Work Text:
It's dark inside Wilhelm's apartment. The curtains are closed, as they always are. He hasn’t had the energy to turn on any lights in days. Instead, the blue light from his laptop screen lights up his face. He is lying in bed with the computer in his lap and it has become overheated now, burning against his pajama pants. He hovers with the mouse over the play button. In the right corner, the clock is ticking. 04:23. The cover image shows a young guy with dirty blonde hair that Wilhelm recognizes from a supporting role in a Nordic crime show, and next to him is a female actress who Wilhelm knows mostly works at the Royal Dramatic Theater. The two are supposed to be Wilhelm and his mother. Behind them, in the background, is a guy Wilhelm probably hasn’t seen before, but who he has read is newly graduated from Sweden’s most prestigious theater school. Erik .
The show was released a week ago. Wilhelm has not left his apartment at Drottningholm since, all he’s done is sleep, postponing that he has to watch the show. The Court says he shouldn’t watch it, and his parents certainly won’t watch it, but he knows he has to. He needs to know what they say about him and Simon. Even though he has been isolated all week, he still receives notifications from Swedish newspapers. He knows that Netflix has portrayed it as it truly was, as if he lied in his statement ten years ago. He has gone nocturnal to avoid being awake at the same time as the rest of Sweden, avoiding the updates on the news and on Tiktok and on Flashback, the anonymous forum where all of Sweden gossips about celebrities and crimes. It's better to go through everything when it's already been published. And he can’t stop looking. The Flashback forum in particular. He has followed it since everything went down with Simon at Hillerska all those years ago and he knows that a therapist would diagnose it as self-harming behavior. Or an addiction, perhaps.
On Thursday, a panel was broadcast on the national news where they discussed whether what Netflix had done could be considered defamation. It all culminated in a discussion about whether it was even possible for the royal family to be victims of a crime according to the law. No, said a lawyer. The others were not sure. Wilhelm has never heard that reasoning before and since then he has felt completely lost. Does this country even consider him to be a human being? Or is he really just an object, a symbol, to the point where he can’t even be the victim of a crime?
He stretches across the bed, and fumbles in the dark to get ahold of a worn-out stuffed animal wolf. The wolf, named Per, has been with him everywhere. They swam together in the sea on Öland, skied together in the Alps, and listened to all his mother's scoldings together. Per was even with him at Hillerska, although Wilhelm had hidden him inside his suitcase in the closet because it was far too embarrassing to be sixteen years old who slept with a stuffed animal. Now he no longer cares. He has too many other problems to care about a stuffed animal.
He hugs Per and presses play.
***
"Look at this," Leia says, sticking out her phone screen under Simon's nose. There is a picture of Wilhelm standing under a large crystal chandelier at the palace, wearing a blue suit and holding a QX prize. "Hetero of the Year?"
"Yes, I know," Simon mutters, pushing away the screen. He twists spaghetti onto his fork and brings it to his mouth. The algorithms on social media know everything about him, and that image had appeared on his feed a few years ago when it was new. It is impossible to resist - when a picture of Wilhelm appears, he just has to click on it. And so both Facebook and Instagram have learned to flood his entire recommended feed with photos of Wilhelm and his family.
” H.R.H. Crown Prince Wilhelm: I am very proud and happy to win this award ", Leia reads. "That's probably the most absurd thing I've ever heard."
Simon nods in agreement and mixes the spaghetti with ketchup in his blue plastic lunch box. He and Leia sit in the Social Office's kitchen, among furniture that goes in line with the municipality's green and orange brand. He hasn't even worked with Leia for an entire day yet, but they went to the Social Work program together and have known each other for a long time. Leia wants to work with financial aid. It is a good first job, she says, which provides a holistic perspective on the social service's various target groups. In addition, it is well paid and their colleagues are nice, so she feels at home here. But Simon doesn’t. This is not where he should be. He landed his dream job in the department of Children and Youth immediately after graduation. He wants to help young people with difficult family situations and young people who have gotten on the wrong path due to their socioeconomic conditions. But it's not possible right now, his boss says, because all the young people he meets talk about is "aren’t you that guy who was dumped by the prince on that new Netflix show?". And most of the young people don’t really care about such gossip, but they use the situation to avoid telling him things that can get them placed in group homes.
"Have you talked to him?" Leia asks. "Since the show was released?"
