickly, straight away, to take the edge off.  And then once we’ve done that, we can really take our time.  What do you reckon?’

‘That you are a genius.  Have all the prizes,’ says Wilhelm as he struggles to unbutton Simon’s trousers so that he can get his hand inside.  Simon ends up batting his hand away and doing it himself while Wilhelm shoves his own trousers down to his knees, in too much of a hurry to take them off properly.  They fall on each other as if starved, as if it wasn’t only two days ago that they had managed to sneak off for twenty minutes and do exactly this.  Two days is plenty enough time to build up an appetite, though, for all of this to feel fresh and new all over again.

Wilhelm looks down between their bodies, looks down on Simon’s cock in his hand, on his in Simon’s, and thinks that he was made for this, for giving Simon pleasure and receiving it from him.  And then Simon starts whispering in his ear and it adds a whole other dimension that they’ve not experienced together before.

‘You feel so good,’ says Simon, his voice deep and husky.  ‘Love the way your cock feels, so heavy in my hand.  Gonna make you come, wanna feel you jizz all over my fist, then I’m gonna lick it all up because you taste so good.  And, uh, then I’m gonna throw you on the bed and take you in my mouth until you’re hard again, swallow you down deep until you come in my throat.  But that’s not all.  Once I’ve done that, I’m gonna, uh, turn you over and finger and lick you, and make you beg for my cock inside you, and, um-’

Simon’s words, even though they are stuttering and clumsy, have a purpose.  They are flames licking at Wilhelm’s skin and making it burn with want, caressing him so that every inch is on fire.  ‘Jesus Christ,’ he mutters, his hand on Simon speeding up almost unconsciously as an indication to Simon that that’s what he needs himself.  They’ve been together less than three months, but they are already able to read each other, have learnt what the other wants without having to ask.

He comes first, the flames finally catching and igniting so that he is incandescent with the white heat of it flowing through his body.  Simon does not lick his spunk all up as he promised, instead smearing it on his own cock so that Wilhelm’s fist is warm and wet for him to thrust into.  Wilhelm thinks that that’s something he would like to try himself, but it’s a fleeting consideration, because within moments Simon is coming, and the sight of that, the sound of it as Simon’s deep breathing is punctured with incredulous laughter, is far more worthy of his attention.

They both stand there for a moment, exchanging kisses and giggles and trying to embrace each other without getting come everywhere.  They both crowd around the tiny basin to rinse themselves off; all the while some part of their body is always touching the other, the need to continue feeling that closeness that they have just built ever present.

‘I missed you,’ says Wilhelm, and Simon gives him a look of such unbridled affection that he melts all over again.

‘It’s crazy, isn’t it,’ agrees Simon, ‘how it’s only been since the day before yesterday, but we were both so desperate for each other?’

Wilhelm bends down to properly take off his trousers, which have been pooled around his ankles up until now.  Simon has the same thought and he swears as Wilhelm accidentally elbows him.  Wilhelm curses this tiny room.  Everybody else in their year has to share, but he has a single; he can see that it has its advantages, but the fact remains that it’s not big enough to swing a cat.  Simon has teased him about his complaining before, saying that he is a spoilt brat and he should be happy that he doesn’t have a roommate and that they can hook up whenever they want.  Wilhelm concedes that he has a very good point.

‘I thought you were going to throw me on the bed now?’ says Wilhelm, raising an eyebrow.

Simon looks a little bit embarrassed.  ‘I, uh, well-  I don’t know, I guess all that stuff was just in the heat of the moment, maybe?  I was just trying to turn you on?’

‘It worked,’ says Wilhelm simply.  ‘I didn’t know that I liked dirty talk, but I very much do.’

‘It wasn’t too cringe?  I was worried it might sound a bit porny.’  Simon is biting his lip.

‘My dick wasn’t doing a literary analysis of what you were saying,’ says Wille as he climbs onto the bed, arranging the pillows so that they can lie comfortably.

‘So you liked it then?’

‘Fucking loved it.  Might have to try it for myself, see what it does to you.’

Simon’s face lights up.  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’  He gets into bed and slots himself into Wilhelm’s embrace, where he belongs.  They lie in bed for a while, just holding each other, filling each other in on the Valborg celebrations, since they had to spend them apart, and conducting a post mortem of the evening.

‘It felt like I was teasing you all evening,’ says Wilhelm, his hand wandering over Simon’s ribs and down to his hip.  ‘I loved it.  And I loved it when you whispered in my ear.’

Simon giggles.  ‘I noticed you spent a long time getting your drink after I did that.’

‘You can’t just say stuff like that and expect a man not to be affected,’ groans Wilhelm into his pillow.

‘So you were affected, then?’ says Simon, pretending innocence.

‘Stop it, you know I was.’

Simon leans closer to Wilhelm, says, ‘Did I make you hard?  Is that why we ended up leaving early?’

Wilhelm takes Simon’s hand and places it on his cock to show him that his recovery period is most definitely over.  ‘Just like this,’ he whispers.

‘Nice,’ says Simon, canting his hips so that Wilhelm can feel that he’s ready again, too.  ‘What do you want to do?’ he asks.

‘I, uh, well…  I just…  You know before, when you were talking dirty to me?’  Simon nods.  ‘Well, I hadn’t really thought about it before, because, you know, what we’ve been doing has been perfect, and I love the way we have sex.  I love fucking you, I’m not saying that I don’t, but when you were talking just now about fingering and licking me…  Jesus, Simon, it made me come so hard.  Like, maybe my body was trying to tell me something that my brain hadn’t realised yet, I don’t know.’

Simon looks him right in the eye then, and his expression is so full of lust that Wilhelm doesn’t know what to do.  ‘Do you…’ he asks, a smile blooming on his face, ‘do you want to bottom?  Do you want me to finger and lick you… and then fuck you, too?’

Wilhelm takes a sharp breath, the sound of it stuttering in his throat.  ‘Fuck,’ he groans.  ‘Yeah…  Yeah, I do.  I don’t know, I just-’

‘You don’t have to justify it, Wille.  I know how good it feels.  If there’s stuff that you want to try, I want you to tell me.  I’ve never done any of it before either, but-  Look, I love you, OK?’  Wilhelm’s stomach lurches.  He’s still not used to hearing those words, and every time he does, it makes him react in some small way: a smile, a blush, a desperate need to touch, to kiss.  Now, he lowers his head and places a small kiss reverently on Simon’s collarbone.  ‘And I know we haven’t talked much about the future or anything,’ Simon continues, ‘but I feel like you might be the one for me.  You might be my person.’

‘Oh,’ Wilhelm gasps.  He’s been trying not to think about that, about how he’s been feeling that way too, because right now, at his age, sixteen years, eleven months and two days, it feels too big, too scary, too momentous.  But that doesn’t mean that it’s not there, that it’s not sitting under his skin, subconsciously, all the damn time.  And to hear Simon say that, that Wilhelm might be his person, when he already feels like Simon might be his…  Well, it’s a lot, that’s all.  He feels overwhelmed for a moment, starts rubbing his sternum to try to steady himself.

‘I probably shouldn’t have said that, should I?’ worries Simon.

‘No, no, you absolutely should,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I-  Uh…  Me too.’

‘Good,’ says Simon, his voice absolutely sure, like he knew that Wilhelm was going to say that already, like he is more sure of Wilhelm and his devotion than even Wilhelm is himself, and it’s so lovely to have someone have that much faith in you.  ‘My point, though…  OK.  My point.  If that is the case, if we are each other’s person, if this all works out, if we end up together…  Well, we’ve still got decades ahead of us.  The sex is going to get pretty fucking boring if we don’t change it up a little every now and then.  And I’m not talking about topping or bottoming per se, I just mean that it’s good to experiment, you know, with different positions and stuff, to find out what works.  And doesn’t work.  You might not like it.’

Wilhelm has a goofy grin on his face.  ‘I don’t think sex could ever be boring with you,’ he says dreamily.

‘True,’ agrees Simon, ‘but let’s not get complacent.  So.  Bottoming, huh?’

‘Yeah.  You’re always so into it when I do it to you.’

Simon pulls Wilhelm a little closer and says, ‘That’s because you’re very good at it.  I’m gonna have a lot to live up to.’

‘You’re not just doing it because I want to?’ asks Wilhelm.

‘Course not.  Maybe when I said all that stuff it was my subconscious in control.  Because, you know, most of my blood was not in my brain at that point.  But there have been a few times when I’ve thought about it.’

‘Oh yes?’  Wilhelm knows exactly what times Simon’s talking about.  He thinks about doing all sorts of things with Simon in those times himself.

‘Well, you know, I have to pass the time somehow when you’ve swanned off to Stockholm to see your brother or do some royal shit or other.’

‘So you spend it wanking?’ clarifies Wilhelm.

‘I miss you,’ says Simon simply.

‘OK, fair.  I’m very missable.  And you know I’m probably doing the same thing at the same time.’

‘Hang on,’ says Simon.  ‘Firstly.  Wanking in the palace.  Weird.  Secondly.  We wank at the same time as each other and we’re not doing it on the phone?  That is definitely a missed opportunity.’

Wilhelm giggles.  ‘You’re right,’ he says.  ‘We have to try that next time.  Then you’ll be able to see that wanking in the palace isn’t weird.  Or at least not any weirder than some of the other shit that’s gone on there over the centuries.’

‘I feel like I need to come to the palace now so we can fuck in your bedroom.  Just to add to the list, you know.’

‘One day,’ says Wilhelm simply.  Simon has not yet come to his home, and he’s desperate for him to, but the timing is important.  Would Simon be there as his friend or his boyfriend?  How out would he be - just to Erik, which he can just about imagine at some point in the future, or actually to his parents, which right now he absolutely cannot fathom?  His brain is telling him to change the subject, to close this down, so he says, ‘I think I’d like to take a shower first.  Before… you know.’

‘Didn’t you already have a shower today?’

‘Yeah, but, uh, you know, for my first time I don’t want to be lying there worrying that I smell or that, uh, I don’t know, I haven’t wiped properly or something.  I mean, I know that I have wiped properly, but…’

‘It’s OK,’ says Simon, holding him close, ‘I get it.’

‘Did you mean it?  What you said about licking me?  Because if you’re going to do that I don’t want to taste weird or anything.’

‘Yes, I meant it.  Well, I didn’t mean it specifically, because I wasn’t really thinking, I was just saying the first thing that came into my head, but it is something that I want to try.’

Wilhelm has never really thought about that before.  He hasn’t done it to Simon, so he has no point of reference.  Does he want to do that to Simon?  He’s not sure.  Now that he thinks about it, it’s definitely a turn-on, but anything that will give Simon pleasure is a turn-on for him.  It’s Simon.   And now he’s thinking about turning Simon on again and he needs to break the record for the world’s shortest ever shower right the fuck now because if Simon doesn’t get his hands on him as soon as humanly possible, he might just die.

‘I’ll, uh, yeah.  Shower,’ he says as he jumps out of bed and grabs a towel.

‘Has anybody come back yet?’ asks Simon.  ‘Do you think I could get away with coming with you?’

Wilhelm picks up his phone to check the time.  ‘It’s quarter to midnight,’ he says.  ‘We’ve probably still got a little while.  You know somebody’s bound to have snuck a bottle or two of vodka somehow; they’re probably all plastered.  Come on.’  He opens up his wardrobe and finds a clean towel for Simon.

They’re as quick as they can be in the shower, resisting the urge to touch each other, as much as they would want to, because that would take up precious time when all they both want is to be back in Wilhelm’s bed, making each other’s body sing.  Wilhelm does not think that his arsehole has ever been this clean in his life.  They’re in the bathroom for less than ten minutes at most, practically running back to Wilhelm’s bedroom the second they’re done.  Wilhelm was right: they don’t see another soul the whole time they’re there.

When the bedroom door is closed and Wilhelm has turned the key with a satisfying click, the air in the room suddenly feels thick with expectation, the space between them throbbing with want and unquenched lust.  Wilhelm looks at Simon, takes in the expanses of caramel skin, the planes of his torso, the contrast between the stark white towel and the thin, dark line of hair from Simon’s belly button that dips beneath it.  His mouth is dry, his breath hitching as he just stares at Simon.  Staring at Simon is one of his favourite things to do in the entire world.  He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it, especially not when his gaze lowers and he notices that Simon’s erection is doing its best to dislodge his towel.  Wilhelm pulls off his own towel in one swift movement, displaying himself in full so that Simon can see exactly the effect that he is having on him.

He’s not self-conscious about his body; he doesn’t really think about it that much.  He likes being tall.  He likes that he has muscles; a few, at least.  He doesn’t like his acne, but it’s better than it was.  What he likes most, though, is the effect that this body, this body that he barely considers, has on Simon.  When Simon looks at his body, looks at him, with that expression of sheer, unbridled want on his face, Wilhelm feels absolutely invincible.  Because Simon sees him.  Simon knows him.

What started out only a couple of months ago as something a little bit shy, a little bit nerve wracking, showing his arousal to somebody else, sharing himself at his most vulnerable, has now morphed into something that gives him pride.  So here he stands, completely naked, fully erect, offering himself to Simon, and Simon takes that gift and cherishes it, pulling off his own towel so that Wilhelm can look at him and see him in return.

They fall onto the bed, jostling each other in their eagerness, joined at the mouth, rolling about so that first one is on top, then the other.  Wilhelm doesn’t care either way, as long as he can push his aching cock against Simon, as long as he can feel Simon’s against him.  He grabs at Simon’s arse so that he can pull him closer and grind against him better.  ‘Wanna blow you,’ he mutters, not really thinking about what he’s saying.  It’s pure instinct that makes him ask, like there’s some primitive part of his brain that knows that the best way to give Simon pleasure is to take him in his mouth, to lick and suck him into oblivion.

‘No,’ says Simon firmly.  ‘Not tonight.  Tonight I am going to finger you, and rim you, and fuck you.’

Wilhelm stills at Simon’s words, stops rutting against him, takes a deep breath to calm his body’s reaction.  Simon is using his sex voice again, the one he brings out when he wants to reduce Wilhelm to a shuddering mess, the one he used earlier this evening at the drinks table when he whispered in Wilhelm’s ear.  Wilhelm sometimes does that himself, when the moment calls for it, but this is not that moment.  This is new, this is wonderful, and Wilhelm’s apprehension has been replaced with excitement.  He’s looking forward to this.

Simon gets off the bed so that he can fetch what he needs from the desk drawer.  It’s not the sort of stuff that Wilhelm can buy himself - he can just imagine what the press would say if there were photos of him buying lube, and even if he were to order it online, he’s paranoid that the person packing up his purchases in a discreet box would still know whom they were destined for - but Simon has bought enough that they can have a stash here and another in Simon’s room back in Bjärstad.

‘How should I lie?’ asks Wilhelm, deferring to Simon’s judgement, since out of the two of them, he is the one with more experience of bottoming, even though it can only be ten or maybe twelve times that he’s done it himself.  Neither of them has been keeping count.

‘Uh…  I think maybe it would be better if you’re on your front, but with your knees underneath you.  That way you’ll be more open, and you can concentrate more on how it feels, rather than looking at me and what I’m doing.  So you can tell me if it hurts at all.’

‘You won’t hurt me,’ says Wilhelm confidently.  ‘I’ve never hurt you, have I?’

‘No,’ says Simon.  ‘And the reason for that is that I’ve told you if I needed you to stop.  It might not seem like it, but you’re the one in control here, Wille.  You have to tell me when you feel ready, you have to tell me when to move, when to stop, how fast to go.  You’re in charge.’

‘I never thought about it that way,’ admits Wilhelm, looking up at Simon as he climbs back into bed.  ‘But now that you’ve actually put it into words, I can see that that’s exactly how it works when I do you.  Huh.’

‘Not just a pretty face, see?’ says Simon.  ‘I know I’m still a relative beginner, but I pay attention.’

‘Luckily for me,’ says Wilhelm.  He leans forward and places the gentlest of kisses on Simon’s lips, but within seconds that sweetness has shifted, become darker, more lust-filled, as Simon’s tongue slides against his and he can once again taste him.

There has never been any point in his life when Wilhelm has believed that he is straight, but he fleetingly thinks now, as he feels the minutest hint of Simon’s stubble scratch against his own, as he inhales Simon’s musky scent, presses their chests together and feels the low vibrato of Simon’s groan reverberate against him, groans himself as Simon’s cock ruts on his lower belly, that that will never even remotely be a possibility for him.  Because make no mistake, he fucking loves this.  Loves Simon.

