Archive of Our Own

“You and Simon would be perfect for each other.”

Out of habit, I roll my eyes at Henry.

“Just because you know two queer guys doesn’t mean we have to date,” I reply.

Henry touches his chest, pretending to be offended.

“I’m serious.”

“Me too.”

I’ve known Henry since the first day of college. We got paired up as roommates and he made sure to let me know that he’d be sleeping around, and it could happen that I had to sleep somewhere else once or twice. Amazing first impression. I remember calling my older brother and saying, my roommate is a total dick. Anyway, Henry got a girlfriend one month after college began – her name is Madison - and, lucky for me, she leaves in an apartment right off-campus, so he goes there pretty much every night.

I put my Classic History notes down and glance at him on the other side of our room. He is folding his clothes neatly on his bed before putting them away. He’s the type of person that leaves the bathroom a mess after he showers, but his clothes are separated by color in his wardrobe.

“So, …” I scratch my chin with the back of my pencil, “why do you think Simon and I should date?”

Henry drops an unfolded white t-shirt and turns to me with a Cheshire Cat grin. I roll my eyes before he even starts speaking.

So, here’s the thing: I’ve no idea who this Simon person is. Henry met him a couple of months ago since his girlfriend knows someone who knows his older sister, and apparently, they all hang out every weekend at Madison’s apartment. All I know is that, right after meeting Simon, Henry came up to me and said, “I met someone who would be perfect for you.” And he has been bothering me about meeting Simon since then.

“Well,” Henry stands up and walks up to my bed, taking a seat next to my legs. “He’s really fun to be around.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“That’s it?”

“Ah, no.” Henry fixes his red hair. “He’s nice and smart – he is taking IT engineering, a second-year just like us, and he jokes around just like you do, and… I… I don’t know, man.” Henry seems lost in thought and I’m lost in this conversation.

I sit up straight. “So, let me get this right: you’ve no idea why he’d be a perfect match for me.”

“I do!” He exclaims. “But it’s more like… I looked at him and went, hum, Wilhelm would like this guy.”

“You think you know my type, then?”

 Can I just say this has been the weirdest conversation that Henry and I have ever had?

“No, because you’ve never shown any real interest in anyone so far,” Henry replies. Then, he goes, “Ah, maybe that’s why I want to set you up so badly with someone.”

I throw myself back on my bed, giving up.  

Henry’s an idiot.

Yet, he’s not the only one obsessed with me dating this Simon-guy.

“Hey Felice,” I greet as I sit next to her in one of our Thursday morning classes. “How is it going?”

Felice, who was texting until I showed up, stops immediately what she is doing and looks at me with a huge grin. She is wearing her usual golden roundish hair clips.

“Hey Wille, I’m good. How was your weekend? Do you have plans for the next one?”

I blink, trying to think.

“I don’t think so?”

I most likely don’t have plans for next weekend. I’m what Henry likes to call “the biggest loner on campus” because all I do is go to class, study, and then once in a while go home to see my big brother Erik because he makes me go home to see him.

“Great! A friend of mine is having a party at her place and I really need you to go with me.”

I frown.

“W-why do you need me to go with you?” I ask. For a few seconds, I’m worried that Felice is weirdly trying to make a move on me. God, I hope not. Although she is one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met, I only see Felice as a friend.

I don’t really want to lose her friendship.

“Because,” Felice touches my hand and leans closer. I panic for a second. “I think I’ve met the perfect person for you.”

My brain freezes.

She… has met someone perfect for me?

Out of the blue, I bark a laugh. I laugh so hard that other people are sending weird glances my way and I have Felice looking at me like I’ve gone mental.

“What’s so funny?” She asks.

I clean a tear that wants to escape from my right eye and try to calm myself down so that I can explain to her.

“Henry said the same thing to me a couple of days ago. He says he knows the perfect guy for me.”

“Oh, it’s a guy too?”

I raise an eyebrow, suspicious.

“Please don’t tell me his name is Simon.”

Felice’s eyes go wide-opened. I groan.

“We’re talking about the same Simon!” She says. “Oh, wait, your roommate Henry is my Madison’s boyfriend?”