"We haven’t talked since we graduated high school," Simon says, although that is not really the truth. Sara and Felice are still best friends; of course he and Wilhelm have encountered each other over the years. They have even slept together once, about two years ago, after Felice's mother's fundraiser that Sara forced him to go to. But he and Wilhelm have never really talked, never had a meaningful conversation. Only superficial greeting phrases and then drunken lips and drunken hands, that one time.
Leia squeezes her whole face together in a sad face. It's such a typical Social Worker face, a worried "poor you" face. Simon feels extremely tired of that facial expression after his three and a half years in the Social Work program.
"No, let’s not talk about this anymore," he says. "My whole career has been put on hold because of that show, I can’t let it devour my entire life."
"Sorry," Leia says. "I understand that this isn’t what you planned, but I promise you will enjoy it here."
They rinse off their lunch boxes together. After lunch, Simon has a meeting with a man who applied for financial aid but was rejected by a social worker who is now on sick leave. Simon doesn’t understand how Leia manages to work here without breaking down completely. He can't help but think of his father when he sees the man sitting in front of him. They are the same age, both around sixty years old. And both have thin gray hair and a slightly rounded face shape. But what does Simon know, he hasn’t met his father in years. He has read that visual memories last for seven years. It has not really been that long yet, but it isn’t far from it.
Simon is completely exhausted when he gets home. He doesn’t turn on the lights, just kicks off his shoes, and sits down on the couch in the living room. The blinds are pulled down, they always are. He picks up his phone and the strong brightness of the screen burns his eyes. He lowers it before opening Instagram. It’s a really stupid idea. The algorithm is like a toxic friend dating his ex. Wilhelm is everywhere. That Netflix show is as well. There are memes and compilations and screenshots of Twitter threads with theories about what really happened ten years ago when Wilhelm denied that it was him in the video.
Simon hasn’t watched the show, but after all the videos and pictures on his feed, it almost feels like he has. It's weird to see a portrayal of his first (and only, to be completely honest) love like that, through someone else. Two actors who, with the help of a script, sort of guessed what might have happened. The fact that Netflix even dared to go against the official story that the Court still stands by… Simon doesn’t really understand how it happened. Other than that Wilhelm has become somewhat of an involuntary queer icon - Hetero of the Year, apparently - and no sensible person under 30 seriously believes the statement that it wasn’t him in the video.
Simon has almost fallen asleep on the couch when his phone dings.
Do you need a security detail? it says. The number is not added to Simon's phone book but he recognizes it, he knows exactly who it’s from.
did you come to think of that now? Simon replies. He almost feels a little offended that this is how Wilhelm gets in touch. Not even with a real message, but with some bullshit about a security detail? A whole week after the show aired, nonetheless.
It takes a while before he gets a response. But then.
I only just watched it now
Sorry
Haven’t dared to watch it
Simon bites his lip and pulls a blanket over himself. His head is laying uncomfortably against the couch's armrests and a thin pillow.
so far it’s alright. but if you can get me my job back it would be appreciated, he writes. He wishes he didn’t feel so angry at Wilhelm over this whole situation with his job but he’s actually pissed and the devil on his shoulder wants Wilhelm to know how much this has fucked with his life.
The answer from Wilhelm comes quickly this time. Have you been fired? What happened?
the kids have seen all the memes on tiktok, it isn’t possible to work with them when it’s like this. so my boss has moved me from children and youth to financial aid, writes Simon.
Gosh, I’m sorry Simon
We haven’t had any insight into this, Netflix has gone completely behind our backs
Fuck
You've already had to deal with so much shit as it is
The messages glare at him through the screen. He feels even angrier at Wilhelm now, he doesn’t know what’s worse? That the show was made and that his sextape was on everybody’s lips again and that he had been moved between units at work, or that Wilhelm still thinks that the worst thing about it all is the leaked video itself, and not the denial. If their video had to be brought up by the public again, Wilhelm could at least have written something like " sorry, I wish I had done things differently ".
On the other hand, Simon has spent three and a half years in the Social Work program. He didn’t sleep during every lecture. He understands that it’s not Wilhelm's fault that it turned out the way it did. What he’s been subjected to could almost be considered a lighter version of honor-related oppression. Journalists refer to immigrant families as clans in the newspaper, but it’s Wilhelm’s family that is the real clan.
it's not your fault , Simon writes, not knowing if he's responding to Wilhelm's messages or the devil on his shoulder.
