Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simon still doesn’t quite know how he got a fucking Prince to join him for his friend’s football game, but he did. And then, said Prince was all too happy to just keep hanging out with him and his friends. Rosh was soon called away to celebrate her victory with her teammates, but Wille and Ayub got along surprisingly well after Wille managed to get over his initial awkwardness.

They’re in Simon’s neighbourhood park now, the one he played in all throughout his childhood. It’s a bit run down - the swingset in particular looks very depressing with its peeling paint. But Wille hasn’t said anything, and he seems so content that Simon isn’t even sure that he’s taken in his surroundings completely.

They’re lying on the hill that the children use for sledding in the winter, getting their jackets wet with the dew that is already collecting on the grass. And they’re just talking. Ayub seems to be on some sort of mission to get a feel for Wille. To see if he’s right for Simon, maybe. Or to see if he’s queer. Although if that’s what he wants to know, the questions he’s asking don’t make any sense.

The first pointed question had made Simon tense up. Wille can be uncomfortable with people talking to him, Simon has observed over the last couple of days. But what Ayub is asking is mostly harmless, like what’s his favourite book - “well, okay, but audio books count as reading as far as I’m concerned. What’s your favourite audio book?” - and what is a board game that he just can’t stop losing at - “Well, then we’ll have to introduce you to some. I know plenty of board games for you to be absolutely rubbish at, you’ll see”. None of it is focused on money or prestige - because Ayub doesn’t give a shit about things like that. And so Wille is just lying on his back, looking up at the stars in the black night sky and answering one question after another. It’s very convenient, because this way, Simon gets to stare at him.

Right now, they’re talking about the fight that landed Wille in Hillerska. “I mean… Can I ask how that happened?” Ayub is propped up on his elbow next to Wille, and the expression on his face morphs into something that tells Simon he won’t like what his friend is thinking.

The sound Wille makes is close to a growl. “I’m not allowed to talk about it. It’s like…” He hesitates for a short moment, then points his finger at Simon so quickly that he flinches back just a bit. It gets him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. But, so, you remember our first day of class?”

“Yeah?” Of course he remembers. How could he forget?

“You said all of those things about the monarchy. And that’s one of these situations where I’m not allowed to say anything. I’m not even allowed to contradict you. They don’t trust me to not make the Crown look bad. Even afterwards, I shouldn’t have talked to you. If that had gotten out, I’d have been in trouble. Again. And this is a bit like that.” His mouth is a straight line, angry and bitter. “The official story is that I got into a fight because I’m an angry teenage boy and teenage boys just get in fights. And they’re just hoping that everyone believes it, that’s why they forced me on television to make that stupid statement.”
Simon remembers seeing that and almost feeling pity. Now, he definitely feels pity. Somehow, it sounds like there was more to the situation.

“You know what’s the worst thing about this?” Wille asks, and the steely look in his eyes makes Simon’s stomach clench. “There’s a containment story, in case someone took pictures. And it’s so fucking bad. Like, it’s really bad. But they still think it’s better than the truth. And that makes me so fucking angry every time I think about it.”

“I mean…” Ayub hesitates. “I think I saw a video. It was on the news.”

“Not that.” Wille waves his hands as if it’s nothing, a video of him punching another boy on the national news. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time he was on the national news. “Before that. God, I really hope there are no pictures.”

“Why, what happened?” Simon asks. He hates how his voice is automatically low and soft, because it sounds like he cares as much as he does.

“I am not at liberty to say.” Wille rolls his eyes and takes a swig of his coke. “I told you.”

Now, that’s where Simon would have stopped. It’s clear that Wille is anxious about this, clear that he is a pretty anxious person in general. And Simon likes him, he really, really does. So he doesn’t want to spook him. If Wille wants them to know, he’ll probably tell them at some point.

But Ayub is Ayub, and if he wants to know something, he just keeps pestering until he has an answer that he is satisfied with. “So what’s the containment story, then?”

Wille closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, takes another one. Then he opens them again to stare into the dark night sky and says: “I’m a giant fucking homophobe.”

It’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice over Simon’s head. “What?”

Wille chuckles darkly. “That’s the story. I’m a homophobe. I hit that guy because he made accusations and I felt insulted . According to mamma, that’s the only good thing that I did that night. I mean, can you imagine what might have happened if you punched him before he called you that word?” His imitation of his mother’s voice isn’t particularly accurate, as far as Simon can tell, but the effect is clear. Jesus . What a thing to say to your son.

“What word?” Ayub asks, because he’s a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

For a minute, it looks like Wille doesn’t want to say. Simon can empathise, at least he thinks so. He’s been in it before, that type of situation where he already thinks he’s said too much and then someone asks a question that makes it clear they haven’t fully understood yet. That’s usually the moment where he tells people that it’s nothing, and to forget about it. And this… He can tell Wille is nervous. This is a touchy subject. Wille doesn’t know that Simon is gay, and that Ayub was the first person he told. He doesn’t know that Ayub didn’t even say anything before he hugged Simon.

“Fag,” he says, finally. His voice is devoid of all inflection. Simon wonders how many people he’s had to tell that that is the word that he was called, wonders how many of them he didn’t want to tell and how many of them squinted at him after, as if that would somehow tell them if it was true. And he wonders why exactly that is what made Wille finally punch that guy. He can think of a few reasons. Preeminently among them the fact that anyone who uses any type of slur as an insult immediately looks very punchable in his eyes. 

Was it because it hit a nerve? There’s that feeling again, in the pit of his stomach, that unfair hope that Wille is attracted to boys after all, could be attracted to Simon. He’d really like to believe that. He kind of does, what with how Wille looks at him sometimes. But that’s a dangerous game. Because even if Wille does like boys - who says that he’s realised it yet?

Wille is not a violent person. He’s known him long enough to know that about him, at least. He’s timid and dorky and harmless. What would it even take for someone like that to get angry enough to punch someone? And then keep trying to punch them? Somehow, Simon thinks, it would be easier to get him to that point than it would be with Wille. But then, Simon doesn’t drink. So who knows. He’s never quite figured out exactly how alcohol and drugs factor into anger and violence. He just knows that they do.

Ayub hums. “That doesn’t make sense to me. How is punching someone after they call you a homophobic slur better than punching them before they do?”

And it’s at that point that Simon suddenly becomes glad for his unsubtle staring. Because if he hadn’t been looking at Wille’s face, he wouldn’t have seen it shutter so immediately and completely. He wouldn’t have seen how the colour first drains from his face and then comes back in full force. Wouldn’t have seen Wille clench his eyes shut before he takes a deep breath. Wouldn’t have been able to intervene before it gets out of control. 

“Wille, when’s your bus again?” he asks as if he just remembered.

Wille’s head snaps around, eyes wide and cheeks still delectably pink. His lips are pressed together. Simon wants to bite them. “I don’t… I think the last one’s at midnight?”

The last bus is at a quarter to midnight. Simon knows that, has known it for time immemorial. This is Bjärstadt, not Stockholm. Anyone who misses the last bus will have to wait for the 7 o’clock one the next morning. It’s early enough to get Simon to class, but it would not be early enough to get Wille to breakfast.

He takes his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. It’s a quarter after eleven. “Well, then I guess we should get going in a bit.”

The look on Wille’s face is strange, kind of like he’s relieved to get out of this situation, but he really doesn’t want to go. Simon’s stomach gives a little flip. He wants to stay. He wants to keep spending time with me. Wilhelm, Prince of Sweden, currently second in line for the throne, likes him. He doesn’t know in what way, but Wille is very open about the fact that he does like him. And that alone is incredible. It has never happened to him before. Even when he met Ayub in kindergarten it took them several false starts until they became friends. And Rosh can be quite distant at times. 

“I really do need to catch that bus,” Wille finally sighs. He’s up in a heartbeat, holding out his hands to both Simon and Ayub, to help them get up. Like it’s not even something he has to think about. But then again, maybe he doesn’t. God only knows how he’s been raised.

Ayub takes his hand immediately and almost pulls Wille over in his effort to get up. Simon can’t help but giggle at how the step Wille has to take to catch himself so they both don’t take a tumble. But then, Ayub is brushing grass from his butt and back, and Wille’s undivided attention is on Simon. He still has his hand outstretched, raises an amused eyebrow as if to ask Simon what he’s waiting for. 

And so Simon takes his hand, because anything else would look weird. He doesn’t want to do the same thing Ayub did, and so puts a bit more energy into getting up himself. It’s still a miscalculation, because somehow, he ends up almost nose to nose with Wille. For just a moment, before he stumbles back with an apology on his lips, he can feel the other boy's breath on his face.

Fuck . That was exactly the kind of thing he didn’t want to happen. But Wille seems fine, not weirded out. He’s still flushed as all hell, but he was before he helped them up, so that probably doesn’t mean anything. He even gives Simon a little smile, assures him that it’s fine. Ayub rolls his eyes as obviously as he can, right behind Wille’s back. If he didn’t think Wille would ask about it, Simon would give him the finger.

On the way to the bus terminal, their conversation returns to the match. After that minefield they just left, Simon is grateful for it, even if he can’t contribute much. His thoughts are still on their conversation, on the way Wille spat out the words I’m a giant fucking homophobe . It sounds like that is more insulting to him than the slur he’d been called, the idea that their press department or whatever was prepared to spread that story if anyone asked too many questions or had pictures.

What kind of pictures would that even be? What could there be pictures of that is worse than being so homophobic you punch someone for implying you’re gay? Virulent racism, maybe, but that can’t be it. If Wille was that racist, he wouldn’t have made such an effort to become friends with Simon. And he certainly wouldn’t have been friends with Felice for years. 

Ayub says something, laughs, and then Wille stumbles into him so suddenly that Simon barely manages to catch them both. Because Ayub, as per usual, is a giant fucking idiot. He’s done it before, pushed someone on the shoulder - innocently, but just hard enough that they stumble into someone he knows they have a crush on. Usually, Simon would probably find that funny, but today it just annoys him. Ayub has already pushed Wille enough. 

Wille apologises profusely, because of course he does. It takes Simon a bit to get through to him to tell him it’s okay. He’s more frazzled than usual. Simon tries his best to not think about why that might be. Instead, he just smiles at him, rolls his eyes in Ayub’s direction and keeps walking.

The rest of the way passes in companionable silence. When they arrive at the terminal, they’re five minutes early, and somehow, even that is embarrassing to Wille.

“You really don’t have to wait with me,” he says.

“Ah, but we insist.” That’s Ayub. “Can’t have the Prince kidnapped just because we leave him alone for a few minutes.”

“What? No, I…” 

Fuck Ayub, honestly. “This area isn’t the safest. If possible, no one waits for the bus on their own or walks home alone. Ayub’s just being a dick.”

Ayub grins like that was a compliment. “Sorry.”

And so they wait together. Ayub doesn’t open his mouth again until Wille is already in the bus and paying for his ticket. Simon thought he was in the clear for the evening. But apparently, he is not. Because when Wille turns around one last time to wave goodbye, right before the doors close, Ayub shouts: “Hey, you know Simme is gay, right?”

Now, that’s not a secret. Simon is out, and he doesn’t really care who knows, or if his friends tell anyone. Ayub has said this exact thing before, and Simon was fine with it. He’s been out on dates with boys before, held their hands and kissed them in public places. Honestly, it’s not a big deal to him. He was halfway convinced that Wille knew, and he didn’t care about that either. He’s not been overtly flirting, but that’s a different thing. 

But the way Wille’s eyes widen at the statement, almost panicked, makes an icy vice clamp down on his stomach. The doors close, and Wille just stands there and stares at them, eyes flickering between their two faces, until the bus drives off and he has to hold onto something so that he doesn’t fall. Simon can just stand there and watch, frozen to the spot. His facial expression is probably pretty similar to Wille’s.

Only when the bus has rounded the next corner and is out of sight does he unfreeze enough to turn to look at Ayub.

“What the fuck? Why would you do that?”

Ayub shrugs. “He can be in denial about himself all he wants. But I just don’t want him to mess you around. Plausible deniability and all that?”

