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You never knew when you’re life would change to never be the same again, nor where. This question followed Wilhelm all the way to Bjärstad.
He knew it would be a meaningless trip, as were all the parties Erik took him to. Places to mingle, to drink, to get high. They would remember very little the next morning, and pretend they had a blast anyway. Erik would be more convincing than Wilhelm in that regard, but Wilhelm wouldn’t care, too worried about the fact that, in the last three parties they went, some guys held his attention more than girls.
“This place is cool,” Erik said now, hands on the wheel.
“I guess.”
Truth be told, it did look cool. Wilhelm hadn’t known much of Bjärstad’s existence until the day prior, when Erik announced their cousin August would gather his Hillerska classmates for a party. The town seemed small but cozy, a fact calming enough to ease the pressure in Wilhelm’s chest.
“Remember we told Mamma and Pappa that it would be a social gathering,” Erik reminded him, smirking. “And stop scowling, Wille. We’re going to a party.”
Wilhelm widened his eyes at him. “We always go to parties, Erik.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy them.”
In a twisted way, Wilhelm did. Not because they were his scene, but because they made him forget. Forget a life that should be his own but wasn’t, not really, and forget that stealing glances at broad shoulders and sharp jaws was an option. Easier that way, better that way. Girls were fine, were interesting and funny and lively, and they were enough. Bjärstad wouldn’t change that.
Life was sucked out of him at the first contact of August’s hand with his shoulder.
The Hillerska crowd wasn’t unbearable, but there was only so much my-family-is talk Wilhelm could stand without wanting to shout that being rich wasn’t a personality — or, at least, that it shouldn’t be. He was still figuring out how he hadn’t become like the rest of them, how Erik allowed himself to pretend he was anything like them. Sons of businessmen and Lords, they relished and bragged about the privileges their positions entitled them to. Mamma and Pappa were a lot of things, but they weren’t self-absorbed snobs. Not at this level, at least.
“Loosen up, cousin,” August told him, fingers giving Wilhelm’s shoulder a squeeze. “We have all night to fuck things up.”
“Do we, really?” Wilhelm tried to make the deadpan in his voice unnoticeable.
“Wille, we could murder someone and no one would raise a brow.”
August’s smile was as sharp as the knife necessary for the action he had just proposed. It said a lot, that it was a passing, light-hearted comment.
“I’m going for a drink,” Wilhelm announced.
Getting up from the couch they were in made breathing a little easier. Wilhelm should be at least tipsy by now, dancing on someone’s shoulders or chatting with some girl that reminded him a conversation could be entertaining.
Instead, alcohol became repellent, and words evaded him. The makeshift bar was stashed to the brim, but the shining liquid it displayed did nothing but remind Wilhelm that bliss was temporary, that this was all his life would ever be. Emptiness with flickers of diluted euphoria, numbness with illusions of freedom. There was a name to honor, a reputation to maintain.
The lights around him started to make him dizzy. The bottles behind the bar shined with them, only amplifying the effect.
Wilhelm was out of there before the pressure in his chest could render him dead.
The streets of Bjärstad were wide enough for buses, but not so much as to make the town lose its middle-of-nowhere vibe.
Wilhelm walked a couple of blocks and saw enough bikes and motorcycles to make him want to steal one and sprint off to end the world. There were a lot in Stockholm, too, but there was something in Bjärstad that made them seem less mechanical, more independent. Reaching a gas station that occupied a whole corner, Wilhelm raised his head to the sky, and breathed. If only I could really do it.
Shouts started to come from somewhere to his right.
They weren’t fight-shouts, but encouraging ones. The early winter wind made them sound a lot closer than they probably were, but Wilhelm followed them regardless.
He would never have the opportunity to ponder about what happened after, not really, and maybe he would never need to. You were offered a lifeline very few times in your life, so looking at one of them in the face was almost a miracle. Wondering why long enough would make it disappear, and Wilhelm was desperate.
The boy was in front of the hot dog stall, seemingly waiting. When Wilhelm saw him, he thought: My life will never be the same.
It never would, indeed.
It never would, because the boy raised his head from his phone and his eyes found Wilhelm’s despite being like ten meters apart. Erik would have called it hilarious, because he thought all romance movies were. Mamma and Pappa would have called it dangerous, because love was a nuisance for them.
