Work Text:
"Aching Tenderness ."
" щемящая нежность . shchemyashchaya nezhnost "
Origin: Russian
A feeling as though as though you have been taken by the throat.
A feeling of tenderness,love and sadness.The feeling when it is hard to breathe, when the heart stops in the chest and you want to lose yourself in that feeling.
…
It’s two thirty-eight in the early morning when Ronja Daniela Eriksson is born at Mount Sinai Hospital on the Upper East Side.
Rasmus is sleeping at home, watched by both Linda and Sara, who had both arrived a few days ago to be here for the birth of their new family member..
It’s tense and quiet in the waiting room, Simon is pacing up and down the length of the room, which is empty except for the two of them.
Wilhelm himself feels numb, honestly these past few months, the closer and closer they had gotten to this moment he had grown increasingly afraid.
He had talked in depth with his therapist, had talked through his fears, tried to write them down and process them as best as he could, had talked to Simon and to the doctors involved in their surrogate's prenatal care.
Everything had been by the book, she hadn’t had any risk factors or health problems over the past months. Aside from aches and pains which were normal, it had seemed like a completely different experience than what he remembered Linnéa experiencing.
Their surrogate was from a well-known agency and they had taken their time getting to know her and making sure they felt comfortable proceeding with her. She had had to sign an NDA due to the sensitive nature of circumstances which hadn’t been an issue, and at least one of them if not usually both had managed to make almost all of her appointments.
They had been having regular check-ins, increasing in frequency once she had reached the third trimester but it had still felt far away.
Somehow even though he knew it was coming Wilhelm hadn’t quite believed it when she had called them to let them know she was on her way to the hospital.
That had been almost eight hours ago, they had been in multiple times to see her, but at a certain point, she had asked for them to wait outside, something they had already agreed on prior. Despite the fact that she is carrying their child, she had been very upfront that she didn’t feel comfortable with them in the delivery room and they had accepted it.
Secretly Wilhelm is glad.
He had been there with Linnéa as she had struggled through, when she had eventually run out of strength and the midwives had called the doctors in, roughly pushing him to the side as he had been frozen in fear at the sight of so much blood .
The thought of being there again, even if everything is going well and everyone is healthy, it makes him sick to his stomach. Dark miasmic fear, intangible and nauseating seeps through his chest, squeezes tight until he feels like it’s difficult just to breathe.
He’s sitting in the waiting room sofa with his head low, trying to breathe normally, rubbing circles into his chest.
The place is new and shiny, and the waiting room looks more like a hotel lobby than the kind of places he’s familiar with when he thinks of his experience of going to the hospital.
Simon’s pacing is beginning to wear thin on his nerves and he closes his eyes sharply as another wave of nausea hits him as another doctor is paged to somewhere over the speaker. He can’t decipher the medical terminology and codes being used but they put him on edge, reminding him of the midwives calling for backup in that room the night Rasmus had been born.
“Can you please stop that .” He snaps and his husband freezes. Immediately he feels guilt settle in amid the faint whispers of panic that are just below the surface and he drops his head lower, not wanting to see his face.
Wordlessly Simon comes to sit next to him, the weight shifting the cushion of the sofa as he puts an arm around his shoulder and draws him into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” Wilhelm whispers, “I’m just so scared.”
“I know.” Simon’s voice is gentle and steady, turning his face into his temple and kissing him. Wilhelm knows he probably smells stale and gross, after hours and hours of sitting here in nervous cold sweat, but Simon doesn’t seem to care, his fingers running through his hair in soft, comforting strokes.
“It’s okay Wille.” He murmurs, “I'm scared too.”
“I keep trying to tell myself this is completely different, that what happened…it won’t happen again…what happened to Linnéa was so so incredibly rare and I know…I’ve talked to so many people, to the doctors here, and…I know it but I can’t—”
“Of course, you can’t help but think about what happened before.” Simon murmurs, “That’s completely normal, especially after something so traumatic.”
He breathes out, letting Simon’s voice wash over him.
“Just breathe with me hmm? Talk to me about whatever you want.”
He doesn’t know what to settle on, his thoughts are a mess of tangled black shadows, fragments of memories that are still hazy and stained with the tinge of slick fear. It’s like being trapped in a fog and even though he knows Simon is beside him, he just can’t seem to pull himself out.
“Do you regret doing this?” Wilhelm asks after a moment of silence where Simon is just rubbing his back.