Simon pulls away from him, slightly breathless, slightly giggly.  ‘OK?’ he asks.  That one word is full of meaning.  He’s checking that Wilhelm still wants to do this, that he’s ready to try, but he’s also offering him an out, should he want it.  He doesn’t want it.

‘OK,’ Wilhelm confirms, moving so that he’s on his knees, as Simon suggested.  Simon has sat up and is placing kisses on his shoulders, smoothing his back reassuringly with his hand.  Wilhelm is not exactly relaxed, not yet, but it soothes him nonetheless.

It’s impossible not to feel self-conscious in this position.  Do people get used to this?  Wilhelm supposes that they must, remembers that he felt exactly like this the first time Simon saw his cock, but now that feels completely normal.  It’s still weird though, exposing this part of himself that up until now has remained hidden.  But then Simon pulls his cheeks open and touches him there, just his fingertip ghosting across the rim, and all such thoughts leave Wilhelm’s mind, because how can he think about anything else when he has this delicious new sensation to focus on?

‘I’m gonna lick you before I use any lube,’ says Simon.  ‘Wanna know what you taste like.’

Jesus H fucking Christ.  It’s a good fucking job that Simon suggested this position, because Wilhelm can bury his face in the pillow to try and muffle out the moans that Simon’s announcement elicits, and the ones that follow when Simon’s tongue makes contact.  Holy motherfucking God he did not expect this, did not expect that the wet warmth of Simon’s mouth on him, the delicate flickering of Simon’s tongue across his hole, would ever feel this damn good.

Here’s the thing: Wilhelm knows about anal sex.  He knows that in theory, it feels good because it stimulates the prostate.  What he hasn't really grasped before now - and he should have, because of how much Simon enjoys being touched there - is that it feels pretty fucking amazing everywhere else too.  As Simon’s mouth licks and sucks him, he thinks that he needs to do this to Simon next time, the idea of being able to give him this much pleasure as much of a turn-on as what is being done to him.

Simon adds fingers then, just touching his hole, pressing against his perineum, the soft stretch of skin between his balls and his rim, and dipping the end of his finger in and out, and that feels good too, much firmer than his tongue and a different sensation entirely, but, even though Wilhelm is feeling good and relaxed, he’s not in any way open at all.  He squirms a little.

Simon immediately stops and mutters, ‘Shit,’ under his breath.  ‘Sorry,’ says Simon.  ‘I think we need lube now.’  He reaches down beside the bed to pick it up from where he left it on the floor.  ‘Is it-  Is it OK?’

‘I don’t think I can put into words how good it feels,’ admits Wilhelm.  ‘I never thought…  What about you?  Is it weird?  Does it taste alright?’

‘It just tastes like you,’ states Simon simply, and Wilhelm will take that.  He’s not expecting Simon to tell him that he tastes like vanilla and fruit and champagne, or anything like that, but as long as his arse doesn’t taste like, well, actual arse, he’s happy.  ‘I’m not going to stick my tongue right in, though.  Not today.  I think we might need to read up about douching before either of us does that.’

Simon pops open the lube and Wilhelm can feel its cold slipperiness on his hole.  It’s not actually unpleasant; Simon sometimes shivers when it’s too cold, but Wilhelm finds that he likes the sensation, enjoying the contrast of it against his hot skin.  Simon’s finger eases inside him.  It feels odd at first; he reminds himself to relax, but relaxing is hard when you have to tell yourself to do it.  The whole time though, Simon is stroking his arse with his free hand and placing delicate kisses on him; it’s so soothing that he stops having to think about it and can feel himself loosen a little, feel Simon’s finger slide in a little further, and, oh, that actually feels alright.  Why this should surprise him, he doesn’t know.  It’s not like he was expecting it to be bad.  He doesn’t know what he was expecting, actually, but not this.   Not this gentleness, this tenderness.

He finds himself pushing back against Simon, urging him with his movements to go deeper.  Simon adds more lube and slides in and out some more, and then asks, ‘Do you think you could take another?’

‘Yeah,’ Wilhelm forces out; words are an effort when all he can do is focus on how the sensations are overwhelming him.  Simon pulls his finger out then, and Wilhelm doesn’t like that, but then he’s pushing back in with two, and it’s twice as much, and Wilhelm needs a moment.

‘Hang on,’ he says.  ‘Don’t move for a sec.’

‘It’s a lot, isn’t it?’ says Simon gently.  ‘I mean like for your mind to get used to, not just your body?’

‘It’s…  yeah.’  Wilhelm waits for a moment, tries to gather himself.  He’s vaguely aware that he’s not hard any more; it doesn’t bother him because that happens to Simon sometimes, too, when they’re doing this.  It doesn’t mean that he’s not enjoying it, not really; it’s just like his body can’t concentrate on more than one thing at a time, and what Simon’s doing to him right now is so intense that it’s taking all his energy.  How the fuck he’s going to manage when Simon replaces his fingers with his cock, he doesn’t know.

‘OK?’ checks Simon, and when Wilhelm assures him that it is, his fingers start moving again, only now it feels different, because he can feel what Simon’s doing, trying to stretch him open.

More lube.  He’s so glad they’re doing this, not only because it’s something new, something that’s bound to add another layer of connection to their relationship, but it’s also giving him a much better understanding of what it means to top.  It’s making him look at it from an entirely different angle, and that can only be a good thing, can only make him better at it in future.  He knows, without even having to ask, that that’s exactly what Simon is doing, taking all the knowledge he has gained from doing it the other way, to make this really good for Wilhelm now.

Simon shifts his hand slightly, and Wilhelm knows instantly that he’s found his prostate.  ‘Oh!’ he exclaims, shocked by how strong the sensation is.  ‘Oh!  Right there!’

‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ giggles Simon, continuing to touch him exactly there, over and over, and everything feels heavy and sweetly syrupy with pleasure.  His erection has returned and he’s getting to the point where it’s just teetering on the edge of being too much.

‘Simon, I-  Oh, fuck, stop, stop, I need you to stop doing that and fuck me, please, please.’

Simon picks up his towel from where it fell to the floor earlier and wipes his hand on it, then starts fiddling with the condom.  Wilhelm twists his head to see what’s taking Simon so long; he doesn’t seem to be able to rip the wrapper.  Which, fair: Wilhelm himself knows that it’s not the easiest when your fingers are covered in lube and slippery as fuck.

‘You’re not supposed to use your teeth,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘There’s a little notch on the side, you tear there-’

‘Got it.’

‘-and then pinch the end when you roll it on.’

‘Wille, I have done this before, you know,’ says Simon testily.  ‘Uh, I, uh, practiced after we did it in sex ed.’

Wilhelm laughs at this, which makes Simon himself start laughing.  It’s a soft moment, one that Wilhelm is grateful for, because it’s broken the tension in the room, taken away some of his nerves, reminded him that it’s just him and Simon, and that therefore, whatever happens next, this is going to be fine.

Simon hands the towel to Wilhelm and he places it underneath himself, and then Simon is behind him, sort of draping himself across Wilhelm’s back, dropping kisses and asking, ‘You ready?’

‘Yeah,’ says Wilhelm, and then Simon is right there, his tip pressing against Wilhelm’s hole, and fuck, that feels like more than just fingers.  Simon’s cock is not huge.  It’s a perfectly normal size, entirely similar to Wilhelm’s own, but right this moment, it feels fucking enormous.  ‘Hang on,’ he breathes, waits a moment, then says, ‘A little more,’ and Simon inches in slightly more, and it’s still not quite right, so he asks, ‘Can you add some more lube?’ and once Simon does that, it’s much better.  Simon’s still not moving, just waiting for instruction, and Wilhelm could not love him more for being this patient with him.

‘OK,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘More.’  Simon pushes further, gradually and gradually, and then eventually, finally, Wilhelm can feel Simon’s hips against his arse, and he’s fully in, and good God he had never expected that he would feel so full.   It’s so much.  Not just the physical sensation of it, but the realisation that Simon is actually inside him, that he’s full of Simon.  He felt a little like this the first time he fucked Simon, this feeling that they could not possibly get any closer, and that is there now too, but it’s different when it’s the other way round.  Maybe it’s because he’s more vulnerable like this, he doesn’t know, but the intensity is still there, and all Wilhelm can think in his head is a loop of I love you I love you I love you.

‘Simon,’ he groans.  ‘Simon, move.  You can move.’  Still the mantra is running through his head, flowing through his bloodstream, making itself felt in every corner of his body, insinuating its way through every vein, until finally it reaches his tongue and he is forced to say it out loud, repeatedly, muttering it almost nonsensically, ‘I love you.  God, I love you so much, Simon.  I love you, I love you.  You’re so-  I love you,’ on and on, over and over, chanting it like a prayer.

Wilhelm can feel how tensely Simon has been holding himself; he knows that, the feeling of having to wait, has done it himself, and he knows also the sheer relief of being told that you can let go, that now you may take a little after giving so much, and he can feel it in Simon, can feel him relaxing just a fraction, can sense it in his breathing, that little bit freer now, but still, he is so gentle with Wilhelm.  Gentleness is what he needs now, for his first time.

Wilhelm does not know what to do with himself.  Simon has found the right angle and is repeatedly hitting it, over and over again; Wilhelm is so, so close to the edge, but just not there.  He needs to touch himself, but he’s so folded in on himself that it’s tricky to do so in a way that’s not incredibly awkward.  He starts to lift himself up a bit and Simon sees what he is trying to do, stills momentarily.  ‘Are you OK?’ he asks.  ‘Do you want to move?’

‘I need-  My cock,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I can’t-’

‘Hang on,’ says Simon, and manoeuvres them both so that they’re on their sides, Simon the big spoon.  He slips out as he does so, but as soon as they’re comfortable, he re-enters Wilhelm, bringing one arm around to grip his chest so that he can hold him tighter.  Wilhelm grabs his hand; he needs this connection between them, an anchor to tether him to reality.  It’s there again, that pressure, only slightly different now, but still insistent, and Wilhelm absolutely needs to get off, and it’s like Simon knows what he’s thinking, because he takes hold of him and starts pumping him with bold, forceful strokes.  Wilhelm can feel it building within him, can feel everything tighten, but most of all he can feel Simon inside him, Simon working so hard to make him feel good, and the thought enters his mind again, I love you.   It’s enough to send him over the edge, for his climax to sear through his body, burning him from the inside out, making him cry out, ‘Simon,’ as he can feel himself spasm around Simon’s cock, and it’s so, so much, both the orgasm itself and the intense relief that it brings with it.

He’s aware that Simon is coming, is whispering his name as he does so, but it’s like he knows that as an observer rather than a participant; he’s a little bit spaced out.  OK, a lot spaced out.  He clings onto Simon’s hand, not wanting to let go of the only thing that’s keeping him here, keeping him from spiralling completely,

Both of them lie there clinging to each other, heavy breaths gradually slowing as they come down.  Eventually, Simon says, ‘I need to pull out,’ and they are forced to move apart slightly, which Wilhelm hates.  His arse feels odd; not sore at all, but like it has been rearranged, and he needs to clean himself up.

He’s not sleepy in the least, but he is very far from coherent and his mind is drifting all over the place, like Simon has placed him in a bubble and he is the only one who can pop it.  ‘Wille?’ he hears.  ‘Wille?’  And oh, that’s Simon talking to him.  Simon is standing next to the bed, holding out his hand to pull Wilhelm up, and Wilhelm is not entirely sure how he got there.

Simon takes his hand and leads him to the sink, and he wipes himself down.  To be honest, he could use a shower, but he absolutely does not have the energy for it, and it can wait until the morning.

They get back into bed and lie facing each other, their legs intertwined.

‘Was it… was it OK?’ asks Simon.  Wilhelm realises that he has not said a word since they finished, and now he feels terrible, because Simon must think that he has broken him or something.  Which is not that far from the truth, to be honest.

‘I-  Well.  I-  Sorry.  I’m just… still processing, I guess?  I never thought-  I never thought that it would be like that.’

Simon has a worried look on his face, asks tentatively, ‘In a good way or a bad way?’

‘Shit.  Sorry.  Good!  Good.  Don’t worry about that.  I meant…  I guess I just never expected that it would be that intense.  I’m a little bit in a daze because of it.’

Simon smiles.  ‘I will definitely take, “the first time my boyfriend fucked me it put me in a daze” as a compliment.’

‘You should,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘But-  I mean-  God, I-’

‘Wille.  You don’t have to put it into words now.  I get it.’

And then Wilhelm realises that they’re focusing an awful lot about how he’s feeling right now, which is fine, and definitely not unwelcome, but Simon’s just done it this way for the first time as well, and Wilhelm is a terrible boyfriend because it’s not even entered into his head until right this second that he ought to ask him how he’s feeling too.  ‘What about you?  What did you think?’

‘Fucking brilliant,’ he giggles.

‘You’re not just saying that?’ asks Wilhelm.

‘You know I wouldn’t do that.’  And Wilhelm does know that, knows it deep in his bones.  They’ve not been together for too long, are still learning how to have a relationship, learning what the other needs and wants, but they are nothing if not honest with each other.

‘Yeah.  I have to say, though…  the rimming?  Ninety-seven out of ten.  I need to do that to you so bad.  It’s gonna rock your world.’

Simon laughs again.  ‘Yes please,’ he says.

‘Is it weird that I was taking notes?’

‘You were?  I couldn’t have been doing a very good job of it if you had enough bandwidth to manage that.’

‘Are you fishing for compliments?  Because you were doing a fucking amazing job.  Please don’t think that you didn’t.  It was just that I was thinking about what we were doing, because now that I know what it’s like to bottom, it’ll make it better next time I top, that’s all.’  Wilhelm shrugs.

Simon sighs and leans in to kiss Wilhelm, quite forcefully.  ‘I love you,’ he says as he does so.

It doesn’t matter, any of it.  It doesn’t matter what they’ve just done at all, but rather why they did it.  And it’s not just to gain pleasure, to give pleasure to the other.  Maybe that’s how it was the first couple of times they did it, but it so quickly became something so much deeper, richer than that.  Now, it’s an expression of emotion, of feelings so deep that they have become entwined with the very essence of Wilhelm’s being.  Who sticks what where comes so far down the list of what’s important that it barely registers.

Wilhelm drifts off to sleep spooning Simon’s body, the skin of his chest slightly clammy where it is touching Simon’s back, a feeling of contentment settling on his body that’s so profound he thinks he’d be quite happy never to wake up, to stay like this, wrapped up in Simon, forever and ever.

____________________

Of course, morning comes.  However much Wilhelm loved drifting off to sleep together last night, it does mean that neither of them bothered to clean their teeth; they both smell slightly disgusting, but as he and Simon wake each other with lazy kisses and whispered good mornings, he can’t bring himself to care.

Wilhelm reaches down underneath the covers to take hold of Simon; it wouldn’t be the first time they would start the day with a nice leisurely exchange of handjobs.  Simon has other ideas, though.  ‘We need to be quick,’ he giggles.  ‘It’s late and I need to sneak out of here before everybody else wakes up.’

Wilhelm can be quick.  Wilhelm can be Mr. Efficient if the situation calls for it.  They get the job done in four minutes flat.  Wilhelm would have loved to have taken longer, and to have basked in the afterglow in bed together, but Simon is right, and he does need to get home in time to have a shower before he goes out with his friends for första maj, to demonstrate.  Simon has told him all about it, and Wilhelm would absolutely love to go with him, but he can see what a ruckus it would cause if he were to be photographed there, which he absolutely would be.

It’s a mutual agreement, to keep this on the down low.  That doesn’t mean that Wilhelm doesn’t feel guilty about it, because he knows that this is something that they probably wouldn’t have to think about as much if it weren’t for his position.  He keeps telling himself that they’re not being secret, they’re being private, but he still has a lingering bad feeling when he thinks about it.  Maybe it will get easier as and when they tell more people about their relationship.

Wilhelm lies there watching Simon get dressed and wishing he wasn’t, wishing they could just spend all day naked in bed.  The fact that it’s the weekend and they won’t get to see each other for two whole days is weighing heavy on him.  ‘I know you’re busy today,’ he says, ‘but I could sneak out tomorrow?  Come to yours?’

