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Wilhelm's hand stills on the doorknob when he catches sight of the scene on his bed.
Still half in the doorway, Wilhelm allows himself a moment just to look. Simon is curled on his side on top of the covers, one of Wilhelm's tees hanging loosely over his shoulders and collar bones peeking out where the shirt is a little stretched out at the neck.
Wilhelm can see Simon’s uniform discarded over the desk chair and his chest tightens at the easy domesticity. He’s been gone long enough that only the smallest amount of light trickles in behind the closed curtains, but it just makes the image that much more intimate. He’s tired down to his bones; the adrenaline rush after his speech wore off somewhere between his mother’s pursed lips and Jan Olof’s sharp tone of disapproval.
But this. This sight, here, now — this is worth everything that they could throw at him, is worth everything they will throw at him.
Wilhelm shrugs out of his jacket and unwinds his long-since loosened tie to drop them on top of Simon’s, breath evening out for the first time in hours at the simple sight.
He leans down next to Simon’s sleeping face and reaches out, soft but so sure, to lightly trace the backs of his fingers across Simon’s cheekbone. He watches, heart lighter than it’s been in a long while as Simon’s nose twitches ever so slightly. His eyelashes begin to flutter next, and Wilhelm vows that one day he’ll count every single one.
When Simon’s eyes open fully and meet his, his mouth curves into the most beautiful, involuntary smile Wilhelm has ever seen.
“Are you okay?” Simon’s voice is sleep-soft around the words.
He watches as Simon’s eyes flicker across Wilhelm’s face, searchingly tracking his movements, looking for any signs of trouble.
Wilhelm smiles easily. “’M fine. I am very low on Jan Olof’s list of favourite crown princes, but he’ll get over it. Mamma convinced him to let me get some rest.” He raises an eyebrow at Simon’s relaxed form. “Didn’t expect to find you here already taking up all my space, though.”
Simon pouts slightly. “Wanted to make sure you were alright. I can leave though, if my presence is so inconvenient for you.” Wilhelm knows the threat isn’t real, but the thought of being away from Simon for any moment longer than he needs to still tugs at something in his chest.
“Don’t you dare,” Wilhelm huffs out on a laugh. “I am wiped though… Shove over, won’t you?”
Wilhelm continues undressing until he’s just in his underwear, and then there’s some shuffling of limbs as he joins Simon on the bed. They end up facing each other with their hands tangled together between them.
He feels Simon’s breathing slow, evening out into a steady comfort.
“Thanks for being here,” Wilhelm’s voice comes out so quiet that he thinks maybe Simon sees him say it rather than hears it.
Simon’s hooded eyes drift down to Wilhelm’s lips, and Wilhelm leans in to fulfil the silent request. They connect in a gentle brush, Wilhelm lingering just long enough to press comfort into Simon’s parted mouth, and take it in equal measure.
“Sorry I got pulled away.” He murmurs when they take a breath. “Wanted to come and grab you right after.”
Simon shakes his head immediately. “I get it. That was a big thing you did up there.” Wilhelm smiles, thinking that they both know that’s something of an understatement. Simon gives him a look that Wilhelm allows himself to believe could be proud. “It’s natural that the Powers That Be would have a few things to say. As long as you’re okay.”
Wilhelm’s heart skips a beat; it’s not lost on him how far they’ve come from misunderstandings and hurt to finally end up on the same page. “I’m alright. We can talk about it in the morning. I’m here now, you’re here. That’s all that matters.”
It’s dramatic, maybe, but he thinks they’ve earned it.
“’M here,” Simon murmurs, and Wilhelm feels it in his heart, but his voice suddenly sounds far away. Wilhelm thinks, as sleep begins to tug at his body, that he hears something that sounds like love you coming from Simon’s lips, but his body wins the battle before he can be sure.
— — —
He figures that this is what those annoying mindfulness meditation apps were aiming for when they were trying to get him to steady his breathing. Instead of imagining logs floating down a river, or telling him to flex his toes, perhaps they should have suggested, Get the boy you love to lay on top of your chest, watch as his hand rises and falls with your breath.
Maybe that’s not a universal experience, he concedes. He knows not everyone is this lucky. He still can’t quite believe he is.
Wilhelm can tell the moment Simon starts to drift awake, revels in being close enough to detect the minute shift in his breathing. Simon nuzzles in closer where his face is fitted into Wilhelm’s neck. “Good morning,” he says, gentle as anything.
“Mhmm,” Wilhelm agrees. “It is.” His fingers card through the curls at the base of Simon’s neck. “Did you sleep well?”