I shrug.

“The world’s such a small place,” she says, amazed.

True that.

I take a deep breath and, as I move to grab my pencil, I ask, “So, why do you think I should date this Simon-guy? Henry’s reasons were stupid.”

Felice pauses to think for a bit and I’m already worried.

Then, she says, “You and he would have cute babies.”

I drop my pencil on the floor.

“Felice, we can’t have children together,” I reply, deadpanned. I look at a blank spot somewhere, like I’m in an episode of The Office and Michael Scott just did something stupid. In this scenario, Felice is Michael. Who would have guessed?

“But if you could, they would be super cute.”

“That’s your reason for us to date?” I lean down to pick up my pencil. “It’s even worse than Henry’s reasons.”

As I come up, she slaps my arm, playful. “No, I have other reasons. But I think you need to meet him to understand.”

I frown.

“So, can I count you in for Madison’s party next weekend?”

I press my lips together, thoughtful. I don’t really have any plans for that weekend, but partying leaves me uncomfortable. However, according to Henry and Felice, there’ll be a nice guy for me to meet. Yet, they haven’t given me a good reason to actually meet him.

The pros and cons are very difficult for this one.

“I’ll go,” I end up saying. I don’t know why I agree to it, and part of me believes that I’ll cancel last minute.

I don’t cancel last minute.

I meet up with Felice outside the campus and she walks with me to Madison’s place.

“Is it going to be crowded?” I ask, nervous. I don’t like to be in tight places with a lot of people. I’ve been dealing with anxiety since I was sixteen and, despite being able to keep it under control most of the time,  being surrounded by too many people tends to set it off.

“Not really, no. Madison’s place isn’t big and she doesn’t like to have a full house.” Felice smiles at me. “Don’t worry. She also has a cool balcony in case you need some fresh air.”

I smile back, still tense.

When we get there, Madison welcomes us, already holding a drink. Her face is full of glitter and I blink, feeling its reflection hitting my eyes. It’s going to be difficult to look at Madison tonight.

Felice pulls me in and, as Madison closes the door, she says, “I can’t wait for you to meet Simon.”

I raise an eyebrow. The only reason I’m not groaning and saying “you too?” is because I don’t know Madison at all, but boy, do I wish I had the guts to do it.

Why is everyone obsessed with me meeting this guy?

“Oh, I see Sara. Let’s go, Wille.”

Felice pulls me by my arm, crossing the living room (we sloppy greet some people on our way) until we’re standing closer to what can only be the doors to the apartment's balcony.

“Hey Sara,” Felice greets a small, brunette girl with big roundish eyes. “Where- Oh, hi Simon!”

I look in the direction Felice’s waving, outside the balcony, and I freeze.

Shit.

Okay.

A boy is leaning against the balcony’s rails. It’s obvious that he is a few inches shorter than me, which is something that I like (and yes, I had yet realized that I liked shorter guys until this moment). His skin is darker than mine, and smoother too (I want to touch it, okay? Bad. I have never had this reaction with a stranger). His hair is black and curly – his curls are perfectly round.

He is, without a doubt, the most gorgeous guy I have ever laid eyes on.

And he is smiling at me.

“This is Wilhelm,” Felice introduces me and, not subtly at all, pushes me into the boy’s direction. “Sara and I are getting drinks.” And she leaves with the other girl.

There’s a moment of awkwardness where neither of us speaks. I’m staring at my two feet like they are the most fascinating thing ever, which is dumb because obviously the most fascinating thing ever is standing a couple of feet away from me.

“So, you’re Wilhelm,” the boy speaks.

I finally look up and I’m met with his sweet smile again.

I nod.

“You’re Simon.”

He nods.

I smile. His smile grows bigger.

“So, have they been bothering you as much as they’ve been bothering me?” He asks, trying to break the ice between us.

I chuckle.

“Yup.”

“Saying we’d be a great match?”

I blush, nodding, and step closer to the balcony’s rails, leaning on it like Simon is.

“Did they give you good reasons?” He asks.

