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As soon as he’d shut the door behind him, Wille was pulling his scarf off, shrugging his jacket off along with it. The walls seemed to be closing in on him, making his bedroom in the palace feel more like a prison. Maybe it was. Maybe it always would be, now that he’d made his choice. Maybe it was for the better. He’d fucked it up, badly, and Simon deserved better.
Simon deserved to be loved openly, with the warmth that reflected who he was. He shouldn’t have been forced to hide himself, shouldn’t have had to pretend just so Wille could protect his reputation, his legacy.
What was the point? Erik would have wanted him to be happy, had always made it clear. And here Wille was, lying, pretending, causing pain to the first and only person to see him as more than just a prince, the first person he’d ever loved. They knew, no matter what, Simon was the love of his life. And how could he not be? He was kind, caring, protective, beautiful, warm. He made Wille feel safe, like they were completely at peace and his life wasn’t shit.
He’d told him he loved him. They’d actually told Simon, and Simon hadn’t said it back. Somehow, that was okay. He deserved it, for hurting his love, breaking his trust. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought back to happier times, walking in the forest with Simon, waking up to the sunlight bouncing off his body, his cozy room, his voice, his smile, his eyes, his Simon. No. Not theirs, not anymore. They’d ruined it by lying. Simon deserved better.
Wille wanted to blame his situation on August. He really did. But this, life without Simon, was entirely his own fault. August had done something shitty and illegal and selfish and stupid, but Simon didn’t want him anymore because they lied. They let out a scream, a scream of anguish, of anger, of pain and hurt and longing. He needed Simon. He needed him to breathe, but they listened to their mother and her manipulation and had to make things right.
He didn’t think he’d want to be with himself. And maybe Simon would never need him again. But the least he could do was make August pay, to make things better for Simon and Sara and Linda and himself. Because they deserved happiness, and they could be a good Crown Prince and also be themself and they needed to go to Bjärstad and explain to Simon that he was ready to make a change because he loved him and that’s all he cared about right now.
He rushed to the door, wiping at his face, grabbing his phone and his scarf and nearly tripping over in his excitement. “Malin! We have to go!”, moving forward without waiting for a response. He sat in the car, his leg shaking. Malin looked at him, a proud smile gracing her face for a second. He smiled back. They were ready. They were going to tell the world, fuck what his mother says. Simon was important, but this wasn’t for him. This was Wilhelm, Crown Prince of Sweden, non-binary and unlabelled and proud and strong and brave and in love. It was time, and they weren’t falling anymore. He was rising, like a phoenix out of fire, like a revolution of a lifetime.