Simon pauses, “Not regret . But I’m nervous as hell. I don’t know anything about taking care of a newborn or a baby…”
“You’re amazing with Rasmus.”
“ Now maybe. But that didn’t come naturally at all. And Rasmus was already walking and talking and running around when I met him.”
“When he was born. I didn’t know what to do. There was so much pressure and so many unknowns, his mother had just….the court was pressuring me to make a statement, my mother took on most of that so she was up to her neck in work and there was this screaming little thing that would only sleep forty-five minutes at a time and relied on me for everything and I was so overwhelmed.”
He hurt just thinking about it. Wilhelm held so many dark emotions from that time, the pain of losing his friend and the person he had grown close to, the person he had believed would be by his side, doing it together. The way he had taken her death as though it had been his fault, thinking back to every moment, every conversation terrified that he had somehow pushed her into it and because of him she was gone.
Back then he hadn’t slept, half delirious and plagued by nightmares of that room and all of the blood and the cries of his son. The whispered horrified voices of the medical staff, his security pulling him out and away and finally a midwife bringing him a small, tiny red little thing. Wrinkled and soft and completely new to the world and placed it on his chest.
He had stared at the small helpless baby, with its eyes trying to open, hands searching out in need. He had stared and felt the whole world crashing down around him, like he was looking at a stranger.
Weren't you supposed to love your child at first sight? Why was it that he had felt nothing but a welling of panic and fear? In his arms the small baby began to wail, hungry. A midwife comes in with a bottle of formula milk and presses it into his hand, trying to explain to him what to do but Wilhelm had been frozen in shock and panic.
The baby let out another wail and he sat up, “No…I—I can’t.”
Wilhelm had pressed the child into the midwife’s hand, ignoring the call of his security following close behind him, feeling unable to breathe. He had practically run out of the hospital, chest heaving and he had stumbled out into the back of the delivery ward, falling forward and vomiting into the bushes, tears of panic and crushing guilt consuming him.
Here back in the present, he pulls himself out of the darkness of his memories. He will always feel guilty for that, for not being able to be there immediately heart and soul for his son.
It had taken him several weeks before he had been able to hold him without feeling the all-encompassing grief and fear choke him up that he didn’t deserve to be happy, that he was going to do everything wrong, that he was going to ruin his life and that he didn’t know what he was doing.
“Hell Wille…I hate that you were alone with that.” His husband whispers next to him in response.
“I still feel so guilty for everything back then. The way I barely wanted to hold him when he needed me—” Wilhelm shakes his head and buries his face into his hands.
“Wille…you have to give yourself grace. You were under such enormous pressure, you were terrified and your friend, your partner had just died… .you were grieving. Your entire life had just dropped out from under you and you suddenly had a baby depending on you for survival when you could barely keep yourself afloat. You have to forgive yourself for that.”
“That’s what Ansa said.” He swallows, taking a deep breath as he thinks back to her sweeping into his life. His mother and the court had made it a top priority to find someone to relieve him, but Wilhelm hadn’t felt comfortable with anyone they had sent so they let him choose in the end.
He can’t really remember why he had chosen her out of the small stack of resumes, but maybe it was something about her smile or the kind expression in her eyes. He hadn’t read over it too carefully, or at least if he had it must have been rather unremarkable, at the time it had been too hard to focus.
But he does remember clearly how she had one day suddenly strode into the room as he was half out of his mind trying to get his poor colicky baby to sleep.
At that point he had felt as though he had been awake for weeks on end, feeling half-mad from the brutal swing of emotions and the faint threads of sleep.
She had plucked the baby out of his hands and the very first thing she had said to him was to order him to take a shower, eat something and go to sleep and to not dare come back until he’d gotten at least eight hours.
Dumbfounded he had done so without protest, too exhausted to argue with her.
And honestly, the relief of being told what to do by someone who seemed to know what they were doing, not having to explain what he needed when he was already at the end of his rope had been such a relief, such a needed blessing that he had cried from pure relief.
“Everything is going to be okay.” Simon says softly, “I know this is bringing up all sorts of painful memories for you…that’s probably unavoidable considering everything you’ve experienced but…look at me for a moment will you?”
Wilhelm takes a deep, shaking intake of breath and does so, looking up at him to see his husband's face.