‘Yes please,’ smiles Simon.  ‘That.’  He leans down and kisses him.  ‘Would.’  Kiss.  ‘Be.’  Kiss.  ‘Great.’  One final kiss, longer, a goodbye.  ‘I’ll message you.  I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ sighs Wilhelm.

Simon is gone, and Wilhelm drifts for a while, lulled into deep relaxation by the combination of the post-orgasmic hormones zinging through his bloodstream with the smell of Simon on his sheets.  And love.  Being in love is the most relaxing thing of all.  Or it can be.  Sometimes it makes him a little crazy, but right now he is chill as all fuck.

Eventually he gets up, slings on a t-shirt and some joggers, opens the window to air the room out a little, picks up all his clothes from where they were discarded last night, that disgusting crusty towel, and puts them out in the corridor in his laundry bag.  He disposes of the used condom and pile of tissues that are the only other reminder of last night’s activities.  A moment later, he sends up a silent prayer of thanks that he has done so, because August knocks on his door and walks into the room before Wilhelm has even had the chance to ask him to come in.  If there’s one person that he doesn’t want to know about his personal life, it’s August.  He knows him well enough to know that if August has any information like that, he will find some way to use it against him.  He’s not going to take the chance.  August has never actually done anything concrete that might justify this attitude in Wilhelm; it’s a gut thing, developed over many years of learning to be wary of people who try to ingratiate themselves.  It doesn’t matter that August is family, the feeling is the same.

‘Morning,’ he says, not even bothering to smile.  He doesn’t want to give August any notion that he’s happy to see him.

‘Wille, my man,’ smarms August.  ‘We need to talk.  May I sit?’

August is gesturing towards the bed but no way is Wilhelm letting his sweaty arse sit there.  He’s wearing workout gear and it looks like he’s just finished a run.  Instead, Wilhelm clears a pile of books from the chair of his study desk and gestures for August to sit there.  Wilhelm himself is sitting on the window sill so that he can keep as much distance as possible from August; it’s not easy in this tiny room.

‘What do you want?’

‘I think we need to discuss what exactly is going on with you and Simon Eriksson, don’t you?’

Oh, fuck.

Chapter Text

‘I think we need to discuss what exactly is going on with you and Simon Eriksson, don’t you?’

Wilhelm does his best to school his features into a look of utter nonchalance.  August has the look about him of a cat playing with a particularly juicy and delicious mouse, so he’s not sure he’s succeeded.

‘I've no idea what you mean,’ says Wille.

‘I’ve been out running,’ says August, gesturing towards his body as if expecting Wilhelm to pay homage to how aesthetically pleasing it is.  Just… no.  ‘And after my second circuit of the lake-’  Like Wilhelm is supposed to be impressed by how far he has run.  Sounds like too fucking far to him.  August has some sort of problem.  ‘-I was making my way back for a shower, when who should I see shimmying down the drainpipe but everyone’s favourite non-res sosse?’

‘And?’  Wilhelm has watched enough cop shows to know that it’s best to say as little as possible if you don’t want to incriminate yourself.

‘Don’t you think that that’s a little suspicious?’

Wilhelm shrugs.  ‘No.  It was too late for him to catch the bus home last night, so he stayed here.’

‘So why not just walk out of the door this morning?’

August is enjoying this far too much and Wilhelm hates it.  He rolls his eyes as he says, ‘Because I didn’t exactly clear it with Göran first.’

‘Or with me,’ says August self-importantly.  ‘It would have been a courtesy to inform me, as prefect, if you were having a guest stay over.  And as prefect, I shall have to put you on kitchen duty for the whole of next week.’  He sighs dramatically like this is actually causing him pain.

‘Yeah, whatever.’  Wilhelm starts looking out of the window.  Not only is it a beautiful day, but this has the added bonus of expressing utter disinterest in this conversation, even though that’s far from what he’s feeling inside.  It also hides his nerves.  He sits on his hands so that he doesn’t give himself away by biting on the skin around his thumbnail.

‘Wille,’ says August, and Wilhelm wishes to all fuck that he wouldn’t call him that, ‘I really think that someone in your position needs to be more careful about whom they choose to associate with.’

Wilhelm turns toward August and stares at him.  ‘You have absolutely no idea how pompous you sound, do you?  What the hell gives you the right?’

August looks like he’s starting to enjoy himself; relaxing into this, he crosses his legs in a particularly manspready way as he says, ‘I’m just looking out for you, Wille.  As I’ve been doing throughout the school year.  It’s a little worrying, actually, that I won’t be here next year to carry on doing that.  Since it seems that some of your choices are less than ideal.’

‘Stop being so fucking patronising,’ sneers Wille.  He’s trying to keep his temper in check; he absolutely will not give August the satisfaction of seeing him lose it.  ‘You’re hardly a great role model yourself, from what I’ve heard.  I’ve made a good group of friends since I’ve been here.  It seems to me that you only have a problem with one of them.’

‘Simon Eriksson is not a suitable person for someone like us to be friends with.’

Us?   Where the fuck does August get off?

‘Care to explain why, exactly?’  Wilhelm is not going to make this easy for him.  He knows exactly why already, but if August wants to be a prick about this, Wilhelm is going to make him say the quiet part out loud.

‘You know why.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘He’s not one of us.  He doesn’t get it,’ August says, like the whole thing was obvious.  ‘All the conventions, the rules.  He has no understanding of our culture.’

‘“Our culture?”’ says Wille, incredulous that August actually used those words.  ‘Wow, racist much?’

Wilhelm waits for August to play the ‘some of my best friends are black’ card, and sure enough…  ‘Not at all.  You know how close I am with Nils.  And I had a relationship with Felice for a while back there-’  Relationship.  Yeah, right.  Wilhelm is close enough to Felice to know that said relationship consisted of two extremely unsatisfactory shags and a walk around the lake.  ‘-so you really couldn’t be more wrong.  I mean, I know that Nils is a bit nouveau, but Felice is from an old family; her mother and grandmother were both hillisar.   My point is that they both know how things work.  No, from what I’ve heard you need to be far more concerned about Simon’s political views than anything else.  I’ve heard he’s gay, as well.  You wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.’

It wouldn’t be the wrong idea, though, would it? Wilhelm wants to scream.  It would be exactly the right idea.   But he’s hardly going to out himself just to prove a point.

‘August, if you knew how little I cared about what ideas people had about me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

‘I really don’t get you, you know,’ muses August.  ‘You’ve had the whole world handed to you on a plate, but you do insist on fighting against it.  I can’t work out whether you’re friends with him because you like him, or if you just decided to hang out with the one person most likely to piss everyone else off, because you’ve got some ridiculous teenage rebellion thing going on.’

‘The fact that you would even consider me capable of such a thing says far more about you than it does me.  And shows how little you know me,’ says Wilhelm, his voice full of disdain.

‘I know enough.  Enough that I’m sure that this friendship would not go down well in certain quarters.’

Wilhelm feels a small touch of relief at August’s use of the word friendship.   Whatever his motives are for coming here today, he clearly has no idea what is actually going on between Wilhelm and Simon, and thank fuck for that.  It doesn’t make Wilhelm any less pissed though.  He gives an incredulous laugh.  ‘Are you-  You can’t actually be-  Are you threatening me?’

‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Wille!  What would I gain by doing that?  I’m just saying that maybe it would be a good idea to move on to other, more appropriate, friends before anyone gets wind of it, that’s all.’

‘Ah, OK.  Not a threat, then.  Just good old-fashioned blackmail.’  Wilhelm looks at August like he’s something that he’s walked in and now needs to scrape off his shoe.

‘What?’ laughs August.  ‘Nothing of the sort!’

‘You’re basically saying, “Drop Simon or I’ll tell your mum.”  Right?’

‘Well, I was actually thinking more along the lines of Erik, but-’

‘Erik!?  What?’

‘Of course Erik!  Why on earth would I bother the queen with something like this?  Erik asked me when you first started here to look out for you, and that’s exactly what I’ve done.  I’ve tried to steer you in the right direction, introduce you to the right people, but obviously I’ve not done a great job.’

Wilhelm’s mind is wandering back to last Christmas, when Erik had said something about him and Felice and he couldn’t for the life of him work out how Erik knew.  Erik claimed that he’d picked it up from some social media post or other.  Wilhelm didn’t believe him, but he had let it drop.  Now, though…

‘You’ve been spying on me,’ he says bluntly.  ‘You’ve been reporting back to Erik.’

‘I think “spying” is a bit much,’ says August defensively.  ‘It’s just that whenever I talk to him, which is obviously often, he asks how you are, and I tell him.  But I’m hardly sneaking around with my phone, videoing your every movement.’

You would if you got the opportunity, thinks Wilhelm.  I wouldn’t put it past you at all.

‘Erik and I are very close,’ announces August.  ‘He trusts me.’

Wilhelm rolls his eyes.  Always with the ingratiation.  ‘I can’t imagine why.’

‘Because he knows that I will always look out for you.’

‘For me?  Or for Prince Wilhelm?  Are you actually looking out for me, or are you looking out for the spare prince, making sure I don’t bring the royal family into disrepute?’

‘You are Prince Wilhelm.’  August looks mildly perplexed.  Obviously the nuance has gone completely over his head.

‘Whatever.  And yeah, I can really see how you were looking out for me when you tried to give me pills at the Lucia party.  Or when you made me drink other people’s spit on my initiation.  In fact my initiation is probably one of the worst things that has ever happened to me, so thanks a lot for looking out for me then, August.  Much appreciated.’

August is starting to get angry now, like he can’t believe that Wilhelm would think so little of him.  His voice is getting louder, more exasperated, as he exclaims, ‘Of course I was!  I was ensuring that you got through it so that you would be accepted as a true member of Forest Ridge.  How would it have looked if we’d gone easy on you?  You would have hated it if people thought we were letting you off the hook because you were a prince.’

‘That’s so not the point!  You shouldn’t have put anyone through that!’  Any ideas that Wilhelm may have had about not losing it are fast disappearing.  The memories from that night hold too much sway over him, and now that he has raised the subject, he can’t let it drop.

‘Jesus, Wille, you have no fucking idea!’  August stands up and bangs the flat of his hand against Wilhelm’s desk.  ‘You-  Everybody in your year, including you, got the sanitised version!  You have no clue how much worse it was for us.  For the second years as well.  You fucking had it easy!  Ours was so bad that we decided as a group that we would never inflict that on anyone else.  We did you a favour!’

‘I had it easy?  You have got to be fucking kidding me!  I still have nightmares about it now!’  Wilhelm is laying it on thick now.  He has had the occasional bad dream about that night, but he doesn’t feel like it lies heavily with him.  He’s not about to tell that to August though; it would diminish his argument and he’s got the wind in his sails now.

August sits back down in his chair and says, more quietly now, ‘Mine was two and half years ago and I still have nightmares about it.’

‘It can’t have been that bad,’ reasons Wilhelm.  ‘If it was, you’d have put a stop to the whole thing.’

‘No.  I don’t accept that.  Initiations, in and of themselves, are a good thing.  To foster unity among the brotherhood.’  Brotherhood?  Would you just listen to yourself?   ‘People forge bonds here that will last a lifetime, and that’s important.  It was just that ours… went a little too far.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ says Wilhelm.  Maybe he says it a little too dismissively.  He doesn’t believe half the crap August says most of the time, and this is no exception.  He doesn’t care about the details; he hardly thinks that whatever August went through could have been any worse than what he had to endure.  But it seems that August is in a mood to spill.

‘We had to strip,’ starts August.  ‘Not completely, but down to our underwear.  That was hard; I didn’t look as good then as I do now.  And then-’  August has stopped looking at Wilhelm, is staring at the corner of the room but not really looking at it.  ‘-and then they got a projector - this was in palatset, on the big white wall there - and they projected gay porn and made us watch it.  First one to get hard lost.  The third years beat him up and then used him as their bitch for the rest of the year.’

Wilhelm’s stomach drops into the floor and he gulps down a breath, trying to suppress the panic he’s starting to feel.  Because all he can think is that that could have been him.  It’s not the naked part that bothers him; he’s well enough used to sharing the communal changing room after PE class or rowing for that not to be an issue.  It’s the part about being put under a microscope, his every reaction studied in minute detail.  To a certain extent, he’s used to that; he’s been scrutinised his entire life.  But there are at least some areas of his life that he has managed to keep private, that nobody knows anything about unless he chooses to share it with them.  He gets precious little choice in his life, so he guards those parts fiercely, and the idea that someone might watch him… in a state of arousal… he thinks he might vomit.

It’s only after this first panicked reaction that he considers that the porn is gay porn, that it has been chosen with a specific intention.  That turns his stomach in a different way; his fear has given way to anger.  He knows these rich, straight, white boys like the back of his hand, has been surrounded with them all his life.  He’s always felt different from them, but he still knows how they tick, how their minds work.  They didn’t do this because they wanted to out all the queer kids.  They did this because they think that being queer is funny, that it’s something that can be used to belittle others, to push them down.  It’s part of the constant fight for position, to be top dog in this place, to have something that makes you better than the person on the rung beneath you.

‘Oh.  I-  Fuck.’  He doesn’t have the words.

‘Yeah.  I mean, I talked to Erik about it afterwards, obviously, but-’  The rest of August’s words are lost on Wilhelm, because his head is now buzzing again, with the thing that should have been obvious to him right from the start.  Erik.   Erik was two years ahead of August.  Erik was one of those third years who were responsible for this.  In fact, it’s worse than that.  Erik was the Forest Ridge prefect when he was a third year.  Erik would have been in charge of organising the whole thing.  His own brother is one of the homophobic arseholes who did this.

Wilhelm has been thinking for some time about how and when to come out to Erik.  Obviously falling in love with Simon has brought things to a head, but it’s been there in the back of his mind for far longer than that.  Sometimes he thinks that it’s completely insane that Erik doesn’t know, because it’s something that’s so completely a part of who he is, that seems so obvious to him, that he can’t understand why it’s not obvious to everybody else as well.

He has never thought that Erik is homophobic.  Whilst it’s true that he does have an awful lot of heteronormative assumptions about Wilhelm’s preferences - the amount he talks to him, or tries to talk to him, about which girls he likes, and what he would like to do with them, is ridiculous - Wilhelm doesn’t think that he’s ever heard him say anything actually offensive, and he has thought about it a lot, trawled through his memory for examples.  But now he thinks that maybe he’s just been looking in the wrong place.  Now that he knows this about Erik, it’s making him reevaluate everything.  Not only about their relationship, but also whether he should still come out.  Maybe now is not the right time; this new knowledge makes everything a thousand times more complicated.

August is still wittering away.  Wilhelm turns to him, interrupting him mid-sentence, and says, ‘I think you should leave now.’

‘You’ve not listened to a word I’ve said, have you?’ says August.

‘No, and I’m not going to.  I’ll choose my own friends, thanks.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ August mutters under his breath as he stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Wilhelm is left alone with his thoughts.  The conversation that he’s been considering having with Erik next time he sees him, it’s changed.  It’s no longer going to be a happy coming out followed by hugs, reassurances and total acceptance.  That’s what he’s been imagining up until now, and that vision now lies broken on the floor.  The conversation that they will have instead will be about Erik, will be an interrogation about what exactly went on while he was here at Hillerska and a means for Wilhelm to try and ascertain exactly how homophobic, or not, he is.

He can’t stay in here.  His room is small enough at the best of times, but now it’s making him feel claustrophobic.  He kneels down to find his trainers under the bed and throws on a couple of layers.  Hopefully it’ll be enough; they may have just celebrated the coming of spring, but that doesn’t mean that there won’t be a chill in the air outside.  It’s better than staying stuck in here, though.  His thoughts will be easier to deal with if he at least has some fresh air and a bit of space.

Or at least that’s what he hopes.  To be honest, after twenty minutes he realises that he’s going to be obsessing about this wherever he is, so he may as well go inside, out of the cold.  He’s on his way back to his room when he sees Nils coming out of the bathroom, his hair wet and a towel draped over his shoulders.

‘Hey,’ says Nils, walking past Wilhelm on his way back to his room.

‘Hey.’  Wilhelm carries on his way, but then stops, thinks for a moment and turns round.  ‘Actually, Nisse?’  Nils stops and looks at him.  ‘Could I ask you about something?’