I laugh. “No, awful ones. And to you?”

He shakes his head.

“I honestly don’t remember half of Henry’s reasons.” He stops to lick his lips and my gaze follows. “But he did say you’re quite smart, majoring in History?”

I roll my eyes, and I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I don’t roll eyes at strangers.

“You’re calling me quite smart when you’re majoring in IT engineering?”

Simon seems impressed with the fact that I know this about him. His surprise is followed by a slight curl of his lips, again throwing me off with a sweet smile.

“Anyway,” I start so that we don’t fall into an awkward silence, “Felice said we’d have cute babies.”

Simon laughs at that, throwing his head back, and my eyes fall on his neck. I really want to kiss his neck.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“She told me that we could be a Hollywood powerful couple if we wanted to,” he replies.

I snort.

“They’re very good at matchmaking,” I try to joke, raising my hand to fix my hair.

“Well, … they are,” Simon agrees, and he is not teasing. His brown eyes are fixated on me, his sweet smile has been replaced by a smirk.

I feel my legs giving in, and I try to take a deep breath, feeling the air stuck in my throat.

Is this guy literally taking my breath away by only smirking at me?

“I agree.” I’m nervous now, and I wish I wasn’t because I can be flirty when I’m relaxed. And I really want to flirt with this guy.

“Hey, you two!”

Henry suddenly shows up, pulling the balcony’s curtains open so that he can have a good look at us. I roll my eyes at him and hear Simon snicker next to me.

“What do you want, Henry?” I ask, deadpanned. Simon giggles again.  I try hard not to smile.

“I just want to see how you two are doing.” He looks at Simon, but he is pointing at me. “He’s fun, isn’t he?”

Simon takes a glance at my poker face and cracks a smile.

“Yup, super fun.”

Henry half-closes his eyes, analyzing me, and then steps into the balcony so that he can playfully tap my face.

“Smile.”

“Because that has always worked, Henry,” I reply, flapping his hand away. “Telling someone to smile will make them smile.”

Simon laughs again and this time I can’t help but look at him and smile.

“It worked!” Henry rejoices.

“I didn’t smile because of you!”

“Ah-ha!” He pokes a finger on my chest. “Made you admit that Simon makes you smile.”

I give him a confused look, yet I feel my cheeks warming up because the bastard is half-right.

Next to me, Simon remains quiet and I quickly glance at him. I find him looking down at his own feet, a bashful smile playing on his lips.

Henry finally decides to leave us alone, after being called by his half-drunk girlfriend from the living room.

“Sorry about that,” I apologize, scratching my chin, nervous.

Simon shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ve got enough acquaintanced with Henry to know how he is.”

We go quiet for a moment, and it’s awkward. I can’t believe this. We were going so well until Henry showed up. Now, it’s like the ice we had broken is back on.

I bit the skin around my thumbnail, my eyes flickering between Simon and the party. I don’t want to go inside, and I don’t want him telling me that he wants to go inside. I want to know him more.

Whatever stupid reasons they had, Henry and Felice were right: Simon is my type.

I didn’t even know I had one.

But Simon fits it.

“You’re my type,” I blurt out.

Simon looks up, eyes widening in surprise.

I shake my head. Idiot.

“Sorry, that- I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh.”

He blinks, quiet, and I’m cursing myself for saying that out loud.  Now he is going to think I’m a weirdo. My brother is right. He says I’m too jumpy for my own good.

I think I’m hopeless and I’ll never find someone who can put up with my weirdness.

Suddenly, Simon tilts his head, eyes on me again.

“So…I’m not your type?”

I immediately turn to him and find him smirking.

“Dude!”

“Dude?!” He repeats, suddenly offended.

I groan, tossing my head down, my forehead meeting Simon’s shoulder. Only after I feel the warmth he is producing and hear his small gasp do I realize what I am doing.

I straighten my back, putting some space between us.

“Sorry.”

“About what? The dude-part?”

I hide my face behind my hands, groaning, and lean back on the balcony’s rails again.

“This is going great,” I mutter.

“I agree.”

I look at Simon between my fingers. “I was being sarcastic.”