Wilhelm felt himself smiling and didn’t know how to stop it. It was tentative, yes, but it was also breathtaking. He was breathtaking. The boy’s eyes zeroed in on him and his mouth mirrored the smile and the world was spinning but Wilhelm didn’t care. The night became less haunting, the pressure in his chest a ghost of its true self. He noticed thick, black curls and bronze skin and soulful eyes, and the shouts around them only emphasized the greatness of the moment.
It broke when the boy’s attention was stolen by the calling of the hot dog stall worker. He turned, receiving two small packages in each hand, and this couldn’t be all there was to it. Please.
Wilhelm often thought of himself as reserved, maybe even shy, but Erik always pushed him to talk to people, and their parents gave him no choice about the matter. Learning to spark conversation hadn’t been the easiest thing in the world, but Wilhelm soon discovered that he wasn’t completely hopeless. His classmates called him funny and his teachers endearing and his parent’s friends charming. He always used it for survival, and this time felt no different.
“Hey,” Wilhelm said when he reached the boy, now close to the stands. This was a football field, he noticed now, with a match in full force right next to them. “I’m Wilhelm.” He didn’t extend his hand because both of the boy’s were full, but he smiled again.
The grin he received back just confirmed his thoughts. “Simon.”
A name to a face had always been an unremarkable given. This one felt like a revelation.
And how could have Wilhelm worried about his eyes straying to territories that should have been forgiven, if it had led him to this?
He put his hands in his coat pockets. “Who are we cheering for?”
“My friend Rosh is the town’s team,” Simon informed. “I’m here with Ayub, our other friend, to support her.”
“Sounds fun.”
They reached who Wilhelm assumed was Ayub, a boy with stubble coating his round face. The place was almost empty, but Ayub was screaming his lungs out, filling it on his own.
“GO, BJÄRSTAD! GO!”
“He’s not always this intense.” Simon shrugged, gray jacket engulfing his neck. “But Rosh deserves this, so who cares.”
Ayub noticed them a second later, stopping mid-shout to smile at Simon and give Wilhelm a bewildered look. Wilhelm didn’t let it deter him, though, and extended his hand in greeting. “Wilhelm. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m— Ayub.”
“Wilhelm isn’t from around here,” Simon announced, giving one hot dog to Ayub. It can’t be that obvious. “So we better show him a good time, don’t you think?”
Ayub’s excited nodding seemed to set Wilhelm’s future in stone, as trivial as it looked. These were two Bjärstad locals promising Wilhelm a night to remember, one that sounded like football was only the prelude.
“So, Wilhelm,” started Simon when they settled themselves next to Ayub. “Where are you from?”
Wilhelm tried not to relish too much in his voice. “Stockholm.”
“A city boy!” Ayub exclaimed. “I can’t remember the last time I was there.”
“Me neither,” said Simon. “Is it still loud and overwhelming?”
“Kinda? I guess I’m used to it.”
“Bjärstad is boring in comparison, then?”
“No!” Wilhelm started to panic. “I mean, no, not really. The change is nice.”
How were you supposed to hold a trivial conversation with someone you wanted to know all the secrets about?
“Man, it’s awesome here,” Ayub agreed. “People are kinda dull, but when you know the right crowd, it’s everything.”
“I’ve never really had a crowd, to be honest.”
He wondered why he had never admitted it to himself. Not out loud, at least.
“No crowd? So you’re a rich kid doing tourism in the middle of nowhere alone? I don’t believe you,” Simon scoffed.
It was, apparently, that obvious.
“Uhm, no?” Wilhelm brushed his hair away from his face. “I came with my brother to a party.”
Ayub’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“What?”
“Simon, he’s friends of those douchebags from your school.”
Wilhelm just stared at him. “You mean Hillerska?”
“Yeah,” Simon admitted.
And Wilhelm made a mistake. “You go to Hillerska?”
There had never been chances for him to ruin, but Simon’s grim made him realize that he probably deserved none in the first place. “I do, actually. You rich kids need to learn some manners, it seems.”
“I— I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You didn’t?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Ayub was looking at them like he was watching a couple fight. Wilhelm tried to not let it go his head.
Simon sighed, lips pressed together and eyebrows raising. “Fine. Just because you seem like you really didn’t mean it that way.”
Wilhelm tried not to let it go to his head, but he suspected he was too many smiles late.