Simon looks tired, dark circles beneath his eyes and exhaustion lining the shadows cast by the hospital lighting on his face, which is paler than usual, his hair is messy from dragging his fingers in it so much, but he’s still beautiful somehow. Much more so than Wilhelm himself, who has been picking at his face in his anxiety, lip swollen where he’s been biting it, shaky from the empty pit in his stomach, the dinner which he had spit up earlier.
Simon’s hand cups his cheek, skin soft and his touch gentle as he turns his face toward him.
“You’re an amazing father. That boy looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and you love him so much. You moved heaven and earth and changed your whole life for him . So don’t feel guilty over something that you have no reason to feel guilty over, and don’t think for one second that your daughter isn’t going to love you just as much. We are going to do this together, Wille. I’m right here with you.” Simon’s lips, dusky and full pull upwards into a small smile.
“I promise. I know there are going to be a lot of things we can’t control or difficult times, but we are going to get through them one day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute if we have to. But we are going to do it together.”
Wilhelm feels his heart twist and the tightness in his chest begins to leak out as though a cork has been unscrewed.
“Let’s focus on the future…on Rasmus and Ronja and all of the things we are going to get to experience together.”
He nods, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, reaching up to grab the wrist of his hand against his cheek.
Simon leans in closer, pressing their shoulders together and humming softly against his hair once they reposition themselves. Wilhelm wishes he could tell him again how much his words mean to him, how much his support has helped him, but the words are stuck in his throat and all he can do is press closer to him and reach across their bodies for his hand.
“Can you sing to me?” He whispers, taking his husband's hand and squeezing it, “I just want something else to focus on you know?”
“Sure, Wille.” Simon murmurs and there’s a pause as he bums thoughtfully before he begins to sing.
“walking down these crowded streets
searching for signs of you and me
I see it all, footprints on the snow
turn away from bright red lights
came face to face with wide brown eyes
and now I know, there's no letting go”
The words and the soft, quiet whispery way they tumble from Simon’s lips reach him, like a wave on a beach reaching the point just before it’s pulled back once more.
He knows this song, has the melody and the lines of it burned into his memory.
Simon had lovingly titled it “ this one’s about you too ” a gentle tease to the times Wilhelm had overlooked the things Simon had been trying to say through music.
Wilhelm isn't a person who digests music in the way an artist like his husband does. He hears music and he remembers the way it makes him feel, the intensity of the performer, and the lingering feeling it leaves behind. But now he’s learned to listen carefully when Simon speaks to him through music because he’s learned that oftentimes that’s when he’s speaking straight from his heart.
It’s smart of Simon to sing this song, if his intention was to help distract Wilhelm from his own mind.
“and I remember
the tears and the fears and the goodbyes
and I remember
all of the places we've passed by (bye)
and I remember
the feel of your skin, paper thin, kiss goodbye”
It takes him back to the first time he heard Simon perform it. Maybe a month or so after he and Rasmus had moved to New York in that tiny music venue in the village. Sound stripped and bare, with nothing but an acoustic guitar and a microphone. The lights on the stage, buttery yellow, haloing over his dark curls and catching in the strands shimmering with every subtle movement.
Simon used to perform in bars and clubs around the city at night, just one of what seems like hundreds of jobs he does. The life of a self-made and self-promoting artist in an industry such as this is never consistent. Wilhelm says used to, but he still does just not as often since he’s been booking bigger gigs singing on tracks in studio recordings.
But this memory.
This memory is one he’s held close to his heart and it’s so smart of Simon to use it to pull himself out of his own mind.
There hadn’t been that many people in the spot that night, but Simon had asked him to get a babysitter for Rasmus because he wanted him there.
Wilhelm had ordered a beer and tucked himself into the back, visible from the stage but out of the way of the other people in the place, not really feeling very sociable that evening.
A pretty woman with a rather bland set was just finishing up and he had looked up from his phone at the smattering of applause that ensued as she got up and left the stage after a few words of farewell.
Wilhelm had straightened up a bit to see as Simon had slipped onto the stage from the back after he was announced. It seemed as though the people who were here already knew him though judging by the clapping and whistling they were doing once he sat down on the stool. It seemed as though he had played this venue many times based on the back-and-forth he had with the owner while setting up.
Squinting against the light he looked out and Wilhelm waved a bit hoping he would see him. It seemed to have worked because Simon had just smiled and leaned back.