***
Wilhelm wakes up to the sound of knocking. It takes him a while to register that someone is basically banging on the front door. Then he feels the phone next to him, how it’s vibrating against the mattress. Felice , it says on the screen.
"Wilhelm!" he hears her shout, her voice muffled by the apartment's insulated walls.
He drags himself out of bed, feeling almost a little drugged or something, the way one becomes when one has slept for far too long. He realizes that maybe he should put on a pair of pants so he doesn’t open the door in just a sweater and underwear. On the floor, he finds a pair of joggers that he pulls on. He accidentally bumps into the bed frame on the way out of the room and it digs into his leg. He can barely walk properly, barely open his eyes completely. But he does find the door handle.
"Wilhelm," Felice says, stepping inside, hugging him. She smells like vanilla. It must be a new perfume.
She is the first person he has met this whole week. Well, except for Malin, who has checked on him now and then with a worried look on her face but who has then left him again. His mother has sent lots of text messages but he hasn’t answered a single one and no one has taken the time to stop by his apartment, even though his parents live on the other side of the same palace.
"I would have come earlier, but I've been in New York all week and visited Maddie," she says. "God, I’m sorry."
"You don’t have to apologize," Wilhelm mumbles into her jacket. He lets go of her and staggers. "Sorry, I'm not drunk, I'm just not really awake yet."
"It’s 4:30 pm," she says. She puts her coat away and places her purse on the floor. “Did you- or, how are you? What do you need?"
"It's fine," he says. “Or, maybe I should take a shower. For your sake." He raises his arm and smells in his armpit. Shit. The whole apartment must smell like crap. He hasn’t opened a window all week.
He disappears into the bathroom and takes a shower. The water wakes him up a little, and his head feels clearer. He can hear Felice moving around the apartment. Then she must have connected her phone to the sound system, because an old Håkan song starts playing in the apartment. When Wilhelm comes out of the bathroom with freshly washed hair and a new pair of joggers, the apartment feels completely different. Felice has opened the windows and pulled back the curtains. The plates with leftover food that had been scattered around the apartment are gone. His bed is made. And Felice is in the kitchen cooking pasta. It feels a bit like being back at Hillerska again, after Simon dumped him, and he used to sit with Felice and Madison in their room and listen to Håkan Hellström’s Your time will come . He honestly doesn’t know if he would have managed without them, managed to go back to school and see Simon every day for two and a half years without ever truly getting over him.
"It’s so depressing that my time never came", he says and stands next to Felice by the kitchen counter where she’s nodding her head to the rhythm of the song.
She looks up at him with sad eyes. "Don’t say that. We're only twenty-six. ”
“Have you seen that Netflix show with Natasha Lyonne? The one where she lives the same night over and over again? That's me. Like, how will my time be able to come if time stands still for me? It's just a loop.”
"Wille," she says, pulling him close, hugging him for the second time today. "I get it, okay? We just have to break the loop, and it will work out. ”
They eat pasta and pesto in Wilhelm's bed. Felice puts on a Friends episode on the computer. She says nothing about all the tabs he has open, nothing about the Flashback tab or the newspaper article about the Netflix show. He leans against her shoulder. The crisp spring air seeps in through the windows and it feels a little easier to breathe.
"We texted yesterday," he says when they have placed their plates on the bedside table and the Friends episode has ended.
"You and Simon?"
"Mhm," he says. He opens his conversation with Simon and gives her his phone.
“Wille …” she starts.
“I know, you don’t have to say anything. But what was I supposed to do? He doesn’t want to hear from me. We haven’t met since… ”, he has to pause and clear his throat. “Or, do you remember that event your mother arranged like, two years ago? The one he attended, with Sara? That time he wasn’t dressed up?” She nods. “Well, we went home together. Or not home, we checked into a hotel by the central. Then when I woke up the next morning he was gone. And we haven’t spoken since.”
“Oh,” is all she says at first. "That- I didn’t know that.”
“Well, I didn’t tell anyone.”
“But that wasn’t because he was angry with you, was it? I mean, he went to the hotel with you.”
“We were drunk, it doesn’t count.”