Simon murmurs his assent into the skin at Wilhelm’s shoulder, and shifts his body to hitch a leg over Wilhelm's hip and settle more fully on top of him. “And you?”
Wilhelm looks at Simon’s early morning smile, his curls running wild in all directions, his sparking eyes as he looks down at Wilhelm, and how could his answer be anything else? “Really good.”
Simon leans in to softly brush their lips together. “And how do you feel? After, you know…” Simon trails off, searching his face.
“Really good.” Wilhelm says again. “Lighter. Kind of like I can breathe again.”
Simon’s eyes shine, and he trails his fingers over Wilhelm’s chest, still moving evenly up and down.
“What about you?” Wilhelm asks. “I uh, I hope that was all okay with you. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned your name, I don’t want things to get all dragged up for you again.”
Simon smiles a little indulgently. “Kind of inevitable, I think.” Wilhelm watches Simon’s face closely, and is relieved to see he’s not showing any real signs of distress.
“Besides,” Simon continues. “We’re in this together now, right?”
“Together,” Wilhelm agrees, and it’s a promise, a relief and a salve all at once.
“I love you.” Simon says it into the small space between them; Wilhelm feels it in the breath fanned across his cheeks.
“I love you, too,” Wilhelm says, through a small crack in his voice.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it— couldn’t say it, back then.” Simon’s voice is tender, hushed.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Wilhelm reassures. His thumb traces Simon’s jaw, keeping eye contact, so he feels it and sees it when Simon nods slowly in response.
“It’s just, I just… I wanted you to know, then. And I want you to know now.”
“I know it, Simme,” Wilhelm says around a smile. He moves his hand to rest over Simon’s heart. “I can feel it. I could feel it then, too.”
“Okay,” Simon concedes, still looking at Wilhelm with intensity. “I’ll just— Let me—” he tries, frustrated when the words won’t come out right. “I want to make up for lost time, then.”
Wilhelm angles Simon’s face down to his with a gentle hand under his jaw and kisses him slowly. “You can do whatever you want to do, my love.”
“I love you,” Simon presses it into Wilhelm’s mouth, and Wilhelm relishes in the way he can feel it on his lips as he speaks.
Simon keeps moving, his mouth trailing Wilhelm’s jaw, his neck. “I love you,” he says again, as he moves across the plane of Wilhelm’s chest, leaving kisses and exaltations as he goes.
Wilhelm’s hands spread across where Simon’s thighs are parted around his hips. As Simon’s mouth gets reacquainted with Wilhelm’s nipples, Wilhelm’s thumbs move in small circles, edging up towards the line of his underwear where it’s creeping higher on his thighs. He watches, entranced, as Simon’s hips shift forward almost automatically, seeking out Wilhelm’s touch.
Simon pushes his fingers through Wilhelm’s hair, starting at the temples and working his way through to the shorter hairs at the back. “Love this haircut.”
Wilhelm can’t help but smile, thinking of his embarrassingly desperate effort to get Simon to notice him that first day back. “Oh yeah?”
Simon smiles right back and nods with his lips pressed together. “It suits you. Though I was very fond of your floppy locks, too.” Simon plays with the hair falling over Wilhelm’s forehead as Wilhelm’s heart does a flip.
“Love the way you look at me.” Simon continues, and Wilhelm knows his awe is showing. He doesn’t try to hide it; he’s had enough hiding for a lifetime. “Love not having to look away.”
Simon keeps moving, can’t seem to settle in any one place or on any one thought. Wilhelm, beneath him, sighs and arches into the touch and just tries to keep breathing. “Loved seeing you up on that stage. Loved seeing you speak from your heart.”
Wilhelm’s heart is in his throat.
“I loved how brave you were. How brave you are.”
Wilhelm was wrong: his heart isn’t in his throat, it’s in this boy’s hands. He feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes, overwhelmed in the best way. Simon smiles and reaches out a hand to trace over his cheekbone.
“I loved seeing you stand up to August, too. Love seeing you like that, all sure and sexy.” Wilhelm’s brain short circuits, just slightly — this paragon of beauty and desire hovering above him and calling him sexy. For as long as Wilhelm can remember, he’s had every little thing he could have wanted. Whims and fancies, toys and clothes, poke bowls and expensive drinks. But this, here, now, is the first time he’s felt truly spoiled.
Then Simon kisses him fiercely, as if he’s drowning and Wilhelm is his oxygen, and Wilhelm’s brain just goes the whole way to offline.
“Love your body,” Simon pants when they break apart, touching Wilhelm all over, seemingly unable to stop himself. “Thought about it, about how much I wanted to hold you…” Simon’s hands linger over Wilhelm’s biceps, his fingers leaving a blazing trail across his skin before he finishes the thought. “How much I wanted you to hold me.”