Nils looks around to see if there’s anyone else in the vicinity.  ‘Something that you wouldn’t want to discuss in the common room?’

‘Uh, yeah.  Yeah, it is.’

‘Would I be compromising the royal reputation if you were to be alone in my room with me?’ jokes Nils.

Wilhelm laughs.  ‘Fuck off.’

‘Come on, then,’ says Nils.  ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’

Wilhelm hasn’t been in Nils’ room before.  He rolls his eyes when he sees that Nils has a full on barista looking coffee machine set up on his desk, because of course he has, but once he gets a taste of the latte that Nils makes him - yes, he has a milk frother as well; no, he’s not enough of a show off to produce latte art - he can absolutely see the sense in it.

Nils gestures for Wilhelm to sit on the bed, so he bends over to take off his shoes and then makes himself comfortable, his back to the wall, opposite Nils, who is lounging against his pillows.

‘So, what gives?’ asks Nils.

Wilhelm takes a sip of his coffee, thinks about how to say what he needs to.  ‘I need to talk to you about something.  But it might not be something that you would want to talk about,’ he says cryptically.

‘Well you can always ask.  There are lots of things that I’ve talked to you about that I wouldn’t with anybody else.’

Wilhelm wishes that Nils hadn’t said that.  Him being all warm and fluffy is not only deeply jarring, but it also makes Wilhelm feel worse about the subject that he’s about to broach.

‘August told me about your initiation,’ Wilhelm says bluntly.  ‘About the porno.  Is it true?’

Not for nothing has Nils earned a reputation for being unflappable.  A brief quirk of his eyebrow is the only indication that what Wilhelm has said might have affected him.  ‘Ah.  Yes, it’s true.  It wasn’t the best.  But at least you were spared that.  We all decided.’

‘What exactly happened?  I mean, don’t tell me if it’s too upsetting, but I’d kind of like to know.’

‘Well, I don’t have PTSD or anything,’ starts Nils, ‘but it’s not something that I care to dwell on.  Most of it was exactly the same as yours.  You know, the masks, the water pistols, the flour, the, uh, spit.  But then when we got to palatset, we had that extra element that August mentioned.  They lined us up in our underwear.  I thought they were going to throw food at us or something.  And then the projector started.  At first I didn’t realise what it was; like, it was just two guys walking into a room.  But then they started kissing and I knew what was coming, so I just focused on the shadows.  You know how with a projector, if it’s behind you, it projects your shadow onto the screen instead of the film?’  Wilhelm nods.  ‘So yeah, I just looked at everyone’s silhouette, concentrated on that.  Obviously I could still hear all the noises, but that was easier to ignore.  And actually it only went on for a few minutes, before, you know, someone got hard, and it ended.

‘As shitty as the whole thing was, if the whole aim of an initiation is to get people to connect, or band together, or whatever, it actually worked, because we all were pretty much in agreement that when it was our turn, that was the one part that we wouldn’t carry on with.’

Wilhelm snorts in derision.  ‘Right.  So the spit was OK, but that wasn’t.  Got it.’

Nils does at least have the decency to look a bit shame-faced.  ‘Yeah, sorry about that.’

‘I guess I should thank you, for getting rid of it.  I didn’t thank August.’

‘He’s not your favourite person.’

Understatement of the year, thinks Wilhelm.  ‘Yeah, no.  When he says stuff to me, I never know whether I should take it at face value, or whether he’s telling me because he has some angle or ulterior motive.  I just don’t trust him.  I didn’t even know if he was telling me the truth.’

‘Well, he was.  Why do you think he told you?’

‘He was trying to prove how brilliant he is at looking out for me when I didn’t even ask him to.’

‘Hmm.  You know, there was an agreement amongst all of us that we wouldn’t ever talk about it to anyone else, kind of like what happens at initiation stays at initiation, but I guess royalty trumps that.  Either that, or he’s just really bad at keeping his mouth shut.’

‘Sorry.’

Nils sighs.  ‘Not your fault.’

‘Thanks.’

‘The stupid thing about it is that it would never achieve what they wanted to achieve anyway, if their aim was to out people.  All the queer kids are so practised at hiding that it was nothing to stand there and think about literally anything else for a few minutes.  Believe me, the terror of discovery makes your dick try to crawl inside you; I’ve never been softer.  Stands to reason that the loser would be a straight kid.’

‘And was it?  A straight kid?’

‘I’m not going to tell you who it was.  I made a promise.’

‘OK, sorry,’ says Wilhelm sheepishly.  ‘Isn’t that weird, though?  A straight kid getting turned on by gay porn?’

‘You’re thinking like them,’ states Nils, and Wilhelm feels a bit embarrassed.  ‘You’re talking about a room full of teenage boys, right?  I’m a teenage boy.  You’re a teenage boy.  We both know that teenage boys get hard at the drop of a hat.  I’ve seen most different combinations of porn; it made me hard.  All of it.  Even the lesbian stuff.  And I do not remotely want to interact with women in that way.  I’m not saying that it wasn’t a homophobic thing; it was definitely a homophobic thing.  It just didn’t work the way they thought it did.’

‘So my brother’s a homophobe, then,’ Wilhelm says dejectedly.

A sudden understanding dawns on Nils’ face.  ‘Ah, so that’s what this is all about.’

Wilhelm groans.  ‘Yeah.’

‘If it’s any consolation, he wasn’t the worst of them.’

‘It’s not, but thanks.’

‘I mean, sure, he was there.  But he wasn’t, like, inspecting everybody’s crotches like some of them were.’  Wilhelm shudders at the idea that anybody would actually do that.  ‘In fact, I think he found the whole thing vaguely distasteful.’

‘But he didn’t do anything to stop it,’ says Wilhelm indignantly.

‘He wouldn’t have,’ says Nils.  ‘You know what peer pressure is like.’

‘He’s gonna be the fucking king,’ spits Wilhelm.  ‘He’s the one person in the entire country who doesn’t need to worry about fucking peer pressure.’

‘I’d say that’s the main reason why he did,’ reasons Nils, getting up to find some biscuits.  ‘He’s going to spend his whole life being different.  Here was the one place he could be one of the crowd.’

Oh.  Well now, that makes a lot of sense.  Wilhelm has never, in all the time he’s known him, thought that Nils was wise, but now he’s starting to see that he might be more sensible than he’s given him credit for.  ‘Actually, yeah.  I know that feeling well enough,’ Wilhelm admits.

Wilhelm takes a biscuit and is about half way through it when he says, ‘Do you think that means that Erik isn’t homophobic, then?’

Nils fixes him with a look and says, ‘I don’t think he was any more or any less homophobic than anybody else here, but that’s not saying much.  Look, you know what it’s like here.  It’s not like they go round calling people slurs or anything like that.  Nobody ever says anything to anyone’s face.  But you’ve heard all the jokes about bumming.  And you must have heard people giggling about that guy Axel in second year, and about Simon.  It’s all very subtle, very casual, but it’s there.  Maybe I notice it more because I’m queer, I don’t know, but there’s a reason I’m not out.  It’s because I-’

‘People giggle about Simon?’ interrupts Wilhelm.

Nils’ face morphs into a wolfish grin, and Wilhelm realises that he’s given himself away, even more so when he can feel his cheeks heating up.

‘Care to share?’ asks Nils.

‘I think you already know, don’t you?’ replies Wilhelm, trying to avoid the question.

‘I know that you like him; I’ve seen the way you look at him.  And he looks at you sometimes, too.’

Wilhelm can feel himself get redder.  ‘Does he?’

‘You know he does.  The question is, though: is there more going on than just looking?’

Wilhelm can’t help smiling and biting his lip as he says, ‘There might be.’  He’s trying to play it cool, but Nils is looking at him with an expression that’s saying, yeah, right, and in the end he folds.  ‘OK.  Yes, there is.’  And God, the sheer joy of being able to share this, the absolute most important and special thing going on in his life right now, with someone that he trusts, is brilliant.  He almost feels high with it.  He never thought, when he first became friends with Nils, that they would end up being the sort of mates who would visit each other’s bedrooms and giggle about boys together, and yet here they are.

And then Nils takes out a pin and pops his balloon.

‘Is that wise?’ he asks.

‘What?  What do you mean?’

‘You and Simon.  Like, does he get it?  Does he understand the need for keeping things on the down low?  Is the internet likely to be full of stories about my torrid nights of passion with Sweden’s hottest prince, next time he’s a bit short of cash?  I mean, if Latino twinks are your thing, then I know of a very discreet agency in Stockholm that can provide exactly what you’re looking for-’

All this shit that Nils is spewing is turning Wilhelm’s stomach.  ‘Stop!’  He doesn’t shout it, but he says it with such force that he may as well have.

‘What?’  Nils is adopting a faux innocent expression and it’s really not making things any better.  ‘I’m just trying to help.’

‘It’s not like that,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘It’s not just-’  He takes a deep breath.  ‘I’m in love with him.’

Nils is absolutely flabbergasted; his face is a picture.  All he can say is, ‘Oh,’ but then he gathers himself a little and comes back with, ‘But is he in love with you?   That’s the question.’

Wilhelm smiles.  ‘Yeah.  Yeah, he is.’

‘Huh.  Well, look at you two, love’s young dream.’

‘Don’t take the piss.’

‘I’m not,’ protests Nils, but then he shrugs and says, ‘OK, yeah, I am.  I’m…  I don’t know, I guess I’m a little jealous.  I’ve never…’

What?  But Nils has always given him the impression that he’s a complete slut.  His confusion must show on his face, because Nils says, ‘I mean, I’ve slept with plenty of guys, you know that, even a couple of girls, too, just to be sure, right?  But all of that… that’s just sex.  No real feelings involved, other than physical attraction, and sometimes not even that.  The whole being in love thing…  No.  Not done that.  Must be nice.’

‘It is,’ confirms Wilhelm.

‘Is it better?  The sex?  When you love the other person?’

Wilhelm can feel himself start to blush again.  ‘I don’t know, I-’

‘What, you haven’t slept with him yet?’  Nils is aghast.

‘No, I have,’ laughs Wilhelm.  ‘But-  Well, I haven’t slept with anyone that I haven’t been in love with, so I can’t compare.’

‘Oh my God, you were a virgin?  Bless!  Anyway, tell me all the details.  I bet he’s a bottom.  And he looks like he could suck the chrome off a tailpipe-’

Wilhelm asks himself, not for the first time, why he’s friends with Nils.  ‘That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,’ he says indignantly.  ‘And anyway, what makes you think that I can’t suck the chrome off a tailpipe myself?’

‘I’m sure you can,’ says Nils, raising his left eyebrow, and how is he able to make them work independently?  Wilhelm has tried and he can’t do it; he just ends up looking slightly surprised instead.  ‘I wasn’t dissing Simon at all; bottoming and giving head are an art.’

‘Come off it; that’s not how you said it at all.  And I’m not giving you any details about what we do in bed.’

‘Spoilsport,’ pouts Nils.  ‘Is it good, though?’

‘Yeah, it’s good.’

‘And is it serious?  You and him?’

‘I think it could be.  We’ve only been together for three months.  Nearly three months, anyway.’

‘You want it to be, though.’  A statement.  Not a question.  Nils finally seems to be getting it.

‘Yeah.  It’s complicated, though, isn’t it, for me?’

Nils shrugs.  ‘That’s why it’s better to keep things secret.’

‘I get that, and we’ve kept it secret so far, and that’s been good, because it’s been just us and we’ve still been getting to know each other, figure out what this thing is.  But I hate the sneaking around, and so does Simon.  I mean, it was exciting at first, but I can see that it’s gonna start to get old pretty soon.  I want to show him off; I’m so proud that he’s mine, that he chose me-’  At this point, Nils mimes vomiting.  ‘-Stop it!  But I know it’s not that easy.  The attention…’

‘I’m not going to pretend that I understand that.  I guess that the only person who would get it would be Erik.  Which is why you asked about him in the first place, right?  Are you going to come out to him?’

‘I want to.  And to my parents, but him first.  Baby steps, you know?  Actually I’ve wanted to for a little while, since before I even came here, or met Simon.  And it’s not like he and I don’t have a good relationship, because we do-’

‘But?’

‘What was he like when he was here, in his, uh, dating life?’

‘Different girl every month, from what I could tell.’

‘OK.  That’s pretty much what I thought.  From what he’s told me, his attitude is very much, treat them mean, keep them keen.   And I feel like he expected, when I started here, that I would be exactly the same, but that’s so not me.  It’s stupid, because he knows how unlike him I am in just about every other aspect of my life, so I don’t know why he thinks that this is the one area where we’d be the same.’

‘I guess that people just assume that you’re straight until you tell them otherwise,’ says Nils.

‘Yeah, but it’s just as much the not sleeping around part as the queer part,’ muses Wilhelm.  ‘He probably thinks that I ought to be playing the field, sowing my wild oats, just like he did.  Does.’

‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,’ smirks Nils.

‘I’m not knocking it.  If that’s your jam, have at it.  I just don’t think it’s mine.’

‘You know you’re not going to find out what he thinks unless you actually just talk to him, don’t you?’

‘Yeah.  It’s hard, though.  I’ve got all these scenarios in my head.  Like, “Hey Erik, I’ve heard that you were really into homophobic hazing rituals back in the day.  It’s a good job they got rid of them because otherwise they’d have found out about me right away.  Surprise!”’

Nils laughs.  ‘Yeah.  And then he’ll reply, “Oh, Wille, you know I love you despite your unnatural desires, and of course it’s fine if you want to be with a man, even though you are a prince and that has literally never happened in the entire history of all royalty.”’

‘Actually, that is kind of what I was hoping for,’ admits Wilhelm sheepishly.

‘Well, you won’t find out until you try,’ says Nils, and then adds, ‘Jesus, I’m a fine one to be giving advice about coming out, when I’ve found it so hard to do myself.’

‘I thought you were going to tell your friends?’

‘Hmm.  As well as being in the closet, I am also a total coward.  I’ll probably leave it until studenten when I won’t have to face them afterwards if I don’t have to.’

‘I’ll keep everything crossed for you,’ says Wilhelm.

‘Thank you.  I will for you, too.’

Wilhelm leaves Nils’ room an hour later, full of more coffee and biscuits, borderline questionable advice, and even more dread about talking to Erik than he had when he went in there.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm has been stewing for weeks about when and how he’s going to talk to Erik.  They’ve facetimed each other during that period, as they normally would, but it’s all been the usual superficial stuff rather than anything in depth.  Wilhelm is not about to raise the subjects he actually wants to discuss with Erik over the phone; that’s something that he needs to do in person.  After his conversation with Nils, he has talked to both Simon and Felice about it.  Both are sympathetic, but Simon doesn't know Erik, and Felice only fleetingly.  Neither of them actually understands the relationship that Wilhelm has with him, but after August’s revelations, Wilhelm’s no longer sure that he understands it himself.

Erik is four years older than him.  Not a huge gap, but wide enough that they didn’t really become close until Erik was in his mid teens and Wilhelm was eleven or twelve.  Up until that point, Wilhelm had absolutely hero worshipped his older brother, but as he became old enough to develop a more mature relationship with Erik, they began to see each other more as equals.  They started to ride together, and sail in the summer, and occasionally Erik would let him tag along if he was going to a football match or a concert.  They weren’t able to do that as much when Erik started at Hillerska, but they managed.

Erik is probably the only person in the world with whom Wilhelm can discuss royal stuff, and, lately, his growing awareness of his antipathy towards it.  Although he is always happy to offer advice and sympathy, Wilhelm feels like Erik doesn’t really get it.  His suggestions as to how to deal with it usually amount to suck it up, which isn’t exactly helpful.  Wilhelm has always known that how he is treated in the family, and how Erik is treated, are two different things, and whilst that sucks, he has never resented Erik for it.  It's not Erik’s fault that he’s the heir and gets preferential treatment whatever he does.  If anything, Wilhelm is grateful that it’s Erik in that position, with the responsibility of one day being the monarch, and not him.  Whatever pressure he’s under now, it’s nothing compared to what Erik must feel; he’s welcome to it.

