Chapter Text
There’s a whisper of lips ghosting over his skin as Wille wakes up. It leaves behind a trail of sparkling electricity, goosebumps making their way down his spine in eager anticipation. The touch as soft as the fluttering of butterfly wings, almost nothing but the suggestion of a caress. It could easily be made up, something conjured up by his tired mind as it at last spirals off the rails into insanity. It could be. Wille knows it’s not. He can still feel the kisses from last night, the touches, the songs, the way everything had finally fallen into place and he knows something like that is way out of his own imagination’s capacity. A kiss? Perhaps. An acceptance of his apology? Sure. But the way Simon and the morning sun had glowed together, in perfect harmony chased all the darkness away? No. He’s not creative enough to make something like that up.
Yet he can’t really bring himself to open his eyes just yet, relishes in the vast difference between yesterday morning and now. How he’d been wishing Felice’s sleeping form next to him had been someone else’s and now it is. How he’d been praying to wake up in a universe where Simon wanted him, where there was a them. And now he has and there is. All of it waiting on the other side of his still shut eyelids, like a sort of reverse-dream, one you get woken up into and never want to disrupt with sleep ever again. Wille knows that as soon as he opens his eyes he’ll never want to close them again, wants Simon’s face to remain a permanent fixture on his retinas.
There’s the ghost of a kiss on the tip of his nose, on his eyelid, his cheek. Soft fingertips stroking a strand of hair away from his eyes. Wille shivers as he feels Simon’s warm breath fanning his face. He’s so close. So so so close and Wille can feel his wings fluttering to keep up as he’s once again soaring high, floating a thousand feet up into the air, as close to his sun as humanly possible.
And Wille might have known what to expect, might have been able to picture Simon’s messy curls and dark eyes and soft smile in the safe darkness behind his closed eyelids, but he’s still taken aback when he at last lets them open, finds himself blinded by the sun and by Simon and the absolute marvel that is being allowed to wake up in bed next to him. It makes Wille’s heart skip a beat, two, even three, before racing into a frantic galloping, the myriad of feelings he’s harboring for this ray of sun in front of him no longer shadowed by a looming tiredness, not tinted by hesitance or uncertainty. He’s here. They’re here. At last.
”Morning monkey,” Simon scuffles closer, lets his head rest on Wille’s pillow, close enough so there’s only a few centimeters between their faces, close enough so that Wille’s entire visual field is filled with Simon. His warmth is spreading, painting the gardens inside Wille’s chest golden, flowers blossoming along its path.
”Morning sunshine,” Wille manages to breathe out, struggling to make sense of how someone like him is suddenly allowed to have something like this, the unfamiliar sensation of happiness filling him to his very core.
”I can’t believe you’re here.” The smile tugging at Simon’s lips is one of incredulous wonder, adoration painted all over his features. Hearing his own thoughts echoed back to him is enough to once again make Wille lose his footing and he’s thankful he’s lying down or else he’d be dangerously close to falling. Falling from his high pedestal, from the life he’d never asked for and never wanted, tumbling headfirst down the rabbit hole, never to be the same again. Maybe he should fall. Maybe he already has.
Right now he wants nothing more than to be allowed to stay in this moment forever. Nothing but them, nothing but Simon’s warm breath against his cheek, his hands tracing soft patterns along the curve of his spine.
He edges even closer, gently rubs their noses together. Simon smiles.
”Well I can’t believe you actually played the Trey Lewis song on air. It’s- well- a very particular choice I must say,” Wille teases.
Simon snorts amusedly. ”I was desperate. I needed to get dicked down in Dallas you see. Or- I mean, it didn’t even have to be in Dallas, really. I’m not all that picky on the location.”
”Oh.” Wille can feel his cheeks heat up. ”And- did it work?”
”I’m still working on it, but you tell me.” He winks and there’s an anticipatory shiver running down Wille’s spine.
”I think we might need to try again.” Wille grins before starting to sing. ”Baby please come back, bring me that sweet ass…”
Simon scrunches his nose in distaste, wiggles his arms out from where they’ve been wrapped around Wille in favor of pressing his hands to his ears. ”Wille, you are never allowed to sing ever again,” he complains.
”Noted.” Wille nods gravely, reaches out to gently pry the hands away from Simon’s ears, pull them around his own body again. Simon squeezes him tighter. Wille can’t help himself, hums the chorus into Simon’s skin. It makes the other boy shiver.
”I don’t get it.” Simon mutters. ”How can a song with such a nice vibe have such obscene lyrics? I hate it.”
”You love it. It’s your favorite song, you even played it on the radio.” Wille yelps in surprise as an elbow manages to nudge him in the ribs.
”I’m not even going to bother to comment on that.” Simon rolls his eyes in a way that makes Wille feel like he’s definitely not being kissed enough and so he at last decides to do something about that, the anticipatory buzzing of nerves in his stomach soothed by the eagerness with which the kiss is immediately returned.
Simon hums contentedly against his lips, allows Wille’s awkward attempt to flip them over and wraps his legs tightly around Wille’s hips, pressing himself closer in that way that just feels completely right, like everything is suddenly making sense, like there’s nothing in the world but synchronized heavy breathing and the need for more.