“What if I want him to have plausible deniability?” Fuck, what if he didn’t know? What if Wille didn’t know, and now wants nothing to do with him anymore? Maybe he’s not allowed to associate with gay people. What if it sounded like Ayub was saying that Simon has a crush on Wille? That could also be too much. Sometimes, straight boys are fine with him until they think he could possibly want something from them.

Ayub puts a hand on his shoulder. “Simme, if he needs plausible deniability, he will hurt you. Even if he doesn’t want to”

“And I appreciate that you want to protect me, but that is still my risk to take.”

His friend has the good grace to look at least a little bit guilty. “I’m sorry. But I honestly don’t believe you have anything to worry about. That boy is so into you it’s not even funny anymore.”

“No he isn’t!” It feels essential that he denies this. Maybe out of some warped sense of preserving Wille’s reputation, whatever the fuck that even means, but likely more out of self-preservation. If he really believes that, and then gets rejected, that would be fucking brutal. Simon doesn’t know if he could cope with that. If Wille isn’t into him, he wants to be Wille's friend. And that’ll be easier if Wille doesn’t know about his silly little crush.

Simon ignores the voice in the back of his head that whispers dangerous things about how little and silly are not apt descriptors.

Chapter Text

Simon doesn’t hear from Wille on Saturday, which of course means that he spends the whole day in a state of dread. Nothing major or anything, but just enough for a stomach ache that constantly reminded him that he was afraid of Monday. The ironic thing about that, really, is that there really is no reason to expect Wille to message him. Sure, they text sometimes. But usually if it’s about something that they’ve already talked about in person.

Also - what is he even expecting Wille to say? It’s cool that you’re gay, I’m really not homophobic? That would be too on the nose. Wille is awkward, but he isn’t that awkward. 

So Simon spends his Saturday doing homework, ignoring Ayub and bickering with Sara. 

On Sunday, when Simon is just lazing around on his bed, Wille does text him.

Wille (11:05)
Hey, I just wanted to say that I had a great time on Friday. Thank you for inviting me :)

Ah, so he is choosing to ignore it. Good idea.

Simon (11:09)
Yeah, me too. We should do it again sometime.
I have so much more to teach you about how the common folk live 😄

Wille (11:13)
I think I did pretty well, though.

Simon (11:14)
You did, don’t worry.

Wille (11:20)

You didn’t see me on the busride over. I didn’t know I needed an app. 
It was really embarrassing.

Simon has to laugh at that. He can see it in front of his inner eye - Wille, trying to be inconspicuous and polite, trying to pay for his ticket with his credit card. There’s a twinge in his chest. That must have been difficult for him. And he still did it. Because he wanted to see Simon. Fuck, he likes this guy so much.

Simon (11:23)
Well, you got there, didn’t you? I’ll count that as a win.

Wille (11:25)
I think you’re probably being a bit too generous there, but okay.

Simon (11:25)
If you think that I haven’t publicly embarrassed myself before, you should think again.

Wille (11:26)
Interesting. How?

That’s his in, isn’t it? It could be. 

Simon (11:30)
How about I tell you tomorrow? We could hang out after class.

Wille (11:33)
Oh, okay.

Wille (11:36)
Yeah, cool. We should do that!

Simon doesn’t really know what he should make of that pause, if it even means anything. Probably not. He’s been over-analyzing every word Wille said to him since the day they met. It was probably nothing.

Simon turns over onto his stomach, presses his face into his pillow and proceeds to over-analyse until it gets dark outside.

They see each other at noon on Monday, but Wille is being monopolised by August, so Simon stays away. It’s too early in the week to voluntarily expose himself to insults. 

When Mr. Olafsson calls Sweden great and wonderful in history, Wille turns around to roll his eyes at Simon. It’s so refreshing to have someone there who he knows shares his perspective at least somewhat. Even if it’s the goddamn Prince of Sweden. 

It hits Simon out of nowhere that this probably isn’t because he was raised that way. This isn’t someone he was moulded into. This is who he is . It’s him who thinks these things about government and justice and equality. He wouldn’t have been raised like that. The way he talked on Friday is proof enough. He was raised to always do what looks best. Protect the crown, all that shit. When he turns around to roll his eyes because someone is being embarrassingly patriotic, he’s likely going against direct orders. Not because of his upbringing, but in spite of it. They don’t trust me to not make the Crown look bad. Fuck, that just makes it feel even more special.

And then, finally, the school day is over. When Simon has finally gathered all of his things and left the classroom, Wille is already waiting for him just outside of the door. He’s gnawing on his thumb until he sees Simon, at which point his first instinct seems to be to hide it behind his back. It’s adorable.

“So where do you wanna go?” he asks when they’re walking down the corridor next to each other. It sounds a bit breathy, because he’s already fucking breathless. Curse Wille for making him so nervous. 

It doesn’t look like he’s disgusted by Simon, at least. Or anything of the sort. But he’s definitely anxious about something. The question is - about what? It might not even have anything to do with Simon. Wille’s family seems to be excellent at stressing him out.

“Uhm, can we… Can we go to my room? I just really wanna avoid August. He keeps insisting I hang out with him and his buddies .” The disdain with which he says that last word warms Simon’s heart. “And I also - wanted to talk to you about something, so.”

He shrugs as if it’s nothing, but it very clearly isn’t. He’s fidgeting with his cuticles like Simon has previously observed him doing when he was nervous.

“Okay, sure,” Simon answers as casually as he can. Whatever Wille is anxious about, Simon doesn’t need to make it worse by showing his own nervousness. But when he follows Wille down the corridors, he can’t help the racing thoughts. Talk to him about something? What does that mean? What does he want to talk about? It could still be about Friday. Is this about Simon being gay? That could still turn out well for you , the little voice in his head croons consolingly. Simon tunes it out. Hope is dangerous. Don’t fall for straight boys. He’s told himself that a million times before. He’s never been very good at following that rule.

When they’ve arrived at Wille’s door, Simon gets nervous for an entirely different reason. Fuck, this is secluded. It figures, considering who he is. Simon knows he doesn’t have a roommate. But still. If there’s anywhere on campus that anyone could be hatecrimed without being heard, it’s here . As soon as he’s finished that thought, Simon feels ashamed of himself. Wille wouldn’t hurt him.

The room itself is incredibly ordinary. There’s an art print on the wall, but it looks like some weird leftover from the nineties. Wille definitely didn’t hang that himself. But there’s a photo of him and his brother on the nightstand and a wool sweater hanging over a chair. The desk is an absolute mess. It’s pretty much the only part of the room that doesn’t look like it could be a stock picture.

But the familiar surroundings don’t seem to calm Wille down. In fact, he seems to get even more nervous.

“D’you wanna do homework?,” he asks and runs a hand through his hair. “We could do homework.” He’s pacing a bit, rips the sweater off the chair and throws it on the bed. Simon is still lingering by the door, unsure of what to do. 

“I don’t really have any new homework,” he says. It’s the only thing he can think of.

“Oh.” Wille stops in his tracks, turns around and sees him by the door. With wide eyes, he motions to the chair. “You can sit!”

When Simon does, he does as well. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then, Wille shakes his head.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” That question is just about the last thing that Simon expected.

This time, Wille runs both of his hands through his hair. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Your friend… What your friend said on Friday. I just… that would be a shitty joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke.” The words are out of Simon’s mouth before he can even think of holding them back. 

“Oh.” Wille’s eyes are wide, but other than that, his face is blank. He nods. “Okay. But… I mean, he didn’t-he didn’t out you against your will, did he?”

Oh. Oh fuck . That is so unbelievably sweet. “No, it’s okay,” he hurries to assure him. “I don’t really care who knows. I’ve told him he can tell people. It just took me by surprise, is all. I mean, what the fuck.”

That finally alleviates the tension, and they both laugh. Simon could swear Wille looks relieved. 

“Yeah, what was that about?”

Simon snorts. “Honestly, who knows. I’ve given up on figuring out why Ayub does the things he does.”

“But it’s okay, right? I mean, you’re okay?” The look on his face is so incredibly sincere that it makes Simon’s throat tighten up.

“I’m alright,” he says. “Are you?”

Immediately, Wille’s eyes widen. “I don’t have a problem with gay people! Honestly, I don’t! I know what I said on Friday might sound - but I-”

“Hey!” Carefully, Simon puts a hand on Wille’s knee to draw his attention. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” Wille’s eyes are glued to Simon’s hand. The flush in his cheeks can only be described as vibrant. He doesn’t say anything else, though.

“If I thought you had a problem with me, I wouldn’t be here.” Simon adds. Then he looks down at where his hand is laying on Wille’s knee. It’s been there too long, he realises, and draws it back. Only then does Wille look him in the face again.

“Right. That’s good. Smart.”

Simon almost snorts. God, Wille can be so awkward. But this moment seems fragile, so he reigns himself in. Instead, he asks his question again. “Are you okay?”

Wille frowns. “Yeah, why?”

“You just seem on edge,” Simon answers with a shrug.

That makes Wille slump down to bury his head in his hands with a groan. “I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know how to do this. Maybe it was a mistake”

Oh hell no. Whatever this is, they’re doing it. “Do what?” Simon keeps his voice deliberately soft. 

Wille sighs. “Do you remember what we talked about on Friday?”

Oh . “We talked about a lot of things last Friday.”

Simon is pretty sure that the only reason Wille raises his head again is so that he can see him rolling his eyes. But he’ll take that over nothing. “You know what I mean,” Wille says. “When we were talking about why I came here?”

“I do have a faint memory of that.” It feels risky, teasing him like this. But it gets him a smile and another eye roll, so he must be doing something right. Wille already seems much calmer.

“I didn’t wanna let it stand like that,” he says. “Especially given… the developments.”

This time, Simon does snort. Developments. “Did you really not know I was gay?”

“You never know until someone tells you.” It sounds like he’s repeating something someone else told him. Or maybe he read it somewhere. Is there someone in his life who would talk to him about queer issues with openness and compassion? His brother, maybe? The Crown seems to have an antiquated opinion, but maybe the Crown Prince is more open-minded. 

“Yeah, but I’ve been told I’m incredibly obvious.”

“Well, not to me, “ Wille says. 

Oh. So he really didn’t know. Interesting. That takes one of the possible explanations for all of the little glances off the table. 

“Anyways, I -” Wille sighs again, messes his hair up by running his hands through it. “I wanted to explain a little more. I would have explained more on Friday, but I don’t know Ayub. I have… difficulties with trusting people.”

Simon smiles sympathetically. “I can imagine. But I swear I won’t tell anyone anything. Hey, I could sign something, couldn’t I? Would that make you more comfortable?”

This time, it’s Wille who snorts. “I’m not going to make you sign an NDA for this conversation. That’s not really what… friends do, is it?”

Even with the hesitation, this makes Simon grin widely. Friends. “Not among the rabble, no”

“Oh, fuck off.” But he gets serious again very quickly. “It’s really important that you don’t tell anyone, though. Not even your sister.”

Especially not your sister hangs unspoken in the air. Simon can’t blame him. Her bluntness is the first thing almost everyone first notices when they meet her. For years, Simon has chosen carefully what he tells her about other people. And he’s learned to not have any secrets of his own. It’s easier that way anyways. Sometimes, he wishes he was as brave as her, to always be so honest. Not that she thinks she’s brave. She just doesn’t have a filter and doesn’t give a shit what people think.

“I promise.” He makes sure to look Wille in the eyes as he says it. 

“Okay.” Wille takes another deep breath, tangles his fingers in a knot that looks painful. “So I said that I was called that slur and then I punched the guy who said it, right?”

Simon appreciates that he doesn’t repeat the word. He’s already heard it way too many times over the course of his life. “Yes.”

“Right, and I said that if anyone investigated, the official version would be that I’m homophobic and-”

“I believe you that you’re not homophobic. We don’t need to rehash that.” That gets him a grateful smile. “That did confuse me, though. How is it the better option for people to think that you’re a homophobic asshole?”

“My mother and her PR department can be horrible sometimes.” In that moment, Wille looks so lost that Simon desperately wants to hug him. “They were calling someone else that slur before me. What my mother was telling me is that if I had punched that guy before he called me the f-word, it would have looked like I was defending him.”

“And how is that bad?” Also: who was that other guy? Was Wille defending him?