He’s almost rambling now, something tight and desperate in his voice as he moves above Wilhelm. “Love your hands, love these fingers.” He kisses Wilhelm’s palm, tracing lightly over Wilhelm’s fingertips, his rough cuticles, the worried skin around his nails.
Simon releases Wilhelm’s hands and they immediately move back to Simon’s hips, fingers spreading further back and gripping. “Love how you touch me,” he sighs, eyes sliding shut and pressing back into Wilhelm’s hands. “Love how you make me feel.”
Wilhelm can feel the evidence of that, pushing against him where their hips are flush. Then they’re kissing again, Simon dragging their lips together in a slow, sensual glide. “Love that it doesn’t feel like this with anyone else.”
The reminder that someone else has been with Simon like this (though not exactly like this) stings a little, but it’s glancing — how could he begrudge Simon for seeking out something else, when letting Simon go is what brought him back? Especially when Wilhelm attempted the very same thing and came to the same conclusion: there’s no one else.
Simon connects their lips again and Wilhelm draws Simon’s tongue into his mouth, sucking gently in a poor facsimile of what he’s been thinking about doing since they started. Or maybe it’s more of a promise, he thinks, hips shifting at the image and hearing Simon’s cut-off groan in response.
Simon breaks the kiss and leans back but Wilhelm surges up to follow him, chasing Simon’s teasing lips on instinct. Simon laughs and stops him, moving his hand to Wilhelm’s mouth and dragging his thumb reverently across Wilhelm’s bottom lip. His eyes are hooded where they’re trained on Wilhelm’s mouth, and Wilhelm is powerless under his gaze.
“Love the way you kiss me.” His breath hitches slightly as Wilhelm’s tongue peeks out to caress Simon’s finger. “Thought about it a lot. Too much. When I shouldn’t have been thinking about it.”
“I wanted you to,” Wilhelm interrupts, urgent. He presses another kiss to Simon’s fingertips and moves in closer to mouth at his neck. “Thought about you, too,” he whispers. “God, so much. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It should be embarrassing to admit these things to each other, but Wilhelm isn’t scared, in fact he feels the safest he’s ever been.
Wilhelm’s hands move to the hem of Simon’s (Wilhelm’s) tee shirt, and he barely has to lift it before Simon is breaking off to discard it onto the floor. He crashes back down to Wilhelm’s lips, their bodies fully flush. Wilhelm gasps into the kiss at the friction on his chest, and Simon swallows it greedily. It’s only the thin material of their underwear that’s separating them now, and Wilhelm feels alight, so deliriously happy, so turned on he can barely breathe.
He’s practically buzzing out of his skin with the feeling of being this close to Simon, isn’t sure how he hasn’t transcended to a higher plane. Simon is the thing that grounds him, though. Every touch, every movement reminds him that it’s real, that they’re here together in this moment.
Simon draws back enough for Wilhelm to see a small smirk on his face as he looks over Wilhelm, and Wilhelm knows he must look struck dumb with love and lust; disbelief and gratitude.
Simon’s eyes flick down a little, locking on a place on Wilhelm’s neck as he leans in again. “Loved leaving a mark here—” He noses his way to where a faint mark remains low on Wilhelm’s neck, right where his collarbone starts. Simon lets his teeth scrape gently across the pebbled flesh that’s slightly darker than the rest, and Wilhelm’s breath hitches at the memory: Simon in his lap, their hips meeting in an addictive and desperate rhythm as they kissed on stolen time.
“Loved knowing you had me under your collar.”
Wilhelm doesn’t try to muffle his groan at that admission, knowing he had thought the same thing — guilty and complicated though that feeling was.
Simon shifts up higher again, nuzzling into his neck where the hinge of Wilhelm’s jaw meets just behind his ear. His hips are moving steadily and he sounds slightly out of breath.
“Love the way you smell,” he says it like a confession, let out on an exhale almost as if he didn’t intend to say it out loud. When Simon pulls back, his cheeks are just a little redder than they have been, his eyes downcast. Wilhelm slides his hand up to Simon’s jaw, tilting his face towards him, but Simon won’t meet his eyes.
“What is it?” Wilhelm asks gently, and Simon blushes harder.
“It’s nothing. It’s embarrassing.” He still won’t quite look at Wilhelm but he’s not moving away from where they’re pressed together, body still turning in to Wilhelm’s touch.
“Simon,” Wilhelm says softly, “you can tell me anything.” Simon looks back at him, and then up to the ceiling.