It’s everything Wille could ever want and more and he has to fight the urge to pinch himself, prove that this is real life and not an insomnia-induced hallucination for once working in his favor rather than the opposite. If Simon’s hands slowly making their way down his body is a dream, the way nimble fingers impatiently tug at the hem of his borrowed pajama pants is an illusion, well then Wille doesn’t ever want to wake up.
In a different life this would make him feel self-conscious, laying himself bare like this, soft and vulnerable for another person to see, to touch. But this is Simon and this is them and the flowers blossoming in his heart are spreading their bloom, tinting his entire mindset until he can’t think of anything other than the need to get even closer.
And so he does, wordlessly granting Simon permission, swift fingers and shimmying hips, until they’re finally skin to skin. Some say the body is a temple and Wille has always found it a bit ridiculous, not really understanding the divinity found in skin stretched over muscles and bones. But Simon’s is. Sacred, holy, divine. And Wille’s not particularly religious but he intends to worship every last millimeter, let his hands explore and caress and love every last bit.
The way Simon responds to the touch, the soft whines coerced out of his throat are music to Wille’s ears, the only song he’ll ever claim to be his for the rest of eternity.
…
”Wille? Should we talk about this? Now that we’re slightly less tired and the element of surprise is out of the way?”
Wille hums in affirmation but doesn’t loosen his grip on Simon, instead burrows his nose even further into the crook of his neck. Now that he’s gotten a taste of being close he never wants any space between them again, wants to melt further and further into soft skin until their hearts can beat in unison and their souls intertwine.
”Because- like we’ve always talked about things. That’s kind of our whole thing. We’ve talked about things, most things that counted and yet, we’ve never talked about the big ones. And- I get it you know, I get that you were scared to tell me, but it also hurt when you didn’t trust me, it felt like this whole thing we’ve built didn’t seem to mean enough for you. That you could just leave me hanging like that without even saying something. And I know I said yesterday that it’s fine and it is, I just-” He trails off hesitantly, the words hanging in the air between them.
Wille sighs, presses his face even closer to Simon’s skin. He can feel the steady beat of his pulse against his cheek, the pulsating rhythm calming the swirling of nerves, the little voice in his head again awakening to remind him that this might not work, that this might all be a mistake, that Simon could still get up and walk away at any second. Except Simon’s heart is calm, steady. Wille tries to will his own to follow its lead.
”It’s not that,” he begins, ”or- I guess it is in a way. It’s more that I know how you feel about the monarchy, how you think it’s a waste of money and that they- we, I mean- are just meaningless figure heads, a ’dead horse society insists on dragging around’ like you’ve said. And I knew- I knew you liked me, you know, monkey-Wille from the phone. But the other me? The one I kind of despise myself, that one I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to look past.”
”Wille-” Simon starts, voice so gentle it almost makes Wille want to cry. But just almost. He blinks a little. Simon tries to pull back to look at him but Wille shakes his head, tries to keep it in its warm spot tucked under Simon’s chin.
”I know and, again, I’m really sorry for not trusting you. I know I fucked up and I get it now. I was just scared of scaring you off, of not being worthy of you. I- I come with kind of a lot of baggage,” he admits.
”I don’t mind.” Simon says softly, strokes a hand through Wille’s hair. ”Don’t we all?”
”I guess. But the part about me living life like a monkey at the circus isn’t that far off. Wherever I go people will look, they’ll take pictures and have opinions. And I guess- I- just didn’t want to subject you to that. You’ve been through enough. There were so many people there that day at the café. They were staring at me and taking pictures and I just- panicked, I guess. It wasn’t supposed to end like that, I really did intend to show up, but I got scared and I just felt like I’d ruin your life just because of who I am.”
”Wille- I- like I said, I’d like that to be my choice to make. Okay?” The hand in his hair scratches gently at his scalp and Wille knows he’d agree to just about anything.
”So what will you choose then?” He whispers, pulls back a little at last to meet Simon’s gaze.
”I’ll choose you, you dumb monkey.” There’s not a trace of hesitation in his voice, a soft look in his eyes.
”Yeah?”
”Always.”
”I’ll choose you too.” A soft whisper, barely audible.
But Simon hears him. Simon closes the gap between them, presses a soft kiss to Wille’s lips. Nothing more than a brief touch, a kiss for all the words that have yet to be said. A kiss that’s enough for now. They might have to revisit the topic at a later point, but for now it feels like a giant weight off his shoulders, like the air is all of a sudden easier to breathe. He reaches out to card a hand through Simon’s curls, mimicking the comforting gesture Simon had just done for him. He marvels at the way the other boy melts into the touch, the way he hums contentedly, eyes falling shut.
”If you keep doing that I might fall asleep,” Simon informs him lazily, lets his head come up to rest on Wille’s shoulder for better access.
”I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Wille shrugs. It’s not really the truth but Simon doesn’t need to know that. He’s not going anywhere anyway, doesn’t think he’s asking for too much by wanting to remain in his wonderland and not be the Crown Prince for just one precious day.
Wille himself doesn’t sleep, is content watching the way Simon’s breathing slows down, the little crease between his eyebrows smoothen out. He traces the soft skin with his thumb, considers once again pinching himself to wake up from this wonderland of a dream. He doesn’t.