“This is a song I wrote last year. It’s called ‘ this one’s about you too ,’” The smirk that slips across the dusk of his lips is an inside joke as his eyes skirt the crowd and find Wilhelm’s shadow, “So listen to me this time.”
He remembers leaning forward, his drink forgotten, the glass sweating into the flimsy bar napkins on the table.
And he remembers Simon, like an angel in all black cutting a solitary, lissom silhouette on an empty stage. The quiet in the air, hanging silent anticipation as he fixed his guitar and his position, reaching out with slender fingers to draw the mic stand closer.
“walking down these crowded streets
searching for signs of you and me
I see it all, footprints on the snow
turn away from bright red lights
came face to face with wide brown eyes
and now I know, there's no letting go”
and I remember
the tears and the fears and the goodbyes
and I remember
all of the places we've passed by (bye)
and I remember
the feel of your skin, paper thin, kiss goodbye
I left my heart out on your door
black and blue, it's yours to hold
I see it all, on the drive back home
you look so good under city lights
I was yours and you were mine
and now I know, I could never let you go
cause we've been through this before
and we both know how it goes
haunted by all of our ghosts
it's one hell of a show
but this love got me thinking of the why
and I remember
the tears and the fears and the goodbyes
and I remember
all of the places we've passed by (bye)
and I remember
the feel of your skin, paper thin, kiss goodbye
leave an X where we met
get on a train, follow the trail that we left
and if anyone can draw the way to my heart
It's you, you've mapped out all of my parts
cause we've been through this before
and we both know how it goes
haunted by all of our ghosts
it's one hell of a show
but this love got me thinking of the why
and I remember
the tears and the fears and the goodbyes
and I remember
all of the places we've passed by (bye)
and I remember
the feel of your skin, close to me, no goodbyes”
He was unfairly beautiful, lost in the song like that, in the music, present but somewhere else altogether. And even though Wilhelm knew that it was ridiculous he had felt a sudden pang of loss for the years they had been without each other, a kind of aching nostalgia evoked by the lyrics that were unmistakably about them.
But then Simon had looked up, his eyes had met him in the crowd and he had smiled, easy and carefree and gentle and Wilhelm could feel nothing but love.
So now here, in this hospital waiting room, the song brings back all of these things until his fears and the dark memories slowly trickle away and all he feels is the way he had then.
Loved.
___________
It’s about an hour later when a nurse steps into the hallways and comes toward them. His heart quakes in his chest, feeling as though his stomach has dropped out from under him before he comes back to the present and sees the expression on her face.
She’s smiling softly.
“Congratulations you two. Your daughter is perfect.”
Wilhelm feels Simon next to him sag in relief, as though he’s been holding himself tight this entire time, leaning into his side and running his hand over his face.
He closes his eyes and turns his face into his curls, kissing him there with a shaky breath.
When they look back at the nurse she’s still smiling kindly and makes a beckoning gesture toward them.
“You want to come meet her? I think she’s waiting for you both.” She asks and he nods, taking Simon’s hand and helping him up.
The exhaustion of the night seems to disappear completely as they walk down the hallway and toward the room.
The nurse informs them that they have moved their surrogate out to the recovery area and passes along her good wishes to the both of them. Wilhelm makes a note to visit her with the largest bouquet of flowers he can find and thank her for everything once more.
All thoughts melt from his mind when they step into the room and the nurse brings them over to where their daughter is wrapped up in a soft blanket and a little pink cap, eyes closed.
She’s perfect.
He feels the strongest sense of emotion crest up from deep within him. It’s not quite happiness, nor fear. It’s a thick, tight feeling punctuated by tenderness, love, and melancholy choking him up as though it’s hard for him to breathe, as though his heart itself has stopped in the wake of its swell.
He watches as the nurse gently picks her up, her small form swaddled snugly in the blanket, watches as the nurse places her in Simon’s arms and how his husband looks down into her tiny, sweet face with such an aching gentleness that it makes the feeling in his chest a hundred times stronger.
“She was born at six pounds and seven ounces, a perfectly healthy little girl and look…” The nurse murmurs softly, pulling slightly at the cap on her head to reveal a shock of beautiful dark curls hiding beneath. “She’s got a whole head of hair, this one does. I guess she gets that from your side hmm?”
Wilhelm remembers the first time he held Rasmus and felt it. This feeling that is putting pressure on the back of his eyes and gripping onto his chest so tight that he needs to take in a deep breath.