Erik is the sort of guy who has lots of good friends, plenty of people to hang out with if he so chooses, but none that can really be described as close.  That falls to Wilhelm; he knows that he is probably the only person that Erik trusts enough to talk to about his personal life.  ‘You’re the only one I can talk to,’ Erik often says.  These more personal revelations are a more recent development; it probably only started once Erik graduated Hillerska, and Wilhelm supposes it’s an honour, really, that Erik chooses to confide in him, although he probably knows more about Erik’s sex life than he’d really like to.  He thinks that when Erik tells him that stuff, he’s trying to engage in laddish banter, maybe in order to bring out that side of Wilhelm himself, and fuck, he’s really barking up the wrong tree.  Wilhelm can’t imagine ever talking about Simon with the casual disrespect that Erik shows to his… girlfriends?  Conquests?  He’d like to get to the point where he would feel comfortable talking to Erik about his relationship with Simon, but it doesn’t feel right any more, especially with what he’s found out.

Wilhelm is awoken on the morning of his seventeenth birthday by a knock on the door of his bedroom, but instead of the usual morning greeting of a disinterested voice telling him the time and the weather forecast, there’s silence, so he ignores it until he hears it again.  ‘Uh, come in?’ he calls out, and in walks Simon, singing Cumpleaños feliz - favourite line: when Simon lapses back into Swedish to sing, ‘min Wille’ - and using his hand to shield the flame of a one and a seven candle atop the cutest cupcake.  Wilhelm could definitely get used to the warmth that this gives him, this feeling of being completely safe, and cherished, and loved by Simon.

Once Simon has finished singing, Wilhelm blows out his candles and sits up in bed so that he can kiss his boyfriend properly.  Thoroughly.  Lengthily.  He’s still a little sleepy but that does nothing to dampen his enthusiasm.

‘Happy birthday,’ says Simon, when he eventually pulls away, slightly breathless.  ‘I got you a little present as well,’ he says, handing Wilhelm a small parcel wrapped very badly in blue.  ‘Sorry, I’m shit at wrapping.’

Wilhelm opens his gift; it’s a frog dressed in the blue stripes of Djurgården.  He is, quite frankly, amazed that Simon would have paid enough attention to notice that a) he loves frogs, and b) he supports Djurgården.  He’s seriously going to have to up his game before Simon’s birthday comes.  ‘How…’ he starts, but he’s laughing too much to continue.  ‘I’m going to call him Haris,’ he announces eventually.  ‘After my favourite player.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ says Simon.

‘You know absolutely nothing about football, do you?’

‘No.  But Google can be very useful at times,’ admits Simon, embarrassed.

‘Well, I’m really touched,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I love him.’  He kneels on his bed so that he can place Haris on his shelf.  The duvet falls away as he does so; when he turns back round Simon is staring at his body, entranced.  Wilhelm knows that look.

‘Somehow I think we’re going to have to share that cupcake, aren’t we?’ he asks.  ‘Because we’re not going to have time to go to breakfast.’

‘Why not?’ asks Simon.

‘I get the idea that you’re hungry for something else.  And it is my birthday,’ he adds lasciviously.

Ten minutes later - they are nothing if not efficient when it’s required - they are getting dressed, both of them with happy grins on their faces.  ‘I forgot to say,’ says Simon, ‘because you distracted me.  We’re doing something tonight, but I’m not going to tell you what.  Felice and I have organised it, and all I’m going to tell you is that we’re getting the six o’clock bus, OK?’

Wilhelm spends the day not paying attention to anything because he’s too busy wondering what they’re going to be doing later.  He thinks he’s probably going to fail the maths test he takes, and in PE he gets pelted on the shoulder by a dodgeball that he doesn’t dodge, but he doesn’t mind any of it, because it’s his birthday, and he’s going to spend the evening with Simon.  A bunch of other people too, but, most importantly, Simon.

When he gets to the bus stop, Simon is there waiting for him.  So is a group of their other friends, chatting excitedly amongst themselves, but they quieten as he approaches.  ‘Shhh!’ says Maddie.  ‘Don't give anything away!’  To be honest, he doesn't care if they do let the cat out of the bag; it's not as if it will make him enjoy the evening any less.  His friends want to spend time with him, to help him celebrate, and he's touched that they do.  Hillerska is the first place where he's ever felt that he has proper friends; he can see now that all those kids who used to fawn over him and want him to hang out with them at his old school were just doing it for bragging rights and Insta likes, a notion that was proved correct when they all fell by the wayside when he came here.

He sits next to Simon on the bus.  Everything is perfectly above board; there are no whispered words, not too much covert touching.  OK, so maybe their thighs are pressing together slightly more than is strictly platonic, maybe their pinkies are brushing against each other, maybe there are looks, but it’s not illegal to look, right?  Surely not anything that anyone might notice.

Eventually, the bus pulls up outside a pizza restaurant called Tompas.   They get off and are walking towards the door when Wilhelm spots a suspiciously familiar-looking Ferrari right outside, flanked by a blacked out Volvo XC90.  That's when Wilhelm grabs Simon’s hand, stops still and says, ‘You didn't?  Really?  Oh my God, Simon!’

‘No, I didn't,’ says Simon, a little hesitant, ‘but maybe Felice did?  Is that OK?’

Is it?  Wilhelm's not sure.  He's really happy to have the opportunity to hang out with his brother after so long apart - he hasn't seen him since Easter, after all - but so much has changed in that time that it's added a degree of apprehension to his thinking.  There's a conversation that he needs to have with Erik, and he knows that that’s unlikely to happen tonight, but he's nervous that it will affect his behaviour with his brother.

The others have gone ahead and it’s just him and Simon standing outside talking.  ‘I still haven't spoken to him,’ Wilhelm says, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear, or at least making the motion to do so; he always forgets that his hair’s not as long as it used to be.  ‘About… you know.’

‘You can save that for another time,’ Simon reassures him.  ‘I’m not trying to force you or anything.  We just thought you'd like to see him on your birthday.  Hang out, have some fun, eat pizza and sing some songs.’  Songs?  Wilhelm must look surprised because Simon adds, ‘They have karaoke.  But don't worry, Felice rented out the whole place, so you won't suddenly appear on the internet singing Gimme!  Gimme!  Gimme!  (A Man After Midnight) at the top of your lungs.’

‘Yeah, that won't happen, because I would never in a million years do that, but I very much appreciate the gesture,’ says Wilhelm.

‘One day,’ says Simon simply.  ‘One day I'm gonna get you to sing something completely inappropriate.’

‘Well, that song is in fact extremely appropriate,’ whispers Wilhelm.  ‘Especially if the man after midnight is you.’

Simon shuts up then; Wilhelm loves it when he says things that are flirty enough to have that effect.  Simon gives him one last reassuring kiss and then they walk into the restaurant.   Wilhelm sees Malin and Joakim, Erik's security, before he sees Erik himself, standing in the middle of the room chatting to Felice and Sara as if he were completely used to hanging out with high school students in dingy-looking pizza restaurants in the middle of nowhere.  Wilhelm has never understood how he can just do that, how he can just fit in with any group of people within seconds of meeting them, can make small talk and behave as if he's known them forever.  They've both received training in it, yet Erik's the one who makes it look so effortless, whereas he usually stands there looking awkward and holding his hands behind his back to stop himself biting his nails.

Erik spots him and excuses himself from his conversation, bounding over to hug Wilhelm and say, ‘Happy birthday, lillebror.’   Whatever misgivings Wilhelm may have about their relationship, he's happy to see Erik and hugs right back.  He sometimes feels like his brother thinks his hugs go a bit overboard, but today is not one of those days, and Erik seems happy to see him.

Wilhelm introduces Erik to all of his friends, adding a small piece of information about each one as he does so, in the way that they've been taught, so that Erik might be able to chat with them more easily later.  ‘This is Maddie, an American exchange student; this is Henry, who's on the rowing team with me; this is my friend Simon, who lives here in Bjärstad.’  Erik's eyebrows rise at that last one, but he doesn't say anything.

‘No August?’ asks Erik.

‘Why on earth would August be invited?’ replies a bemused Wilhelm.

‘Uh, because he's our cousin?  I thought we'd be celebrating together, that's all.’

‘Yeah, no.  None of us can stand him,’ explains Wilhelm.  ‘He's a complete prick.’

‘He cares about you, you know?’

‘No, he doesn't,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘He cares about how pretending to care about me makes him look to you and to Mum.  He's full of shit.’

‘You should give him a break,’ says Erik, but this is not a topic of discussion that Wilhelm wants to continue, so he grabs a slice of pizza and the book with the list of songs in it and starts leafing through it.

Maddie and Felice are already out front, belting out their… unique… version of Telephone; Maddie does not particularly give off any Gaga vibes - and to be honest is rather offkey - but Felice has gone full Beyoncé and it's something to behold.  Wilhelm slams the book shut and says to his brother, ‘We're doing Don't Stop Me Now, OK?’

‘Sure,’ says Erik, and Wilhelm goes over to the bar to add it to the list, a perfect way to shut down whatever discussion Erik wants to have about how great August is.

They have to wait for Henry and Walter to finish murdering their version of I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor - Wilhelm will give them the benefit of the doubt because the words are really fast - but then it's their turn, and Wilhelm had no idea before now that this side of Erik exists.  He can actually hold a tune really well - nowhere near Simon's standard, but who could be? - and there's an element of showmanship about him too.  Maybe it's always been there, maybe it's a product of having cameras in his face his entire life, but it's undeniable, and Wilhelm misses the start of the second verse because he's laughing so hard.

Wilhelm duets with Felice on Don't Go Breaking My Hear t and with Alex on Don't Look Back In Anger.   He very deliberately doesn't duet with Simon; it feels like the lyrics of even the most innocuous songs are loaded with hidden meaning, that they could be misinterpreted - or, more to the point, interpreted completely correctly.

Simon sings a song with his sister - We Are Family is a bit on the nose, but they do a great job - but everybody else is a little intimidated by the idea of singing with him and being completely and utterly overshadowed by that voice, as of course they would be, and he ends up singing solo.  Wilhelm's eyes are on him like magnets, and he's probably going to give himself away, but he's powerless to do otherwise.  He tells himself that Simon is having the same effect on everyone though.

It's towards the end of the evening that Simon launches into his pièce de résistance: a stunning version of Can’t Pretend.   He looks at Wilhelm for pretty much the entire song; Wilhelm feels like the lyrics were written specifically for him, like the sound of Simon’s voice singing them is entering his bloodstream and becoming a part of him.

Oh, feel our bodies grow
And our souls they play, yeah
Yeah love I hope you know
How much my heart depends, yeah
I guess that’s love
I can’t pretend

When Simon sings those lines, Wilhelm has a hard time not melting on the spot.  The lyrics are beautiful, but Wilhelm knows that Simon didn’t choose the song for that reason; he's sending him a message, isn't he?  About how he’d like to be more open about them, about their relationship.  It's what Wilhelm wants too, eventually.

Wilhelm does his best to appear like Simon and his voice are having no effect on him at all.  He doesn't know how well he has succeeded, not until later when he and Erik are in the Ferrari, driving back to school, and something Erik says makes him realise that his brother has absolutely no clue at all.

‘That Simon guy,’ starts Erik.  ‘How long have you been friends with him?’

The lurch in Wilhelm’s stomach has nothing to do with the speed at which Erik takes the next corner.  Despite the amount of time he's spent thinking about how he's going to raise the topic of him and Simon with his brother, now that he has the perfect opportunity to do it, he chokes.  Especially when Erik's tone of voice is implying that he's not exactly happy that Wilhelm is even friends with Simon, let alone anything more.  Wilhelm's reply is guarded.

‘A few months now,’ he says carefully.  ‘Why?’

‘I don't know, I just don’t think it’s very wise for you to mix with non-res kids, especially when you consider the circumstances that led you to Hillerska in the first place.’

Wilhelm sighs.  ‘You sound just like August,’ he complains.  ‘Do you think I care about shit like that?  Simon and Sara are really cool.  They've both been good friends to me.’

‘I don't know about her,’ says Erik, ‘but I think he definitely has ulterior motives.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Erik, I think I've learnt to read people well enough that I can tell if they want to be friends with a prince or with me.’

‘No, I don't mean like that.  It just seems completely obvious to me that he's gay-’

‘And?’

Jesus, maybe Erik is even more homophobic than Wilhelm feared.  He's implying that Wilhelm shouldn't even be friends with Simon because of his sexuality.  It's making Wilhelm feel like he might vomit.

‘Wille, he's in love with you.  I don't know how you haven't noticed.’

Wilhelm doesn't know what to say to that.  There are so many different options and he's trying to work out which is the least worst.  There's no point trying to deny what Erik is saying; it's as obvious to him as it is to anybody else.  Eventually he says, ‘Of course I've noticed.’

‘Well then, maybe you need to keep your distance a little bit.  It wouldn't be a great look for you if the press gets hold of it.’

‘Yeah, well it also wouldn't be a great look for me if I dumped a really good friend just for being queer, so that's not gonna be happening.’

Erik sighs as if Wilhelm is trying his patience, getting on his last nerve, but Wilhelm could not give less of a shit.

‘You know that in our position, we have to be conscious of the optics of absolutely everything.  Everything we do or say, every person with whom we choose to associate, will be under scrutiny.’

‘Newsflash, Erik: it's 2021.  I think that Sweden is progressive enough that having queer friends is not actually a bad optic.’

‘Of course I'm not saying that,’ says Erik, frustration resonating in his voice.  ‘I'm not homophobic.  I'm just saying that you don't want rumours to start.’

‘Hate to say it, but what you're saying is completely homophobic.  I don't give a shit what people say about me.  They've said stuff about me my entire life.’

‘I just think that from a PR point of view-’

‘Erik, just fucking drop it, alright?’  Wilhelm is shouting now, and he's probably giving himself away by showing how emotional this discussion is making him, but he could not give less of a fuck.  The rest of the journey back to school only takes a further five minutes, but it's conducted in thick, tense silence.  Erik pulls up outside Forest Ridge house, braking sharply in a spray of gravel, and gets out of the car, walking round to the passenger side to where Wilhelm is standing awkwardly.

‘Thanks for coming to my birthday,’ Wilhelm says, slightly grudgingly.

Erik embraces him gently, but Wilhelm is kind of pissed at him, and his hug back is half-hearted at best.

‘Sorry,’ says Erik, and Wilhelm would really like to know exactly what he's sorry for, but he's not going to start another row right now.  It's late and he has to give a presentation about Sweden’s role in the second world war in the morning, which will include discussion of how his own ancestors did not exactly cover themselves in glory during that period.  He’s not particularly looking forward to it, and he doesn’t have the energy to argue on top of that.

Instead, he just says, ‘OK,’ but he knows this conversation is not over, not by a long shot.

‘You’ll be home for nationaldagen, right?’ says Erik.  Wilhelm nods.  ‘We’ll talk then, OK?’

‘I guess.’  Wilhelm says this with little enthusiasm.  He knows already that that’s going to be when he and Erik really thrash this out, and he also knows that he can’t stretch this out much longer.  However much he’s realising just how homophobic his brother is, he can’t let this go on: he’s going to have to come out to Erik, whether he wants to or not, lay down some boundaries.  He owes it to himself, and he owes it to Simon.

____________________

It’s Friday evening.  Wilhelm talks to Simon about everything as he’s packing to go home for nationaldagen, which is on Sunday; he'll only be away three nights, but he doesn’t need much, most of it’s at Drottningholm already.  Just his toiletries, the Swedish essay he has to finish, and an old yellow t-shirt of Simon’s that smells of him.  Simon sits on his bed watching him as he gets ready.

‘I don’t want to go,’ he complains.  ‘Wanna stay here with you, and kiss your neck, and cuddle up together, and touch you, and-’  He stops himself before he gets carried away.

‘And?’ smirks Simon.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t act all innocent,’ he chides.  ‘You were going to say that you want to have sex, weren’t you?’

‘Yes.  But then I stopped myself because we don’t have enough time before the car gets here.  Would have been nice, though.’

‘Yeah,’ agrees Simon.

‘As soon as I get back, promise.’

‘How are you feeling about seeing Erik again?  After your argument?’

‘Not gonna lie: scared.  I’ve thought about what he said a lot, and I think he feels like he’s coming from a place of looking after me, but he just isn’t.  He says he’s not homophobic, but he totally is.  It’s my own fault, I guess: if I’d just had the guts to come out to him much sooner, then he wouldn’t have said all that shit, I know he wouldn’t.’