“I am not.”

He steps closer. To my surprise. his hands come to find mine and pull them away from my face. He doesn’t let go of them and, instead, his fingers press against mine, squeezing them. I squeeze back.

“So, Wilhelm -“

“Wille,” I interrupt. “Call me Wille.”

Simon smiles.

“Wille,” he corrects. “How about we go for a walk?”

I raise my eyebrow.

“Just wander around?”

His smile grows and he steps closer. I inhale his perfume and feel my heart skip a beat.

“We can have a final destination if you want to,” he offers, his nose hovering close to mine, his lips just inches away from mine. “Like… my place.”

I’m tempted to say yes.  I’m tempted to just go with the flow and follow this beautiful boy into the night, back to his place.

But…

I don’t it to be a one-night stand.

Simon senses my hesitation and leans his head away, tilting his chin up.

“You… don’t want that?”

He is about to let go of my hands too, but I grab them tightly.

“I do,” I say. “I…” I lick my lips, nervous, but I have to do this. “I don’t do one-night stands. I mean, I’m not against them, but I really… don’t want to do that.”

For a moment, I think Simon is going to back off and change the entire course of our conversation; no longer interested, no longer flirty with me.

But then, his sweet smile is back and he is shaking his head, amused.

“I was not inviting you to a one-night stand, Wille,” he makes it clear, stepping back into my personal space. I don’t complain about that. “We can end up at my place, but… that’s it.”

I like the sound of that.

“Okay,” I exhale, excited.

We find a perfect moment to leave without being noticed when everyone is playing SingStar and dramatically singing an Abba song.

We giggle like two idiots as we run down the stairs and out of the building. I chase Simon for a moment, laughter echoing behind us. We run down the street, me trying to catch him.

When I finally manage to get to him, I grab his arm, pulling him towards me. We almost trip and fall, but I’m able to keep us up, our fronts touching.

We’re still laughing, out of breath.

There’s a moment of silence after our laughter goes away. We both stare at each other, pupils dilated (and part of me remembers to think, your pupils dilate when you look at something that attracts you), and I can’t imagine myself being anywhere else right now.

Before I lose my courage, I lean down and capture Simon’s lips in a sweet kiss.

Simon gasps in surprise. I’m worried that I overstepped, but then his hands grab my face and he deepens the kiss. I pull him closer by his waist, hands clutching the soft material of his purple hoodie.

I don’t know how long we stand there, kissing each other. All I know is that I don’t want to stop, and neither does Simon, who, at a certain point, starts pushing me back until my back finds something solid to hit against.

My hands become sneakier, and they find the end of Simon’s hoodie just so that they can get under it. His skin is soft and warmer than my hands are. Simon hisses against my mouth, complaining about the cold.

I chuckle. My fingers dug against his skin. He moans.

“I thought you didn’t want a one-night stand,” he says against my lips.

“I don’t,” I nibble his bottom lip. “We can do this every night if you want to.”

Simon chuckles. “Smooth.” He kisses me again.

We don’t end up at his place but at my dorm. That’s when I have to admit to Henry, via message, that he cannot sleep here tonight. His reply is a bunch of emojis that don’t make sense.

“What do the dancing lady, one sun, and the up arrow have to do with anything?” I complain.

Simon, who is lying next to me, shoulder pressed against mine, laughs with a hand covering his mouth.

I turn my head to look at him. He is lying a few inches below me, and his forehead is in direct contact with my mouth, which I take advantage of and kiss.

“Oh, forehead kisses? That’s moving too quickly,” Simon teases.

I roll my eyes at him.

Simon turns to me and his warm hand traces my bare stomach gently, his fingers caressing my skin until they reach my waist where he rests it. I immediately touch his forearm with my left hand while using my right hand to throw my phone on the nightstand and then sneak it under Simon’s head so that he uses me as a pillow.

Isn’t this weird, how comfortable we feel with each other when we’ve met just a couple of hours ago?

“I gotta admit,” I start and Simon tilts his head to look at me. I smile, he smiles back. “I can’t believe Henry was right.”

“You can’t?”