This unfathomable kind of love that he had never experienced. Wilhelm had his share of experience with love, with the highs and lows of it, with the intensity of it. But this is a different type of love altogether, and it’s both terrifying and incredible, somehow as though it’s ingrained in him on a cellular level.
Simon leans against him shaking his head and leaning down to kiss her head softly, murmuring something quiet in Spanish.
“I’ll leave you two alone with her for a bit.” The nurse says gently, “I’ll be back soon to check in though.”
“Does she need to eat?” Simon asks nervously, looking up at her. The nurse shakes her head with a smile.
“Usually they’re not so hungry the first 24 hours, they have such tiny stomachs at this age you know. But we do want to make sure everything is normal and working properly before you two leave the hospital.”
Simon nods, swallowing and Wilhelm puts a hand on his shoulder.
When she’s gone Simon looks up at him and Wilhelm leans forward to kiss his forehead.
“She’s like a little potato.” Simon murmurs, voice dripping with affection. “Like a wrinkly, warm little sweet potato.”
Wilhelm laughs, “She’ll unwrinkle soon.”
“No, I don't want her to unwrinkle. She has to stay tiny and soft and warm like this forever.”
“Unfortunately they just do that, you know.”
“You want to hold her?”
His heart skips a beat and he nods, taking her from Simon carefully who seems to be a little afraid to move her too much.
“Hi, Lily Pad.” He whispers, “We are your pappas…it’s very nice to meet you finally.”
Wilhelm traces her little features with his eyes. The closed eyes, her flushed cheeks, and impossibly tiny nose and mouth. It’s hard to completely determine facial characteristics completely just now, but she looks like Simon, she has his hair and his nose and he loves every single thing about her.
“ Ronja Rövardotter , a little thief of hearts.”
Simon, at his side, chuckles, shaking his head, “I can’t believe both of the kids are named after Astrid Lindgren stories.”
“And why not? Rasmus på Luffen and Ronja Rövardotter are classics.”
Simon grins at him and leans closer as Wilhelm sings gently under his breath, he can’t remember all the lyrics but he remembers the song.
“— han vill va fri som en fågel, fri som en fågel, och då är det som
nånting ropar; – kom
i hans galna luffareblod .”
Wilhelm meets Simon’s eyes and grins when his husband smiles back.
“I love you so much little one,” Simon says, stroking his hand gently over Ronja’s round little head. “Your pappa loves you too even though you’re going to have to get used to how silly he is.”
He gasps softly and is about to protest when both their eyes snap to their daughter.
The baby in his arms has made a soft, cooing sound as her eyes flicker, brows knotting up and tiny mouth pursing as her dark eyes open slowly. She blinks and stares and they lean closer, watching in anticipation as she looks around before coming back to focus on them.
“Hi,” Wilhelm says softly. “Hi, Ronja. Welcome to the world Lily Pad.”
Simon leans against him, his hand stroking circles into his back as he murmurs hello as well.
The little baby squirms a bit and then her eyes drift closed again, sweet and lily-soft.
And Wilhelm feels some of the fear and the pain he’s carried with him all of these years heal in her peaceful expression and the soft noise she makes as Simon carefully takes her once more, holding her close to his chest.
_____________
8 months later
Maddie helps him take out glasses to the table on their terrace. Having a terrace in New York is a luxury no matter how small it is and Simon is so grateful to have an outdoor space to get some air. Theirs is just big enough to fit an outdoor table for six and a few flower boxes where Wille is currently growing tomatoes. Well, trying to grow tomatoes, if the sad wilted state of the plants is saying anything it’s not quite working out. Wille said there was some sort of parasite on the leaves and he’d looked up some homemade nontoxic concoction that had stunk to high heaven when he had mixed it in their kitchen.
Simon swore the smell had lingered for days, even though Wille kept saying he was just overreacting.
There definitely is no leftover smell of that horrid stuff, thank god, only the rich smells of the dinner he’s cooked, meat, garlic, and spices, and the sharp, clean smell of lime and citrus.
Luis comes into the kitchen, holding a box, which they had ordered early this morning at a bakery that was quick enough to have it ready for pickup the same day.
His friend grins as Simon crosses over to inspect, opening the top of the box.
Congrats on Book #2!
The words are looking back at him in loopy green icing and there are piped flourishes of icing along the rim of the cake and several cheery piped roses peeking out. For so last minute it really isn’t as bad as he was expecting.