‘Hey, that’s enough of that,’ says Simon, getting up off the bed and holding him.  ‘This is not on you.  Absolutely not.  If anyone has a problem, it’s him.  You have to remember that.  We haven’t done anything wrong.  And it wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference if you were out to him or not; he'd still have had something to say about it.’

‘You don't know that.  You don't know him.’  Wilhelm tries to keep any anger out of his voice; he doesn't want this to turn into an argument with Simon.  He's already arguing with his brother and that's more than enough.

‘No,’ sighs Simon.  ‘I don't.  But I know his type; you've probably noticed that we're surrounded by privileged white boys just like him, the sort who think their opinions are so important that everyone needs to hear them.’

‘I'm a privileged white boy,’ points out Wilhelm.

‘You're a privileged queer white boy,’ says Simon.  ‘There's a difference.  Different experiences.  Makes you see things differently.’

‘Do you think so?’ asks Wilhelm, wonder in his voice.

‘Absolutely.  Being queer is a fucking superpower, Wille.  Try to remember that when you talk to Erik.’

____________________

Wilhelm loathes nationaldagen, always has done.  He's grateful that he's never had to dress up - although his mother goes all out in the whole traditional dress, apron and cap - but he still has to wear a suit, which always feels too restrictive, no matter how well tailored.  Then he's paraded in front of the cameras outside the Royal Palace, rictus grin plastered on his face in an attempt to make it look like he's enjoying himself.  Then a visit, to a hospital, or maybe a citizenship ceremony, and finally an open air concert.  Through all of it, he cannot let himself slip for one tiny second, cannot sneeze, wipe his nose, scratch his arse, cannot be human in any way, lest he should be caught on camera doing so.  By the end of the day, his shoulders absolutely ache with the tension of it.  He has never felt less patriotic in his life, and he seems to have that in common with most of the population, because barely anyone has shown up to watch him ride around in a horse-drawn carriage; he can’t really blame them.  The only people there are photographers; everybody else seems to give precisely zero fucks.

Consequently, he's not in the best of moods when his brother comes to his room.  They've only been back from the concert for twenty minutes and Wilhelm has barely had time to change into his pyjamas - or at least his pyjama bottoms and Simon's yellow t-shirt - but he's been expecting Erik’s knock.

‘Hey,’ says Erik.

‘Hey.’

‘Can I come in?’

Wilhelm shrugs.  ‘I guess.’

Erik walks in and perches on the window ledge.  He’s carrying a glass of what looks like whisky and takes a sip of it.  ‘Have you had a good day?’

‘You know that none of that stuff is really my thing,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I liked that girl group at the concert, but that was about it.’

‘Ah yes.  You know Lena, the one with the red hair?  Close personal friend, if you know what I mean.’  He wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Wilhelm rolls his eyes.  ‘Right,’ he says.

‘Amazing body, and fuck, so athletic.  I could barely keep up.’

‘Stop,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I don't want to know.’

‘Oh, come on, Wille, don't be a spoilsport.  I'm sure you've got a few tales of your own, now that you're living away from home, right?’

‘Nothing that I want to share,’ says Wilhelm.

‘So there is something!’   Erik pounces on Wilhelm’s choice of words, a predatory tiger grin appearing on his face.

‘Fuck off, Erik.’

‘Oh, but I want details,’ whines Erik.  ‘Who is she?  Is she hot?  Good in bed?  You know you can talk to me about anything.’

‘Can I, though?’ Wilhelm replies testily.  ‘Cuz it seemed to me you were pretty fucking judgy about my friends last time we talked about it.’

Erik puts his drink down and crosses his arms, almost defensively.  ‘I apologised for that,’ he says.

‘You apologised to stop the argument.  I don't believe that you did it because you were actually sorry.’

Erik sighs.  ‘Maybe you're right.  I still think that-’

‘Yeah, no.  Don't wanna hear it.’

‘So you're still friends with Simon?’

‘Clearly,’ says Wilhelm, and this is the moment.  This is his opportunity to say what needs to be said, and fuck, for all that he’s been thinking about barely anything else for the last week, he should really have rehearsed this in his head a bit more, thought about what words he would need to use, because he's going to fuck this up, he knows it.  ‘More than friends, actually,’ he says.

And of course that's not going to be enough to explain everything, especially when Erik is still under the misapprehension that Wilhelm is as straight as a ruler.  Erik just looks mildly confused.

‘What, like he's your best friend now?’ asks Erik, clearly trying to rationalise what Wilhelm’s saying, to make it fit within the parameters that he's still imagining Wilhelm lives within.

‘No,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘We're… a thing.  We have a thing.  A relationship thing.’

Erik flinches.  Well, at least he's starting to get the right idea.  But then he starts speaking, and clearly Wilhelm has made a bad choice of words, has not emphasised enough exactly how much he feels for Simon, how much they feel for each other.

‘What, in a friends with benefits kind of way?  That's crazy!  You're a prince!  Has Hillerska changed so much that you don't have girls throwing themselves at you?  I mean, I know one mouth's just as good as any other when you want to get blown, but are things really that bad that you-’

‘Shut up!’ shouts Wilhelm.  ‘You don't know anything about it!’

‘Then you need to explain it to me.  Is it like a bro thing?  Like two bros helping each other out during a dry spell, or something?  Because I don't understand why someone who's straight would want to hook up with a guy.’  For fuck’s sake.  Wilhelm has never realised until now how dense his brother can be at times.

‘Well, clearly I'm not straight, you idiot.  And we're not just hooking up, either.  You already realised that he's in love with me, at the karaoke last week.  You just failed to notice that I'm in love with him, too.  I should have been clearer about that, obviously.’

‘Don't be stupid; you're not gay,’ Erik scoffs.

Wilhelm is not about to get into the complicated issue of his sexual identity.  Just because he's only ever liked boys, it doesn't mean…

‘I prefer “queer,” actually.’

‘Jesus, Wille, this is so on brand for you.’  Erik mutters, his tone so disdainful that it's making Wilhelm's eyes feel hot, but he is not going to cry; he won't give Erik the satisfaction.

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ he spits.

‘There's always something, isn't there?  Getting thrown out of nightclubs, not wanting to be royal, and now you're suddenly “queer.”’  Erik actually does finger quotes, and it’s difficult to miss the sneer in his voice.  ‘All of it's just a cry for attention.  I can only think that you're just reacting against the spotlight that’s on me, as crown prince.’

‘I don't even know where to start with all that,’ scoffs Wilhelm.  ‘I've always been queer; it's not “sudden.”  When I made the football team when I was nine?  Queer.  When you took me to that Zara Larsson gig a few years ago?  Queer.  When we went sailing last summer?  Queer-’

‘Yeah, alright, I get the idea,’ interrupts Erik.

‘And then for you to say that I'm just reacting to the amount of attention you get… be for fucking real, man.  Not everything's about you.  This… this is me.  This is mine.  This is who I am.’

‘But you're not gay gay.’

‘Meaning what, exactly?’

‘You don't…  I don't know, you don't look gay.’

‘What, because I don't wear crop tops and jewellery, or swish my hips?  Would you like me to talk with a more feminine voice?  Would it make it easier if I did?  Would it help you if I walked around with a big neon sign above my head, helpfully proclaiming my sexuality?  As far as I'm aware the only qualification you need is to be attracted to men, and trust me, I more than fulfil the entry requirements on that score.’

Erik looks slightly nauseated.  He shifts uncomfortably on the ledge where he's sitting.  ‘You're not-  You don't-’ he stutters.

Wilhelm gets up off his bed, moves closer to his brother.  ‘Whatever it is you're thinking, I am and I do.’

‘I just can't believe-’

‘Say it!’  Wilhelm's feeling dangerously angry now.  He knows exactly what Erik's getting at, but he's fucking well going to make him say the words.

‘You're having sex with-’

‘Yup.’  Wilhelm gives a proud smile.  ‘Nice of you to reduce our entire relationship to sex, by the way.  Classy.  But I guess that's what you're used to.’  Is it petty to swipe at Erik like that?  Yes.  But fuck, it feels good.

‘I just-  I don't know, a blowjobs's a blowjob, right?’ Erik laughs nervously.

‘You seem to have the idea that our sex life consists solely of me getting blowjobs.’

‘Doesn't it?’  Erik’s voice is a little strangled; he actually sounds like he’s holding out a shred of hope, grabbing onto it like it’s a lifejacket.  It’s clear that he desperately wants to believe that Wilhelm has never given head, has never taken it in the arse, wants to think that there are different levels of queerness and that Wilhelm is only level one: just a little bit.  Which, even if that were true, would not make Wilhelm any less queer than he is.  But Erik’s attitude is pissing him off and he’s going to put a stop to it, right the fuck now.

‘That would make it easier for you, wouldn't it?’ asks Wilhelm, his voice dangerously soft.  ‘To imagine that I don't do anything with Simon that I couldn't do with a girl?  To imagine that he's the “woman” and I'm still all man?’  Erik is standing up, making as if to leave the room, but Wilhelm blocks his path.  ‘Don't run away; you need to hear this.  Would that make it less queer somehow, if that was how we did it?  Even if that were the case - and it's not, by the way - but even if it were, we're both men.  Whatever we do in bed, it is queer sex, because we are both men.’

‘Wille, I don't think I really-’

‘Shut up.  I'm on a roll here.  I am queer.  Simon is queer.  I have a cock, he has a cock, and I bloody love it,’ shouts Wilhelm.  He knows he's going too far, but he's too angry to care.  ‘I love sucking his cock, because I love him, but also because I just really love sucking cock.  And you know what else?  We wank each other off, and we rim each other, and we fuck each other, and I fucking love all of it!’

Erik's nose is wrinkling like there’s a bad smell in the room.  His distaste could not be more obvious.  He picks up his glass and downs the rest of the whisky in one go.

‘Yes, Erik.  Anal sex.  You should try it sometime, get one of those models or actresses you’re so fond of to peg you.  You never know, you might like it.  Although, maybe not, because it would mean that you’d have to take that massive stick out of your arse-’

‘Enough!’ shouts Erik.

And Wilhelm knows Erik’s right, knows that he’s gone too far, but Erik is just making him so fucking angry, is trying to make him feel like he’s some sort of pervert, and that’s so wrong that he can’t stop just like that.  ‘No, it's not!   You don't know me!  All you know is this idea you've got of me, and it's all wrong, all of it!’  Wilhelm stops, takes a breath.  His voice feels rough; he's been shouting too much.  He needs to wind it in a little.  He pushes past Erik to get to the window, opening it as far as the creaking architecture of the palace allows, and takes a few gulps of cool air.

He says, more quietly this time, ‘Simon is amazing.  Can't you see how happy he makes me?  And I know you won't understand, because you have a different woman every week, but I love him.  I love him, I'm in love with him, I want to be with him.’

‘You're too young to know that,’ says Erik.  He hasn't gone to sit back down yet, but it doesn't look like he still wants to run away.  He's calmer now, his intonation matching Wilhelm's.

‘Plenty of people find the love of their life when they're young, you know.  I know you haven't, and that's fine, but I have.  And that's fine too.’  Wilhelm pauses for a moment and wonders if that’s going too far, to say that Simon is the love of his life, but he dismisses the thought.  He’s absolutely certain of it.  He’s proud to say it.  ‘Can we… can we go sit?’ he asks his brother, gesturing to the sofa in his sitting room.  It's a more neutral place for a discussion than his bed.  Simon hasn't actually visited here yet, but Wilhelm's sure that Erik’s head is probably full of images of the two of them getting up to all sorts.  That's as much his fault as it is Erik’s - something that he's starting to regret - but it's still probably best to steer his brother away from his bed.

Wilhelm picks up his gaming handsets from the sofa and puts them on the floor to make space for them both to sit down.  He's thinking of how he phrased what he said earlier - all those times we gamed together?  Queer! - and it makes him smile.  However badly his coming out has gone thus far - and let's be honest, it's been pretty fucking bad - he's still done it, and it's still lifted a weight.

‘Are you going to tell Mum and Dad?’ asks Erik.

‘Yes,’ he says carefully.  ‘Although hopefully not in as much detail as I went into with you.  I'm not going to apologise, because you deserved it, but… yeah, you didn't need to know all that.  I’m going to tell them soon, I think.  I just… the second I say anything to them, the whole thing’s going to escalate, isn't it?  PR, public statements, interviews: I can see it already.  And to be honest, I'd really rather not.’

‘I'm sorry,’ says Erik.  ‘I shouldn't have gone there.  I guess I was in shock.  I just had no idea.  You've never said a word.’

‘You saw what you wanted to see.  I mean, admittedly, I've never been as blatant about it in the past as I have tonight, and I probably should have said more on my birthday, but I have said plenty.  You just weren't listening.’

‘I'm listening now,’ says Erik, and he sounds sincere, but Wilhelm just doesn't know.

He pulls his legs up, hugs his knees, rests his chin on them, and takes a deep breath, drawing strength from the very faint scent of Simon on his t-shirt.

‘I was eight the first time I liked a boy,’ he says.

‘Eight?’  Erik sounds shocked.

‘How old were you, the first time you liked a girl?’ challenges Wilhelm.

Erik smiles.  ‘Yeah, OK, fair enough.’

‘I didn’t know what it was, or what it meant, or anything like that.  I just thought that he looked pretty when he smiled and that he played football like a god.  I liked the way my stomach swooped when I looked at him, and that was all.  What was nice, though, was that I didn’t question it; that came later.  When I realised what it meant.  Not for me in myself, but in terms of other people, and what they would think about it.’

A lightbulb suddenly goes on in Erik’s eyes.  ‘I’m just remembering.  There was a kid when you were about eleven.  You wouldn’t shut up about him.  Alex.  Or was it Adam?  No - Albin.’

‘Oh my God, Albin,’ reminisces Wilhelm.  ‘I was crushing on him for months.  He had a girlfriend though.’

‘Oh yeah,’ says Erik.  ‘Been there.’  It’s a small thing, really, but it gives Wilhelm some hope that Erik is willing to see this his way, that he might not always think of him as different.  But then he remembers that he still has to talk to him about Hillerska and what happened there, and the hope dies as quickly as it appeared.

‘You were there the first time I saw Simon; you must have seen my reaction.  Did you not wonder?’

Erik takes a moment to consider his response.  ‘Not at the time,’ he says.  ‘I just thought you liked his singing.  But when I think about it now, it’s kind of obvious.’

‘I think this is the first time that I’ve been in love before, you know.  Properly.  I mean, I’ve had crushes, but this… this is not that.  Simon, he sees me.  Me me, not the prince.  In fact, he doesn’t give a shit about that; he probably hates it as much as I do.’

‘Ah.  That’s what this is about, then,’ says Erik, and has he not been listening to a bloody word Wilhelm’s been saying?

‘No, Erik.  What this is about is that I love him.  You think that being queer and being in love with Simon are both some sort of act of rebellion.  But it’s not like that.  Neither of them are things that I can help.  You don’t get that, and you seem to have a problem with it.  And I know you’re not going to be the only one, but I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this work.’

‘That's just the way it is for us.  You know that,’ says Erik.

‘Yeah… but I don't want it to be.  With Simon, I don't want to keep everything hidden; he deserves better.  He deserves the world.  But I don't want to have to make some big announcement.  You never had to go on national TV and say, "Good evening, Sweden.  I fancy girls,” did you?’

‘It's not the same,’ says Erik.

‘It's exactly the same,’ spits Wilhelm.  ‘Have you noticed that you have a habit of saying, “I'm not homophobic”?’

‘What?  But I'm not!’

‘Erik, your queer brother is here to tell you that you absolutely are.  I-  Fuck.  I-  August told me about his initiation.’

Erik bites his lip.  ‘Oh.’

‘Is that all you've got to say about it?’

‘It wasn't my idea,’ protests Erik.

‘But you didn't do anything to stop it.’

‘It was just a bit of fun.  We didn't mean anything by it.’  Erik is saying these words like he’s repeating lines, trotting out tired excuses that he’s made before.  All the while he’s doing so, he’s looking at his hands and not at Wilhelm.

‘If you really thought it was “just a bit of fun,” you wouldn’t look like you do now.  You look embarrassed.  And you should be.’

‘I didn’t know then that you were gay, did I?’ pleads Erik, as if that’s some sort of excuse.