”Hey Wille?” Simon says after a while, eyelids fluttering open to peer at Wille through dark lashes, a teasing glint in his eye. He pushes himself up on one elbow and wiggles around under the tangled sheets until he’s lying halfway on top of him, their bare chests pressed together.
”Mm?” Wille hums, a little too distracted by the way Simon’s naked torso feels against his own. The fingers tangled in Simon’s hair slide down to rest against his back instead.
”You know what my song is?”
Wille shakes his head no.
”Ruin My Life. You know, the one by Zara Larsson?”
”That doesn’t sound very nice.” Wille pouts, would even have been slightly worried by this fact if it hadn’t been for the gleam in Simon’s eyes, the teasing smile tugging at his lips.
”No, look-” Simon leans down to drop a soft kiss to his lips. ”It’s because of what you said before, it made me think of the chorus. Listen.”
And Wille has heard Simon sing before. Over the phone, on the radio the other night when he’d poured his heart out in the song with the lyrics breaking Wille’s own, his covers on youtube he’d found back in the days where he’d been kind-of-but-not-really internet-stalking Simon before working up the nerve to actually talk to him. He’s heard Simon sing. He knows how good he is. But there’s something about the intimacy of a soft melody meant for his ears only, the way his voice is slightly raspy from sleep but filled to the brim with emotion. Wille suddenly understands the thousands and thousands of people expressing their love for others through singing, wishes he had even a sliver of talent so he could return the favor.
”I want you to ruin my life” Simon sings.
”I want you to fuck up my nights”
”I want you to bring it all on, If you make it all wrong then I’ll make it all right”
”So you’re saying I’m ruining your life then?” Wille teases as Simon trails off after finishing the chorus, enjoys the way Simon’s eyes widen, the way he immediately shakes his head.
”I’m not saying you are, I’m saying you can. If that’s what it takes. I’m not letting you go again.” His voice is soft, so full of sincerity that Wille can feel is heart grow ten sizes, fill to the very brim. ”And I’d love for you to fuck up my nights, if you know what I mean?” He has the nerve to actually wink and Wille has to suppress a snort even as he feels a shiver run down his spine, an eager heat again buzzing under his skin.
”Fuck up Simon, I don’t think that’s what you mean.” Wille pushes himself up to a sitting position. Sheets pooling at both their waists, faces so close yet still not close enough. Never close enough.
”Wille,” Simon groans. ”You absolutely know what I mean.” His pupils are blown wide, lips slightly parted.
”It’s not night anymore, is it still allowed?” Wille teases, just because he can, before closing the distance, a soft brush of lips followed by a trailing of kisses slowly down Simon’s neck.
Simon’s breath hitches in his throat.
”Yes.” He gasps out as Wille’s kisses trail even lower. ”So allowed.”
***
As it turns out Simon does have a couch perfect for napping and cuddling and- other things. It’s old and worn, squeaking occasionally under the weight of their two bodies. It’s the best piece of furniture to ever exist as far as Wille’s concerned. Maybe in a tie for first place with Simon’s bed.
Once they’d at last managed to pull themselves out of bed, Simon had insisted Wille take the first shower, mumbling something about it being impolite to not provide breakfast for his guest. At the suggestion of a joint shower his eyes had turned dark momentarily before swatting at Wille’s ass and telling him ’in that case it would take all day and some people are actually hungry’. Wille’s stomach growls at the reminder and so he reluctantly lets himself get shooed into the shower all by his lonesome.
There’s toast and coffee waiting for him in the living room as he emerges, smelling of Simon’s eucalyptus body wash. He curls up in the corner of the couch, wrapping his fingers around the ’The Vibe FM’ coffee mug and proceeds to send a couple of texts as he waits for Simon to join him.
He’s got thirty-two missed calls. He chooses to not dwell too much on that, doesn’t want anything disrupting his little bubble of bliss. He’s allowed this, the monarchy will survive a day or possibly an entire weekend without it’s prince.
Fri 1.43 pm
Alva, this is Wille. I got Malin to send me your number. Sorry for missing the morning briefing again, can you please please get me out of anything on the schedule today? And possibly the rest of the weekend? 🙏🏻
Please, I’ll owe you a thousand favors!!
Not before long he gets a thumbs up emoji back and a text saying ’enjoy your weekend ;)’
She probably deserves a raise. He wonders who he should talk to about that.
”Hi”. Simon slumps down next to him, ignoring the wide open space of the rest of the couch in favor of curling up next to Wille in his corner. His curls are still damp, droplets of water wetting Wille’s t-shirt as Simon lets his head come to rest against his shoulder.
”Simon?” Wille says, suddenly reminded of something, curiosity getting the best of him.
”Hm?”
”You didn’t look that surprised when you first saw me? Like, about me being me and all.” The angry look on Simon’s face spring to mind, one so different from its current blissful expression, the way he’s all soft and warm wrapped up in a worn purple hoodie and a blanket. That Simon had barely reacted to the sight of him, instead immediately launched into a tirade of angry words. There’s a sting to Wille’s heart as he remembers Simon’s words, his hurt expression, the way he had been the cause of it. He swallows it down, wraps his arms around Simon. He’s here now, that’s gotta count for something. It has to.
