Chapter Text
They both sagged against each other, holding tight. Simon felt his heartrate pick up and settle at the same time, overwhelmed with the closeness and relieved at the contact. It was so comforting that some tears prickled at the backs of his eyes when he squeezed them shut.
“We could’ve sent the lawyer to Bjärstad,” Wille muttered.
“Hm?”
“But I needed an excuse to see you.”
Simon melted even morenat that and gave a small chuckle. “Fuck, now I can’t even be mad that you made me drive for hours unnecessarily.” He buried his nose against his shoulder and spoke in a softer voice. “I missed you, too.”
Wille squeezed him impossibly tighter, and he responded in likeness. Then they leaned back just enough for their lips to meet, and meet again, and again, and again. Simon cupped the sides of his jaw an inhaled deeply, pulling away the bare minimum.
He studied Wille’s face openly, trying to read what was going on in his mind and what had happened the day before. There were dark circles under his eyes, and said eyes were more of a honey colour today, the sides redder. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, permanently. His hair was perfectly brushed back, and soft.
He ran his thumbs under his eyes. “How are you?”
Wille closed his lids and leaned their foreheads together. “Better.”
“How were you?”
The wrinkle deepened and spread to the rest of his forehead. Wille shook his head a couple of times, hands squeezing Simon’s sides. Then his breath hitched, like in a tearless sob.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Wille shook his head some more. “I’m so sorry.”
Simon’s heart broke at the utterly devastated tone of his voice. “Wille, I told you. We didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault, it’s just a shitty situation.”
“It’s a fucking shitty situation that you wouldn’t be in if not for me and my family.” Wille’s hands clawed at Simon’s jumper, squeezing and pulling their hips together, for the first time in a completely innocent way. The proximity made his forehead slip to the side, his nose brushing the side of Simon’s eye. His breath puffed against a stray curl for a few moments, Simon letting the silence stretch because he could feel Wille wanted to say something else. Then there was a shaky inhale and, “It was August.”
Simon had been in shock a few times in his life. He remembered with crystal clarity the first time his father had manhandled him around with more force than any father should have with his kid, breathing alcohol all over his face and making Simon fear him – a feeling that had never truly gone away. He remembered when his grandfather had died out of the blue, when he was thirteen, and he had cried for two days straight. He remembered when he realised the video was out and that everyone was talking about it.
He got the same feeling now. His heart skipped a beat, an uncomfortable weight in his chest that made it hard to breathe. The world dulled around him, like tunnel vision but with all his senses.
“What?” he heard himself say.
The hands on his hips squeezed tighter. Simon wasn’t sure if Wille was doing it to ground him or himself, but he found that he suddenly needed the support. The tips of his fingers tingled as they slipped from Wille’s cheeks.
With a shaky breath, Wille leaned down his head and tucked it into Simon’s neck, moving his arms so now they encircled his waist completely. Simon reacted after a moment, hugging him back. His mind tried to process it, over and over, and it just overwhelmed him.
To be honest, though, out of the people on that school that could have done it, August was one of the few that Simon wasn’t surprised to find out was actually the culprit. He had always rubbed him the wrong way, either with his classicism, racism, or plain mean streak, but Simon just couldn’t understand why he would turn on his own cousin, his way to socially climb.
And Simon felt it in the way Wille tried to hide his sobs against his jumper – he felt the betrayal on his behalf as well.
A wave of rage ran through him, jolting him out of his numbness and shock. August treated him like shit, had always had and probably always would, and this was obviously crossing too many lines, but he didn’t get to break Wille like this. He was fucking family. He was kind, and beautiful, and had such a good heart that got broken over and over again.
Protectively, Simon cupped the back of Wille’s head and held it against himself, fingers digging into his hair. “Fucking bastard, he… He’s a fucking psycho. How could he do this to us? How could he do this to you?”
Wille stilled and pulled away a little. “How could he do this to you?”
“He’s never liked me, but you?”
“That’s– No, Simon, he did it because…” Wille groaned and pulled away completely, running his hands through his hair. “He did it ‘cause I fucking humiliated him in front of the rest of the Society. It was the only way I could overrule his authority and his idea of throwing you under the bus. He’s just so…” He rubs his face. “He’s so fucking impossible. I couldn’t get a word in otherwise. So he got this vendetta against me, and he takes it out on both of us, and I can’t believe Erik told me I could fucking trust him!”
As his voice rose, Wille gripped his hair tighter and tighter and even hit his head with his palms a couple of times. As a general rule, Simon didn’t like people raising their voices; it was far too triggering. He had especially hated it when Wille had risen his voice to him the week before. This time, though, the anger wasn’t directed at him, so he found it easy to step back into Wille’s space and hold his wrists away from his head so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Hey, hey, don’t do that.”