“It’s not.” Wille presses his lips together. “I’m not saying it is.” His eyes are flitting around the room. And he seems to be at a loss what to say. There’s still a flush high on his cheeks.

“You know you don’t have to tell me this, right?” Simon feels compelled to say.

“I do.” His hands are in his hair again. “But I… I want to? I want you to know that I don’t just beat people up.”

“I do know that. You don’t need to tell me secrets for that, Wille.” Again, he lays a hand on his knee. “You are not a violent person. I know you wouldn’t just start a fight like that out of nowhere.”

Under the denim, he feels Wille trembling. Shit. Is his anxiety really this severe? Whatever Wille has to tell him, it can’t possibly be that bad. 

“Thank you.” Slowly, as if he’s afraid of chasing him off, Wille puts his hand on top of Simon’s. “But I just want someone to understand. And I feel like you would.”

That sounds like a lot more than just defending a guy who was called a slur. Is that what he's saying? Simon would understand because he’s gay? But then he remembers that earlier, Wille said he would’ve kept explaining if Ayub hadn’t been there. So maybe not? Maybe he just trusts Simon.

Briefly, Simon wonders if this is weird. They haven’t known each other for long. And already Wille wants to tell him something that’s apparently so important and so secret? Maybe he really is as lonely as he’s always looked on television. Is this because he feels like he has to give Simon something so he’ll stay? Should Simon say something? That would probably sound patronising. 

“So you’re making the executive decision to tell me royal secrets? I’m honoured.”

Wille laughs. “See, that’s part of the problem. It’s ridiculous that it’s even a secret in the first place. Yes, I shouldn’t have hit him. But other than that, I didn’t actually do anything. And I don’t mean I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything .”

He almost sounds upset about that. And that’s what does it for Simon - if it will make Wille feel better to talk about it, then he probably should. Simon knows he won’t take advantage of it. And so he draws his legs up under himself to sit criss cross, theatrically props up his head on his hand and says: “I’m listening.”

Wille still looks scared, but at least he’s smiling at him.”It’s really not a long story. My friends were assholes. They convinced some guy to kiss me, I didn’t react the way they wanted me to, and so they took that out on him. And me, I guess.”

It’s like someone has pushed Simon into an ice cold pool. Whatever he expected, it was certainly not this . And the way he phrased it… “What do you mean they convinced some guy to kiss you? Did they pay him?”

Wille shrugs, but his posture is more relaxed now. His shoulders actually go down again, where previously they were about on a level with his ears. “I’m not exactly sure, I didn’t really talk to him. But I think they told him that I wanted him or something. He seemed… very sure of himself.”

And what does that mean? For fucks sake, this is not a conversation that Simon is prepared to have. Especially not if he’s still trying to be careful to not push Wille about his sexuality. If this were any other of his friends, he’d be needling him about the kiss already. They would be laughing by now. But Wille is so quiet, and right now, he won’t even look Simon in the eyes.  

Still… there is something else. Wille has not told him the full story yet. And that’s when it hits him.

“That doesn’t sound like you wanted him to kiss you.”

“Of course I didn’t!” The outburst comes so suddenly that Simon flinches back. Ouch . Okay. So he doesn’t want to kiss guys, then. Simon can work with that. They’re friends. But apparently, Wille isn’t finished yet. “I didn’t even know the guy. He basically came out of nowhere! I mean, who just goes up to a stranger in a club and kisses them!?”

That is a different set of issues than Simon expected - and he can’t help the little spark of hope that nestles into his ribcage. “Okay. I’m sorry that happened to you. That’s messed up. But I don’t have the full context yet, I can only go off of what you tell me.”

“I know.” Wille buries his head in his hands, which muffles his voice. He’s almost cartoonish in the way he expresses his frustration. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Simon really wants to reach out, but he also really doesn’t want to spook Wille right now. So he keeps his hands to himself. “But if you want me to really understand, you have to tell me more.”

“I know…” Wille’s eyes flick up to meet Simon’s, then they’re immediately gone again, focussing on something outside of his window. “It’s just embarrassing.”

“Why?” Simon asks. “It sounds like your friends were being assholes. How’s that embarrassing for you?” Except maybe for the fact that it doesn’t sound like those people were his friends at all. But Simon graciously doesn’t mention that. It doesn’t seem like Wille has ever had the luxury of close friendships with people he can trust. Not everyone can be as awesome as Simon.

“I didn’t do anything.” His voice is so small.

“I don’t understand.”

Wille takes a deep breath. Simon’s heart hurts at the sight of his finger in his mouth. He’s biting at his cuticles again. “I think they expected me to push him off. Maybe hit him. But I just… froze. I couldn’t do anything. I just… I just stood there. I should have done something.”

Oh. That does not sound like a little peck in the middle of the dancefloor. What the fuck? Did Wille’s so-called friends get someone to assault him, is that really what he’s hearing right now? What also registers is this: Obviously, these people had thought that Wille would be almost violently opposed to kissing a boy. Is this true? Wille only said he didn’t want to kiss a stranger. Electricity swirls in Simon’s stomach.

“That doesn’t sound embarrassing,” Simon said carefully. “I mean, I don’t know what I would do, but that sounds kinda scary, actually. 

Wille looks down at his knees. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you always know what to do! You’re so cool all the time.” His cheeks flush pink, but this time, Wille holds his gaze. “I don’t think you would have frozen.”

Oh, so this is about Simon now? Okay. Inwardly, he’s jumping for joy. You’re so cool all the time . Outwardly, he tries his best to stay calm, although he can’t keep himself from grinning. Then, he lets himself consider the scenario. “I might. I mean… Okay, so you were in a club, that means it’s dark. And some guy I don’t know pops up out of nowhere and kisses me without asking for consent? That would definitely freak me out.” He’s fiddling with his sleeve now, debating just how vulnerable he can get without falling on his ass. But Wille is being incredibly vulnerable, isn’t he? And it’s difficult for him. So Simon can do the same. “If he was taller than me, I probably wouldn’t know what to do. If he was shorter, then yeah. I’d push him away as soon as I realised what’s happening. But not many guys are shorter than me, you know? We’re in Sweden , for God’s sake.” That gets a laugh from Wille. “No, but seriously. How am I supposed to know if this hypothetical guy is dangerous? I don’t wanna get hurt. People can be scary sometimes.”

Their breathing is almost in sync now. It seems like both of them are very invested in keeping it even. That makes it easier for Simon, somehow. They can both be nervous, it’s fine. They’re friends, right?

This conversation hits a bit too close to home. Not that Simon’s ever been ambushed like that - but he’s certainly frozen when Micke was in one of his rages. He can vividly remember the way that felt, the helplessness of just watching things happen to him. But usually, not getting hurt was his priority. Not escalating things. If Simon didn’t respond, his Dad only had so much material to be angry about. He hates that Wille knows what that feels like.

“Oh,” Wille mumbles. “I thought it was maybe homophobic or something.”

What? “Of course not! Not wanting to kiss a guy is not homophobic. Being afraid of a guy who just kisses you like that is not homophobic. Where did you get that idea?”

“But I thought… you know, being afraid of gay people doing things to you… right?”

Simon is seriously asking himself if anyone has ever even given Wille the talk. Does he know what consent is? It is, however, pretty clear that he’s not been in regular contact with any queer people. What a surprise.

“People who kiss anyone , no matter their gender, without their consent, are assholes. Being scared of them is entirely reasonable. That is not homophobia.” He pauses to consider for a moment. “Are you scared of me right now?”

Wille physically draws back on his bed, and the shock makes his eyes huge. “What? No!”

“Are you afraid that just because I’m gay, I’d try to kiss you or do other things to you?” It almost hurts to ask the question. But he already knows the answer.

“No, of course not!”

“Well, then. That would be homophobic. You’re fine.”

“Oh.” It’s like cloud cover parting, the way the tension falls off of Wille’s face. Was he seriously worried about that? God, Wille. The way his mind works is a mystery to Simon. But it sounds like his anxiety might be even worse than it looks from the outside.

Still, he has to make sure of one thing. So he finally does touch Wille, just lightly lays a hand on his knee to catch his attention. He has to lean over to the bed to do it, so he probably looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. “Hey.” Wille’s gaze is steadier now. There’s a relieved little smile on his lips, and it makes Simon’s heart hurt. “You know that people can’t just do that, right? It’s not okay for someone to kiss you if you don’t want them to. Girl or boy. Doesn’t matter.”

And that’s it with the eye contact. Wille slumps and lets his head hang again. “I think they told him I wanted it.”

Seriously, fuck those people. “Still not okay. If he doesn’t know you, he should’ve asked. He should have checked.”

A flash of blue. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” He’s never been more certain of anything.

“Okay.” Simon gets gifted a smile, curved around the finger Wille is currently chewing on.

They get quiet after that, Simon still awkwardly hanging between the chair and the bed. When he draws his hand back, Wille almost looks disappointed.

Simon knows there’s more to the story. Wille could not have been this stressed about possibly being homophobic. As sweet as the notion is - no. He’s scared because he might want to kiss boys under different circumstances, whispers the voice at the back of Simon’s mind. He shakes his head. That’s not a thought he should entertain. Don’t fall for straight boys, remember?

He has a feeling that this won’t end well for him.

Chapter Text

The next day, Wille is still kind of awkward around him. But when he realises that Simon doesn’t treat him any differently (and possibly also that the story hasn’t leaked yet) he gets comfortable again. At lunch on Wednesday, they’re back to bickering and shoulder-checking each other. 

It’s nice. It’s such an easy friendship with someone who so obviously likes him and likes listening to him. Simon feels understood, even though realistically, he knows that there are probably quite a few things that Wille doesn’t understand. Can’t understand. Hell, he hadn’t even known Simon was gay.

But it hasn’t hindered their friendship, so obviously it’s not a big deal to him. How anyone thinks they would be able to seriously make people believe that Wille is a violent homophobe is beyond Simon. He hasn’t stopped touching him. In fact, he may be touching him even more now. There’s always a hand on his elbow or an arm slung across his shoulder. Simon tries to make himself believe it’s just because their friendship is progressing. They haven’t known each other for that long, after all.

Sara spends more and more of her time with Felice now, so Simon needs to stay at school too if he wants to accompany her home in the evening - which he does. So he just hangs out with Wille in that time. On Tuesday, they did their homework in the common room. Simon thinks that Wille probably felt more comfortable there after their talk on Monday. But August was there, and some of the other boys kept snickering and looking in Simon’s direction. So on Wednesday, they’re back in Wille’s room. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have a roommate. Because a roommate would definitely notice Simon staring at Wille. But he just can’t help it. Right now, Wille is working on his maths homework, on his stomach with his feet swinging in the air. His hair is falling into his face, but Simon can still see the adorable little furrow between his brows as he tries to solve his current problem. Apparently, even Princes aren’t good at everything.

Wille is one of those people who can work on a bed. Simon has never understood how that is possible - he has trouble writing on the soft surface and trouble concentrating in a place that, to him, is reserved for relaxation. Or making out. Which is his problem right now. Because Wille is lying on his bed, looking soft, and he didn’t say that he doesn’t want to kiss boys.

It makes Simon want to tear his hair out. Or just go and lie down next to him, see what happens. But that would be a bad idea. Especially because he just made such a big deal of consent. You can’t just get in someone’s bed. Even if it’s in the middle of the day and everyone is fully clothed. Beds are private.

So instead Simon just sits at Wille’s desk, tries to write his essay for Swedish class and looks over as little as physically possible, which is still a lot. It’s fine. A little bit of pining he can deal with. What’s a lot more difficult to deal with is the next time his eyes stray over to his friend, he’s already looking straight at him. And he’s gnawing on his pencil, which, frankly, should be illegal. 

Simon feels caught, but also weirdly triumphant. Wille was looking at him! And Wille keeps looking at him, even while a delectable flush spreads out over his entire face. It only gets weird after a minute or so, still neither of them has said anything. It’s Wille who finally looks away, ducks his head. But there’s an embarrassed grin on his lips that makes butterflies dance in Simon’s stomach.

“Sorry, I was just - I…” He looks a bit lost, as if he himself doesn’t know why he was looking at Simon.