Simon smiles up at him, melts into the embrace. ”I already kind of knew, I told you about that on the phone? When you called Ayub?”
”Oh” Wille breathes out, the statement taking him by surprise. ”I- uh- sorry, I didn’t realize.” He admits. ”I kind of wish I’d known you knew and this would all have been a lot easier.”
”I thought that’s why you thought it wouldn’t work. Because of me not being- suitable or something, because of the royal circus having other plans for you.” There’s a little trace of hesitance in his voice and Wille squeezes him even tighter into his side.
”They probably would, hell they probably do, but Simon, I don’t care about that, it doesn’t matter to me, you have to believe that. I was just scared of hurting you, of you getting overwhelmed by the shitstorm that is my life, eventually growing to resent it and me.” The admittance feels raw in his throat, his voice shaking a little. ”Simon- I- I’m honestly still scared of that. Just know you can back out at any time, I’ll understand.”
He will. He would. It might possibly kill him in the process but he chooses not to dwell too deep on that, instead tears his gaze away from his lap to meet Simon’s eyes, tries to convey his sincerity with his own.
Simon twirls his hoodie string around his finger, nibbles a little at his bottom lip. ”I’m not gonna lie, it does scare me a little.” He admits. ”More than I want it to because, like I said, I choose you. And I do want this.”
”Maybe for now we can just take it one day at a time?” He suggests and Wille tries to choke down the bitter taste in his mouth, the little voice saying Simon wants it now but what about tomorrow? Next week? Next month?
”And I’d never resent you for something that’s out of your control, just know that, okay?” Simon adds quietly, fingertips gently tracing along Wille’s jaw.
”Okay,” Wille agrees, feeling his head melting further into the touch, subconsciously craving it. Because what else can he say?
He’s still not entirely convinced, still afraid of the rug getting swept away from under his feet, bringing Simon and sunshine and kisses tasting of spring with it. But Simon’s gaze on him is soft, holding the answers to all his doubts and when there’s still a trace of anxiety and doubt painting his insides there are more kisses, each warmer than the last. Until he can’t think anymore, until all he can feel is the warmth of spring sun rays chasing the dark clouds away.
”I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere,” is again whispered against his lips and the rainbow dancing behind Wille’s eyelids is enough to brush the intruding thoughts aside for now.
***
They’re in the middle of a movie. The fourth one they’ve seen in the past 24 hours. The first one they’ve actually paid attention to, given the previous need for talking and, well, not-talking. Wille’s head is resting in Simon’s lap. One of Simon’s hands occupied with gently scratching at his scalp, the other clutching a cup of coffee. There are take-out boxes on the floor, yesterday’s coffee cups still left on the coffee table, the cleaning neglected in favor of other activities. We’ll do it later, Simon had shrugged, deeming it unimportant. Later still hasn’t come around.
Wille hasn’t been subjected to mess in years, not since his Hillerska days and barely even then since there had been house-keeping tidying up the common spaces and even his own room on a weekly basis. The lack of cleanliness is making him almost giddy.
Simon suddenly pauses the movie, making Wille turn his gaze from the screen to his face.
”Oh- um so, listen- I kind of have this thing on Saturdays. Me and Ayub go to my sister’s for brunch.” He looks a little nervous.
”Okay.” Wille can feel his face fall a little, tries to hide his disappointment. ”What time do you have to leave? Maybe we can give you a ride there on the way back to the castle?” The word castle leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, even less of a home after these last 24 hours spent in Simon’s space.
Simon nibbles at his bottom lip, looks at him nervously. ”In an hour or so. But I- I was thinking, maybe you could come?”
”I could come?” Wille echoes dumbly. ”You mean- to meet your sister?”
”Yeah. Like- no pressure or anything, only if you want to. She wouldn’t tell anyone, I promise.” The words are slightly rushed, a faint blush painting his cheeks. He twirls a strand of Wille’s hair around his finger, seems to try to keep his expression neutral, like it doesn’t matter. Wille can see through it, knows how important Simon’s sister is to him, how much he values her opinion.
”I’m sorry, it’s a dumb idea, you really don’t have to-” Simon continues but is cut off by a kiss, Wille pushing himself up on an elbow to do so.
”Simon, I’d love to meet her,” He says. ”Have you told her anything about me already?”
Simon averts his gaze, suddenly looking a little guilty. ”Well- yeah. We kind of spent the day together after you stood me up so she knows about that. Other than that- not really, not any details at least.”
”Oh.” Wille’s stomach drops at the realization, suddenly knowing exactly what kind of a first impression he’s already made on Simon’s sister. ”Simon, she’s gonna hate me.”
”No one could hate you. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her beforehand. It will be fine.” Simon looks happy as he digs up his phone to inform his sister of the change in plans. He assures Wille once more that it’s all gonna be fine.
The heavy feeling in Wille’s stomach isn’t entirely convinced.
***
Wille can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as they stand together in the faint fluorescent light in the hall outside Simon’s sister’s apartment. He’d said he was all in and he’d meant it, he is. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t rather escape back to the little bubble of only him and Simon, existing in a space beyond other people and their opinions though. Where is that rabbit hole when one needs it?
Simon squeezes his hand reassuringly and it almost helps with the tumbling of nerves currently flooding him. Almost.
