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Adjusting to life with Wilhelm wouldn’t appeal to Simon in the slightest, he realised, if it wasn’t with Wilhelm. The period immediately after Wilhelm’s impromptu announcement was more chaotic than the period following the tape leak, a feat Simon wouldn’t have thought possible. The difference—one that made it exponentially less frightening—was weathering it with Wille. Hand in hand, side by side, for better or for worse, even through Simon’s bouts of angry disbelief and Wilhelm’s anxious episodes, neither of them finding it as unbearable as before with the other always there to guide and soothe, support and reassure.
It was no longer a secret that Simon had Wille. It was the farthest thing from a secret, in all honesty. It was there for their whole town, for all of Sweden, for the entire world to watch and see.
Hillerska had swallowed the truth much more quickly than the rest of the public, because the idea had always been there, sitting in front of them day in and day out with Simon and Wilhelm doing a poor job at covering it in every interaction. There were still whispers and stares, still outright approaches and invasive questions, but blanketing it all was a knowing acceptance they didn’t have anywhere else.
Despite everything, it was the easiest place for them to be them. They could sit next to each other in class, in study, during meals, shoulders or thighs pressed together and intimacy obvious between them. They could walk hand in hand through the corridors, around the path, down the halls to Wilhelm’s room. They could steal kisses between classes, in empty spaces, lingering last in the locker room.
And despite the newness of it, the flush of warmth that spread through Simon every time his eyes locked with Wilhelm’s and Wille smiled, open and honest and sure, none of it could be said to take Simon by surprise.
Wilhelm had already said I’m yours louder than he ever allowed himself to say anything, and nothing should have been able to make Simon feel that affected ever again, and yet.
Wilhelm filled out the hoodie much better than Simon did and still it made him look small, swathed, the way he did when he was asking to be held or when he had Simon, only ever Simon, above him or around him. He ducked into the collar and tugged the sleeves over his hands the way he ducked into Simon’s neck or chest or stomach or thighs, the way he folded his hands in the folds of Simon’s skin or hair or grip. He wrapped himself in it the way he wrapped himself in Simon, and he did so without a care towards who saw.
And maybe that was because it wouldn’t matter, because no one would see what Simon saw. But Wilhelm settled at his desk, in his spot next to Simon’s, and Henry looked over briefly in acknowledgment and then looked again. Blinked. Simon felt the thrill in his stomach just as Henry caught sight of him in the doorway and raised a brow, lips quirking just so. Maybe it should have made the thrill twist into something nauseated. Maybe it would have, at a different time.
Now, Simon only raised a brow back, grinned small and smug in return, and slipped silently towards his own seat as Henry gave a ridiculous wag of his head and nudged Walter beside him.
Simon stopped paying attention to them in favour of Wilhelm and his beaming smile, the way the minute strain of tension slid from his shoulders as Simon settled into the space beside him. Instead he focused on the curve of Wilhelm’s lips, on the brush of fingers against the back of his hand, and on the contrast of purple and Wilhelm’s pale skin.
“Hey,” Wilhelm said, eyes gleaming, and Simon could no longer help himself.
“Are you wearing my shirt?” It should really be a silly question, because obviously Wilhelm was, but the prince seemed so utterly unfazed by it that Simon wasn’t entirely sure he’d noticed.
But Wilhelm only smiled wider, despite the new rosy tint to his cheeks. “I’d consider it a hoodie.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “But it is mine.”
Wilhelm acquiesced with a small nod.
“Since when are you stealing my clothes?”
“Not stealing,” Wilhelm protested, before offering a small shrug. “You left it in my room and I just picked it up.”
“Do not pretend you thought that was yours.”
Wilhelm huffed a sigh, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over his hands. “It’s soft. And it smells nice.”
Simon raised a brow, unable to muffle a grin. “Nice?”
Wilhelm hummed. When he turned and caught Simon still gazing at him smugly, he rolled his eyes and his shoulders as his lips flickered in a smile. “You know what I mean.”
Simon hummed back, feeling only smugger, knowing what Wilhelm meant was that the hoodie smelt like Simon. “That’s my favourite hoodie,” Simon pointed out. “So you’re going to have to give it back.” It was a pity even to say, because the truth was, Simon liked Wilhelm in his hoodie possibly a bit more than he liked the hoodie.
But also, it was warm and comfortable and Simon’s favourite, and if Wilhelm simply wanted to wear Simon’s clothes, that could be separately arranged.
Wilhelm crossed his arms over his chest. “You can exchange for the red sweater you keep under your pillow if you want.”
Simon froze. Wilhelm wasn’t even looking at him, and yet Simon could feel how the smugness had shifted, rolling off his boyfriend in waves as his lips quirked in that infuriating subtle smirk. When Simon only sat in silence, running a hand through his curls and shrinking in his seat, Wilhelm turned to look at him questioningly. “I wondered where that went for weeks, you know.”
“Yeah, well.” Simon cleared his throat. “You left it behind and I took it to give it back and you had some other things going on, so.”
“Right,” Wilhelm smiled. “And then you just…forgot about it.”
Simon nodded. “Exactly.”
Wilhelm nodded back, smile widening, and Simon only lasted another ten or so seconds before he cracked. His lips curved and he let out a puff of laughter, turning from Wille first this time and staring at the front of the classroom, where the teacher was yet to appear.
“At least I haven’t been walking around in it,” Simon said, pointedly.
“Why is that a good thing?”
Simon turned back to Wille, incredulous, but immediately got distracted as Wilhelm adjusted the collar of the hoodie around his neck, fingers running over the fabric as he cuddled deeper into it. Simon dragged his gaze up to Wilhelm’s face and cleared his throat. Wilhelm had his bottom lip pulled between his teeth and his brows still raised. “Possessive,” Simon tsked.
Wilhelm smiled and curled a hand over Simon’s knee under the table. “Yeah.”
Simon flicked his eyes over Wille once more, and sighed, “Yeah,” in response.