“Go, Bjärstad, go!”
The three of them were cheering for Rosh’s team now.
“Come on, Rosh! You’re the fucking best!”
Ayub was having a blast with it.
And Simon— well, he was just as into it, if not more. Wilhelm would have known otherwise, because his eyes kept getting back to Simon’s profile every two seconds. He was almost counting at this point.
Rosh danced in their direction, just having scored a goal, and the three of them roared for her. She had come to their side of the field by half time, shaking Wilhelm’s hand with a smirk directed at Simon. It made Wilhelm’s heart skip some beats, knowing he wasn’t the only one affected. Confidence didn’t come easily to him, but this time it felt almost a natural gift. He had caught Simon looking right back at him. He had caught him staring, the pressure in his chest retreating a little more every time. The party was a distant memory, his mind too focused with what was right next to him.
“We’re going for a ride, later,” Ayub said suddenly. “You can join us if you want.”
“A ride? Where?” Wilhelm asked.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Simon’s eyes widen. “Ayub—”
“For something to eat, probably. The team’s winning, so we gotta take Rosh to celebrate.”
Wilhelm balanced on his heels a little. “Is it really fine is I join? I don’t want to impose.”
“So posh,” Simon muttered, head down and shaking. “It’s fine with me. It’ll be fun.”
“Yeah, it’ll be awesome!” Ayub cheered again before continuing. “Rosh chooses the place.”
Wilhelm nodded, smile barely kept from breaking. Simon looked at him, eyes narrowed, and Wilhelm stared right back.
The smile came through anyways.
Riding a motorcycle became the most life-changing experience in all of Wilhelm’s years.
He apparently didn’t really need to hang onto Ayub’s back, but rather onto the side of the seat. The move was risky, but so worth it.
Simon, behind Rosh, was laughing. His arms were extended, head thrown back and eyes closed. Wilhelm reveled in his expression: this was how someone looked when they were truly free. This, Wilhelm knew, he wanted for himself.
So he took it.
Extending his arms as well, he tightened his legs around Ayub’s motorcycle. Wind blew through his fingers and his hair, and it wouldn’t last but he didn’t care. Simon straightened his head when their fingertips touched, barely a graze. One pair of eyes found the other, and they were laughing together, high on this tiny bit of physical contact and a world of possibilities before them.
“Have you ever done this before?” exclaimed Simon.
Wilhelm shook his head, smile nothing but permanent now. “Never!”
“I thought so!”
They said nothing more, too busy letting squeals out. It was joy and excitement and the feeling of being about to jump off a cliff, and the pressure in Wilhelm’s chest had exploded some time ago, elevating him. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he was too far gone, had already taken the fall.
Simon’s eyes were sparkling at him, and Wilhelm could see nothing more.
“Back here?” he asked when they all dismounted.
“The turns around the blocks were to unwind, man,” Rosh said. “A match always leaves me full of energy. The place I want to eat is just right here.”
Wilhelm could say they were at the back of the field, if that made any sense. He could go back to the gas station if he wanted to, he assumed, but he didn’t remember where the party was taking place. Couldn’t be the far, but still. Too many things had happened since then.
“Hope you like cheese hamburgers, Wilhelm,” Simon teased.
“Oh, you can call me—”
“WILLE!”
It pinched the bubble, that scream. It was reality conveyed through a single word, and Wilhelm had enough instinct left in him to flee.
He ran in the direction of the alley next to the hamburger place, situating himself in between two trash containers. It was a good enough spot to hide, he told himself. His brother’s voice was coming closer, followed by August’s and others he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t see shit, but this would have to do.
And then: “What the fuck?”
Simon, crouching in front of him, tilted his head. His hair was disheveled, and his shoulders were rising so high Wilhelm couldn’t help but notice he was panting.
“That’s. Uhm. That’s my brother.”
“I figured. You didn’t tell me he was friends with that asshole.”
“August?”
“Yes, Wille, August.”
“Was I supposed to?”
Simon huffed. “I guess not. Now move a little.”
He fit himself in between Wilhelm’s right side and the container there, catching Wilhelm’s arm in the process.
“Where are Rosh and Ayub?”
“Distracting those boys,” Simon replied, squeezing. If August’s touch had seemed to drain Wilhelm, this one filled his lungs. “Guessed you ran here for a reason.”