Then the door opens and Simon immediately dives in for a hug, not-so-discretely whispering something Wille can’t make out into the brown-haired girl’s ear.
As they pull apart, Wille’s tugged into the apartment, finally faced with the nerve-wrecking reality that is coming face to face with Simon’s sister. He’s been trained to make good impressions his entire life, have met countless people whose opinions of him supposedly mattered (were crucial even, in the words of his mother) and yet none of it seems even slightly helpful now as he’s trying and failing to put on an air of charisma, of genuineness, in the hope of changing this girl’s opinion of him.
And then they lock eyes as Simon steps aside to give Wille room in the narrow hallway. He can feel his mouth fall open. Oh. Oh.
”Oh, hey Wille.” The very familiar brunette says in greeting and Wille’s stopped dead in his tracks, can feel all his overwhelming nervousness suddenly pouring off of him. What are the odds.
”Sara! Hi!” He steps past Simon and pulls her into a brief hug. They’ve never hugged before, but the relief that courses through him at being faced with the familiar face, the girl who, just like Simon, has never seen him for anything other than himself, he can’t help himself.
If she’s surprised she doesn’t say so, instead wraps her arms around his neck and lets him squeeze her tight. ”It’s good to see you,” he says earnestly and she smiles. It’s not the sunshine-smile that Simon does but close enough. Wille can’t believe he hasn’t made the connection before.
Simon’s expression as Wille turns back to him is priceless.
”Sara, what the hell? You already know him?” He demands, doesn’t seem to know if he’s annoyed or amused by this fact. His eyebrows are scrunched adorably together, lips pouting slightly.
”Yeah, he’s a friend of Felice’s, the daughter to my boss. We’ve been riding together a few times,” she shrugs before ushering them further into the apartment, to the tiny living room where the dining table has been set up. Ayub gives them a little wave from his seat next to the window, asks them how their weekend has been with a suggestive eyebrow-wiggle. Wille can feel his cheeks heat up.
Simon doesn’t seem to register the greeting, is too preoccupied glaring at his sister.
”And you didn’t deem it important enough to mention that you’ve been riding with the Crown Prince of Sweden?” He asks, almost accusatorially, as he sinks down on one of the wooden chairs, tugs a little at Wille’s sleeve to get him to sit down next to him.
”I thought he was just Wille?” Sara gives him a pointed look. ”And it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like you tell me everything you do at work.”
Simon looks at her incredulously for a second before shaking his head in disbelief, smiling down at his plate.
”And here I was worrying about how to introduce you two, imagine how much thinking you could have spared me if I’d known you were already friends.”
”You shouldn’t overheat that chimp brain of yours by thinking so much,” Wille teases, earning himself another elbow in the ribs and a laugh from Ayub.
”Don’t get him started with this again,” Ayub pleads with a grin. ”Do you know how many conversations I had to endure on whether or not I thought you joking about his good looks on the show that night meant you were into him or not?”
Simon grumbles something about everyone teaming up against him today but looks not-so-secretly pleased with the situation regardless, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up even as he tries. Wille sneaks a kiss to his cheek, just because he wants to, just because he can. Ayub cheers. Sara shoots them a look Wille can’t read before busying herself with spreading marmalade on a piece of toast.
She remains unusually quiet, doesn’t participate in the chatter around the table, only gives short answers when asked about her job and the horses. There’s a conversation that needs to be had between the two of them and Wille knows it, knows their previous friendship won’t get him off the hook, that he still has some convincing to do in order to regain her trust. He’s not sure how to go about it though.
And then the moment presents itself.
”I’m just gonna go get some more whipped cream since someone seems to think the dish is ’cream with waffles’ and not the other way around.” Sara says, grabs the empty bowl and stands up. Ayub doesn’t even look slightly guilty, he just grins at her and shrugs.
”Wille, would you mind helping me out?” She asks as she passes him. Simon shoots her a warning glance which she pretends not to notice.
The aching dread returns to the pit of Wille’s stomach, but he nods obligingly, squeezes Simon’s hand as he follows Sara into the kitchen. He had been prepared to grovel after all, the fact that it’s Sara and he knows her doesn’t mean he didn’t mess up, didn’t screw with her brother’s feelings.
”So, you and my brother, huh?” She says as they enter the kitchen, positions herself against the counter with her arms crossed. Wille shrinks under her gaze, feels the buzzing anxiety grow inside his chest again.
”Yeah- I- uh-,” he stutters. Sara raises an eyebrow at him.
”Look, Wille, I like you, I do,” she starts, shoots him a sympathetic look. ”But Simon was really messed up after that whole stunt you pulled. And I know things aren’t as easy for you because of the royal stuff. I know you just want to feel normal and that you have a shit ton of anxiety and stuff so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Just don’t hurt him again. Simon will bend over backwards for the people he loves, he’ll give every last bit of himself to keep you happy. So you can’t let him.”
The protective look in her eyes, the way her voice shifts and the apparent love that fills it when she talks about Simon reminds Wille of Erik, makes him wonder if this is how Erik would have acted on his behalf if he’d ever gotten to meet someone Wille dated. (Are they even dating?). He can picture Erik giving Simon the big-brother-talk, the two of them bonding over music or video games or their mutual horrible taste in pizza toppings.
