Chapter Text
December (Wille)
-
He has no idea how he manages to turn around and walk away. Every inch of his body scream at him to turn around. To go back to Simon again. He has no idea how he makes it to the car without even looking back. He has no idea how he simply doesn’t throw the door open again as the car starts moving. He wants so badly to make them stop the car so he can open the door and run back to Simon but he doesn’t. And soon the car is too far away.
I love you
I hope you have a nice Christmas
He has no idea how he makes it the rest of the way home.
-
The palace doesn’t feel like home anymore. The corridors are too long, the windows too big and halls too grand. He used to love running down those corridors, used to love the vast castle grounds, the lake and garden full of trees, bushes and flowers.
Now it feels too big and empty. Too quiet and cold. Too lonely.
Even their private wing feels overwhelmingly large.
As a child he used to wander around the palace and explore every room. He’d count the paintings, dance in the ballrooms, hide under tables and talk to statues until someone came to find him. He’d be gone for hours.
Now, he barely leaves his room.
Christmas used to be his favourite holiday. He used to love the Christmas decorations in every window, the fairy lights in the gardens and the snow that covered the grounds in white, leaving the place even more quiet and tranquil.
He used to love Christmas. Now he dreads it.
Because Erik is dead and nothing will ever be the same.
I hope you have a nice Christmas.
Everything is different this year. They don’t do their annual video greeting to the nation, instead there’s a short written statement published on their social media. The days before Christmas feel like the three of them just counting down to the inevitable. It’s going to be their first Christmas without Erik but not the last. Because from now on every Christmas will be without him.
It feels unreal. That he’s here and Erik is not. He was supposed to be the spare. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He's barely had time to think about Erik but as he returns home it all comes back to him because this place holds more memories of Erik than any other place in the world.
Maybe that's why he used to love the palace. Because Erik was here. Because it used to hold his greatest memories. Now each and every memory hurts. And that’s why he hates it so much now.
And as if missing Erik isn't enough he's also haunted by thoughts about Simon. He’s not been able to stop thinking about the curly haired boy and every time he does it's like he's been stabbed in his already broken and hollow heart.
He can’t stop thinking about the Simon's smile and dark eyes, the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. He can't stop thinking about Simon’s soft skin underneath his finger tips. It feels unreal that what they had only lasted for such a short time when it feels like they’ve known each other forever.
Simon is the best thing that has ever happened to him and he threw it all away. Simon is the only person who used to like him for who he was and he threw it away. The thoughts make him feel sick to his stomach and as he lies in bed at night thoughts racing and guilt eating at him he wonders how he’s going to survive on his own.
You have to do it on your own.
You have to do it alone.
He can’t do it alone. He can’t. His weak and pathetic and a pity excuse of a Crown Prince. He can’t fill Erik’s shoes. He can’t live up to people’s expectations. He can’t make his parents proud. He’ll never be Erik. He¨ll never be good enough for Simon. He’ll never be able to give Simon anything and Simon deserves the whole world.
It’s his fault. Everything that happened before and after the video. It’s his fault August filmed them in the first place. And it’s certainly his fault that he betrayed Simon in the worst way possible. SImon is the best thing that’s ever happened to him but for Simon, Wille is nothing but a curse and a bad memory and he probably wishes he had never met Wille at all. After all Wille’s ever done is bringing the other boy pain.
So even if aöll he wants is to text Simon and ask him for his forgiveness a thousand times, he doesn’t. Even if all he wants is to hear Simon’s voice again he never calls.
He knows Simon’s life is so much better off without him in it.
For the most part everyone leaves him alone. They allow him to stay in his room without making a fuss. So he barely leaves bed, too tired to move except to use the bathroom or grab something to eat. It works for the first couple of days but as the days go by and they near Christmas Eve mum and dad grow impatient. Or mum grows impatient. Dad keeps quiet like he always does. He gives Wille his space as long as iIlle eats breakfast and joins them for dinner. But mum is having none of it.
“Please, Wilhelm, be reasonable. It’s Christmas. We have to stick together. It’s going to be difficult as it is. Don’t make this any harder. We are still a family.”
She looks at him sternly as he demands his presence as they are to decorate their private Christmas tree, the day before Christmas Eve, just like they always do.
“We are not a family,” Wille says.
Mum looks sad but collects herself so fast people who don’t know her might not even have noticed in the first place. But Wille notices. The hurt look on her face lasts for a mere second but Wille still feels the stabbing guilt in his chest when her face crumbles.
“Wilhelm, we are going to decorate the Christmas three as a family and you are not going to sulk in your room. I won’t allow it. I know you are angry- but this can’t go on. We are a family and we need to stick together. This is what Erik would have wanted.”
The guilt turns into rage, burning even hotter in his chest as he thinks about everything he has lost because of her. Everything is her fault. It's her fault that Simon hates him.
“You choose August instead of me,” he accuses. “You made me lie to everyone about what happened. You made me lose, Simon. And don’t you dare bring Erik into this. You have no idea what he would have wanted because he’s fucking dead.”
“I didn’t choose August,” she says tiredly. “I protected you. I am protecting you. Can’t you see it? I’m sorry for what happened with Simon but one day you’ll understand. Sometimes you have to make difficult choices. Hard choices. It’s part of being royal. And you have to get used to it.”