“Oh, it’s fine. You can look at me.” Simon blushes a bit when saying it, but that’s okay, because Wille turns about as red as a tomato. He turns away for a bit, as if it’s too difficult to look at him, or maybe he just wants to hide his face. But he’s back to looking at Simon soon enough.

“You have a halo,” he says and - wow. Simon wasn’t expecting him to say that.

“I’m sorry?”

Wille grins. “The sun is low. And with your curls… It looks like you have a halo.” He thinks for a moment. “It fits. Your voice is also pretty angelic.”

His gaze goes wandering again, but he doesn’t blush further, and he doesn’t really look embarrassed anymore. No, he looks amused. Is he flirting? No, Simon scolds himself. Don’t fall for straight boys. But he can’t help the warmth in his cheeks.

“Thank you, I guess?”

The grin on Wille’s face turns mischievous. “You guess, really? Simon, that’s not how you take a compliment. You can just say thank you.”

“Oh, so you’re complimenting me now?”

“Yes, and you’re deflecting.” Wille’s left eyebrow climbs higher on his forehead. His eyes are downright sparkling, and the grin is steady on his face. He looks like he has, just for one moment, forgotten all about the anxiety that usually plagues him. Simon wants to take a picture. He wants to put his hands on Wille’s cheeks, pull him in and kiss him senseless. Oh, the things this boy does to him. He’s cute when he’s shy. But right now, teasing and happy, he’s downright magnificent.

“Well, maybe I’m not very used to compliments.”

That seems to surprise the other boy. “Really? How?”

“I just don’t get many of them.”

Wille is still confused. “But what about…” He’s gesturing in Simon’s general direction. “What about your everything, really? I would think you got a lot of them.”

What about his everything? It seems to hit Wille at the same time as it does Simon, the possible meaning of what he just said. His everything? He wonders what it means as Wille flushes violently. But he’s on a roll now, apparently. “Well, you’re good-looking. And you’re kind, and you’re confident, and you sing really well. I’m sure there are many other things to compliment you about.”

The way the skin flexes over Wille’s temples tells Simon that he’s clenching his teeth for a bit, but then he relaxes again. And he keeps looking back at him. He’s not taking it back. 

“You think I’m good-looking?” Simon’s voice comes out slightly breathy. What does that mean? Is this one of those situations where there are hundreds of caveats? You’re good-looking for a boy. You’re good-looking as compared to the average pupil. You’re good-looking, but I don’t like you like that. What does he mean?

“Yup,” is Wille’s only answer, which is a bit painful, but at least he’s not panicking. His eyes are flitting all over the room now, but he looks calm. Simon is starting to think that maybe, eye contact is just not Wille’s thing. It took him a while to even really notice, come to think of it. Sara sometimes has days where she won’t look at him at all, so he’s used to it.

“Okay,” Simon says, and then: “Thank you.” Just for good measure. No questions, no laughing it off. “You too.”

This makes Wille flush even brighter. “We weren’t talking about me.”

“Now you’re deflecting. See how it feels?”

His stomach does a happy little flip when he sees Wille pushing out his lower lip in an honest to God pout. Fuck. How is it that even this looks hot? It should look silly, maybe, immature. It shouldn’t make him want to do things to Wille.

“I was being nice to you,” Wille complains, laughter still in his voice.

“And I wasn’t being nice to you?”

“Well, you aren’t being very nice right now.” The look Wille shoots him out of the corner of his eye is cheeky. “Do you wanna watch a movie, maybe? I can’t concentrate on numbers right now.”

Simon isn’t even halfway done with his essay, and he needs to hand it in the day after tomorrow. He really should be working on it right now. But there is no way that he’s going to be able to concentrate on it after all this. You’re good-looking and you’re kind and you’re confident. Shit. He really hopes that either Wille doesn’t know what he’s doing to Simon or that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

So he nods. And he immediately discovers that he’s only made the situation worse for himself, because Wille sits up and pats on the bed next to him before he reaches over to get his laptop. Fuck . Did he just sign up to spend the afternoon sitting right next to Wille on his twin bed? That wasn’t very smart of him, was it? He probably shouldn’t have done that. 

But pulling back now would look weird, if not bad - so he doesn’t. And that’s the entire reason. He doesn’t wanna look like an awkward weirdo. It’s not that he wants to be as close to Wille as humanly possible, but if this is all he can get, he will gratefully accept it. Nope. 

“What do you want to watch?” Wille asks him as the windows logo illuminates the screen. His lockscreen is innocuous, but when he’s typed in a ridiculously short password, Simon can see that his wallpaper is a photo of him and his brother. They’re a few years younger, so Simon probably wouldn’t recognize Erik if it weren’t for the obvious similarities. It looks like they’re laughing hysterically, right in the middle of roughhousing. Wille is hanging from his brother's shoulders with his feet dangling in the air. He looks like a normal kid. They both do.

“I don’t know. What do you like to watch?”

That gets a snort out of Wille. “Right now, I’m not so much using Netflix as entertainment as much as the most palatable tool for language learning. My mother is very disappointed in my French. And my German. And my Spanish.”

“You speak Spanish?” 

“Simon, I don’t think you’re listening properly. The problem is that I don’t speak Spanish. At least not properly. I can conjugate a few verbs, know how to politely greet someone and how to ask where the restroom is. I can’t hold a conversation.”

“You could practise with me,” Simon says. You could practise a lot of things with me. I can be patient. Even though he isn’t necessarily qualified to teach. 

Wille doesn’t even look up. Instead, he shows Simon his queue. The titles on there are almost exclusively French. Simon thinks he spots a picture of the girl from Blue is the warmest colour, but Wille skips through the entire thing so fast that he can’t be sure.

“Look at that. Isn’t that depressing?”

It is a little bit, but Simon doesn’t feel like saying that right now. “So we’ll watch something in Swedish, then. My English isn’t all that great. Unless you want to…”

Simon is hovering over the small screen so he can see the recommendations properly. Which means that when Wille finally does look up, they’re so close that their noses literally touch. Simon goes cross-eyed, and then retreats as quickly as possible. It makes him lose his balance so badly that he almost falls backwards off the bed and Wille has to hold onto his arm to keep him on there. All in all, it’s incredibly dignified. Shit . 

“Are you okay?” Wille asks him once he’s firmly planted his butt on the mattress. 

Simon buries his head in his hands. “Well, my ego certainly took a hit. But I think I’ll survive.”

This gets him a pat on the shoulder. It’s awkward, in the way that Simon imagines touches between people who call each other bro . But then it lingers, and Simon doesn’t think bros are very prone to lingering touches.

“You know it’s fine, right? I won’t freak out.”

“Huh?” They’re close again. Close and on a bed . Simon can see a few dark specks in the light blue of Wille’s eyes. 

“You’re always so careful. It’s like you don’t want to get too close to me? But you don’t need to do that. I won’t freak out.” He bites his bottom lip. “Like, because you’re gay or something.”

Oh. That’s… a scarily accurate observation. “Sorry.” Now he’s the one blushing. Damn, that’s embarrassing. That’s not even precisely why he’s doing it - but it’s probably better for Wille to not think Simon doesn’t want him to figure out that he’s trying to hide he’s got a crush on him.

“No!” Wille hurries to say. “No, I appreciate that you’re trying to respect boundaries or whatever but you really don’t need to. Don’t hurt yourself.” Boundaries or whatever. Really, for a Prince he has such a way with words. “I said I’m not afraid of you and I meant it. I know you’re not that guy. You wouldn’t do something like that.”

Simon really hopes that something like that means specifically kissing him without his consent and not just kissing him in general. It takes a while to catch up to him, but when he realises it, he wants to bang his head against the wall. He hopes. Like, he’s really, genuinely hoping by now. What the fuck happened to don’t fall for straight boys? It seems to just have evaporated into thin air while he wasn’t looking.

And - okay, so it’s still incredibly unclear to Simon what is even going on here. Is Wille trying to tell him something? Is there subtext that he’s not picking up on? Because this could just be Wille being an ally the best way he knows how, likely without even knowing the word. Either way, it pulls at something deep inside of him. Because no matter the motive, as far as reassurance goes, it’s kind. It’s kind that Wille even thought to say it. Because Simon has had to deal with you-don’t-have-a-crush-on-me-right- dudes before, and it just really sucks. Especially if they were friends before. The suspicion and presumption in that attitude is just the fucking worst. As if a) Simon can’t just have normal friends like anyone else and b) he can’t keep his goddamn hands to hisgoddamnfuckingself if he knows someone isn’t interested. But Wille isn’t like that. And he appreciates the explicit assurance.

“Thank you,” he says because he can’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound pathetic.

Next to him, Wille quirks an eyebrow. “Isn’t that, like, the bare minimum?”

The laugh that escapes Simon’s throat is just this side of harsh. “You’d be surprised how many people would secretly disagree with you. So. Thank you.” 

Wille looks like he wants to say something. His eyebrows do some sort of frustrated little dance, like he’s looking for the right words in his head, but he can’t find them. Maybe he doesn’t even have them in the first place. Somewhere in between there, Simon could swear his wandering eyes focus in on his lips for just a second. But he’s probably just imagining things.

“Do you like Marvel movies?” is what Wille finally settles on. 

The grimace forms on Simon’s face naturally. “Not really.”

“Why?”

“They’re just so straight.”

Oops. That’s not what he was going to say. He doesn’t know what he was going to say, but - not that. That’s not really the way he talks around straight people. You don’t call straight movies straight in front of straight people. They get very confused and sometimes very defensive.

Case in point: “What?” 

But Wille doesn’t look offended. Instead, the surprise on his face is almost joyful, pure and bright. He’s laughing. So Simon tries his best to explain without confusing him further.

And it seems to work. When he talks about how the hero is always rewarded with a woman, Wille groans. “I know, right? Like, how about you just focus on saving the world? Why does there always need to be romance?”

Which is not exactly what Simon was getting at, but it’s a good point. “It’s more like… It’s always straight. It’s always a man and a woman. Or a boy and a girl. And on top of that, they’re usually both very white.” He thinks for a moment. “I never see someone like me on the screen unless it’s in movies that are specifically queer. Because apparently, we’re a genre, you know? It’s just another reminder of how many people think I’m not normal. ”

“That sucks,” Wille says.

It’s so laconic that it makes Simon laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

“Well, do you have any suggestions? Of… queer movies we can watch?”

For a moment, Simon can only sit there and stare at him. Fuck, he likes this boy so much. Did he seriously just suggest they watch a queer movie together? Just like that? Apparently so. His eyes are clear, and there’s a smile on his lips. He’s not uncomfortable with this. He’s not embarrassed. It’s a genuine suggestion.

The first thing that comes to mind is Call me by your name , but that seems like a bad idea. Simon doesn’t need to think complicated thoughts about age gaps today. Or about peaches. But that leaves him kind of stumped, because what kind of movie would Wille even like? They’ve never watched any kind of movie together. For a moment, he thinks about just choosing a movie about queer women - Blue is the warmest colour comes to mind - because that somehow feels less dangerous. But that’s not what Wille is proposing here, is it? Simon is queer, but he very much isn’t a woman. No, he should find a movie with male queer characters in it. Just maybe one that won’t make Wille think he’s some kind of pervert.

Wille, meanwhile, has taken it upon himself to type the word queer into the search bar and is already scrolling through the results. “Hey, look! He has curls like you!”

His finger is hovering over the screen, pointing at the thumbnail of Heartstopper . Simon bites his tongue to keep himself from saying that not all curls are the same, because that’s really not productive right now. And then he keeps the pressure up for an entirely different reason.

He hasn’t seen Heartstopper yet. It has only been out for a few weeks and Simon just had other priorities. But he’s on queer twitter, so of course he knows all about it. He knows that it’s happy . It’s a lighthearted story, even if some of the themes can be difficult. And he’s heard it’s a story about a queer boy falling for his openly gay classmate. Simon would never suggest it for them to watch. He’d be too scared that it would come across as a jab or as pushy or something like that. But Simon isn’t suggesting it. Wille is, completely innocently.

“I’ve never watched it,” Simon says. “But I’ve only heard good things about it. We could try the first episode?”