A breath. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You should at least tell your brother you’re fine, though. They sounded worried.”
Wilhelm pulled his phone from the inside of his coat and flicked it open. He pretended not to see Simon’s raised brows, and shot Erik a text.
Met some people. I’m fine. Sorry for not answering.
The response was instant. Fuck, Wille. You scared the shit out of me. And then: Use protection. Wilhelm closed his phone with a snap.
But the screams didn’t stop just yet. Wilhelm guessed the group had separated to cover more ground, because there it was his name, again and again: “WILLE!”
Simon smirked, tongue peeking through his teeth. “Wille!” Half a shout, half a whisper, and it made Wilhelm jump. “Wille!”
“Shut up.”
He had his hand on top of Simon’s mouth before processing the movement. His fingers pressed against plush lips and silk-smooth skin, and Wilhelm stopped working altogether.
Simon’s eyes were big, big, big, not for the first time that night, but closer than ever. We know nothing about each other. Wilhelm clung to that truth, but it was already slipping away, the pull between them too strong to let him feel anything else. Simon’s grip in his arm became vice-like, and there was sanity inside Wilhelm somewhere, too muted by the sight of curls and the heat of hitched breath against his palm.
Who initiated the kiss, he would never know. They just were into it all of a sudden, and it was supposed to take your breath away but, instead, Wilhelm felt himself inhaling for the first time.
His hands were shaking between his knees, his neck tilted to the side in an awkward angle, but Simon’s lips were soft enough to ease it all away. They parted and closed and pulled, Wilhelm’s following blindly. Reality became reduced to the space between their chests, and time followed, stopping the moment to make it last forever. Somewhere along the way they stood up, chests colliding, heartbeats mixing together. It was Simon’s hands in Wilhelm’s hair and Wilhelm’s fingers clutching Simon’s waist — it was a pocket universe blooming around them.
It cemented in his brain: his life would never be the same ever again.
They breathed each other in when they separated. Eyes still closed, Wilhelm inhaled something so singularly Simon that he couldn’t pick it apart.
“I—” he started, and talking around a smile was harder than it seemed. “I want to see you again.”
Simon nuzzled their noses together. “Me too.”
It took them a few extra seconds to untangle. When they did, they kept close, clothes grazing a exhales mingling.
“Your phone?” requested Simon, eyebrows up and down in amusement.
Wilhelm could still feel the heat in his cheeks. “Yeah. Here.”
Now, he had heard of people exchanging numbers, but never thought about the promise of more that it entailed. It filled the cracks in your bones and widened your smile. It prepared your heart for bursting.
“I think Ayub and Rosh are already eating,” Simon said. “We should go with them.”
Wilhelm nodded, already leaning forward. This kiss was shorter, sweeter, the promise of more now tangible between them.
Hamburgers in front of them, Wilhelm just listened.
“And, I mean,” Simon was saying, fries still in his mouth, “those assholes complain about taxes all the fucking time. As if they’re not avoiding them already.”
Was it really possible to fall in love this quickly?
“What were you expecting, man?” Rosh scoffed. “They know nothing. One day in Marieberg and I bet you their brains will never fix themselves.”
Ayub nodded frantically. “Imagine them in the canteen. Oh, man. Now I wanna see it.”
“What do you think, Wilhelm?”
Rosh’s question caught him mid-chew, so he swallowed as slow as he could. “I agree,” he finally said.
“You rich people should be easier to hate,” Simon mumbled, picking more fries.
Ayub smiled. “You should.”
The last time Wilhelm hadn’t wanted to say goodbye, he was ten and Erik was going on a trip with his friends. He had cried and screamed and begged, but Erik went away anyways, promising he would call as much as he could. That meant every two or three days, but Wilhelm learned what it was to be the only son in the household, and it wasn’t as bad as he imagined.
Now Simon was looking at him, curls haloed by the streetlight right above him, and Wilhelm’s brain was a mixture of I don’t want to go and What if we don’t talk ever again and He’s making me want to flee for real. When Erik left all those years ago, Wilhelm discovered survival. But Simon was right there, eyes still sparkling, and survival didn’t feel like enough. Not anymore.
“You didn’t gave me your phone,” Wilhelm stated.
Simon pressed his lips together. “You gave me yours, though.”
“I did.”