”I won’t Sara, I promise,” he says softly. ”Your brother- I- I love him. We’ve only just met but I’d do anything for him. Hurting him again is the last thing I would want.”
”Good. Now will you help me with the whipped cream?” She says, takes a carton out of the fridge. Accepts him, just like that.
He gratefully accepts the bowl and the electric whisk she hands him and silently vows yet another time to never ever hurt Simon again.
”That took you guys long enough” Simon says as they emerge from the kitchen, raises a questioning eyebrow at the two of them as Wille places the bowl of whipped cream on the table in front of Ayub. There’s another stern look thrown Sara’s way, which is yet again ignored.
Wille touches Simon’s shoulder as he sinks down next to him, squeezes it lightly to try to convey that it’s fine, that it was a good conversation, that he’ll never ever hurt him as long as he’ll live. Simon probably doesn’t get it but he turns his sunshine-smile towards Wille and it’s all good for now.
They’re immediately pulled into conversation with Ayub who delights in telling Wille all about his favourite embarrassing moments with Simon growing up. Simon himself groans and shoves at his friend’s shoulder to shut him up, but to no avail. He shoves a large forkful of waffle in his mouth instead.
”Simon, stop chewing with your mouth open” Sara complains, prompting Simon to chew even louder. It’s the best brunch Wille has ever been to in his life.
***
The weekend comes to an end way too soon.
”Do you really have to go?” Wille is almost embarrassed at the way the words escape his mouth as a whine. Almost.
”Someone has to keep all the insomniacs company, I thought you of all people knew that.”
But Simon hugs him even tighter, buries his face in the crook of Wille’s neck. Soft curls tickle his cheek, the smell of Simon’s cologne lingering in his nostrils. Wille, for the millionth time today wishes he could just press pause, spend the rest of his life in a moment of nothing but him and Simon, no obligations or mothers or radio show audiences demanding their share of Simon’s attention.
”Do you have to go right now though?” He pleads, knows it will be to no avail but pleads nonetheless.
”Yeah, or I’ll be late” Simon sighs, pulls back reluctantly. ”I’ll talk to you later?”
Wille just hums in agreement, not at all looking forward to heading back to the castle, to facing his mother after disappearing off for the entire weekend. But it’s Sunday night and Simon has to work. Keep the insomniacs company. Wille is quite certain he will, once again, be one of them. What a downgrade after the weekend they’ve had.
He waits until Simon’s figure has disappeared into the radio station’s building before resignedly turning around to get back in the car, telling Malin they can go home now. Home. The word doesn’t even feel right to apply to the castle anymore. He shrugs deeper down into Simon’s purple hoodie, letting the leftover scent of his cologne sooth the ache of his missing sunshine at least a little.
***
Wille can’t help himself, can’t contain himself longer than fifteen minutes of merely co-existing with Simon as another faceless listener, a number in the statistics. His fingers have dialed the number before he can even recognize what he’s doing. Ayub finds this endlessly amusing as he takes Wille’s call, but lets him through nonetheless.
’Hey caller, you’re on the air with Simon on Late Night Vibes, what’s on your mind today?’
’Hi Simon. I can’t sleep tonight and I guess I’m calling because I- just wanted some advice on how to deal with missing someone.’
’Oh, hey monkey! Good to hear from you again, it’s been- uh- too long. This someone you’re missing, are you having a hard time sleeping because of this?’
’Yeah. It’s just not the same without them. My own bed doesn’t feel right anymore.’
’Oh. Right. I don’t really have any good advice other than assuring you that they’re probably missing you too and that you’ll be together again soon enough. Maybe even tomorrow? Keep that in mind, okay? Hopefully that can help you at least a little with the sleeping. Try to picture him- uh, I mean- them- there next to you’
’I hope so. I’ll try.’
’Do you wanna request a song, perhaps? Or do you want me to pick one out for you?’
’I’d love it if you played your song.’
’Well, in that case, here’s Troye Sivan with WILD for you, Wille. Try to get some sleep and I’m sure you’ll see him again soon. This is Late Night Vibes with Simon on The Vibe FM, 104,6.’
Wille pulls the blanket up tighter around himself, closes his eyes as he lets the song, Simon’s song wash over him, tries to imagine himself in a different bed. A smaller one, already occupied by someone else. It helps a little. Simon’s easy chatter in his ear is a comfort, makes him seem closer than just a faraway figment of Wille’s imagination, makes them seem more real.
He’s almost asleep, eyes drooping shut to the sound of Simon interacting with his listeners when another familiar voice makes him suddenly do a double take, come back from his half-asleep state.
’Hi, this is Simon on Late Night Vibes, who am I speaking to?’
’Hi Simon, this is Felice.’
’Oh- Felice- I mean hi. We are talking about food tonight, more specifically what food we’d pick if we could only eat one thing for the rest of our lives. What’s yours ?’
’I mean, I obviously think pasta is a superior food, do I have to pick a specific dish or can I just say pasta in general and give myself some options? ’
’You’re actually the first person tonight to get this question right! Pasta really is only reasonable choice and I’m definitely not only saying that because it’s what I would pick myself. Since it’s my show and I therefore make the rules I’m gonna let you have this one. Congrats, you’ve got pasta for life! Hypothetically.’