He leaves them in the living room and flees into his room. He half expects her to call after him and demand him to come back but she doesn’t. He flees to his room and shuts the door behind him with a loud bang before he sinks down on the bed, angry tears already making their way down his cheeks.
No one comes to check on him as he lies in his bed, knees curled to his chest in the dark quiet room. The darkness eats at him, making him feel small as his chest caves in and he can’t breathe.
He used to love the palace. Now it swallows him whole.
-
When he wakes up on Christmas Eve it feels impossible to leave bed. At first he plans to stay under his covers forever. He watches the snow globe on his nightstand and the hole in his chest grows. He can’t do this. He can’t live without Erik and it’s so unfair that he has to get used to this and that every Christmas from now on will be like this.
Eventually there’s a knock on the door and one of the staff members reminds him that it’s time for breakfast and that his parents wish for him to join them since it’s Christmas.
He doesn’t bother to get dressed into something nicer for breakfast, but stays dressed in Erik’s old clothes he’s slept in for the last couple of days. He expects mum to comment on it as he walks into the kitchen but she doesn’t say anything. She barely looks up from her cup of tea. Her hello is so faint it might not be there at all.
“Wille, good morning,” dad says. “And Merry Christmas.”
The table is set for three and the four candles in the candlestick have been lit. The table his full of Christmas specialities, freshly baked bread and juice.
WIlle sits down next to his mum. He doesn’t say anything.
The food in front of him makes him feel sick and the Christmas music is loud in his ears.
Mum looks up again as if she finally remembers to be a mother. Her hand is soft against his cheek as she brushes against it, fingers touching his hair.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” she says and a small smile plays on her face.
“Merry Christmas, mum,” he says.
He tries to smile but he must fail miserably because soon mum’s face falls and she lowers her hand again, looks down at her plate and WIlle is once again reminded that nothing will ever be the same again.
Merry fucking Christmas, Wille.
-
He wakes up on Christmas Day and can’t even move to get out of bed. The little bit of energy he had is all spent and he can’t do anything but stay underneath the covers, curled in on himself and with Erik’s soft hoodie pulled up over his head. He doesn’t get up to get breakfast, nor does he join his parents for dinner despite them both begging him to. He goes to the bathroom and then back to bed. He sleeps and when he doesn’t sleep he lies in the darkness while the thoughts threaten to destroy him. And the next day is the same. And the day after. And the day after. They all bleed together until he no longer knows what day it is.
He doesn’t change out of Erik’s clothes until New Year's Eve.
-
His parents plead with him to join them on New Year's Eve and eventually he leaves bed just to make them stop. He takes the first shower in over a week and has breakfast with them in the kitchen for the first time since Christmas Eve.
Dad looks happy as he walks into the kitchen and sits down. Mum gives him a tight lipped smile. Since Christmas they’ve barely spoken a word to each other. She probably thinks he’s weak and that he needs to shape up. She doesn’t have to say anything. The disappointment is written all over her face.
He’s not Erik. And he never will be. SHe’ll always be disappointed in him.
“We need to make plans for your return to Hillerska,” she says. “I want you to take on more duties from now on. If you are ready. I think it’s important that we get back on track.”
He nods silently.
“Great,” she says. “I’ll schedule a meeting a couple of days before you are set to return. And I’d love for you to participate in the next morning meeting.”
He shrugs. It doesn’t feel important but nothing feels important anymore.
Dad clears his throat.
“How about all three of us take a long walk around the lake?” he suggests. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Just the three of us? It’s so sunny outside…”
-
Hours later WIlle finds himself curled up on the window sill in his room. It’s nearing midnight and it’s the saddest and most pathetic New Years Eve he’s ever had.
The day hadn’t been so bad at first. They had gone on that long walk around the lake. The weather had been beautiful. But then as the evening came things had just gotten worse and worse. Mum had become sad and dad’s attempts to cheer her up had just failed and she had just fled into their bedroom with a choking sob and dad had run after her and Wille had been left sitting on the living room couch feeling lonely and sad until he too retreated to his room.
They didn’t even eat dinner together. Wille didn’t eat dinner at all. And now hours later he sits here, alone in the dark room, watching the sky outside his window
He can’t help but scroll through his instagram. Everyone is out partying or celebrating in smaller groups of close friends. Everyone is dancing and cheering in the instagram stories. Everyone is happy. Even Simon looks happy on the pictures he has posted on his instagram and Wille can’t help but feel a stabbing pain in his heart. He’s so beautiful he takes WIlle’s breath away.
He takes a drink from the bottle of Whiskey he’s stolen from the dining room and grimaces as the liquor burns all the way into his stomach. It’s almost gone by now, the bottle. Wille’s been waiting the whole night for the alcohol to ease the pain but so far nothing has worked. He feels empty and broken at the same time. Completely hollow, yet full of sharp, tiny pieces of broken glass.
And just like that it turns midnight. The digital watch on his phone changes from 23:59 to 00:00 as he looks at Simon’s beautiful face.
He can hear the faint sounds of fireworks become more intense but that’s the only sign of the New Year. Noone says Happy New Year. Noone hugs him. Noone is there to make a toast. It’s just him and his bottle of Whiskey.
He’s never felt lonelier and eventually he caves in and drunkenly texts Simon despite promising himself he wouldn’t. After all he’s always been weak and selfish. He ends up sending three texts during the first night of the new year.
00:22 I miss you so much
01:43 I love you
02:57 I’m so sorry for everything
Simon never replies to either of them