Wilhelm doesn’t want to admit to himself that he had thought it might mean something more when they checked into that hotel together. He had kind of thought that Simon was looking at him in a way that said that it did mean something more. But then he had woken up alone the next morning and felt so fucking stupid and hung over. Simon's jacket and shoes were gone. He had left.
Wilhelm has been with one single person in his life and that is Simon. But Simon has a new life now, Wilhelm follows him on social media and he knows that. Knows that Simon studied Social Work and that he did shots at clubs with his friends after they handed in their exams and that he has probably slept with a lot of guys during the last six and a half years. Not like Wilhelm, whose life has just stopped. It consists of nothing but state visits and reading that damn Flashback forum.
“It was just a fun thing for him,” says Wilhelm. “It meant nothing.”
Felice looks at him. “If you're going to get out of this loop, you have to talk to him. So that you either … either the two of you get back together or you get closure and then you let it go. But you have to talk because you never talked at Hillerska, or after.”
“What do you mean ‘getting back together’? Ten years have passed. He moved on.”
“Like, I don’t know. I don’t think it sounds like that when I talk to Sara.”
“What?”
"Yes, or. I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t- I've just heard that he never met anyone else after you. It may not mean anything. But at least you have a common unprocessed trauma that fucked with both of your dating lives, or that’s what it sounds like anyway, which you probably should talk about. And if it’s … if it’s the case that you both have been in love with each other for ten years without having done anything about it because your mother is an idiot… damn it, Wilhelm. That’s absolutely heartbreaking.”
She puts the phone in his hand. He stares down at the conversation with Simon. He hasn’t answered since Simon wrote it’s not your fault , he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know if Simon means it, because it doesn’t sound like he does.
"I think I want to meet up and check so he's okay at least," says Wilhelm. “And maybe you’re right. Not that he still- I don’t think so. But maybe we should talk.”
Would you like to meet up and talk? I understand if you don’t want to, but it would be nice to be on the same page in all of this , he writes in the text box. Then he adds And maybe we can talk about this thing with the security detail as well? Only if you want to of course.
"Can I send this?"
Felice nods encouragingly and he presses send. The text message makes a small noise when it’s sent.
"There you go," she says. "This will work out."
***
It feels strange to take the bus out to Drottningholm. Simon and Wilhelm never made it far enough for him to visit Wilhelm’s home. They didn't really get very far at all, didn't really even get together properly. Never properly became boyfriends. Simon hates how this non-relationship ruined his life so fucking hard.
Simon gets off the bus at Drottningholm. The palace is located across the road from the bus stop. It’s standing there by the water in the Palace Park, covered in a light layer of snow. Simon remembers that some of his classmates went to see a play at the Palace Theater during their second year in the Social Work program. They had invited him but he had declined because he was so afraid that he would run into Wilhelm. Now he feels a bit stupid because of how big the area is. And like, exactly where is he even supposed to meet Wilhelm? He opens his conversation with Wilhelm.
where am i even supposed to meet you? he writes.
He scrolls up a bit in the conversation and checks the message Wilhelm sent yesterday. It almost makes him a little provoked. It would be nice to be on the same page . It feels like a fucking joke. Like, what page is that supposed to be? Is that the page where Wilhelm backstabs him?
Simon closes the screen. He’s got to pull himself together, think about the culture of honor thing, how it's not Wilhelm's fault, that they were only sixteen years old. As young as the kids he meets at work. Younger than some of them, even. It is not their fault if they have problems with criminality or drug usage. It is about poor socioeconomic conditions, about bad parenting, about a social system that doesn’t work. And the same goes for sixteen-year-old Wilhelm, but it's hard for Simon to remember that when he was only sixteen himself and when he’s been around harboring this crap for as long as he has by now.
I’m sorry! Walk towards the palace and I’ll meet you there , Wilhelm writes.
Wilhelm is wearing dress pants under his spring coat. Simon feels underdressed in his jeans and hoodie, he didn't know today’s dress code was red fucking carpet. At first it feels awkward when they greet each other, but then Wilhelm pulls him into a hug and they stay like that. Simon's heart beats so fucking hard in his chest. It feels just like last time, at that fundraiser. Now that they are sober, it almost feels too much , and it hurts so much to be reminded that this is what it feels like. That this is where they ended up.
Simon looks up at the palace behind Wilhelm's shoulder. “Can your mother see us from here?” he asks.
Wilhelm loosens his grip on him a little, leaning back so they're still standing close, but so they can see each other.