If nothing else, it’ll be a good choice because there’s no sex in it. Maybe he’s looking in the wrong places, but many of the queer movies he’s found had quite graphic sex scenes. Graphic enough for him to be slightly uncomfortable with them. They’re interesting in theory , but mostly they’re just intimidating. That is not something that Simon wants to watch sitting next to Wille. 

“Yeah, let’s.” Wille settles in comfortably next to Simon against his headboard, places the laptop on both of their legs where they’re next to each other on the bed. “Okay?” 

Simon can only nod and watch him press play. He already can’t breathe properly. Wille is so close . He can feel the warmth of his body next to his. Their shoulders are almost touching. His throat is dry when he swallows, watches a group of friends convene around a picnic table for lunch on the screen. 

He hears a little huff from Wille next to him. “That hair is really something.” 

His voice cracks on a hum of agreement, and Simon is very grateful that it was so quiet. Man, that could have sounded embarrassing. But Wille seems not to have noticed. He’s already immersed.

When Simon first dares to look at him during the scene where the main character first meets his love interest, he seems deeply focussed. His eyes are practically glued to the screen. There’s a faint flush high on his cheekbones. The sight of it makes Simon’s throat constrict almost painfully, so he looks away again.

What he sees of the show is… nice. He likes the characters, the way the show is effortlessly diverse without ever addressing it once. But he doesn’t see much. Or - well, he sees it, but he can’t process it. Because his thoughts are on Wille. This boy next to him, who laughs with him, teases him, tells him he thinks he’s good-looking. This boy who keeps looking at him and smiling, who blushes with a frequency Simon previously hadn’t thought physically possible. His hand is on his thigh right next to Simon’s hand, which is sitting on his own thigh. It’s tempting. It’s very tempting. The thought of slowly moving his hand closer just to see what he would do makes Simon tingle all over. But he doesn’t do it. Can’t. So he sticks to just looking at him intermittently. 

He doesn’t catch Wille looking back. Not once. But it’s a fair trade to see him so mesmerised by the story on the screen. The little smile that curls the corners of his mouth. 

And then… then the main character gets kissed even though he clearly doesn’t want to be. Simon doesn’t even realise the significance of this until he hears a sharp intake of breath right next to him. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

When he looks over again, Wille is looking straight back at him with wide eyes. Simon doesn’t know what to say. What do you say in a situation like this? I’m sorry that this happened to you? Is this similar to what happened to you? Do you want to stop watching? None of it seems right. 

And then, he sort of forgets that he even wanted to say anything in the first place. Because Wille’s eyes are huge and blue in his face, in stark contrast to his blush. And he’s looking right at Simon, shocked for a moment, as if caught. Then, his gaze is wandering again, but it doesn’t go far.

“Piss off!” someone says on screen. Simon thinks that maybe Wille is looking at his lips. His heart is in his throat, pumping desperately. He tries his best to not look at the entire lower half of Wille’s face. He can’t freak him out. Not right now. This feels vulnerable. But he wants him so much. It must be written plain on his face. The thought is terrifying, but also… he’s not doing anything wrong, is he?

He doesn’t even think about wetting his lips until Wille is tracking the movement of his tongue with his eyes. Fuck. Wille’s eyes shoot up to Simon’s, caught again. And then he turns away abruptly. Simon can see his throat working with a swallow.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Wille croaks. His voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in days. 

It hits Simon like a truck. Don’t look at me like that. So Wille did see the expression on his face, he read it correctly - and he wants nothing to do with it. Okay. Okay, Simon can deal with that. His face feels leaden as he turns it towards the screen again. He’s proud of how steady he sounds when he apologises. “Sorry.”

For some strange reason, this gets a weak laugh out of Wille. Why is he laughing? Simon can’t really think of a reason that won’t end in his own humiliation. His eyes are burning as he watches Charlie Spring grin at his phone, texting back and forth. There’s something heavy on his chest that keeps him from breathing properly.

This is fine. It has to be fine. After all, Wille never said that he was interested. Hell, he never even said he was queer. He’s probably straight and just a genuine, kind human being who wants to be friends with Simon. Or wanted to be friends, at this point. Shit, he’s really messed this up, hasn’t he?

Wille clears his throat, but Simon doesn’t look at him. He just stares at the screen until everything blurs in front of his eyes. This is it. Wille will tell him to back off. That he shouldn’t harbour any of his silly little hopes. But he doesn’t. He says: “It makes me want to kiss you.”

Time just stops. That can’t possibly be right. Simon must have misheard. Still, he doesn’t dare to look at Wille. He can’t look at him. What if he’s got that look on his face again? He probably does. Wille doesn’t want to see that look. He’s only just said. Because… no.

“What?” he breathes. 

Wille’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I think you heard me.”

What the fuck? Did he? Did he hear him correctly? Somehow, Simon thinks him slowly turning delusional and hearing things is far more likely. How would that even make sense? For Wille to never say anything that even allows a good guess at queerness and then, all of a sudden, this? 

But then, he hears how quickly Wille’s breath is going. It’s sped up in the last few minutes, it must have, but now he’s almost wheezing. Like a fish on dry land. The laptop dislodges and almost tips off the bed when he draws his knees to his chest. Simon can barely catch it. And then, all of a sudden, distancing himself seems impossible again. 

Carefully, he closes the laptop to put it away, and then walks on his knees until he is in front of Wille, where he would be in his line of sight were he to raise his head again. Currently, he’s got his forehead pressed to his knees, his arms slung around his shins. He’s rocking himself back and forth slowly, breath still going way too fast. 

He’s seen panic attacks before. Sara gets them sometimes, only ever at school. So he’s been there for them, has tried to help her through. Every single one of those times, he’s felt as helpless as he feels right now.

“Wille?” he tries, but gets absolutely no response. He’s not sure Wille even heard him. “Hey, Wille.” Very carefully, he lays two fingers on one of his elbows. Just as a point of contact, a physical reminder that he’s not alone. 

Wilhelm answers with a little groan. At least Simon thinks that’s what he’s doing. “What can I do for you? Do you want to breathe together?”

Sara likes it when he hugs her, just squeezes the breathlessness right out of her. But somehow, Simon thinks, that won’t make this better. Is he freaking out about Simon? About what he said? About remembering what happened to him in that club? Whatever it is, unsolicited hugs are probably not the way to go.

Wille nods vigorously. It shoves his hair over the top of his knees, a physical indicator of the chaos inside of him. 

“Can you hear me when I breathe like that? Does that work?” He demonstrates, which gets him another nod. “Okay, then. We’ll just breathe for a moment. Just listen to me.”

And he breathes. The exaggeration makes him feel slightly ridiculous, and also mildly light-headed. But it’s worth it, because he can see the effect it has. He can see how Wille calms himself down bit by bit. 

The first thing that changes is that he loosens the grip with which he has been clinging to his legs. Then, his head slumps a little further down, relaxed instead of forcefully pressed against his knees. And finally, his breathing sounds natural again. So Simon stops what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how many minutes he just sits there, two fingers on Wille’s elbow, and looks at him.

There’s something akin to guilt gnawing at his stomach. Logically, he knows that this isn’t his fault. Whatever it was that led to Wilhelm being in this state, it’s not his fault. He didn’t do anything. But that doesn’t mean that he didn’t contribute to it. It makes me want to kiss you. Yeah, he can imagine how that might freak someone out if they’re not used to things like that. To wanting things like that, thinking about them or talking about them.

“I’m sorry,” Wille finally mumbles into his knees. 

“It’s okay.” The answer is a reflex, but it really is. Simon doesn’t have a problem helping him with something like that. He likes helping people. It makes him feel calm.

“This is really embarrassing.”

“I understand if that’s what you feel like. But personally, I don’t really think you have a reason to be embarrassed. Shit is scary sometimes.” He doesn’t specify what shit. Not just because he still doesn’t know what brought this on, but also because he doesn’t want to trigger another attack.

Wille laughs weakly. “You can say that again.”

Simon hums. “Well, I could. But I don’t really like to repeat myself, you know? Makes things more interesting.” He’s aiming for a jokey tone of voice, but he can’t really help the tension his voice still carries.

“Well, you are a good conversationalist, I’ll give you that. You speak well. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“You mean, after my angelic singing?” Immediately, Simon wants to just stuff his entire fist into his mouth. Goddamn it, that was stupid. He shouldn’t have brought that up.

But Wille chuckles, rolls his forehead against his knees. “Pretty much, yeah. God, I was so determined to hate it here. And then you started singing.”

Simon’s stomach does a little flip. Now he’s the one who has to try to keep his breathing even. Are they really talking about this now? Is that a good idea after what just happened? As much as he thinks about it, he can’t find the answer to that question. So he just asks Wille.

Wille groans. But he finally lets his legs fall open, which leaves him sitting in a weird kind of lotus seat. And then slowly raises his head. There are strands of hair stuck to his forehead, and the rest of it is in a frankly incredible disarray. The area around his brows is red from where it’s been pressed against his jeans for so long. His eyes are wide. He looks nervous, but not scared.

“I don’t really think I have the energy right now,” he admits.

“That’s okay.” Simon gives him an encouraging smile. “You don’t have to.”

“I know I should probably-”

Simon holds his hand up to stop him. “You don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to give me one. You don’t owe me an explanation today if you can’t give one today. Really, it’s okay.”

“But I said- I mean, I…” He looks at a complete loss for what to say. Simon should not like this. He really shouldn’t. It’s probably mean. But it feels reassuring somehow. Because it has to mean that there’s something there, right? This feels like Wille admitting there’s something there (It makes me want to kiss you) and wanting to do this right, but just… being overwhelmed. Which he doesn’t want. Wasn’t that the entire point of being careful all the time? Not overwhelming Wille? Well, it seems like that may not have been necessary. Wille can overwhelm himself just fine.

They’re staring at each other again. Simon zeroes in on the teeth Wille has sunken into his lower lip. It’s a vibrant red in the dim light of the room, which makes it hard to look away again. 

“Wille, it’s okay. You can say whatever you want. I’m not going to force you to talk about it.” Simon takes a deep breath. “And if you never want to talk about it, that’s fine too. We can just… forget about it. If you want.”

Which is a lie. Simon won’t be able to forget about this for quite some time, he knows that much. But he’s willing to never mention it again if that’s what it takes. If thinking about it makes Wille have panic attacks. He’d much rather pretend this never happened than have Wille just disappear out of his life again. He’s become so precious to him in such a short time.

“No, that’s not…” Wille’s eyes are large with fear, but he takes a deep breath and soldiers on. “I want to talk about it. It’s… Yeah. But just not now. I just can’t.”

Simon has to close his eyes to prevent too much from showing on his face. Doesn’t want to tell on himself, let Wille know exactly how much this means to him. He feels weightless for a few moments, before he forces himself back down to earth and looks up at Wille again. “I’ll be happy to talk to you about it once you’re ready.” If you’re ready, he doesn’t say. Because he doesn’t want to sound like he’s actively doubting him. But he also really doesn’t know what something like this would mean for someone like Wille. As far as he knows, there are no openly queer Swedish royals. And from what Wille told him about the aftermath of that incident at the club, his mother wouldn’t exactly be thrilled for anyone to even think her son is queer. He’s kind of scared to think of what that might mean for Wille if she finds out that he is. 

“Yeah?” A hopeful smile spreads over Wille’s face, so bright and unrestrained that it makes Simon wonder exactly how much the Prince is policing his own facial expressions. This looks like joy. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen that on him before. 

And oh . Did he not know? Did Wille really not know that Simon was interested? Shit, was that why this freaked him out so much? Simon had thought it would be obvious - but maybe he was wrong. Just like he was wrong when he assumed that Wille knew he was gay. He almost asks - because his pokerface can’t possibly be that good. All that staring… but he knows better. If Wille wants to talk about this at some other point, then Simon can wait. 

He has a feeling it’ll be worth it.

Chapter Text

After an awkward goodbye the day before, they don’t really talk on Thursday. It makes Simon antsy, but he’s trying really hard to give Wille the space he so obviously needs. And it’s not like he’s ignoring him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s constantly catching Wille looking at him. From where he’s sitting next to him at the table, from across the classroom, from another boat on the river at rowing practice. 