Wille kept his eyes closed. For a moment, Simon thought he would keep going and yelling, just letting his anger out, but he only sighed tiredly and leant their foreheads together again. It was like all the fight drained out of him. Simon recalled how tired he had sounded on the phone the night before and how he didn’t look much better now.
He didn’t know what to do in that moment – was still processing the truth himself –, so he just rubbed his thumbs on the inside of Wille’s wrists as they breathed together. Then Wille carefully (so, so delicately) cupped his face and leaned away to meet his eyes. They just looked at each other for a moment.
“I still haven’t talked to my parents about what’s going to happen to him,” Wille said in a low voice. “It’ll have to be out of the public’s eye. We’re sure as hell not paying for his last semester anymore.”
Simon frowned. “You were paying for…” he trailed off when Wille shook his head, to signalise that it wasn’t the point right now.
“I’ll talk to them. My dad wanted to know about the police report, so I think he wants to use it somehow. I don’t know if we can file one.”
“Why wouldn’t you be able to file a police report? You’re still human.”
Wille scoffed, like he didn’t believe that, which only made Simon grasp the collar of his suit tighter. “Anyway, it’s just a fucking mess. I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”
“So you’re really not coming back?”
Wille must have heard the sadness in his voice, because he pecked his lips in such a way that warmed Simon from that point to the very tips of his body and left him a little dizzy. “I’ll be there Tuesday afternoon, promise.”
Simon had an internal debate for a couple of seconds, which he spent pointlessly smoothing out the dark blue suit in front of him. “So I’m supposed to what, see August tomorrow on my own and just not tell anybody?”
“Simon, you can’t–”
“No, I swear to God, I cannot be held responsible for my actions if I see him right now.”
“Then don’t go to school tomorrow. Please. You can’t…” Wille sighed, like it physically pained him to say it. “You can’t violate the agreement. Mum will never let me see you again.”
Rationally, Simon knew that, at some point, the fact that he was bound to a contract was going to come bite him in the ass and make him hate the monarchy all over again – he just didn’t think it would be a few minutes after he’d signed it.
Then it was his turn to sigh, admitting defeat. Also frustration. And anger. And just so many emotions at the same time that he completely understood Wille’s urge to rip his hair off. “Fine.”
He was also pissed the fuck off that he had Wille alone, wearing a suit that fit him like a glove, with the top button open and his throat just screaming to be bitten, and he was so mad that he couldn’t find it in himself to get even in the slightest of moods. He honestly thought that if they were allowed to retreat into Wille’s rooms and were left completely unperturbed, Simon would still only manage to cuddle and sulk in silence.
He kept caressing and smoothing out Wille’s jacket, mourning the opportunity to literally fuck the monarchy in their own palace and also avoiding his gaze. It was useless, though, and Wille’s magnetic eyes pulled his up. They looked worried, terrified, and scared. Wille knew he was testing the limits of Simon’s patience with this shit show.
“Well,” Simon started, forcing some normalcy into his voice, “since I’ve signed a shiny contract for you…”
“I’m sorry.”
Simon gave him a pointed look, holding it for a second before deliberately running his hands over his white shirt’s collar around his neck, just to be double sure that it was perfectly aligned with the suit’s. “To the people I can talk about you, do I get to call you my boyfriend?”
Wille’s chest rose in a silent gasp.
“Or is it like, courting, or some other bullshit?”
That cracked him and, for the first time in a few long days, Simon saw Wille smile, if tentatively. “If we were betrothed.”
“Okay, is that still an actual thing, though? Do you people still get betrothed?”
“Fuck, no. Although it sounded like my mother would’ve liked to be able to do that to me when this all blew up. Apparently, dating can be a PR nightmare.” Wille made as if to continue speaking, but changed his mind and tried to lighten the mood again. “And anyway, you and I couldn’t even court anymore.”
Simon blinked. “Anymore?”
It was Wille’s turn to clean invisible dust from Simon’s collar, only in this case it was possible that there was something there to be cleaned. “Yeah.” Then he met his eyes again. “Courtships are supposed to stay pure until marriage.”
Oh.
Against all odds, a small flicker of flame came to life in his chest at that. He might be able to fuck the monarchy in their own palace today, after all.
The tips of Wille’s fingers burned where they grazed the side of Simon’s neck, his brown eyes looking down at them as he spoke, suddenly shy, “So yeah. Boyfriend is, uh, would be the right word.” Said eyes flickered up.
Even though Simon had never been the kind to mind labels so much, he accepted the relief he felt. With everything so uncertain outside their little bubble and people poking their noses all over their private business, it felt nice to have the reassurance that yes, they were officially dating.
Simon smiled first, with Wille quickly following, this time more genuinely. Holding onto the lapels of the suit, Simon started leaning in, his gaze dropping to the other’s lips. That was when he saw his jaw working through the gum he was still chewing and he was hit with a thought that made him pause his progress. “Where did you put that when we kissed earlier?”