"No," he says. "No, their windows face the other way."
"Okay," Simon says and they stare at each other in silence. All that can be heard is the spring chirping of the birds, and a few cars rushing by on the road.
“Uh,” Wilhelm says. "well," and then he lets Simon go. “My place is this way.”
Wilhelm lives in a secluded part of the palace, in his own apartment. It doesn't look at all like Simon expected. There are no crystal chandeliers, old portraits, or antique furniture. It feels like a modern apartment, minimalistic and white. Only the advanced pattern of the glossy wooden floor reveals that they are inside a palace. And the ceiling height maybe, and the big windows, but Simon can't see them properly because Wilhelm has closed the curtains.
"Are you still closing the curtains?" Simon asks, pulling one of the curtains a little with his hand to peek outside. There is an even larger park down there, where people are walking around. Tourists. Shit . Wilhelm actually has a reason to close the curtains. Not like Simon, who has some untreated PTSD or something. He doesn't really know.
"Yeah," Wilhelm mumbles and disappears into what Simon guesses is the kitchen. "Do you want coffee? Tea?"
“Tea,” Simon says.
He peeks into the kitchen. It looks newly renovated, expensive. Not like the apartment Simon is subletting in Kista, which still has the original kitchen from the 90s. Wilhelm takes out a black loose-leaf tea. He puts coasters under their cups as they sit down at the dining table.
"Well, uh," Wilhelm begins, stirring the tea infuser in the steaming water. "We've never talked. And now, with the show ... Maybe it would be a good idea to talk. Because it's like this thing with the curtains, that I never really got over what happened, and I know it sounds really pathetic and I get that you're not there at all anymore, but I think... or it might be a good idea to talk about it.”
“I also close the curtains. Still,” Simon says. “Or, I don't have curtains. But the blinds. I always pull the blinds down.”
Wilhelm stares at him. At first, he almost looks happy, maybe hopeful. Then it's like he sinks into himself again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“No but like, it’s my fault. That you feel like you have to do that.”
"No, it's August's fault that I feel like I have to do that," Simon says. “But you're right that it's probably a good idea to talk about it. I... uh, I went to therapy for a while, when I was studying. Just a few times. Like I thought it was smart if I was going to be a social worker, to have done that, and we mostly talked about my dad and stuff. But yeah, anyway, the therapist or counselor or whatever she was said that you and I should talk about this whole thing, like about what happened, but I never got around to it.”
“Why not?”
"I don’t really know. I have been scared, I guess. I thought it would bring up all this stuff and that I would get hurt all over again, maybe," he pauses. "And you? Why haven't you wanted to bring this up before?”
"I thought you were angry with me," Wilhelm says and looks so sad. Small and sad.
“Oh,” Simon says. "I’m sorry." It almost comes out as a whisper. He feels like a fucking idiot. Of course Wilhelm thought that, considering how he has behaved. “Have you felt this way the entire time? Since Hillerska?”
"I don't know," Wilhelm says. "Maybe not. But uh, well… since that night… yeah.”
“The one … uhm, the one at the hotel?”
“Yeah, and you just … left.”
"Shit." Simon leans his forehead against his hands. He stares down at the table, down at his tea. Maybe he should remove the infuser before it gets too strong. "I’m sorry."
"No, no, it's okay," Wilhelm says. “I get that you don’t … it is me who… I shouldn't have read anything into it anyway. It's so pathetic that I - and that it's been ten years - you must think I'm crazy or something. And maybe I am, I don't know.”
"No, Wilhelm," he interrupts. "I left because I was afraid of getting hurt again. Because your situation hasn't changed, and because I can't handle it if it happens again. And it was mean of me, I know. And sorry for sounding so mean over text. I've been so mad that it turned out like this and I've taken it out on you and it's not okay, I know that. I’m sorry. You apologize all the time, but I'm the one who behaved stupidly."
“And ... uh," Wilhelm clears his throat. “And how do you feel now? About us?"
“The same as always.”
They look at each other and it seems to click for Wilhelm because his eyes sort of open a little. If their life had been a romantic drama, he would have thrown himself at Simon by now, but it isn't. They just keep looking at each other.
"But I... or you might not- but like, even if we're on the same page, nothing can happen until I know for sure you're not going to ... I can't do that again," Simon says.