“Thanks so much for picking it up Luis,” Simon says gratefully, taking it out of his hands and sliding the box into where he’s made space in the refrigerator, pushing Ronja’s premade night bottle to the side so that there’s nothing in danger of crushing the empty space in the top of the box.
“Sure no problem the place wasn’t really out of the way.” He looks around the kitchen and raises an eyebrow, “Wow look at all of this, I don’t remember you cooking when you were living with me.”
Simon laughs a bit, “As a general rule I don’t cook much, but I’m making Wille’s favorite tonight.”
“Fair enough. So when is he getting home?”
“He’s just picking Ronja up from daycare so he should be back in…shit, fifteen minutes.”
Maddie comes back into the kitchen, “Okay everything is set up outside!”
Some of their mutual friends are milling around the apartment where Maddie had tossed out some snacks last minute to keep them all out of the way.”
“He doesn’t have any idea?” Luis asks as he checks out the banner that’s hanging across the entranceway emblazoned with the words Congratulations.
“ I don’t think so.” Simon shakes his head, he looks around for a moment, realizing he doesn’t see a chestnut-haired little boy anywhere, and sucks at his teeth.
“I have to go find Rasmus.” He says quickly, pushing the steaming bowl of rice into Maddie’s hands and asking her to set it on the table outside with the meat and the plantains.
Luis grabs a few dishes as well, corralling the others onto the terrace as Simon turns down the hall. The door to Ronja’s room is closed, but Rasmus’ bedroom door is open and he peeks inside seeing the boy on the floor, pouring over one of the books he had gotten for his birthday a week ago.
It’s a book about animal species, with all kinds of pictures and facts and he’s been fascinated by it, spouting off things he had learned from the pages every day since he had gotten it.
“You ready to hide on the terrace?” Simon comes over and crouches next to him. “Pappa and Ronja are going to be home soon.”
Rasmus looks up and grins a bit.
It’s crazy to see how much he’s grown, now at almost seven years old he’s starting to sprout up like a sapling and his face is starting to lose some of the round baby-like fat that had clung to his cheeks.
“Pappa doesn’t know at all?”
“Why do people keep asking me that?” Simon snorts, “I’m good at surprises, okay.”
Rasmus giggles to himself and starts to get up off the floor. “Mmm, it smells good!”
“I made you and Pappa’s favorite.” Simon tucks his arm around the boy's shoulder as they exit the room and head toward the sliding door on the terrace, amused once again by how similar the two of them are in tastes and mannerisms.
“Now that Pappa is a writer is he gonna write songs for you?” Rasmus asks, looking up at him.
“You think he should?”
Over the past two years, Simon has been getting more and more involved in recording, featured as background vocals on multiple projects including film and TV as well as albums.
In order to keep himself from going insane he’s had to drop his vocal lesson students, which hasn’t really loosened his schedule up much, but he’s making it work.
MICG is still his priority, yet it’s exciting to branch out into different areas. The more projects he gets to work on, the wider the pool of his connections within the industry. He has been spending more time writing music and getting back to his roots.
“Mmm I’m not so sure he would want to do that, but I’ll let him know your thoughts.”
They all wait on the terrace, Rasmus piping up every so often just to giggle when everyone turns to him and whispers shhh. Eventually, Luis sets his hands on his shoulders, looming over him with a severely raised eyebrow, which really just threatens to make him laugh more.
Simon keeps his ear pressed to the glass and then he hears the sound of keys and the door opening, the muted voice of his husband, and the noises their daughter is making from somewhere further inside.
“Alright let’s get you out of this….” He hears Wille murmur, accompanied by the coos and giggles that come from Ronja.
“You’re happy today aren’t you Lily Pad.” Wille laughs and then Simon hears him call out louder, “Simon? Rasmus? Are you home?”
Simon catches the boy’s eyes and places his fingers over his lips, grinning at him.
It’s a few moments before Wille calls out again and Simon knows he’s headed down the hallway and into the dining room.
There’s quiet and then the door begins to slide open and Wille pops his head out, Ronja on his hip in her little white dress, a bow nestled into her curls.
“Surprise!” They all yell at the same time and his husband jerks slightly, eyes widening in shock at the same time Ronja’s face twists up into an upset expression as she starts to cry.
“Oh no….”Simon murmurs, laughing a bit and feeling equally guilty as he goes forward to meet them both.