“How well do you know Henry?” I ask, curious.

“Not well enough, I guess.”

“Yeah, trust me. He is never right.”

We both laugh.

“What about Felice?” He asks.

I consider it for a second.

“She is more reasonable, yeah.”

After that night, Simon and I start hanging out pretty much every day. We don’t dive into a full-on relationship – we barely know each other and we both agree that it’s easier if we just take it slow. Friends first; maybe dating later? We’ll see.

But that doesn’t stop us from kissing each other once in a while, or playing footsie under the table when we’re meant to be studying or to have dinner just the two of us in non-dates.

People around us treat us as if we were a couple already and we are the ones that often need to remind them that no, we’re not boyfriends.

“Yet,” Felice adds after I correct her once more.

I roll my eyes.

“Yes, yet.”

She seems happy with my confirmation, clapping her hands and making a funny dance in her seat.

Later, it’s Henry’s turn to ask me how my boyfriend is doing.

“Not my boyfriend.”

“For now,” he adds.

“You guys seem more obsessed with it than we do,” I point out, sitting on my bed with my phone in my hands. I have a pending message from Simon on Instagram that I have yet opened.

“We just want you guys to be happy.”

“We are happy,” I remind him as I open Simon’s message.

Simme_E: I’ve had enough with IT engineering. Please admit now that you’re super-rich and you accept me as a sugar baby or something.

I chuckle. Simon can be very dramatic, but he is the right amount of dramatic for me. (I don’t know if that’s even a thing, “being the right amount of dramatic”, but I accept it.)

Wilhelm08: No, sorry. But I can help you find a sugar daddy if you want to.

Simme_E: But then I’d love to give you up.

My heart skips a beat and my smile grows larger. If I were paying enough attention, I would hear Henry’s snort teasing me.

Before I can reply, another message comes in.

Simme_E: well, clearly this isn’t a deal I want to take so I’ll go back to studying for my test, I’ll get rich and support us both while you teach History to angsty teens.

I like that plan. A lot. And I tell Simon that. He replies with three purple hearts. We always send each other purple hearts in honor of his favorite hoodie, which is purple, and which I have stolen and am currently wearing. This entire Instagram conversation actually started with me sending him a selfie wearing the hoodie.

“You’re whipped.”

I look up to see Henry smirking at me.

As usual, I roll my eyes at him.

“Well, you’re one to talk. I’ve seen you leave this dorm at three am to go pick up your drunk girlfriend at a club.”

Henry doesn’t seem bothered with my argument and, instead, fights back with, “Well, I can’t wait to see you leaving this dorm at three am to go pick up your drunk boyfriend Simon in a near future.”

“Simon doesn’t drink.”

And that’s the only reason why I won’t be picking him up in the middle of the night. If he were to get drunk, hell yeah that I would be there to make sure he got home safe.

When summer break approaches us, I start to get a bit restless because I know Simon isn’t from Stockholm and he’ll go back home for the break. But the break is almost two months long.

“We can visit each other,” he suggests one evening when we’re at his place.

Simon shares a three-bedroom apartment with his older sister Sara, a high school friend called Stella, and a British guy from his course called James. Sara and Stella share a room. Thank God for that, because Simon and I take advantage of his room way too often for him to be sharing it with someone else.

“Not enough,” I pout, turning to lie on my left side, one leg dumped over Simon and an arm wrapped around his upper body. He has one of his arms around my waist too, his legs intertwined with one of mine. We can’t get any closer, but we try.

We’re still not dating. At this point, it’s just a formality of asking each other out because we’re basically already doing it. But I have to be honest: a small part of me is still afraid to have that talk with him.

What if putting a label on it ruins it?

What if I’m reading too much into our thing?

(Logically, I know I’m not. What kind of hook-up texts you non-stop every day and acts like a spoiled kid when you’re too busy to hang out instead of the usual “raincheck then”-message? And I’m even worse than Simon; I get clingy when I spend more than three days without seeing him. He loves it.)

“You’re like a dog,” he teases, “who can’t accept that his owner has to go to work.”

I raise a playful eyebrow at him.