It’s reassuring. It’s particularly reassuring because Wille isn’t pretending that it’s not happening. He doesn’t turn his head to make it look like he was looking at something else. He breaks his gaze, sure. To look down at his hands, blush, and look right back up again. He’s not hiding. 

At least not from Simon. When August calls him out on staring off into the distance at practice, Wille claims he was just looking at a bird. But honestly, Simon wouldn’t want August to know anything about this either. August can fuck right off. Being related to him is probably torture. Does Wille have to deal with this all the time? Even at Christmas?

Another thought hits Simon: Wille has told him that Erik and August are friends. Does that mean that Erik is an asshole too? That Erik would call Simon names if he knew him? With the way Wille talks about him, Simon doesn’t think so. But he’s no stranger to how blinded you can be by the love you have for your family. For Wille’s sake, he hopes that Erik is more liberal than his mother. That Wille will at least have one ally in his family if he ever does come out as anything other than straight.

When Wille comes up to him on Friday and asks him if he’s going to stay for movie night, he’s honestly surprised. He hadn’t thought that Wille would seek contact again so soon. But then again… it’s not like he’s asking him out. He isn’t. He’s asking if Simon will attend an event where all of their classmates will be present. Maybe he just wants to see if he can be comfortable around Simon in social settings like that. 

That’s pretty much the only reason Simon says yes. Sure, he knows Sara wants to go, but she could do that alone. She has friends here now, and Simon trusts that they will at least try to help should something happen. But Simon himself really doesn’t want to spend more time around their classmates than strictly necessary. 

He does, however, want to spend more time with Wille. He wants to spend all of his time with Wille. So he says yes before he even knows what kind of movies they’re going to watch. 

It’s not Marvel movies. But he would appreciate that fact a hell of a lot more if they weren’t watching bad horror movies instead. And it’s not like that’s a judgement Simon made - watching bad horror movies is the stated purpose of the evening.

Simon gets the feeling that his classmates don’t know what watching bad horror movies is about. It’s not about watching mediocre movies with lame scripts and slightly underwhelming effects. It’s about watching movies that are so bad that they’re funny. The movies they’ve chosen aren’t like that. They’re just… meh. Sure, they’re still scary. Watching characters get murdered in dark rooms will always have some sort of effect on Simon, even if the dialogue is underwhelming. And then, there’s the jumpscares. But overall, he’s got a feeling that next week, he won’t remember a thing about the plot.

Wille, who is sitting next to Simon, seems a whole lot more immersed. Or maybe just… affected? He flinches harder, at any rate. His breathing is quicker. Simon doesn’t think anything of it until he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye. Wille has put his hand on his own thigh, so close that he’s almost touching Simon. Almost.

Fuck . Is this what he thinks it is? Is - does Wille want to hold hands? Simon can feel his heartbeat pick up. Should he do something? Does Wille want him to do something? This could just be one of these things where Wille tests his own limits. Maybe he does want to see if holding Simon’s hand would be for him - but he just wants to be the one to be in complete control over it. Maybe he doesn’t want Simon to make a move.

But then, Wille looks over at him, just for a second, flushed, and looks away again. And Simon just can’t do nothing. He’s mindful of the fact that they’re in a room full of people. People who Wille probably does not want anything to know about any of this, whatever this even is. But that doesn’t mean that Simon can’t move his own hand down to his own leg. If it’s right to Wille’s hands, so close that he can feel the warmth radiating off of him - well, that’s his business. And if Wille, after a breath, moves his pinky just so until they’re touching, then that’s Wille’s business.

For a moment, Simon doesn’t even dare to breathe. It’s such a small touch. But it has such a big effect on him. Not even just the electricity that surges through him at the site of contact. That’s nice. Simon enjoys the tingling sensation in his fingertips. But the knowledge of what it might mean that Wille is doing this chokes him up. He can feel a slight tremor where they’re touching. This has to be a lot. So he moves his pinky up and down against Wille’s in an imitation of a caress. 

He can hear a little huff of breath, but doesn’t quite dare to lift his head up high enough to see what it means. Maybe it’s a little laugh. Maybe it’s more of a gasp. Either way, Wille withdraws his finger again. But he doesn’t go far. His hand remains just a centimetre from Simon’s.

His mind is racing. Before he came here, he spent hours telling himself not to expect anything. To just take things as they came. But now, he can’t help himself. What does this mean? Is Wilhelm just testing out his own boundaries? Or is he trying to tell Simon something? And if so, what? 

He shouldn’t guess, he knows. If he guesses wrong, he’ll only end up hurting himself - and possibly Wille too. He doesn’t want that. But he also really, really wants Wille to want him. And so he sits there, in the dark, and wishes. It distracts so much that he jumps when Wille gets courageous enough to lay his hand half on top of Simon’s.

In the dark, he can see a flash of teeth. But he can’t even be mad at Wille for laughing at him, because holy fuck, he’s touching him. His fingers are warm where they curl around Simon’s in secret. And this time, they’re steady. 

They breathe in in tandem, the hissing sound concealed by a scream from the movie. Simon doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore. But it’s not like he ever cared in the first place. He tightens his fingers around Wille’s in turn just to make sure that he knows that yes, this is wanted. He is wanted. It gets him a smile that seeps into his bones like the warmth of a fireplace after a long day out in the snow. Wille even turns his hand over to thread his fingers through Simon’s. 

And he keeps smiling until his eyes drift up a bit, at something behind Simon. Then, his face freezes up again, into the mask that Simon has seen him put on when he’s uncomfortable. For a snap second, ice cold panic zaps down Simon’s spine, because that’s the expression he’s got on his face when he’s talking to August. Wille is already on his feet and leaving the room when Simon finally dares to turn around and look. But he only sees Sara’s wide eyes staring back at him. 

You can’t even tell your sister, he remembers Wille saying. Fuck. This can’t be good. Immediately, he wants to get up and run after Wille, but that would probably attract attention. Wille was calm enough as he walked out, but if both of them leave so close together, that may invite conclusions that Wille doesn’t want to be drawn. So instead, he turns towards his sister further.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

Sara is not amused by this. “What were you doing?”
“What do you mean?”

“You were holding his hand. Why?”

Okay, so she saw. The feeling that evokes is complicated. Because ordinarily, Simon wouldn’t care. He’d answer every single one of her questions. But he can only think of Wille, probably panicking alone off somewhere in a dark hallway. He wouldn’t want him to say anything.

“Nothing, really.” It’s true enough.

“Are you together?” Sara asks.

Simon smiles. “No.” It’s a good thing that he can answer this question honestly, too. 

“But he likes you.” She squints at him, like she sometimes does when he’s being evasive and she can’t figure out why. His stomach gives a guilty twinge.

Simon can’t help but surreptitiously look around - but it’s a good thing that their classmates don’t have taste. They seem to all be engrossed in the movie.

“He hasn’t said that.” Briefly, he considers, but decides that the risks are bigger when he doesn’t say anything. “Please don’t tell anyone. He’s scared.”

Sara doesn’t look satisfied. “He can’t keep you a secret.”

Shit, this really isn’t a conversation that should be had whispering in the direct vicinity of people who are definitely not allowed to know. “I won’t let him,” he promises. And then: “I have to see how he’s doing. He has panic attacks.”

That does the trick. Sara immediately nods. 

It takes him a bit to find Wille. He’s not directly in the corridor in front of the common room they’ve been watching the movie in. Which is logical. Simon doesn’t even want to think about how many years of experience Wille has in having to find safe spaces where he can have panic attacks unobserved. 

He finally finds Wille in the hallway outside of the music room, in front of an open window. If he did have a panic attack, the worst of it is over now. He doesn’t look calm , but he doesn’t look panicked either. In the grand scheme of things, that’s a good thing. 

“Are you okay?” Simon asks. 

Wille says something about how it was too hot in the common room, which is so plainly a lie that Simon doesn’t really know what to do with it. Is Wille joking? It doesn’t sound like it. But neither does he sound like he’s begging to be left alone. His face doesn’t really tell Simon much, either. It’s completely blank. Simon stops staring before it becomes too obvious. 

But somehow, looking at his feet doesn’t make this situation feel any less awkward. “Do you want to be alone?”

“No!” Wille hurries to say. “No, please stay. I do want to talk to you. I just… I don’t know what I was thinking in there.”

Simon thinks that maybe he was feeling instead of thinking. But talking about feelings still seems a lot, so he doesn’t say it. “Well, we’re not in there anymore. Do you want to talk here?”

On one hand, maybe it’s a good place. It’s not Wille’s room. So if he gets uncomfortable, he could just leave and go to a place where he feels safe. On the other hand, someone could still come by. No one’s just gonna randomly walk into Wille’s room. But others could find this hallway if they’re bored. Or want to make out, the little voice whispers in the back of Simon’s head. He does his best to ignore it. It feels too much like a suggestion.

Wille looks like he’s got much the same thoughts running through his head. “We should probably go to my room.” It doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. 

“We don’t have to,” Simon says. 

“Well, no. But the bed is more comfortable than this window-sill.” Three, two, one, Simon counts down in his head until Wille’s eyes widen as he realises what he’s just said. “Not like that! I just mean to sit on.”

He tries his best not to grin too broadly. “Okay. If you’re sure!”

It gets him a swat on the shoulder, which finally does make him laugh. “Simon!” But the tension is broken. Wille is grinning too. And when he hops down from his perch, he only considers a moment before he holds out his hand for Simon to take.

They don’t run, but it’s a close thing. Closer for Simon than for Wille, because Wille is your average Swedish giant with legs so long that Simon can hardly keep up with him at this pace. It feels wild, somehow, unrestrained. Simon knows they’re not running to find an empty room to make out in. But his stomach swoops just the same. 

He hopes. Not for kisses, necessarily, just for a positive outcome. He hopes that Wille knows what he wants - and that he wants him . If that’s the case, Simon can go as slow as he needs him to. But even if he wants to remain friends, that’ll probably provide some sort of closure. A devastating one, sure - but then, Simon is quite sure that that is not what’s happening here. 

They come to a halt in front of the door to Wille’s room, but Wille doesn’t unlock it. He just sort of stares at it for a moment. 

“We can still go somewhere else,” Simon says. “And if we go in, we don’t have to close the door. This isn’t… I know that you’re not promising me anything just by bringing me here.”

It hurts a bit, feeling like he has to say this. But Simon figures this is like what Wille did for him the day before yesterday - stating something explicitly that he otherwise may have been anxious about. Wille isn’t accusing him of anything, and he’s not scared of him. He’s just still dealing with something shitty that happened to him very recently. At least, Simon thinks that’s what’s going on in his head.

Wille just sighs and turns the key in the lock. “We don’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

It doesn’t sound like he’s entirely convinced himself, but Simon doesn’t comment on that. The person who should determine Wille’s boundaries is Wille. Simon doesn’t want him to think that he feels like Wille needs coddling. And it’s not like he does, really. This is just his own fear of doing exactly what Wille says is okay and still getting it wrong. But that’s something he needs to deal with on his own.

When they’re both in the room, Wille makes a point of closing the door behind them. He doesn’t lock it - which is a good thing, Simon would probably have a heart attack - but he looks straight into Simon’s eyes as he pushes the door until it snicks into place. It’s just about the hottest thing Simon’s ever seen him do. And going by the flush on his face, he knows exactly what it looks like.

He doesn’t keep eye contact for the hand motion he makes towards his bed. Simon is a bit hesitant about that. He doesn’t need to sit on the bed for them to have this conversation. It might even be easier if he doesn’t. If he sits on the chair, it’ll be easier for them to look at each other. But Wille seemed sure of this minutes ago, so it has to be fine. Still, he sits at the very foot at the bed, one knee under him and angled so that he can look at Wille.

Somehow, the silence is exciting. Maybe it’s because of all of the things that it could mean, all of the potential it holds. But it’s probably just the way Wille is looking at him. Openly and intensely, completely unguarded. He looks so calm. Simon wonders if he really is. But he’s fine , at least. His breath is even, his eyes are steady, and his hands are still.

“I like you,” he says.

Somehow, Simon is the one who flushes now. “I like you too.”