’Amazing! And- speaking of getting things right… -I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you and all, but maaybe consider flirting with your boyfriend on your own time? If you know what I mean, wink wink. You’re so cute it’s bordering on gross, think about all the poor single souls out there. And thank you for a great show!’
’Wait- what? Uh- I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a- I mean, I’m not sure if- I-’
’Hey, it’s okay, forget I said anything. Can I request a song?’
’Oh, yeah of course!’
’’Can I have ’About Damn Time’ with Lizzo?´
’What? I mean- yes, coming right up! You’re listening to The Vibe FM, now playing Lizzo's ’About Damn Time’ for Felice. ’
***
Mon 1.54 am:
felice!!
why would you do that?
Hi Wilhelm, did you have a good weekend? ;)
One: I expected updates and you kept dodging my calls
Two: come on guys, please keep it in your pants and off the radio grid
Three: I’ve never called in to a show before, it was fun!
oh sorry, i didn’t mean to
i’ve just been busy
Mhm. Busy making out with mr radio man
I get it
i mean you’re not wrong but i thought you didn’t wanna talk about that? ;)
and it wasn’t you specifically, i turned my phone off to escape my mum for a sec
do you wanna catch up over lunch on wednesday?
Yes. Falafel place by the water?
sounds good.
oh and felice?
do you really think he would be my boyfriend?
Yes dummy, of course he will. Just ask him
***
As the sun starts climbing its way up the horizon Wille blinks tiredly at it, not having managed to catch more than a couple hours of sleep at most, too preoccupied with irrational jealousy of the listeners getting to interact with Simon, overrun with the urge to call, to text, possibly once again escape the castle and go over there. He wouldn’t even have to say anything, Wille could sit in the studio and exist in Simon’s presence for a little bit and his night would have been significantly better. But he doesn’t want to overdo it, doesn’t want to drag Simon into the shipwreck that is his insomnia, cling too tight and scare him off before they’ve even had the chance to build something together. For now Wille has to stay afloat on his own.
I want you, Simon had said. Wille wants to believe him, wants and desperately needs to prove the little voice inside his head wrong, the one that keeps yelling at him how this is definitely too good to be true, that people like him don’t get to keep things like this. Just you wait, it says, it will all crumble to pieces soon enough. Wille tries to ignore it. He doesn’t want to wait, has waited enough for a lifetime.
I want you to ruin my life, Simon had sung, so soft and warm and sincere. Like he’d be willing to sacrifice everything for another second in Wille’s arms. And Wille doesn’t doubt his sincerity, doesn’t doubt Simon’s feelings for him anymore, not after the weekend they’ve had, not while he’s still high off the the sensation of love and home and comfort. But the little voice is telling him how Simon might think he does, might believe he knows what he’s in for but is he really prepared for what’s to come? Is Wille really willing to let him give it all up for his own selfish purposes. What if Simon lets him ruin his life and regrets it? Wille’s no stranger to the entitled ways in which he’s been brought up, to the royal tendency of using and discarding, of taking advantage and sweeping collateral damage under the rug. Always putting themselves first, the family, the image, everything else coming second.
And even now that he’s desperately trying to see Simon’s way, scared senseless of once again making decisions for him, of unintentionally hurting him when trying to protect himself, he’s not sure where the line is between allowing Simon to make his own choices and taking advantage of someone who offers up way more than Wille could ever deserve.
Simon told him to ruin his life if that’s what it takes and Wille is scared senseless that it just might.
He’s disrupted in his spiral of thoughts by a faint knock on the door. Three quick raps and merely a two-second delay before it glides open, the person clearly not awaiting an answer.
”Morning, princeling.” Alva chirps sunnily on her way in, the usual breakfast tray and clipboard clutched in her arms. Wille breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of her, her presence a welcome distraction to the intruding thoughts once again trying to overtake him.
He smiles tiredly at her, gestures to the armchair in the corner as he makes his way out of bed and curls up on the couch himself. She helps herself to a cup of coffee without even asking and it makes something warm bloom in Wille’s stomach to have formed this easy way of co-existing with a person he once used to despise simply for her job title. He remembers awkward curtsying and insistent ’Your Highnesses’, even when told to skip the title, with a shudder.
”Did you have a good weekend?” She asks.
Soft smiles. Warm hugs. A worn down leather couch. Easy banter with the two people most important to the one person most important to him. Laughter bearing the promise of friendship. Scones with too much baking soda. A smear of whipped cream gently brushed away from his cheek. Never-ending smooth planes of skin illuminated by the soft morning sun rays. Kisses tasting like spring. Simon.
”Wille?”
”Yeah.” He breathes out, still caught up in the memory. ”I did. What about you?”
She smiles at him knowingly but doesn’t prod for details, instead shares a story of how she’d gotten some time off due to his absence and had used it to go see her sister and baby niece.
They share the two pieces of toast, chat easily for a bit. Wille tries his best to delay the inevitable to-do list, the coming lecture on princely behavior and how forsaking his commitments and disappearing for an entire weekend is very unbecoming of a future monarch. He asks questions, tries to keep the conversation going, stay in his happy weekend-bubble for just a second longer.