Wille frowned, confused. “Put what?”
“The gum.”
“Oh. Just… in a corner of my mouth.” He then worked his jaw one more time and it stopped completely, as though he had just in fact stored the piece of gum away somewhere in his mouth to free his tongue.
Simon hummed, eyes still on his lips, and he wondered how in the world that could work. Sure, he had put gum away in his mouth when he wanted to take a sip of something, but he couldn’t understand how that worked when you were moving your mouth a lot, like deeply kissing someone. How hadn’t his tongue stumbled upon it?
He posed the question out loud, and Wille shrugged. “I can hide it very well. I’ve had entire meals with it in my mouth.”
Simon gaped at him. “That can’t… How do you not accidentally choke on it?”
Wille kept shrugging. “I don’t know. I just hide it well?”
Simon narrowed his eyes at him, an idea forming in his brain. Wille tilted his head, reading his expression, and then it clicked for him and he tried to lean away. “Don’t.”
“You can’t hide it that well. There’s not enough space.”
“Simon, no.”
“C’mere.”
“No.”
The more Simon leaned in, the more Wille leaned away, until it got to a point when pulling on his suit wasn’t enough and Simon had to latch his hands onto his neck and rise on his toes to get some advantage. Wille stumbled backwards, turning his head to the sides, complaining, and hiding a smile.
“What’re you– Stop.”
“Let me check.”
“That’s so gross.”
“Oh, that’s where you draw the line? Mr I’ll-Blow-My-Morning-Breath-All-Over-Your-Face?”
“That’s– Not– Simon–”
Wille’s back hit the piano, and Simon managed to capture his lips briefly. He wouldn’t open his mouth, though, fighting against the press of Simon’s tongue. So Simon went with a different strategy and poked his ribs, just enough to get him to gasp, and pushed his tongue inside. Wille gently closed his teeth around it before he could make much progress.
“C’moooon,” Simon whined, tongue still hostage.
Then the warmth of Wille’s tongue met his, rubbing against it a couple of times before pushing it out. He followed it to Simon’s mouth in an imposing way that Simon couldn’t seem to get around to regain the upper hand, unable to do much apart from taking the firm strokes. Wille’s lips closed gradually, taking his tongue away, until he bit down on Simon’s lower lip. He sucked on it and then released it slowly, tilting his head back.
Wille didn’t let him catch his breath much, diving in to kiss him again, just as open-mouthed but never letting Simon into his mouth. With every kiss, he took Simon’s breath away more and more, until he was completely dizzy again, the hands on the small of his back and the back of his neck his only anchors.
At last, with a much gentler swipe, something was put on top of his tongue, and Wille retreated his mouth completely, giving him one final peck. Simon turned the piece of gum around, tasting the remains of mint still left on it from God knew how long Wille had been chewing on it for. It should gross him out more than it did – it was objectively gross the fact that he had someone else’s used gum in his mouth –, but it tasted exactly like Wille. It tasted like his saliva with a mint aftertaste, which is what he tasted like 90% of the time unless he had just eaten or woken up. Also, the way Wille had handed it over to him felt significant somehow. They definitely shouldn’t be looking at each other so deeply after such a childish game of tug.
The buzz of a phone startled Simon out of his reverie, much like he had been earlier during his arrival and the meeting, and he felt himself sucking in a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
Wille looked down at his phone, frowning at the outside screen. “They’re calling for us.”
Predictably, but still sadly. Simon wanted to be alone with Wille for a while longer, preferably for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the week. Maybe more.
Instead, he cupped Wille’s cheeks, bringing his eyes back to him. He leaned in, kissing him softly and, with much less skill, gave the gum back to him. When Wille gave him a confused look, he explained, “I’ll choke if I try to eat with that in my mouth.”
On the long way to the dining room – one of the dining rooms, Simon mentally corrected himself –, Wille did tell him about Aunt Silvia’s piano, in case somebody asked about it.
It was one of his aunt’s most prized possessions, but she had agreed to keep it in the palace she had grown up in instead of where she lived now because she felt that room would never be the same without it again. She played for the family every Christmas and was apparently a really good pianist.
(Wille hadn’t learnt from her, though. He had had a proper teacher, but he said that he liked it better when his aunt played with him.)
He also mentioned that she was now back to being second in line, like she had been growing up. The spare, like him, forever hoping she wouldn’t be needed, particularly now.
At the mention of her over the table, it was the first time Simon saw the Queen genuinely smile. It was weird. He guessed he sort of knew that she had siblings – fuck if he knew how many, though. It was just weird seeing her being humanised after knowing what she wanted Wille to do and how against their plan she was.
