Chapter Text
Simon finds a Wilhelm plushie on eBay. He was hoping for a key ring, something tasteful that could be easily hidden. Magazine Cover Wilhelm isn’t the easiest to transport, and he’s getting a bit crumpled. It’s not an unreasonable request. People make all kinds of crap for the royal family. His grandma had a queen Kristina tea towel for years. Simon got scrambled eggs on it when he was a child, which, now he thinks about it, was some pretty eerie foreshadowing.
It’s two weeks into the new term, and actual Wilhelm is yet to make an appearance. There are rumours that he isn’t coming back at all, so. Simon’s scrolling. The plushie is a pretty good likeness. The hair is very cute, and he isn’t that expensive. Simon closes the laptop with a sigh and falls asleep.
The page is waiting for him when he logs on the next day. He hovers over Buy It Now and then closes the tab. Later, in a midnight moment of weakness, he places the order.
Plushie Wilhelm arrives three to five business days later. He smiles up at Simon from his bed of packing peanuts, and Simon wants to cry. He puts him in a drawer, mumbling “sorry” as he closes it.
He finds him later when he goes for clean socks. He’s wearing a little Hillerska uniform, with a tie and a badge and everything. Simon straightens out the jacket and makes sure he’s comfortable.
The doll soon graduates from drawer to bed. Simon doesn’t sleep with him, that would be weird, but he likes seeing him sitting there. Wille still hasn’t returned to school, and it’s crushing him a bit. He wanted them to stay friends. More than friends, once Wille figured himself out.
He’s just starting to piece himself back together when Wille shows up in a maths lesson. Simon stops in the middle of the room and two people walk into him. Wille’s hair is shorter. They don’t speak.
He’s plating up his second helping of pasta when he hears a knock on the door. It’s Wille, all awkward and windswept, half hidden in a scarf. Snow falls off him as he steps inside.
“Is your mom around?”
“No,” Simon hugs himself, “she’s away tonight.”
“Can we talk? Please?”
“OK.”
“Did you cook?”
“Yeah,” Simon fidgets with his sleeve, “do you want some?”
Wille’s face brightens.
They eat, and talk, properly, finally. It’s nice. Simon feels himself relaxing for the first time in weeks. He goes into his room to fetch the homework they’ve been discussing, utterly convinced that the answer to number 5 is definitely not 307. Wille follows him, chatting away. Simon’s looking under a pile of clean clothes for his textbook when Wille falls silent.
“Is that?” Wille walks over to the desk chair, “Is that me?”
Simon wants to die. His face feels like it’s burning, “No.”
“It is,” Wille picks up the doll and studies him, “where did you find this?”
He doesn’t seem angry, more amused, but Simon bursts into tears.
“Hey, hey,” Wille’s hugging him, burying his face in his neck and stroking his curls, “I missed you too, so much.”
Simon looks up at him.
“If I could buy a Simon doll, I would have.”
Simon sniffs, accidentally wiping his nose on Wille’s shirt, “I think they make custom designs.”
Ten years later, Simon is drowning in emails. Wille’s voice carries in from the kitchen.
“Don’t look at me like that. This is my bacon.”
Simon laughs. He fires off a few more responses, rolling his pen between his lips.
“Right, I’m going,” Wille blusters into the room, “don’t let Oscar manipulate you with his big sad face. He’s been fed twice already.”
“OK.”
Wille kisses him, “Love you, see you tonight.”
“Love you.”
Simon watches him leave, sitting back in his chair. The Wilhelm and Simon plushies smile down at him, holding hands on their shelf on the bookcase.