‘Queer,’ Wilhelm corrects.  ‘And that doesn’t make any difference.  You still shouldn’t have done it even if I were straight.  I’m not expecting you to claim that you’re suddenly an ally or whatever, but what you did was really fucking low.  Especially when it must have been done to you, too.  You had to do that for your initiation as well, right?’

‘Right,’ says Erik.  ‘And yes, it was uncomfortable, but I got through it.  I agree it was unpleasant, but it helped me bond with my classmates.’

‘You’re not seriously going to sit here and defend what you did?  Christ!  It was so bad that August - August of all people, and it must be the one decent thing he’s ever done in his life - decided that he couldn’t inflict it on anyone else.  But that never occurred to you?’

‘I-’ starts Erik, but Wilhelm doesn’t let him get any further.

‘Wait, did you know that August had put a stop to it?  Did he tell you?’

‘No, not at the time.  He told me later, after your initiation.’

‘Right.  So you thought that they were going to do that to me, as part of my initiation, and you were perfectly fine with that.  Didn’t even warn me.  You left me there.  After you dropped me off on that first day, you knew how anxious I was about being there, you knew how much I didn’t want to go, and you knew what I was in for, but you just left me there.

‘I think what makes it worse is that I’ve always looked up to you.  I thought you were the best big brother that I could ever have had, but this…  I don’t know, it’s just made me think, made me wonder why I was so worried about making you proud.  Whenever I’ve put myself through events, like I did today, I always did it so that Mum and Dad would be proud of me, but also so that you would be, too.  But it’s like the scales have fallen from my eyes now.  I’m wondering why I ever bothered.  You’re all the same-’

‘That’s not true,’ says Erik, reaching forward to touch Wilhelm’s arm, but Wilhelm pulls back.  That’s really not going to help right now.

‘So you’d be happy for me to come out?  Happy for me to wander around Stockholm holding Simon’s hand?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ says Erik, far too quickly.

‘I guess that’s all the answer I need,’ says Wilhelm, struggling to hide the dejection in his voice.  He started off this conversation angry, but now he’s just sad.

‘Wille, be reasonable.  The media…’

‘I hate the media just as much as you do,’ snaps Wilhelm.  ‘But what’s the alternative?  Find a nice girl who’s happy to act as a beard?  Pretend to be the eternal bachelor who’s far more interested in collecting stamps than being in a relationship?  All the while seeing Simon in secret?  Denying who I am?  I can’t do it.  I won’t.  In this family, we keep secrets from each other.  We lie.  We pretend to protect each other, because we're afraid of what could happen if we didn't.  We're afraid of the consequences.  I am too.  I'm scared as well.  But I’m not going to hide.  Even if I didn’t have Simon, I’d still have to be honest.’

‘I think that that would be very unwise,’ says Erik.  ‘Just… don’t do anything rash, alright?  You’re very young; the media doesn’t need to know anything about anything yet.  And then later, we can work with the PR team, make this as smooth as possible.  We can work something out.’

God, Wilhelm’s had enough of this.  Erik is not listening, and it doesn’t look like he’s about to start any time soon.  He sighs, gets up off the sofa and says, ‘It’s late, Erik.  Go to bed.’

‘But we haven’t finished discussing-’

‘We have,’ says Wilhelm firmly; he doesn’t have the energy for more of this.

‘Wille…’

‘Just go.  I have to be up at the crack of dawn to go back to school.  Go.’

Erik goes.

Chapter Text

After Wilhelm returns to Hillerska, there are only three days left of term; lessons have already finished and most of the students’ time is spent joining in with the third years’ graduation activities.  His heart is not really in it.  He has to act as a wine waiter at the graduates’ final dinner and keeps spilling it everywhere; eventually one of the teachers sends him to the kitchen to get him out of the way.  Simon is in there preparing food, so Wilhelm starts helping him.  Simon probably doesn’t need any help at all, but working together like this is nice, not to mention an opportunity to snatch a bit of time in each other’s company.  And some surreptitious touches.  And some whispered I love yous.  The third years will never find out that their desserts have been prepared by two boys who are paying more attention to each other than to the strawberries they’re supposed to be slicing, although the final presentation of the dishes leaves a lot to be desired.  Wilhelm drowns everything in icing sugar to hide it, and he and Simon end up with rather a lot of it on themselves too.

It’s a welcome distraction.  Wilhelm is not necessarily down as such; rather he’s pensive.  His mind is still bothered about his argument with Erik, and everything else in his head is getting pushed to one side.  In a way that’s good - it means that he’s not stressing as much as he might otherwise have about his impending summer separation from Simon - but mostly it’s just really tiring.  He knew one version of Erik, before, he realises now an idealised one, and that person has died, replaced with a new, truer version, Erik 2.0.  He’s grieving, in a way, and it’s stupid, because it’s for someone who never existed.

On the last night of term, the third years have gone all out with a massive party at palatset, to kick off their studenten celebrations.  Someone has gotten hold of some black lights, so everyone is dressed in white and has smeared fluorescent colours on their faces.  Wilhelm is not really in the mood for it himself, although he’s happy for them to celebrate; it means that Forest Ridge is empty and he and Simon can have some alone time.  Not for sex in particular, although obviously it’s not unlikely, but just to chill; this week has been crazy busy with end-of-term stuff and they’ve not really had a chance to spend any time together at all, or to discuss what happened between Wilhelm and Erik.

Simon is more than happy to ditch the party himself and stay with Wilhelm.  Both of them want to spend every last second together while they can, before they’re parted for the summer.  Even though it’ll only be two weeks before they see each other again - Wilhelm has arranged to visit Bjärstad in order to work together on a ‘joint project’ that they supposedly have to do over the summer holiday - it’s still two weeks longer than either of them would like.

The thing that he’s fixating on this evening is that his family is going to be coming to Hillerska tomorrow to attend August’s graduation, and that includes Erik.  He’s had no contact at all with his brother since their argument.  His phone is full of messages from Erik; he's read the first few but hasn't bothered with the rest, since they are all variations on the same theme.  We still need to talk.  I don't care that you're gay, we just need to think about how it looks.  Please call me.  Don't say anything to anyone.

They are on Wilhelm’s bed; Simon is sitting cross-legged in front of Wilhelm, with his back to him.  Wilhelm is kneeling so that he can massage Simon’s shoulders, something that they do often for each other after a stint out on the lake.  This afternoon was the last rowing session of the year, a race against Sprucewood that Forest Ridge had edged by half a boat length.  They’re lucky that they have each other for this, thinks Wilhelm; most of the other boys on the team would not be caught dead touching each other, even in this entirely platonic way, for fear that people might make assumptions.

‘I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to him,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I know I’m going to have to at some point; I’m just not sure if I’m there yet.’

‘If you do talk to him,’ replies Simon, ‘what do you-  Ah, fuck, there.  There.  That’s it.  If you do talk to him, what do you think you would say?’

‘Big knot, huh?’ asks Wilhelm.  Simon nods in reply.  Wilhelm continues, ‘I’d tell him that I’m ready.  Ready to come out, to my family at least, and ready to be public about us.  Or-  Well.  Not public, exactly, but not hiding any more.  I don’t want to hide you.  I’m so fucking proud of you.’  Wilhelm kisses Simon’s shoulder as he continues to work on it.

‘You’re making me blush,’ says Simon.  ‘And I agree with you, about being more open.  Completely.  I’m ready, too.  I think I was just waiting for you to be as well.  But I guess with you being who you are, it’s not going to be a small thing, and timing-wise, if you do it now, Erik’s going to say that it’s only because you’re pissed at him, and not because it’s right for you, or us.’

‘He’d probably be right,’ admits Wilhelm.  ‘But the whole thing with him has just been the catalyst.  You know how long we’ve been thinking about this.  Anyway, he can say what he wants.  He lost the right to have any input when I found out he’s a homophobic arsehole.’

‘He’s a product of his upbringing.  Of this place,’ points out Simon.  ‘Look at them all.  Vincent, August, Per, Krille, Henry.  I hate that I know which of them are noble, but I do.  We all do.  That’s what this school was set up to do originally: to teach rich white posh boys how to rule the world.  And sure, over the years they’ve let in girls, and people of colour, and a few token non-res people, but I don’t think it’s really changed much from its original purpose, has it?’

‘Probably not,’ says Wilhelm.

‘And all those boys, those interchangeable cookie cutter boys… their attitudes to queer people are all the same, too.  They probably don’t still think we’re sick in the head, or perverts who need to be imprisoned to keep everybody else safe, but they do laugh at us, they do think that that sort of thing is best kept behind closed doors, and they don’t want to believe that we can fall in love with each other, and make love with each other, just like they do, because that would mean that they would have to treat us as equals.  They’re like a hive mind, all thinking the same way.  Not just about that, but politically too.  Conservatives, the lot of them.  So, yeah, Erik probably just thinks the same things as all the other boys that this school churns out.’

‘That could’ve been me, too,’ shudders Wilhelm.

‘Nah, never,’ says Simon.  ‘You’ve got two things going for you that make that impossible.’

‘Which are?’

‘Being queer.  And me,’ he giggles, adding, ‘Obviously.’

Simon is so right.  He said it before: it’s a superpower.  The different perspective he has been given has saved him, in a way.  And thank fuck for that.  ‘I am truly blessed,’ sighs Wilhelm.

‘That you are,’ agrees Simon.  ‘But going back to Erik, I do think there might still be hope.’

‘I doubt it,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘He can’t even say the word queer.   He just says gay instead.  I feel like he thinks that queer, as a word, is too woke to cross his lips.’

‘He’ll get there.  Most people like him think the way they do because they don’t actually know any out queer people.  But now Erik does.  So he might still come round.  Give him time.’

‘I think I might have blown that out of the water.  I went into quite graphic detail when I was yelling at him.  About sex stuff.’  Wilhelm stops working on Simon’s shoulders at this point and moves around so that he can look at him and try to gauge his reaction.  ‘I was angry,’ he adds.

Simon smirks.  ‘Seriously?’  Wilhelm nods.  ‘What did you say to him?’

‘Fuck.  He-  OK, so he seemed to be under the impression that I was only with you because I couldn’t get a girl.  So I probably went into a bit too much detail about how much I love your cock.  And, uh, what I like to do with it.’

‘Wil-le!’  Simon says his name in a faux scandalised voice, pretends to clutch his pearls.

‘He deserved it.  But I feel kinda bad about it now.’

‘Why?  He was asking for it.’

‘Because-  I-’  Wilhelm can feel his face heating.  ‘He got what was coming to him, so I don’t feel bad about it for him.  But I do for you.  Because that’s ours.  And I like that it’s just for us and nobody else.’

‘You’re sweet,’ says Simon.  ‘But no need to worry on my account.  It’s flattering that you think my cock is so great that you want to tell everyone all about it.’

Wilhelm shifts on the bed so that he can give Simon’s arm a gentle slap.  ‘Someone’s very full of himself tonight.’

‘I’d rather be full of you,’ smirks Simon, but then his tone turns more serious.  ‘Would that help take your mind off things?’

‘What, for like ten minutes?’ Wilhelm teases.

‘Oh, I think I can stretch it out a bit longer than that,’ says Simon.

‘I’m not sure I can…’ starts Wilhelm, but then Simon is moving, has grabbed his arm and started kissing all the way along it, and words are no longer a priority.

Simon twists so that he can pin Wilhelm down, and it feels like he is kissing every inch of exposed skin that he can.  Wilhelm is desperate to kiss back, to taste Simon, to inhale him.  So he does.

It does, in fact, take longer than ten minutes.  Wilhelm lies on his back, his feet planted on the bed as he thrusts up into Simon, working him with his hand and admiring the way that from this angle, Simon’s neck arches backwards as he nears his climax.  As Wilhelm’s own orgasm crashes over him, as his body convulses in waves of honey sweet pleasure, he thinks that there is nothing in the world that he would rather be doing than this, nothing that could beat getting to express his love for Simon in this way, or to have Simon do the same for him.  He’s basking in it.

It’s only later that Wilhelm realises what an excellent distraction it was, that the thought of Erik did not cross his mind at all while he and Simon were otherwise occupied.  It’s later that Wilhelm is taking his turn to have his shoulders massaged, and they have returned to the subject of tomorrow, and how exactly they’re going to handle Erik.  And Kristina and Ludvig, but they are more of an unknown quantity.  With Erik, they know what to expect, even if it’s not brilliant.

‘I want to introduce you to him.  And to my parents,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘If you want to.’

‘That sounds good.  I mean, I'd like to meet Erik, if only so that he can see that I’m not the monster who turned his brother,’ - Wilhelm laughs at this, like Simon is some sort of queer vampire - ‘but I'm not sure if he'd like to meet me.  And as for your mum and dad… well, that’s slightly more terrifying, so I’m trying not to think about it.  Do you think it'll be OK?’

‘We’ve all been brought up to be unfailingly polite in all circumstances, but particularly when there are large numbers of people about.  It'll be fine.’  Wilhelm tries to sound reassuring.

Simon doesn’t say anything for a minute; he’s clearly thinking about something.  ‘What?’ asks Wilhelm.

‘I’ve got an idea.’

____________________

‘...När vi möts i detta hus.’

The choir breathes the final notes of the school song, signalling the end of the graduation ceremony.  Wilhelm takes a deep breath; he’s been trying to concentrate on the lyrics of the song and the way that Simon sings them, in an effort to ward off the anxiety that he’s feeling over what he’s about to do.

Erik is outside; Wilhelm has had a text from him to tell him that he’s waiting with their parents, and Louise and Rickard.  He has replied, ‘See you in a bit.’  It’s the first contact he has made with his brother since their argument, and while it’s not exactly friendly on Wilhelm’s part, it’s a start at least.

Simon comes up to him and gives him a small smile; he looks nervous but determined.  ‘Ready?’ he asks, and Wilhelm nods in response.  ‘And you haven’t changed your mind?’

Wilhelm squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath.  ‘No,’ he says.  ‘Let’s do this.’  He extends his hand to Simon, waits for him to take it.  Wilhelm feels like his own hand is probably a bit cold and clammy; Simon’s is as well, but it’s still a huge reassurance.  Wilhelm draws strength from it, hoping that he can send some back to Simon in return.

Felice is standing next to them, her eyes widening as she sees what they’re doing.  ‘For real?’ she whispers to Wilhelm.

‘It’s time,’ he replies, smiling at her with a confidence that doesn’t entirely reflect what he’s actually feeling inside.

A few people have noticed, he can tell.  He can hear them murmuring amongst themselves, can see them looking.  But most of them are far too caught up in the rush to get outside to worry about what anybody else is doing; in fact, Wilhelm is counting on that.

They pause at the exit.  It’s bright outside and Wilhelm has to adjust his eyes before he can start looking for his family.  Eventually he spots Malin’s bright blonde hair; everyone is standing just to her left.  ‘They’re over there,’ he says, pointing towards them, ‘come on.’  He squeezes Simon’s hand in his, and they make their way down the steps at the back of the main school building.

More looks, more voices.  But the throng of people, the jostle of signs, lovingly crafted by the graduates’ families, each image of their small child’s face waiting to be found by its owner, provide enough cover that they’re not the centre of attention.  When they reach his family, Wilhelm purposefully ignores Erik and greets his parents instead, hugging Ludvig and kissing Kristina on both cheeks.  His thoughts are all over the place, his stomach churning.  They haven’t noticed yet, they’re going to notice, when will they notice, have they noticed?

‘Hey, Mum, how are you?’ he says politely.

‘Very well, darling, thank you for asking.  And how are you?  Happy that your first year here is over?’

‘Good, thanks.  Looking forward to having a break, though,’ he says, his usual fake royal smile firmly in place, because he’s not looking forward to it, not at all, not when he has to spend so much time apart from Simon, but she doesn’t need to know that.

It’s at this point that the queen notices that Wilhelm has taken Simon’s hand again.  Her face briefly betrays an element of surprise, but her upbringing quickly springs into action to cover it with a mask of practiced blandness.  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ she asks, gesturing towards Simon.

‘I’m so sorry, how rude of me.  Mum, Dad, this is Simon Eriksson, my boyfriend.  Simon, this is, uh, well, I guess you know who this is.  Uh, my mum and dad.’  Wilhelm has his own mask in place, of course, so the utter elation and pride that he feels at saying those words does not show.  Neither does the terror.  Fuck, I just came out to my parents.   Or the relief.  Finally, I came out to my parents.