“So you also play, Simon?” Prince Ludvig asked.
“Just a bit by ear.” Nothing worthy of that beautiful, white grand piano.
Wille barely finished chewing. “It’s more than a bit.”
“It’s true,” Linda agreed, and Simon felt his cheeks burn. “And I do think your ear is better than a lot of people’s hands.”
It was fucking weird. He had never given much thought to the pivotal point in his life in which he (and his mum) would get to meet his eventual boyfriend’s family. Obviously, nothing could have prepared him for it to be in the fucking palace with the fucking Royal Family, but that wasn’t even the weirdest part.
He didn’t know how to act around them. He didn’t know how much he was actually wanted there. From the little he had seen, the whole Royal Family was good at keeping up appearances in social gatherings, so nothing guaranteed that this wasn’t just another one. They were trained to hold up conversations over meals. They were good at looking interested. The Prince Consort was fucking good at not letting the conversation die.
Was that what Simon was heading towards? Leading conversations when his spouse, the monarch, couldn’t quite?
The Queen’s presence two seats away from him put Simon constantly on edge. She didn’t stare at him, but she didn’t ignore him as much as he had expected her to. She tried, or seemed to try, to show some interest.
However, he knew he would never be able to trust them easily, if ever. These were his boyfriend’s parents, people he was supposed to want to impress and stay in their good graces; why did he feel the urge to throw a Molotov cocktail at their prized curtains, just to see their reaction? Why couldn’t he give more than short answers to their questions, afraid to give too much of himself away when they already learnt so much against his will? Why couldn’t he just be nervous about normal stuff, like learning what excuses they would buy so he could have nights alone with Wille?
Simon left the meal with the promise of an invitation back to the palace the next time Aunt Silvia was around, so he could meet her and hear her play in her gorgeous piano. It was innocent and friendly enough. It also sounded super fake to his ears.
This time, Wille insisted on walking them to the car, no matter how many side glances his mother threw him and reminders about how he needed to “freshen up properly” for the interview. Simon wondered why Wille didn’t ask her for permission to have him stay, since he knew for a fact that he needed the support.
It became even more apparent on the elevator down to the garage. As Simon’s mum chatted with the guard – this time a much friendlier woman –, Simon watched Wille bite his nail’s bed in such a way that was sure to draw blood soon.
He reached over and held his wrist, gently prying it down. “Hey, you’ll do great,” he whispered.
Wille’s nervous eyes met his, and he intertwined their hands between their bodies, hidden just enough but still very much visible. “Can I call you after?”
“Of course. You know you don’t have to ask.”
But, looking at Wille’s face right now, Simon wasn’t sure if he had known that. He said nothing to that, only reaching into his pocket and popping another gum to his mouth.
His mum made sure to give him a big hug, holding out for far longer than what was expected, if the careful gaze of one of the guards said anything. Maybe they were afraid that she would try to throttle him or something.
Linda gave them some space by entering the car first – as much space as they could have with so many guards around, who all politely looked away as though they weren’t in such close range that they were able to see and hear everything. That was probably the point.
“Text me when you get there,” Wille said. “I might still be in the middle of the interview, so I might not pick up, but please text me that you get home safe.”
Simon gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. “Of course. And you call me when you’re done.”
“Okay.”
“And actually let me see your room next time you kidnap me over.”
That got a little upturn of lips from Wille, which was a victory that Simon would take. Then, with a final squeeze to his hand, Wille let go in order to gently hold his waist and leaned in to kiss him. Simon followed his lead, deciding to go with whatever he was comfortable right now; just the fact that he got a kiss in semi-public (surrounded by people bound to NDAs like him, but still) was enough for now.
He didn’t expect to feel his tongue pushing its way in, if only for a moment, just to leave a little something behind.
As Simon got into the car, he thought again about how he should be more grossed out by second-hand gum instead of feeling giddy. It was ridiculous, but it felt like a token. It was like their version of sharing hoodies, only he wasn’t sure if they were allowed to do that right now, so Wille changed the strategy. He gave him something to remember him by (by his taste instead of his scent) in a way nobody around them could ever know, but it was just as effective.
Simon watched as his frame disappeared when they drove out of the garage, only then turning to the front. He felt his mum’s eyes on him, so he turned to her. She offered him a reassuring smile, silently asking if he wanted to talk.
Not in front of the bodyguards, not like this, not right now, he conveyed back. And it should have been hard to return her smile, but then he chewed on the gum and found it not that hard at all.
Her eyes zeroed in on his chewing, and Simon knew that she knew that he wasn’t big on gum and that he hadn’t had one earlier. Before she could say anything, or give him a look, Simon rested his elbow by the window and rested his mouth against his hand, partially hiding it from her. Only partially, though. He didn’t feel like completely hiding it either. He had never been known for being a silent chewer, anyway.