Awkward conversations should have been the rule, because the tangle of nerves in Wilhelm’s head kinda prevented him from thinking. However, the silence that followed was full of stares and longing that should have definitely not been there, because it hadn’t been more than three hours since they first saw each other. Comfortable silence came from trust, Wilhelm knew, and that took time. It took space to know one another, or so Erik always said. And Erik had had his fair share of relationships, which made him a reliable enough source.
“Here,” Simon finally offered. “Not as fancy as yours, but it will do the job.”
Wilhelm had never fixated on this kind of difference, the one that came from socio-economical class. He had never had to. But it seemed to be an important thread of the friendship that united Ayub and Rosh and Simon, so it had to be important. Wilhelm had never met people like them.
Simon’s phone didn’t look old, but it wasn’t brand-new, either. Wilhelm’s was.
“You, uhm. You and Rosh and Ayub really care about this sort of thing, right?”
Simon’s smirk was so distracting. “Why? Does it bother you?”
“I told you that I agree with everything you guys said.”
“It can still bother you.”
The look between them was soft, but no less meaningful. This wasn’t a test, Wilhelm realized, but honesty. The sparkle in Simon’s eyes said This is who I am and I want to know who you are. Wilhelm tried to answer, with a tilt of his head, that he had never wanted to be known this much. That the discovery of Simon’s existence had opened a floodgate inside him he had been losing the strength to keep closed.
“I don’t think it does,” Wilhelm said. “It just makes me wonder about a lot of things.”
They both had their hands in their pockets, and when Simon pulled out one of his, it was brush away a golden strand. “You look like you might have no problem answering them.”
“Will you help me?”
So, so distracting. “If you want me to.”
A kiss goodbye was only logical, one that ignored the whistles and hoops that came from a few meters away. Simon turned to watch Wilhelm a couple of times when he left for Ayub’s motorcycle, probably already late for home. Wilhelm couldn’t stop smiling at him.
His phone stayed quiet since Erik’s last text, and when he pulled it out, he noticed that it was past midnight. The party should be in full force by now, and if Wilhelm had stayed he would have already been shit-faced. But the dizziness this time wasn’t to forget, but an effect of wanting to remember.
I’m done, he wrote to Erik. Can we go?
Yeah. It’s not that great here. Where you at?
Wilhelm sent his location and waited.
The text came in the middle of breakfast the next day, and Wilhelm thanked that his parents had stopped trying to tell him that he shouldn’t use his phone at the table. It would be hypocritical, they accepted, faces turned down to their own screens.
Still, he reached out for his phone as nonchalantly as he could, because Erik was right beside him, and Mamma and Pappa didn’t ever lose a beat.
Rosh’s next match is on Tuesday. She’s demanding you to come.
Repressing a smile, Wilhelm typed. What time?
8pm. The reply came instantly, and Wilhelm gave up. Want a tour around Bjärstad before?
It shouldn’t be this easy, he thought. Nothing was ever this easy. Sure. 5pm fine with you?
“I hope you did use protection, Wille,” Erik whispered.
Wilhelm flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you meet someone, Wilhelm?” asked Pappa, and there wouldn’t be enough daggers to throw at Erik with one’s eyes.
There wouldn’t be a chance to lie, either, because Mamma was already raising her head.
“Uhm,” he muttered. “Kinda?”
“How lovely, son.” Pappa nodded. “I hope she’s lovely.”
“Who is she?”
Wilhelm sighed. Indeed, they never lost a beat, but this one hurt. “It’s new. I don’t want to say anything yet.”
“Yeah, Mamma, Pappa. Let him breathe.” Smirking, Erik started to stand up. “Come, Wille. We have a level to finish. I promise I won’t ask you anything.”
Convincing his parents to let him take a bus was easier than Wilhelm expected.
It was harder to figure out how it all worked, but he was arriving to Bjärstad by a quarter to five, so it was worth it.
Simon was already waiting for him.
In the daylight, he glowed even more. His curls captured the sun to not let it go, and his cheeks were caressed by shadows so gentle they made his smile a halo. Wilhelm almost tripped while getting off the bus.
“Welcome,” Simon said as a greeting. “You reserved a tour around Bjärstad, right? I’m Simon, your guide.”
Wilhelm hadn’t smiled this much — this wide — ever in his life. “Nice to meet you, Simon. Shall we?”