It’s innocent enough. It doesn’t have to be romantic. But the implication is there. It’s running through his veins, along his nerves like a current. Something zaps between his fingers, makes him want to reach out. He doesn’t.

Wille takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything about it either. You know that, right? I’m happy being your friend. You’re pretty awesome.”

The little huff of a laugh that gets him settles behind his sternum, radiating warmth. Simon thinks he may treasure that sound for the rest of his life. It’s never a bad sound with Wille. Is he laughing at himself or about something  Simon has said? Simon isn’t sure. But he doesn’t think it matters. Either way, the amusement is a soft thing. 

“You’re pretty awesome as well. But that’s not… I do want to, uhm, do something about it.” The admission makes Wille flush vibrantly, but he keeps eye contact. His breathing stays relatively steady. “Erik says I need to start doing things for myself.”

Both of these things are somehow unexpected. First of all Thank God. But secondly… “You talked to your brother about this?”

“Yeah. That’s okay, right?”

“Of course!” Simon sounds as breathless as he feels. Fuck. This is real, isn’t it? It has to be real.The universe isn’t so cruel that this would be some sort of dream. No, Wille wants him, wants to be with him. In some way, at least. And he talked to his brother about it. 

Somehow, Simon had expected that if anything like this ever happened, it would be a complete and utter secret. But it doesn’t seem to be. Wille openly stares at him in class. Wille talked to his brother. Wille tried to hold his hand in a room full of their classmates.

Silence falls once again as Wille seems to deliberate what to say next. Simon wants to help, but he doesn’t know what questions to ask without derailing him. What direction is this going in? Is this a talk about a relationship? A discussion of boundaries? Are they here to do something about it and the talk can happen later? As much as the latter appeals to Simon, he kind of hopes that isn’t it. He doesn’t want to mess this up. And he feels like he will if he doesn’t know exactly what Wille wants from this.

So he asks: “Can I help you with something? Is there something you want to know from me?” That should be harmless, right? Can’t go wrong with offering up information.

“You’re gay, right?”

“Yeah.” Haven’t they been over this?

“I don’t think I’m gay,” Wille says hesitantly. 

Oh. Simme, you idiot. “Okay.”

Wille ducks his head. “I’ve liked girls before, so. I think I’m probably bi. I don’t really know, though.” There’s a furrow between his brows as though he’s not really satisfied with this statement. Simon doesn’t really know what to do with that. Is he supposed to be asking questions? He probably should, he thinks. It might be easier for Wille.

“It’s okay if you aren’t sure, you know. You don’t need a label.” When he catches Wille’s eyes, he smiles at him and gets a timid smile in return. Then, Wille looks down at his hands again. He’s fidgeting now.

“I’m just kind of scared that I’ve got it wrong, you know? Like, what if I’m just confused?”

That probably wouldn’t be very good for Simon’s heart. Good thing, then, that this isn’t about Simon. “Then you were confused and cleared it up. That’s not a bad thing. But if you have questions, then there’s probably a reason for that.”

This feels wrong, somehow. Simon is invested in the outcome of this conversation. He’s not a neutral party. What if he influences Wille in a way that later turns out to be harmful? He can’t hurt him. But then… who else is he going to talk to about the details of this? He doesn’t seem to have any close friends. And he clearly did talk to his brother, at least to some extent. So Simon just needs to be careful.

“But what if I hurt you?” Wille’s voice is small. He's still looking at his hands, knotted together in his lap. His face is half obstructed by a curtain of his hair, but Simon thinks he’s still frowning.

It’s an interesting question. One Simon has asked himself pretty much from the beginning of this whole thing. His answer to it is “I think it’s gonna be worth it” , but that’s probably not helpful right now. So instead, he asks: “How would you hurt me?”

“What if you kiss me and I don’t like it? I didn’t… that guy, in the club, I didn’t like it when he kissed me. What if I’m wrong about the way I’m feeling?”

It makes me want to kiss you, Simon remembers. He doesn’t think that it’s something he has to worry about. The way Wille said that on Wednesday… it’s enough to convince him. But his heart hurts for Wille. Those bastards. They will never know the damage they did. Maybe they figured out that their little prank wasn’t quite as harmless as they thought, but this… God, he hopes that they wouldn’t have wanted this to happen. But it’s messed up either way. Who the fuck does shit like that? He’s angry at the guy too, the guy who forced that kiss on Wille. Why on earth would anyone do that? 

He sighs, and decides that it’s probably a good time now to scoot just a little bit closer. “Okay, listen. If that did happen, I would probably be sad.” Wille is looking at him again, eyes wide. “But you said you didn’t want to kiss that guy.”

“I didn’t.”

“And do you also not want to kiss me?”

The utter confusion on Wille’s face tells him that he maybe could have put that better. But it gets Wille out of the little thought spiral he’s in. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says, and sneaks a look down at Simon’s lips before he looks him in the eyes again. It sets Simon ablaze. He can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the flex of his hands with the need to touch. Oh thank fuck.  

“Sounds like favourable circumstances to me.” It’s a dorky statement, and it kind of makes him want to facepalm. But the snort it draws out of Wille is worth the embarrassment. And then, he has a thought. “But you know I don’t have to kiss you, right?”

“I just said-”

Oops, that came out wrong. Simon raises his hands in defence. “I meant I don’t have to kiss you . You could kiss me . If you think it’ll feel safer if you’re in control.”

“Oh.” Somehow, that seems to be the thing that takes Wille aback. His pupils are blown now, fixed on Simon’s lips. It would be so easy to reach out now, draw him close. But that’s not what they’re talking about. And now that he’s mentioned it, he really wants it to be the other way around. If Wille is in control, he won’t have to worry so much about doing something wrong and freaking him out. 

Wille starts to say something, but his voice is garbled. He has to clear his throat. “That could work.”

God yes. Simon almost feels faint. It reminds him - as much as this is overwhelming for Wille, it’s a lot for him too. He’s never wanted anything this much. He’s never felt anything so big. If he wasn’t thinking so much about the way Wille is dealing with this, he probably would have had a little freakout over this by now. Or maybe a bigger one. 

Sweet fuck, he barely knows this guy. He only met him a few weeks ago. How does he feel this close to him already? Ayub seems to have an inkling that he’s in deep. But Simon doubts that even his best friend knows how bad he’s got it. And he just has to know.

“I understand if the thought is too much right now. But is it… is this a relationship thing? Or are you - do you just want to…” He doesn’t really know how to say this. Talking about feelings feels too big, even for him. But he needs to make sure. If this is just a vague sort of interest, an attraction that Wille wants to explore, he needs to know . He’ll still do it, but at least he’ll go into it with open eyes. It would be less painful that way. 

“Hey, no.” Now Wille is the one to sound concerned. “I like you. I really like you. I want to see if this works. It’s not just an experiment.”

Avoiding the same words, I see, Simon thinks drily. It would probably be funny from the outside looking in. Two awkward teenage boys stumbling their way through a conversation about their feelings without actually calling them feelings . Sara would probably roll her eyes at him if she knew. 

The relief is so potent that he has to close his eyes against the onslaught. And then he keeps them closed because he can feel tears pooling behind his eyes, hot like shame. Wille likes him. Wille wants to be together. It’s not just an experiment, he’s not just an experiment. 

There’s a hand encircling his wrist now, warm and sure. Simon hangs his head. It’s a bit embarrassing, how affected he is by this. Even with the memory of Wille’s panic attack days before, it still makes him feel a bit odd. It’s not like he’s new to this. He’s had crushes on boys before. He’s even kissed boys before. But damn it if this one isn’t special.

He takes a fortifying breath before he lifts his head - and almost ducks down again when he meets Wille’s gaze. There’s just such a warmth in it. It’s overwhelming. Is this what it feels like to be wanted? 

“Are you okay?” Wille asks.

There it is. Simon quietly chuckles at himself. “Yeah, I just… You know, I don’t actually have much experience with this either? And you make me kind of nervous.”

“Oh.” Wille blinks. “I didn’t know that.”

“I gathered.”

“Fuck, why didn’t you say anything?” Wille scoots closer to him, takes his hand and threads their fingers together. All of a sudden, Simon sees a bit of himself in him - adrift when having to deal with himself, but solid when someone else needs help. He wonders how long it’ll take until they learn to sort themselves out first. If they ever will.

“You had enough to deal with. And I guess…I don’t know. You seemed so convinced that I had it together. It felt nice.”

“Okay, well, that stops now. I won’t think you’re lame if I know I have some sort of effect on you. It’s nice to know.”

“Oh, is it, now?”

“Shut up!” Wille swats at him. “You know what I mean.”

It makes me want to kiss you. “Yeah, I do.” Simon’s voice is hoarse all of a sudden, and he can see Wille’s eyes darken in real time as he speaks. And that is very nice to watch, indeed. Which brings him back to a question he’s asked himself not too long ago - does Wille really not know what he does to him? The effect he has on him?

Granted, he did try to not be too obvious. But if Wille is interested… how did he not see it? Simon had tried to hide his crush from a straight boy who wouldn’t know to look for it. Not from another queer boy who might like him back and could figure out what all of the furtive glances were about. So is Wille maybe just not looking for those sorts of things in guys yet? Or is he just oblivious in general?

Either way, he should know. And if he can’t see it, well, then Simon will just have to get over himself and tell him. “You drive me crazy sometimes, you know? With the way you look at me.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Like… like now.” God, it’s like Wille’s eyes are exclusively pupil. All of that beautiful blue is gone, swallowed up by - what, desire? Fuck, please. “Makes it hard to keep my hands to myself.”

He can hear the breath rush out of Wille at that admission, imagines feeling it on his face. They’re just a tiny bit too far apart for that. But that’s something that could be easily rectified. Briefly, he gets distracted by the frown that mars Wille’s face - but it’s gone as soon as it appeared. Wille squeezes his hand where he’s holding it.

“You’re not really keeping your hands to yourself, though, right?”

Oh, you sweet summer child… “That’s not what I mean.”

Simon isn’t a hundred percent clear on what he means. It sounds sexual and that’s… a bit much? Maybe? He’s not sure. Wanting someone this much is new to him. So maybe he’s confusing things? But he doesn’t really think he is. It’s probably a good thing that Wille is new to this. That means Simon won’t have to worry about it too soon. Right?

The sound that escapes Wille should be criminal. It settles right into his bones. Was that a moan?

“Don’t say things like that!” He sounds halfway scandalised. “How am I supposed to just sit here when you say things like that? Fuck!”

“And who says you’re supposed to just sit there?”

Wille’s adam’s apple bobs up and down. “I… I mean - could I?” He reaches out for Simon with his free hand, but seems to abort mission halfway through. His movements are jerky, like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Like he’s not sure what’s allowed.

Frankly, Simon doesn’t think that there’s anything Wille could come up with that he wouldn’t be a willing participant in. But telling him that he can do to him whatever the fuck he wants might not be the best idea. He’s already nervous - and Simon thinks that maybe telling him exactly how many options he has would overwhelm him. So maybe he should stay on track. They were talking about kissing earlier.

“You can come closer if you want.” It’s not quite what he wants to say, but he also doesn’t want it to sound like he has expectations. He doesn’t. Anticipation, however… his stomach tingles with it. 

Wille does want, it turns out. He somehow manages to get himself tangled in his duvet a bit, but a few moments later, he’s kneeling next to Simon so that they’re almost face to bright red face. His eyes are glinting with suppressed laughter. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Simon says and pulls their hands into his lap, just because he can. He’s allowed to be close now. It’s exhilarating. It’s what keeps him sane and somewhat calm while he watches Wille’s eyes flit over his face. He’s gearing himself up for something and it’s so, so difficult to not try to help by explicitly asking for something or by making a move himself. But Simon knows it’s better this way. This has to be Wille’s decision.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Wille’s voice is hushed, and somehow, that makes it sound even more intense. Instantly, Simon’s throat is burning with it. He can just look on helplessly as Wille raises his free hand to caress Simon’s cheek. Warm fingers brush a curl behind his ear, rest behind it and burn fingerprints into his scalp.

“Thank you,” he croaks. How is it that Wille says these sorts of things so easily when he seems intermittently terrified of the rest of it? It should probably be embarrassing that it’s so easy for the other boy to get under his skin like that, but Simon just can’t find the energy. All he can do is look at Wille and try to keep breathing.