"I get that," Wilhelm says. "Had I understood how it would turn out, or that my mom kinda tricked me ... I would never have ... and I would never do it again."
"No but I get that, like rationally. We were so young. And I saw on the news that you might not even be able to press charges if you're the victim of a crime, I don't know, have you seen it? It's so sick. It's not your fault it turned out this way. But I still have a lot of baggage from everything that happened and I'm still scared, I guess. I feel like I'm still sixteen when it comes to us. It just makes me so dumb.”
"Me too," Wilhelm says. "I miss you so damn much, you don't understand."
“I miss you too.”
“Can I…or maybe it’s stupid, but can I hold you at least? We don't have to do anything other than that, I just… I've missed you so much.”
Simon nods, his eyes almost feel a bit watery. Wilhelm puts their infusers in the sink and takes the untouched cups in his hand.
"Come on," he says and sounds so incredibly shy.
They go into the bedroom and crawl onto Wilhelm's bed. It feels a little crazy, it's not at all what Simon expected to happen today. He doesn't really know what he expected to happen. Maybe that they would talk a little about how the Court intended to handle the show and that Simon would come out of here with some kind of surveillance system ready to be installed in his apartment or something. But instead he is here, in Wilhelm's bed. There is a blanket neatly folded over the end of the foot and Wilhelm pulls it over them. Pulls Simon close to him so that he is a small spoon, just like it always used to be in the past when they went to Hillerska. And just like Simon remembers it was when they fell asleep that night in the hotel. They breathe together for a while, and Simon lets himself feel. Feel how their bodies sort of fit together. How it feels completely natural that they should lie together like this.
"Who is this?" he then asks, reaching out to grab a worn stuffed toy wolf that is watching them from the other side of the bed with its glass eyes.
"Per," Wilhelm says. “It was my baptism gift from the government.”
“What?” Simon says and starts laughing. “Shit. Right. Yes, of course you have received a baptism gift from the government.” It is so easy to forget what an absurd life Wilhelm lives. At least now, when they're lying here in his regular bed in his modern apartment and he feels just like anyone else. Or, like someone Simon has been in love with for ten years. “Why a wolf?”
"Uh well, I have a duke title as well. It's very silly, but I am the Duke of Värmland. And Värmland's regional animal is a wolf, so it must have been someone at the government office who came up with the idea that I should get a wolf... Or, Erik had been given a crane - you know the bird? - when he was baptized, so they probably took the idea from there."
Simon laughs again. “A crane ? Is it even sold as a stuffed animal?”
He hugs the wolf. It feels so cozy to lie like that, with Wilhelm's arms around him and Wilhelm's stuffed animal in his arms. And it feels a little easier to talk now, when they don't have to look at each other. Not quite as scary.
“Apparently. The crane was called Göran, so mine was named Per”, Wilhelm tells him.
“After the prime minister Göran Persson, I assume?”
"Yes exactly," Simon can hear in his voice that he is smiling. "Mom hates Göran Persson, so it was really just sarcasm on her part. But it was the Persson government that gave them to us, and Erik and I were so young, we never understood the sarcastic undertone. So like, they were just called Göran and Per.”
“So she’s not entirely humorless after all.”
“Yes, my God. She's not nearly as serious as she seems.”
"And what do you feel now?" Simon collects the courage to ask. “What would she say now? If you were going to say something, that is.” He doesn’t dare to get his hopes up too much.
"Well, she just has to take it like it is and accept that it is what it is," Wilhelm says. “Felice was here yesterday. She was the one who convinced me to write to you, she is obviously much smarter than I am. But she said that it would be sad if we had felt like this for each other for ten years without doing anything about it, and I guess we have? Or at least I have. And if you have too… Like, I can't live like this for another ten years.”
"Yeah, I have felt like that too."
“I'm going to talk to mom and sort this out. If you want, that is.”
"I want that. I really really want that," Simon says, and now he's really crying. He puts his hand on Wilhelm's arm, he has to hold him somehow.
"Until then ... we don't have to do anything," Wilhelm says. "It's enough that I get to hold you."
"Thank you," Simon whispers. I love you almost slips out of him but he can't say it just yet, they're not there yet. They have to take this slowly, Wilhelm has to show that he means business. If Simon has waited ten years to say those words, he can wait a little longer. Right now, it's enough to be wrapped in Wilhelm's arms again.