“Are you calling yourself my owner? Kinky.”

Simon rolls his eyes and pinches my naked waist.

I yelp, my body reacts by trying to get away, but Simon keeps me close.

“You’re an idiot. Sometimes I don’t know why I’m dating you.”

The words settle in with heaviness.

Simon realizes what he has said and his eyes go wide-opened.

“Ah…” He lets out and chuckles, afraid. “I didn’t mean it.”

I frown.

“So, we’re not dating?” I ask.

I know the right answer is: no, we’re not. But I’m taking this opportunity to talk about it. Maybe Simon is braver than I am.

“Well, we basically are,” he pauses, “aren’t we?”

I smile at his hesitation before leaning in to kiss him, our lips barely touching at first, and then Simon deepens it, lips pressing hard against mine, his fingers digging in my waist.

I pull back before we get too distracted – I’ve never been addicted to anything, but Simon? I can’t stop sometimes.

“We are,” I agree.

Simon beams.

“So, can we put Henry and Felice’s hearts at ease now?” He jokes.

I groan, which has him laughing and pulling my head so that my face is pressed against his neck.

I feel his fingers playing with the hair at the back of my neck.

“They’re unbelievable,” my voice comes out muffled against his skin, and my complaint turns into soft kisses on his neck.

Simon hums an incoherent reply, distracted by my mouth on his skin. We’re very good at distracting each other too.

Simon’s grip on my hair tightens when my teeth bit the skin right above his collarbone and he whispers something in Spanish.

I pull away in time to see him blinking, disoriented. I smirk and kiss him roughly.

Another thing I found out I loved about the person I’m with – the fact that Simon can speak a language I can’t. It turns me on in a ridiculous way.

One of my hands travels down his torso, my fingers teasing his skin until they feel the softy material of his underwear. I don’t think twice before I sneak my hand inside his boxers.

“Fuck,” Simon moans. “Wille, don-“

There’s a knock on the door. Our lips barely pull away from each other, but my hand freezes.

“What?” Simon shouts, and I feel his breath against my mouth.

“Are you guys fucking?” His sister asks. That’s when we pull away for good. “Or do you want dinner?”

We sigh together.

“We’ll have dinner,” Simon answers. “Can you give us five minutes?”

We hear Sara walking away. Simon turns to me, embarrassed.

“There are too many people around us.”

“All the time,” I complete.

We chuckle.

We take more than five minutes to get ready for dinner. And, before we leave the comfort of Simon’s bedroom, I pull him toward me one more time to press my lip against his.

“What’s that for?” He asks, beaming.

I shrug.

“I just felt like kissing my boyfriend.”

Simon smiles widely and leans in to kiss me again.

“What’s that for?” I joke.

“I get to kiss my boyfriend too.”

Instead of telling people that we’re officially dating, I post a selfie of Simon and me on Instagram, our cheeks pressed together, matching smiles, and the caption says, we followed someone’s advice.

I post it when I’m in the dorm with Henry. It takes him two minutes to see it and react.

“I fucking knew it!” He exclaims. “I told you I was right!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll never take your advice again, though.”

That’s a lie.

Years from now, I’ll be at a dinner party at Madison and Henry’place, and I’ll be sitting on of the armchairs, listening in to a conversation between Madison, Simon, and Felice, smiling like an idiot at my boyfriend who is excitedly telling them about the trip we took to Greece when Henry approaches me.

“You know,” he starts, sitting down on the armchair’s arm. I look up at him, suspicious. “I think that-“

“You’re going to offer me stupid advice, aren’t you?” I interrupt.

He pretends to be offended.

“No.” He pauses, glancing at the trio speaking excitedly before he says, “I think you and Simon should get married,” Henry suggests.

I roll my eyes at him.

“Just because we’ve been dating for years doesn’t mean we have to get married.”

“But you should.”

I shake my head, chuckling.

“I’m serious,” he adds.

“I know you are.”

And he’s right too.

 But what he doesn’t know is that I’ve already asked Simon to marry me, and he has already said yes. We’re just waiting for the right moment to tell people.