“I, uh,” he starts, rolling his lips together as he searches for the right words. “You know that day you got pulled out of class?”
Wilhelm nods slowly, eyes flicking over to where the snow globe Erik gave him still sits, smashed into pieces.
“Well, you left your sweater behind — that orange-y one? I grabbed it, and I was going to give it back to you. But then,” he pauses slightly, “you know, the locker room…” He trails off, twisting his mouth. Wilhelm strokes his thumb over Simon’s hip, as if he could soothe away the harsh words they’d thrown at each other.
“Anyway,” Simon continues, “somehow your sweater might have ended up in my room…” He clears his throat, suddenly very interested in studying the wall behind Wilhelm’s head. “Under my pillow.”
Wilhelm can feel his eyes widen comically, a disbelieving grin taking over his face. “Simon.”
Simon looks at Wilhelm quickly, then huffs out a laugh. “You don’t have to look so fucking smug about it.”
Wilhelm can’t help his teasing tone. “Simon, that’s hot. You love my smell.”
Simon brings his hands up to cover his face and groans. “Lies. Slander. You and your smell are repugnant to me. The absolute worst.” Wilhelm giggles and reaches up to take Simon’s hands in his, tugging lightly to pull them away from his face. Simon is redder than Wilhelm has ever seen him, but he’s clearly trying to suppress his own grin.
“Don’t be cocky, alright? I just…” He starts kneading Wilhelm’s hands where they’re tangled together, his thumbs brushing back and forth over the pads of Wilhelm’s palm. A softer look comes over Simon’s face, the giddy lightness from a moment ago replaced with something quieter, more earnest.
“I just missed you. I didn’t think I’d get this again.” The simple statement is a punch to Wilhelm’s gut, and he reaches out to hold either side of Simon’s neck, guiding him gently closer.
“C’mere.
For all his earlier bravado, Simon comes easily, and Wilhelm takes a moment to look into his eyes, wide and a little vulnerable, before their lips come together.
They kiss deeply, slowly. Wilhelm takes his time to savour this moment, this feeling, the taste of Simon’s tongue pressed against his. He’s holding steadfast to Simon’s hips, pulling him closer any way he can, desperate to feel Simon move against him, solid and sure and wanting.
He pulls Simon’s lower lip into his mouth, searches with his tongue as he just feels. It’s warmth, reassurance; it’s I’m here, I’m yours, I’m not going anywhere.
He breathes Simon in, feels full and whole. He feels everything. They pull apart but stay in each other’s space, noses moving against each other and breathing in deeply.
“I threatened to come out on Instagram live when I saw you on a date with Marcus.”
Wilhelm confesses it easily, since they’re sharing, and laughs when he sees Simon’s shocked face staring back at him.
“You what?!” Simon’s jaw might be permanently dropped.
Wilhelm shrugs. “You were singing with him, Simon. The royal court needed to be held accountable.” That sets Simon off, giggling like mad, and Wilhelm feels it all the way down to his toes.
It almost feels unreal, thinking about that moment where everything felt so utterly devoid of hope. Here, now, with Simon in his arms — the picture of light and laughter and everything golden — he’s a world away.
“You’re an absolute dumbass.” Simon says it with such unwavering fondness that it feels like the most earnest declaration Wilhelm has ever heard.
“You love it.”
He loves how easily it falls out of his mouth, loves Simon’s answering smile and soft reply, “I do.”
And then they don’t talk for a while, or rather, their bodies do the talking for them. Every touch, every sigh falling from parted lips, every press of hips and fingertips says I missed you, I want you, I love you.
It’s slower again, more careful than the last time they were alone together in this room — frantic and emotional and lit up with passion and relief.
There’s relief now, too. Emotion and passion as well. But it’s softer, surer. Lighter.
Wilhelm is so full of feeling he feels it pouring out of him. He gives his love to Simon and Simon meets him there, matching push for pull, give for take.
After, Wilhelm hovers over Simon as they murmur soft “I love you”s into each other’s mouths. It’s addictive, saying these words and hearing them back. He leans in, chasing Simon’s lips, though they’re both grinning too hard to really kiss properly.
Simon smiles in the low morning light, and Wilhelm swears he can see his future in it. Their future, glimpsed in fragments: slow mornings, hands touching, sips of tea. Arguments, misunderstandings, external pressure.
Wilhelm wants all of it. The messy, the good, the ups, the downs — whatever comes with this life he’s chosen, this choice he would make again and again, over and over, and once more for good measure.
Looking at Simon, hearing those three words fall from his lips for the umpteenth time this morning, he knows he feels the same.