They had two days to break the thicker ice, and they slammed right through it. A call on Sunday, a video call on Monday, and here they were the next day, already full of knowledge about one another.
“Sara says hi,” Simon informed when they started to walk. “She wants to meet you.”
Wilhelm tilted his head. “Erik says hi, too.”
He thinks you’re a girl wasn’t added, but it floated between them, their conversation from the day prior enough to not make it awkward. Simon got to know he was the first boy in Wilhelm’s life, teased him about it, assured him they would go as slow as Wilhelm wanted. No pressure. No expectations. Just the passing comment about how he didn’t want to hide forever. Wilhelm knew they wouldn’t.
Bjärstad was a town, a town with woods. Simon took Wilhelm’s hand when they were isolated enough, and didn’t let go until they were deep into the trees.
“Here first?” Wilhelm asked, ducking under a branch.
Simon’s smiled was brighter than ever with the shade of leaves. “Here first.”
They reached a clearing not long after. It was wide enough for them both lay down, so they did just that: Simon sat down first, legs extended and body supported on his arms; Wilhelm, after some blinking, took a chance and arranged himself until his head was in Simon’s lap. The sky was barely visible from their spot, but it was a good thing, because looking up meant looking at Simon.
“Remember on Sunday, when you told me about how it was at Hillerska?” Wilhelm started. Simon hummed in assent. “I almost went there, at first.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Didn’t want to live the city, I guess.”
“You guess?"
“I have. Uhm. I have friends there.”
Simon frowned down at him. “You haven’t mentioned them.”
And, well, admitting to ignoring your friends all these days because of a certain someone shouldn’t be embarrassing. It really shouldn’t. But lying didn’t sound like an option. Not with Simon.
“Haven’t really talked to them these past couple of days.” A pause, one where Simon’s expression turned just the right amount of smug to make Wilhelm continue. “And we’re not that close.”
“Rosh and Ayub liked you, you know?” Simon stated, as if it had been obvious that day, and Wilhelm supposed it really was. “You’re all they’ve talked about.”
“Yeah? What did they say?”
“That you’re too nice to be rich.” Another pause, this one full laughter. “And other less political things.”
Wilhelm raised a hand to his chest, squeezing the arm Simon had on top of it. “You said you were going to help me with that.”
“I did.”
Silences shouldn’t feel comfortable, Wilhelm thought, not for the first time. Shouldn’t feel this peaceful. There had been a lot of them in the video calls, when they were drinking something or just letting the other think. Once, they had just smiled at each other, like right now, though their faces weren’t pixeled this time. No, this time the clearing was another dimension where they were the only ones left, and Wilhelm realized this was a now or never opportunity.
“I really like you, Simon.”
Simon’s smile mirrored the peeks of sky above them. “Socialism and all?” Wilhelm narrowed his eyes at him. “I like you, too.”
“And I really want to learn.” A deep breath. “You know I do.”
“You’ve said so.”
“Is it really that hard to believe?”
“It’s not that.” Simon shook his head, tilted his head upwards. “It’s just— Well, at Hillerska, all of the boys my age are either douchebags or too scared to break the status quo.”
“But you said—”
“Sara is amazing, yes. She really is. And I wouldn’t change Ayub and Rosh for the world. But the world is bigger than them.”
Now it was Wilhelm who frowned. “And the guys at school are the only possibility to broaden your horizons?”
“No!” I just wish they were, Wilhelm read in Simon’s taut body. “God, no, they aren’t. And it’s not fair, is it?”
“It isn’t,” Wilhelm agreed. Now or never. “But I asked for your help and you said yes, so maybe I can also offer mine.”
“You said you want to understand,” Simon argued. “Is it only because of me?”
Wilhelm didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. They were grounding, appeasing, full of realization and determination. Then: “No. You were just the catalyst of it.”
He thought back to his life, the one he had been so sure would be destined to emptiness. Simon crashed right through it, and maybe the glow would be fleeting, but the impact would last forever. There had been speeches and lectures about future and legacy and reputation, binding because the alternative was too scary and too lonely.
But now the alternative was staring him in the face, and anything other than clinging to it, to him, seemed scarier and lonelier.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” Simon muttered.
“Me neither,” Wilhelm whispered back.
They didn’t leave until darkness threatened to fall upon them.