‘How lovely,’ smiles Kristina.  ‘A pleasure,’ she says to Simon, shaking his hand.

‘Likewise, uh, your Majesty,’ replies Simon, nervously.

This is not at all what Wilhelm expected.  Why is she being so calm?  But then, he knows exactly why: she’s in public.  Right now she is queen more than mother, and, for once, he’s glad of it.

Erik pulls Wilhelm slightly to one side, hissing in his ear, ‘What are you playing at?’ but it’s at this point that the third years emerge from the main building and all focus is drawn to them.

All of the graduates run outside, greeted by a cacophony of whistles, waving their certificates and throwing their studentmössor in the air, each searching a sea of signs to find their baby photo, and consequently, their family.

Wilhelm and Simon stand clapping and cheering, as much for the fact that some of these guys are leaving as for the people themselves.  Willhelm will be sad to see Nils go - sort of - but not really any of the others.  And especially not August, who has been a pain in the arse this entire year.

The cheering eventually calms down and August makes his way over to them, full of tearful emotion, grabbing Louise in the tightest of hugs, bowing his head so that she can place garlands with whistles, teddy bears, blue and yellow flowers and Swedish flags around his neck.  Kristina and Ludvig join in, adding a toy frog to August’s collection.  Then he moves on to Erik, who lifts him up and twirls him round, no mean feat since August has at least ten centimetres on him.  That navy training must be more physical than Wilhelm thought.

While this is going on, Wilhelm says quietly to Simon, ‘You OK?’

Simon smiles at him.  ‘Yeah,’ he replies.  ‘Just a bit overwhelmed.’

August reaches him then, his eyes widening as he notices Wilhelm’s hand firmly holding Simon’s.  ‘I fucking knew there was something you weren’t telling me,’ he says.  He hugs Wilhelm then, which is weird, but he seems to be hugging everyone in sight, even Rickard, whom Wilhelm knows he can’t stand.  ‘You’re a fucking idiot,’ says August, straight into his ear so he’s the only one who can hear it.  He doesn’t get a chance to respond, because Vincent has come over and is jumping up and down on the spot with August, before they both run off to climb up on the studentflak so they can be driven round Bjärstad lording it over the locals for one final time.

As the truck pulls away, many of the families move inside for the drinks reception.  Wilhelm and Simon are left standing with his own family, only a few people around them.

‘Erik,’ says Wilhelm.  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t get the chance earlier.  This is Simon.  My boyfriend.’  He’s only said it a few times to other people, but he feels like he’s used to it already, because it just sits so right.

‘Hello,’ is all a stony faced Erik says.  He makes no movement to shake Simon’s outstretched hand, and Simon is forced to drop it.  Erik is specifically trying to humiliate him and Wilhelm feels a flash of incandescent anger at his brother’s actions.  He’s about to say something, appearances be damned, but his mother beats him to it.

‘Erik, where are your manners?’ scolds Kristina.

‘Are you OK with this?’ Erik asks through gritted teeth as he calmly smiles and nods at the few remaining parents as they walk inside.  He may look to bystanders like he is having a wonderful time, without a care in the world, but there is an edge of aggression in his voice that can only be heard by those standing close by.

‘Not here,’ says Kristina.  ‘Not now.’  Wilhelm is more than familiar with the disapproving look on her face, but for once, he’s not the one on the receiving end of it; it makes a change.  That it’s been caused by Erik and his shitty behaviour adds further satisfaction.

‘I disagree,’ retorts Erik.  ‘If he’s going to insist on parading around here holding hands with this guy, it’s something that needs to be discussed immediately, before the press gets hold of it.  It’s imperative that we get ahead of this as soon as possible.’

Kristina pinches the top of her nose with her thumb and forefinger; Erik is clearly giving her a headache.  ‘Inside,’ she says, walking into the main school building without waiting for a response.

Principal Lilja is waiting in the entrance hall, clearly concerned about the whereabouts of the day’s most important guests.  ‘Your Majesty-’ she starts.

Kristina cuts her off immediately.  'Principal, we need a private room where we can discuss sensitive matters with no interruption,’ she requests.

‘Of course, your Majesty,’ says the principal.  ‘Please feel free to use my office.  It’s this way.’  She leads them down the corridor and opens the door to let them in.  They each file past her, first Kristina, then Ludvig, Wilhelm and Simon, and lastly Erik, who turns to close the door, practically in poor Anette’s face.

‘You’re going to let him be in here for this?’ says Erik, gesturing towards Simon.  Wilhelm can feel the tension in Simon’s entire body, even though they’re only joined at the hand.  He gives it a squeeze to try and reassure him, and he loosens just ever so slightly. Wilhelm loves that he has the ability to do that, to provide Simon with comfort where nobody else can.

‘Erik, don’t be so childish,’ snaps Kristina.  ‘You’re the one who insisted on discussing this right away, and since it concerns both Wilhelm and Simon, it’s only right that they both be here.  Now, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t have preferred this to have been done through the proper channels,’ she says, fixing Wilhelm with one of her pointed looks, ‘but this was always going to happen one day.  I don’t think that we have a choice about whether we’re OK with it or not, because that’s just the way it is.’

‘He told you already?’ asks Erik, shocked.

‘He didn’t need to,’ replies Kristina simply.  ‘He’s my son.’  Wait, she knew?  And she never said anything?  What’s all that about?  Wilhelm is clearly going to have to have a long chat with his mother once they’re back home.  ‘Obviously I didn’t know that he had started a relationship,’ she continues, ‘but I never ruled out the possibility.’

‘Was it that obvious?’ asks Wilhelm.  He doesn't mind, not really; he's asking because he's intrigued more than anything else, his head full of questions.  How does she know?  When did she know?  Was she able to tell even before he knew himself?  Were other people able to tell?  But then he remembers what a shock it was to Erik, so maybe not.  His surprise, Wilhelm thinks, is more to do with the fact that Kristina is the one who noticed.  Kristina, who spends so little time with him, who can seem so disinterested, who is often so disapproving, so judgemental.  Sometimes, though, she is a mother.  Sometimes she'll give him a hug, ask him how he is, what he's up to.  Maybe it was one of those times that she noticed something.  Obviously she’s been paying more attention than he thought.

She reaches across to him from the sofa where she's sitting, takes the hand that's not gripping Simon's like a vice, and says, ‘No.  I just know you.’

Erik snorts.  ‘I don't know why it was so obvious to you, when I didn't see it.’

‘Because you're a homophobic prick, Erik,’ spits Wilhelm.  Simon lowers his head as Wilhelm speaks, and Wilhelm can tell it's because he's trying to hold in his laughter.

‘Wilhelm, there's no need-’ starts Ludvig, but then Erik interrupts him.

‘I don't know how many times I have to say it,’ protests Erik, ‘but I'm not homophobic.’

‘Yeah, right,’ mutters Wilhelm.  ‘Try telling that to all the queer kids who had to endure initiation.’

‘Not this again,’ groans Erik, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.  ‘You're making it sound like I made up the whole thing and carried it out by myself.’

‘You were there.  You didn't do anything to stop it-’

‘What is he talking about, Erik?’ interrupts Kristina, and shit, Wilhelm wasn't thinking.  He got too caught up in the moment and now he's dumped his brother in it.  That's not like him at all; they've always stuck together, he and Erik, formed a team in the face of their parents and, more broadly, the royal court.  Well, Erik's the one who put the cracks in their relationship, not him.  He brushes the feeling off.

‘It's nothing.  Not important,’ says Erik, looking at his hands.

‘Not nothing,’ says Wilhelm quietly.

‘Erik?’ says Kristina, the word underlined with a subtle element of command.  Her tone of voice is enough to pin Erik down, to demand a response.

‘When I was here,’ begins Erik, ‘there was some hazing that got out of hand.  But as I understand it, that no longer happens.’

‘No thanks to you,’ sneers Wilhelm.

‘And this hazing was homophobic in its nature?’ asks Kristina.  Erik remains silent.

‘Yes,’ says Wilhelm.

‘Plus ça change,’ Ludvig says, from where he’s standing over by the window.

‘Really?’ asks Wilhelm.  ‘You too?’

‘Obviously, it was all an extremely long time ago,’ states Ludvig.  ‘But there was a very grainy VHS of, uh, two gentlemen, uh, enjoying each other’s company, shall we say?  One poor boy ended up-  Well, I won't go into that.  I'm surprised that that sort of thing still happens in this day and age, though.  It feels very much of its time.’

Kristina looks slightly stunned.  ‘In my day, we just drank a lot of very sweet wine and talked about which pop stars and actors we had crushes on,’ she muses.  ‘I had no idea about what the boys were getting up to.  I shall certainly be talking to Miss Lilja about this.  Erik, I-  This is very disappointing.  You're going to be king one day.  Sweden is a progressive country - I'm proof of that.  First queen in three hundred years.  If you have attitudes towards a particular section of our society which are - how should I put it? - less than tolerant, that would be entirely inappropriate.’

‘It was just a joke,’ mutters Erik sullenly.  He has the air of a naughty boy being told off by his mummy.  Which is essentially what he is.

‘That's the point, though, isn't it?’ says Simon, quietly but firmly, and Wilhelm is so proud.  It can't be easy for Simon to be sitting here with the royal family and to say anything at all, let alone to stand up for the two of them like this.  Wilhelm has never been more in love.  ‘You see being queer as something to be laughed at.  You think that queer sex is somehow amusing.’

‘Oh, yes,’ says Erik to Kristina.  ‘They’re having sex, by the way.’  He clearly thinks that deflecting her attention towards Wilhelm will remove it from himself, but Kristina is having none of it.  ‘This could be a PR nightmare,’ he continues.

‘I should hope they are,’ says Kristina, and Wilhelm will never forget the mischievous grin she pulls, nor Erik’s grimace in reaction to it, even if what she’s saying makes him want to dig a large hole and bury himself in it.  ‘And as for PR, I think that the ladies with whom you have had assignations are far more likely to pose a problem, don’t you?  There are so many of them, I can barely keep track, but sheer numbers suggest that there are bound to be one or two who could prove to be… unfortunate.’

‘As unfortunate as a boy?’ sneers Erik.

‘At this point I don’t know anything about Simon,’ says Kristina, ‘so I can’t really comment, other than to say that you sound dreadfully old-fashioned, Erik.  Obviously things would be more… straightforward… if Wilhelm were heterosexual, but since he clearly isn’t, I think we need to work with what we’ve got.  There’s absolutely no point trying to make Wilhelm into something he isn’t; that would just make him unhappy, and if he’s unhappy he’s not going to be able to do his job well.’  Fuck.  Of course it always comes back to that.  But Kristina’s standing up for him for once, so he tries to put that to one side.

‘All of this will take some getting used to,’ continues Kristina, ‘for all of us.  Including you.  Because I warn you now, Erik, our response to this will be united.  We will be supporting your brother.  However much it looks like you’re trying to behave otherwise, I am still in charge.  You’re not the monarch yet, and I can see that we still have a long way to go with your development in that department.

‘Now,’ she concludes, standing up and smoothing down her skirt, ‘I think we’re expected at the reception.  Come along.’

____________________

The drinks reception is coming to a close.  Erik and Kristina are not allowed to travel together - if there were an accident and they were both to be killed, the succession would be fucked, and Wilhelm tries not to think about that, because that would mean that he would be king, at seventeen years old, which is just fucking ridiculous - so Erik has already returned to Stockholm with Ludvig.  Wilhelm can just imagine the atmosphere in the car, and he feels a bit sorry for his dad.  Kristina has stayed behind so that she and Wilhelm can travel back together, which Wilhelm knows means that he is likely to be in for his own long conversation about today’s revelations.  He’s weirdly OK with that.

The reception has actually been fun.  Wilhelm and Simon have taken up residence on a windowsill at one end of the room, holding court as a succession of their classmates has passed by to chat; some simply to say hello, some clearly to see if the rumours are true - and they are happy to confirm that yes, they are - others to offer congratulations, and in one case - Maddie - for high fives all round and a welcome to the neighbourhood.  All the while he has held onto Simon’s hand as much as humanly possible.  Mostly for moral support, but also just because he can, now.  It has been far less nerve wracking than Wilhelm was expecting, despite the presence of Erik, who has had a face like a slapped arse throughout.

Kristina approaches them as the crowd of people is starting to thin.  ‘I’m just going to go and say goodbye to Louise,’ she says, ‘and then we need to go, alright?’  Wilhelm nods.  ‘Simon,’ she continues, ‘a pleasure.’  She takes Simon’s hand in both of hers; Wilhelm is surprised.  He wasn’t expecting her to hug Simon or anything, but he knows his mother, and a two-hander, from her, means something.  ‘I expect we’ll be seeing you at some point over the summer, yes?’

‘Maybe,’ says Simon.  ‘At least, I hope so.  But I have a summer job, so I have to fit it in with that.’

‘Very good,’ says Kristina.  ‘Please excuse us.’  She pulls Wilhelm to one side and continues, ‘He seems nice.  Fairly polite, and I like that he has a job.  Are you serious about him?’

Wilhelm can’t help smiling.  ‘Yeah.  Yeah, I am.’

‘I see.  Wilhelm, I-  I’m proud of you.’  She rests a hand on his upper arm as she says it.  Wilhelm’s not sure if he’s ever heard those words from his mother’s lips before.  Maybe a few times when he was much younger, but certainly not lately.  The sentiment brings an unconscious smile to his face and a warmth to his stomach, but it’s so unexpected that he doesn’t quite know what to do with it, if he can trust it.

Kristina goes off to see Louise, and Wilhelm and Simon are finally alone.  The first thing Simon says is, ‘Your brother’s a bit of a dick, isn’t he?’

‘Not all the time,’ says Wilhelm.

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Simon replies drily.

‘What my mum said, about you coming to mine in the summer?  I’d really like that.  I mean, if you want to.  Then Erik might realise that neither of us has three heads.  Plus, you know, you once said something about how wanking at the palace is weird, so I can show you that it really isn’t.’

‘You know,’ whispers Simon, since they are still surrounded, ‘I’ve always thought that blowjobs at the palace were weird as well.  And fucking at the palace.  Maybe you need to show me that-’

‘Shh!’ giggles Wilhelm, putting his finger to Simon’s lips to stop him saying any more.

Wilhelm’s phone vibrates in his pocket; it’s Kristina, on her way to the car, telling him to get a move on.  ‘I have to go,’ he sighs.

‘We haven’t had a chance to talk yet,’ says Simon.  ‘Not properly.’

‘I’m sorry.  I’ll call you as soon as I’m home.  Promise.  Are you OK, though?’ Wilhelm asks, stroking Simon’s arm.  ‘Today has been… a lot.’

Simon falls forward so that his forehead is resting on Wilhelm’s collarbone.  He groans, ‘It so has.  But I think…  I think it was actually alright?  I mean, apart from Erik.  But I still think he’ll come round.  He has to, now.  He’s under orders, right?’

Wilhelm laughs.  ‘I was kind of hoping that he’d get better without being forced to, but a win’s a win, I guess.  You know, I always imagined that he would be the supportive one.  I never in a million years thought that it would be my mum.’

‘And your dad.  We chatted a little when you went to the bathroom.  He’s a sweetheart.’

‘Really?’

‘Yup.’  Wilhelm’s phone buzzes again.  ‘Go,’ says Simon.  ‘Go, and remember that I love you.’

Wilhelm looks around them.  The room is maybe a third full.  He needs to say goodbye to his boyfriend, and the only possible way to do that is with a hug and a kiss, even though they’re in public.  But they can do that now.  All of these people know about them anyway, and if they didn’t before, they certainly will now.  ‘Fuck it,’ he says, ‘they’re probably all thinking it,’ and he lifts Simon’s chin and plants a long, slow kiss on his lips.  It’s a deep kiss, full of emotion and meaning, a goodbye kiss, an I’m-going-to-miss-you-so-much kiss, an I-love-you-with-all-my-heart kiss.  As Wilhelm wraps his arms around Simon, he’s telling him that he is in love with him, but he’s also sending a message to the wider room, loud and clear: this is my boyfriend.  I am in a relationship with another boy.  Make of that what you will; I don’t care.  ‘I love you too,’ he says.