Wille is looking at his lips. There have been so many times now where Simon thought he might be, but now he’s sure. And damn if the feeling isn’t heady. He almost feels dizzy with it. Has he ever had anyone focus on him like that? He can’t remember. None of it matters anymore, just Wille matters, now sitting close enough for his breath to fan across his face, and eyes fixed on Simon’s mouth.

“Can I…”

“Please.”

He feels like he’s drowning on dry land. There’s that tugging, desperate feeling at the back of his throat that you get when you’re past the normal thirst and your body is just screaming out that it needs something .

It’s short, the first time. Barely a press of lips, there and then gone again. Wille moves so quickly that Simon can’t even close his eyes. Like he’s trying to get it over with. The thought would feel worse if Wille didn’t stay so close, his forehead pressed to Simon’s as he’s trying to figure this whole thing out for himself. 

He so desperately wants to nuzzle in and recapture those lips, get a real feel for them. But he doesn’t. He stays where he is, his heart beating a mile a minute, and tries to figure out what it means that Wille is pressing his eyes shut so hard. It looks like he’s fighting with himself. Simon wonders if he is. How many people have told him over the years that wanting this is wrong? What kind of expectations do his parents have of him? Is he supposed to just be a good little prince, get married to a pretty girl at a young age and breed to bolster the monarchy with unnecessary heirs?

But maybe that’s not it. Maybe this isn’t about the future. Wille draws in a sharp breath, but stays stock still otherwise. Maybe this is about the past. About a difficult evening in a dark club and a stranger who didn’t even give him the opportunity to say no. Wille’s hand is still in his, laying in his lap. Simon squeezes it as a reminder that he’s here.

He expects Wille to withdraw. They’re gonna have another talk about this, he thinks, and then maybe he can get a hug. That would be nice. He bets he could just lose himself in a hug with Wille. 

But maybe he’s read this all wrong. Because Wille nudges close again. All of a sudden, there are two hands on Simon’s face, cradling it and holding him close. Wille’s lips are soft on his, deliberate and slow, if a little hesitant. A whimper slips from his throat before he even fully realises what’s happening. And Wille hears. He knows Wille hears because there’s an amused huff of breath against his cheeks and his lips get clumsy for a bit, no doubt drawn into that cheeky grin Simon loves seeing so much. 

It’s cocky, and Simon loves it so much. He gives as good as he gets, torso bowing towards Wille as he strains to get closer. Their lips slide against each other in a way that might even be sweet or innocent if they weren’t both breathing so heavily. Wille is holding back, Simon can feel it. His whole body is tense in a way that would probably worry him if he weren’t so distracted right now. But all he can think of is that he doesn’t want Wille to hold back. 

His hand is on Wille’s face, so it’s easy to caress his cheek right at the hinge of his jaw. The muscle there is tight, and it gets even tighter when Simon nips at his bottom lip, soothes the sting with his tongue. There’s a sound in the air between them that Simon doesn’t quite know what to do with. It’s high and reedy, and if he were doing this with anyone else, he would think that was a good thing. But this is Wille, so it could also be panic. And that’s a risk that Simon doesn’t want to take.

So he separates them. The smacking sound their lips make is one of those things that Sara usually frowns at and calls fake when it’s in a movie. It’s obscenely loud in the quiet of the room, as is their breath. Simon feels like he’s just been forced to sprint in p.e. class. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“I can’t stop thinking.” Wille’s still got his eyes squeezed shut.

Oh. “Good or bad?” It certainly doesn’t sound good.

Wille shakes head violently. “No, I just… neither, really. I just can’t stop fucking thinking.”

“About what?” Is this still about that guy?

“Nothing, I just…” he slumps until his forehead makes contact with Simon’s collarbone. “I keep asking myself if I’m doing this right.”

Simon’s fingers move to tangle in his hair almost automatically. “You are. There’s really no difference to kissing girls.” At least he thinks so. He’s never tried.

It’s kind of absurd to Simon that Wille worries about this when Simon is still very much breathless. Wille’s got his head on his chest, he’s got to feel how hard his breath is going. Shouldn’t that physical evidence count for something?

Wille shakes his head. “It’s not that.” A breath, as if he has to psych himself up to say it. “This just feels so important.”

Oh. Simon slings his free arm around Wille, overwhelmed with the urge to hold him. Fuck, how is he so precious? It’s strange. Every day that Simon has known him, it’s become more and more clear that Wille is nothing like the self-important prince he’d always imagined him to be. He wonders if it’s always been there, if he would now be able to spot the nervous boy behind the facade if he were to rewatch any of the footage taken of him. 

It kind of doesn’t help Simon’s own nerves that this is so important to Wille that he’s worrying like this. The rest feels like pressure enough. But on the other hand, it’s nice to know that they have similar concerns in some regards. That Wille is thinking about how this is for Simon as well.

“It’s important to me too. But that kind of means that there is no way to do this wrong. Like, we’re talking right now, aren’t we? So if something feels weird or uncomfortable, we can just bring it up. That can’t really be more difficult than any of the other things we’ve talked about before.”

“I know that. But that won’t really get me to stop thinking.” He sounds so resigned right now, and that’s what finally gets Simon out of the slight daze their kisses left him in. This sucks so much. They just had their first kiss, and it was good , and Wille can’t even enjoy it. Because his anxiety won’t let him. Maybe, he thinks, having Wille be in control like this was not the best idea. Somehow, that gets his heart beating faster.

“Do you wanna try and see if I can make you stop?” His voice is higher than he wants it to be, but oh well. So what if he sounds nervous. He is. They’ve established this. Wille raises his head so fast that he almost hits Simon’s chin. “What?” His eyes are huge, but he doesn’t look opposed. He doesn’t look opposed at all.

“I think you heard me.” It feels weird to use Wille’s own words to tease him in a moment like this, particularly because Simon feels like they’re just moments away from him being the one to hyperventilate this time. But it’s the right choice, because it gets Wille to giggle and hit at his chest playfully.

“Fuck you, man. Excuse me if I didn’t expect you to offer to make out with me until I stop thinking. I mean, not that it’s not welcome,” he hurries to add when he sees Simon deflate a little. “My answer to that question is: Yes please. But I was just a tiny bit taken aback.”

Simon can feel the blush spreading on his face. Nothing has ever felt like this. He must be touching a live wire somewhere, because there’s a strong current running through his entire body. It tingles in his fingers where they’re laying against Wille’s cheek. They slipped from his hair when he raised his head, which turns out to be quite convenient right now.

“Yeah?” he asks, mostly to reassure himself. His eyes are already fixed on Wille’s lips, still a vibrant pink from their kisses earlier. When they’re done with this, they’re going to be a whole lot darker, he thinks. Something dark and rich twists in his gut when Wille’s tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip. 

Those lips spread into an almost lascivious smirk. “Mhmm.”

And that’s pretty much the moment that Simon stops thinking. Because he’s allowed now. He’s allowed to use the hand on Wille’s cheek to draw him in at the same time as he leans forward and meets him in the middle. He’s allowed to part his lips and slant them between Wille’s, to suck his lower lip in his mouth and revel in the little mewling sound that Wille makes when he does that. 

It appears that he was right. Because this time, there is no tension. Wille is pliant in his arms, presses close and just… is. At first, their kisses are languid, exploratory. Simon isn’t in a hurry to get anywhere and neither is Wille, so they’re just taking their time. Still, it’s intense. The way that Wille clings to him, like he’s never close enough, and the little breaths he huffs out against Simon’s face are better than he ever could’ve imagined.

He doesn’t know how he ever thought that he needed to be careful when kissing Wille. This is the most natural thing he’s ever done. It’s like he was made for this, to mould himself up against Wille and nibble on his bottom lip.

Wille, for his part, just moans right into Simon’s mouth. Fuck . They’re going to have a problem soon if he keeps making sounds like that. Not that Simon’s complaining. Really, the only thing that’s complaining is Simon’s neck. They’re still sort of kneeling next to each other, the position awkward even though none of the rest of it is. He only hesitates for a moment before shuffling a bit and swinging his right leg over Wille’s so that he’s sitting in his lap.

For a moment, Wille’s hands tighten on his hips like vices, but when the pressure lets up again and Wille gives him a low groan, he decides not to worry about it. Instead, he just buries his other hand in Wille’s hair and sees if he likes it when it’s being tugged.

He does. He likes it so much that his mouth goes slack around the shocked little whimper that escapes him. And Simon can’t just not lick into it. That’s not an option. So he does, and then everything goes from fifty to a hundred in approximately three business seconds. Wille absolutely surges up against him, drawing him even closer with surprising force. He swirls his tongue around Simon’s playfully, huffs an amused breath when it’s Simon’s turn to whimper. 

God, this is so hot. He didn’t intend for this to get so hot, and especially not this quickly. But while he doesn’t know if Wille is thinking, he’s certainly not overthinking things right now. Not when he detaches himself from Simon’s mouth to kiss a little path down his cheek to the vulnerable spot right below his ear and sucks on it. 

Simon doesn’t have the brain capacity to be embarrassed by how loudly he moans. Really, he can just clutch Wille’s head closer to get the feeling to stay. But then Wille gets his teeth involved and - well, now he’s definitely hard. It’s not bad, as far as bites go. There’s a good chance that it won’t even bruise. Which is probably for the best. Simon doesn’t necessarily want to have to explain a hickey to Sara. 

But he’s hard, and they’re so close together, and it all feels so good. It’s also a lot. They haven’t talked about this. He feels like they should probably talk about this.

“Wille,” he tries. He almost doesn’t recognise his own voice. It’s deep and hoarse in a way that he’s only ever heard in a certain kind of movie . Certainly never from himself. He files it away to think about later, because right now, he has to deal with the way that Wille smears a moan into his skin and pulls him even closer by the hips, which clues Simon into the fact that he’s not alone in his situation. Fuck.  

“Wille!” This time, he says it louder, just to make sure. Because if they continue like this, he’s going to lose the willpower necessary to stop this before it escalates too far. 

When Wille reappears in Simon’s field of vision, he looks delectably ruffled. His lips are tinted a deep fuchsia and his hair is an utter mess. Simon absolutely loves that. Mostly because he’s the one responsible for it. That was me. He wants to take a picture and bury it deep in a drawer to take out and admire in secret. No one else is ever going to see Wille like this if he can help it. Never ever.

Just to prevent any wrong conclusions from being drawn, he says: “I'm not complaining. But we, uh, should probably slow things down a little bit. Yeah?”

Wille swallows heavily, hands twitching on Simon’s hips. “Okay, sure.” But he doesn’t move back any further. Simon doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s not really the reaction he was expecting. Somehow, he would’ve thought there would be more stammering and embarrassment involved. Maybe panic, again. And this… This sounds like Wille is fully prepared to just go ahead and continue. How did that even happen?

When his stunned silence lasts for too long, Wille asks: “What exactly do you mean by slowing down? Like, do you want to stop or…”

“No!” It’s too quick and too loud, but it’s very important to him to communicate this. “No, I just… maybe we can stick to kissing for the time being?” Right now, he doesn’t even know for whose sake he is stopping this. He feels a bit strange. Wrong-footed. So maybe he should be doing this for himself either way.

“Oh thank God,” Wille says and pecks him on the mouth, hard and fast. “I really don’t wanna let go of you yet.”

Simon has an inkling that if he were standing, that statement would make him weak in the knees. Good thing he isn’t, then. Although… he’s still pretty much sitting right in Wille’s lap. Should he maybe… dismount? If they go back to kissing, they could easily end up right back where he stopped them earlier. 

Going by the slightly smug glint in Wille’s eyes. He knows the direction Simon’s thoughts have taken. “You know, it’s very tempting to have you sitting on me like this. But I can restrain myself. Kind of have to know how to. We learned that pretty early on.”

Somehow, Simon doubts that those lessons included instructions in how to not grind up against a person when they’re sitting in your lap, but that’s neither here nor there. He does file it away for later use, though. It might be fun to challenge his resolve one day.

He decides on shuffling back a bit, just to make it easier on them both. And then he finally goes back in to claim another kiss.

He could really get used to this.