“Simon what—” Wille looks around at their friends and then back to him and then to Ronja, “Oh did that scare you Lily Pad?”
Simon takes their daughter from his arms and the girl buries her face into his shoulder, he can feel damp spots beginning to form on his shirt.
“Oh, I’m so sorry baby girl.” He laughs gently and strokes his hand over her soft curls, pressing a kiss into the warmth there, taking in the clean sweet smell as she begins to quiet a bit.
Rasmus tugs on his shirt, looking up with a worried expression knotted on his small face, “Oh no, Ronja don’t cry. Can I hold her Simon?”
He crouches and the baby in his arms peeks at her brother, watching him with wide brown eyes, fat teardrops still clinging to eyelashes. Rasmus is making all sorts of silly faces and slowly she starts to smile, giggling as he reaches for her and Simon helps him situate her in his arms.
“This is all for me?” Wille says looking around once he’s finished greeting everyone, “You guys…really you didn’t have to do all of this…that’s so kind.”
“You deserve it so much!” Maddie says pushing a glass of wine into his hand, “After a massively successful first book, your second is being released tomorrow! That’s incredible Wille.”
“Here here.” Luis raises his glass, grinning and shading his eyes from the sun.
Simon looks over at his husband to see the quiet, happiness reflected back in his features and in his body language. Wille looks down as though collecting himself and then looks up once more.
“Thank you.” He murmurs and raises his glass when the others toast him. “This means a lot to me.”
Rasmus grunts while carrying Ronja over to the high chair that’s been set up for her at the table, Simon following close behind to set her in as they all take their seats.
_________
Later into the evening, when the apartment is more or less cleaned up and their friends have left, Simon cuts them a piece of cake to share and brings it into the living room where Wille is sitting on the couch. Ronja is asleep in his husband’s arms and Rasmus is curled up at his side with his head resting against his thigh.
Wille is looking down into their daughter's face, stroking back a wisp of brown curly hair and Simon sees his lips twitch upwards.
He hangs back for a moment, aware that Wilhelm doesn’t know he’s there, just taking in the sight of his family together like this.
It’s almost overwhelming, this feeling of intense love that flares to life in his chest when he sees them.
Simon thinks back, remembering watching Rasmus and Wille together and wondering if he could ever have something like that.
And now he does.
He quietly walks over after it’s been a little longer than is probably necessary to stand there unannounced, coming around the sofa to sit down beside his husband who looks up and over at him with a small smile.
“Hey,” Simon whispers, looking over at Ronja’s sleeping face, again marveling at the parts of himself and his family he sees there besides Wille’s.
She’s beautiful and perfect and he feels such a fierce sort of emotion when he looks from her to the top of Rasmus’ chestnut hair splayed over Wille’s jeans.
“Hey.”
Simon leans against his shoulder, taking a piece of cake on his fork and feeding it to him from over his shoulder.
“Thank you so much for arranging all of this today,” Wilhelm whispers, leaning his head back against the couch to smile at him.
Simon takes a bite of his own and smiles around the fork, “Of course. I’m proud of you. It’s such an incredible feat and I’m so happy you’re sharing your talent, and even just a fragment of that beautiful mind of yours with the world.”
“Hmm.” Ever humble, Wille manages to skirt his praise.
“Rasmus asked if you should write my songs now since you’re an author now.”
Wille chuckles softly. “Oh, I think I’ll leave the songwriting to you.”
“Exactly. Don’t come for my thing.” He grins and sighs leaning forward to kiss his temple.
Wilhelm reaches for his jaw with his free hand, pulls him close, and kisses him deeply in the soft hazy light that’s cast from the lamp.
The lights of the city glitter like a galaxy outside stretched across the night skyline.
There are a million people just outside their door, a veritable universe of cars and offices and people on bicycles. A thousand moments captured on every street corner, in a bodega two blocks down the way, in the laughter as people pass by and the thrum of life goes on and on.
However, their world is one that is small and encapsulated, this single couch in this single apartment in this building on this street.
There could be a million people, but there would never be another two people like them.
Their story cannot be replicated or commanded by anyone other than themselves.
Because for every million people there are millions of stories and some end in tears, in goodbyes and wishful thinking, and some in tragedy.
And some have happy endings.
Simon doesn’t know how their story will end, but he knows one thing:
It’s theirs to tell.