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Wille is like a cat, Simon decides. He found the one person in the whole school who was not interested in being his friend and latched onto him like he’s a lifeline. And there is very little – if anything at all – that Simon can do about it. Wille has just decided that they are friends now, and while he is a baby prince in a constitutional monarchy, completely useless, his words might as well be law when it comes to Hillerska. He has willed their friendship into being, just like that, out of thin air.
And here it is.
A brand-new friendship.
Nothing in Simon’s life has prepared him for the situation he finds himself in now, where the prince seeks him out like a stray begging for affection, like he wants a damn head scratch, and his classmates glare daggers at the unfolding scene. He can practically hear their thoughts. It’s an increasingly disgruntled chorus, ebbing and swelling all around him.
Why him! Why Simon! Why the unworthy peasant!
It makes Simon want to smile and scoot a little closer to Wille when they’re doing their homework. If Wille gets frustrated with a math problem, he might groan and rest his head on Simon’s shoulder just for a moment. And the tangerines – let’s not forget the tangerines. He will take each slice of tangerine that Simon casually offers him as if he is starving, as if that slice is better than all the food that Michelin chefs could ever prepare.
He will say please and thank you, because he is very polite, he is about as well-mannered as a person can get, but at the same times he looks like a stray. Like he knows he’s lucky to get something.
Maybe Simon wants to draw him into his lap and pet him, and spoil him, and give him all the treats in the world. That is no one’s business but theirs.
Or so he wishes – the rest of their school disagrees. August watches them like a deranged hawk and mimics someone climbing a wall when only Simon can see him. Or he will sneer and say something like, aww, so heartwarming. What a tale. The little sosse who dared to dream.
Simon will say fuck you, fuck off or nothing at all.
Silence is quite effective with August, he finds out. There is nothing that enrages August more than being treated like an insignificant speck of dirt, so… there is some fun to be had in that area.
Their classmates are another deal. Not malicious, just baffled and irritated. They watch Wille plop down beside Simon, as if that is where he belongs, as if it’s not even a question, just the natural progression and order of things, and they look as if they are questioning their grip on reality a little bit. Tirelessly, they try to draw him in and find common ground with him. Mention watching football, or an upcoming trip to Wimbledon, or their League of Legends tournament, or any number of other activities that they think Wille might enjoy.
Wille is always friendly and courteous, but aloof, like a celebrity accosted by fans on the street. There is an undercurrent of I’m humoring you in his interactions with his classmates. Which makes it doubly remarkable when he hangs on Simon’s every word, as if every statement Simon utters is an endless source of fascination, even though he is the Bjärstad local and has lived the most ordinary life out of all of them. It’s weird, like undeniably weird, but also… nice. Maybe Simon revels in it a little bit. (A lot). All these fledgling aristocrats who will spend their lifetimes trying to grow into their oversized egos and their friendly overtures crash and shatter against Wille’s forcefield. His defense system. Like it’s nothing.
He could tell them the trick. Nothing wins Wille over as quickly as apathy or a healthy dose of hostility. Threaten his family and you’re golden! But his classmates are all failing the test. They rack their brain to pick the answer they think Wille wants to hear and it’s always the wrong one – each and every time. Even when they try to be authentic, they fail.
Because they see the prince before them, the weight of history past, present and future. They see a thing that Wille never was and never will be. He is a stray fighting for scraps and survival and they don’t even notice it. But Simon does. And he knows that you need to be careful with strays, for their sake and yours. They will fight and claw and scratch and they will try to take everything you have to give and more.
A part of Simon stays alert, subconsciously, because his life has prepared him well for heartbreak. And when he needs to draw that final boundary, he does.
No more hand-feeding that particular stray.
But life is unpredictable, and even clawing wild things can learn not to act on desperation and pure instinct alone. Their story continues. Later, much later, Simon will ask, is this a coincidence? Would you have fallen for any guy who didn’t worship you?
What do you mean? Wille is sleepy and not entirely with him. Because it is a sunny and warm afternoon not made for heavy conversations.
Simon will sit up and explain this whole theory he has, about how the attraction worked between them. I was in the right place at the right time.
Wille will open his eyes wider. Well, and you were also cute as hell. Let’s not forget that little detail.
Hm, Simon will say. Pretend to be annoyed.
You were cuter than any boy I ever met.
Really?
Oh, look who’s fishing for compliments. You’re not fooling anyone.
Simon will climb on top of Wille and let himself be surrounded by those arms, burrow his face into Wille’s neck and settle between his legs. He always wants to be closer and no amount of contact is ever enough. They are not so different after all.
Let’s recap: you were cuter than any boy I ever met. You sang like an angel. You had that keychain with the middle finger, do you remember? And you hated me even though you didn’t even know me. Honestly, I didn’t stand a chance.
Simon will laugh a little. Was I the bad boy with a leather jacket and a motorcycle in your perception?
Oh, please. Wille’s arms are going to tighten around him. No. You were a breath of fresh air. You were everything I didn’t know I needed. His fingers in Simon’s hair, leisurely running through his curls. You saved me.
You’re being dramatic.
I’m being factual.
No, Simon will not agree. But he will not argue the point, because there are better things to do on warm and sunny afternoons when you have your husband all to yourself. He might be the king to others, but Simon knows what he really is – a stray who outgrew his past, his demons, and found a home.