Alva humors him at first and he’s eternally grateful for her, but eventually the insistent dings from her tablet become too much and she pulls it out of its case, shooting him an apologetic look.
”Oh,” she says after glancing at the screen. ”Your mother requests your presence in the conference room. Says it’s urgent.”
Wille fights the urge to roll his eyes, to childishly insist that if she wants to talk to him she can reach out to him and not his assistant. Which she hasn’t.
But he has been gone the whole weekend without offering any explanation to his absence other than being needed at a friend’s. Her silence, the lack of calls or texts, after the initial ones on the night he and Malin had left, did make him slightly uneasy at first, but that had of course swiftly been pushed to the very back of his mind in the presence of Simon, whose mere existence makes anything else in Wille’s life, his mind, his surroundings seem so utterly unimportant, fade into nothing but background noise.
Right now there’s no Simon. Not even a good morning text, since it’s still only nine am and Simon most certainly is still blissfully asleep. Wille can almost picture him curled up in bed with the duvet pulled so high up the only thing peeking out is a few ruffled curls, the soft way he breathes with lips slightly parted. Cosy, warm. Unlike Wille’s own bedroom where there’s no Simon and there’s once again room for thoughts, suppressed feelings, the ever-present knowledge of not being able to live up to what’s expected of him.
”Wille, I think we should go.” Alva touches his elbow lightly, a little crease having formed between her eyebrows. Wille thinks she probably knows more than she’s letting on, knows exactly what he’s in for, but he’s in no mood to ask, will face his mother’s wrath head on soon enough anyway.
He nods, pulls on a hoodie over his button-up shirt, a small act of defiance he knows will make her face scrunch up even more in dismay, his failure to upkeep a proper manner of dressing ever the eyesore to her.
As they make their way into the conference room there’s already a small number of people there, some he recognizes from their PR team, some he can’t quite place. They give room for him and Alva as they enter, clear a path for them to make their way to the Queen sitting at the head of the table. She’s swiping her finger across a tablet on the table in front of her, doesn’t even look up as they approach. She just swipes. Again and again and again. Wille’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not, can feel his nerves swirling in the pit of his stomach, anxiety buzzing under his skin.
He clears his throat. ”Good morning, mum.” He says, tries to keep his voice neutral. ”I’m sorry for my absence this weekend, I was needed elsewhere. I trust you and dad managed well without me at the auction?” Polite, polished, not a trace of his internal nervous shaking apparent in his voice. In any other situation she’d probably be proud. Now she doesn’t look at him.
”Mum?” He tries again.
”Wilhelm, would you care to explain what this is?” She looks up from the screen at last to meet his gaze, raises a questioning eyebrow.
Wille looks down at the tablet in front of her and freezes, any trace of the polished and proper armor suddenly crumbling to pieces, leaving him bare and exposed, chest torn open all the way down to his quivering heart. All of him laid bare to be judged and scrutinized.
His walls are crumbling, his knees are trembling. Because on the screen is a very familiar setting. The familiar red brick building, which in only a weekend had come to feel like a home. A blonde woman holding open a car door. A boy with curly hair in a purple hoodie. And the Crown Prince of Sweden wrapped up in his arms.
She swipes again. There’s handholding. Soft lips pressed to a rosy cheek. A brief peck on the doorstep to Sara’s building.
The curly-haired boy in the hoodie, the Crown Prince in his long coat. A shared smile. Intertwined hands. Heads tipped back laughing at a joke Wille can’t remember anymore.
There hadn’t even been any cameras around, they’d been so careful. Or so he’d thought.
His hands shake as he clenches his intertwined fingers even tighter together in the pocket of his hoodie. Picture-Simon looks so happy. Wille wonders vaguely what the joke had been.
”Who is this, Wilhelm?” His mother urges, keeps swiping.
Grainy pictures of Wille and Simon stumbling out of the radio station building on that morning that had possibly been the best one of his life. He can see the little smile on his own face, even with the low quality, envies the way that version of himself gets to be wrapped up in Simon, so filled with happiness and bliss and fucking finally to even have spotted the person taking these pictures.
His mother’s gaze is piercing. ”Who is he?” She repeats. As if she doesn’t already know. As if the people in the room haven’t been carefully selected to handle this crisis or whatever they’ll want to call it. He’d bet an arm and a leg they’ve already come up with a strategy to discredit the photos, claim it’s not him. Had it been him and Felice they’d be over the moon, celebrating the publicity. Wille feels pretty sure his previous guess of noble heritage being a determining factor in any mother-approved suitor is about to be proven right. His chest feels tight, the panic steadily rising. Never before has being right felt so wrong.
He shrinks deeper into his hoodie. The very same one the curly-haired boy is wearing in the grainy picture. Stolen with the promise of returning it the next time they’d see each other. ’So you can sleep better’. Simon had said and smiled as Wille poured all his feelings into yet another kiss, allowed himself be wrapped up and adored and missed even before parting ways.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, the sound filling the otherwise alarmingly quiet room. All eyes turn towards him.
Mon, 10.42 am
good morning ❤️
i missed you in my bed :(( can i see you today?
’I want you to ruin my life’ Simon had said. Wille had just hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that. At least not so soon.