Chapter Text
It is written in legend that Saint Valentine defied the Emperor Aurelius’ orders and married couples who were in love, in order to save their husbands from going to war. He was imprisoned for such an offence, and whilst in prison, it is folklore that he cured the blindness of the daughter of his jailer and they subsequently fell in love - hence the phrase ‘love at first sight’. He was to be executed on February 14th, and allegedly the day before his execution, he wrote a letter to his love, signed off with a ‘from your Valentine’.
That was in the third century, and now eighteen centuries later, February is deemed the season of love. The entirety of Sweden - hell, the entire world - seems as though it’s been overtaken by some garish decorator, with pink and red being their colours of choice. It’s everywhere. Valentines seems to be the only thing on everyone's mind. All the shops are full of cards and red roses and chocolates. It’s overwhelming, honestly. A pessimist would say that it’s all capitalism, that the legend probably isn’t even true, or that at least part of it is fabricated. An optimist would say it’s romantic, that being in love is amazing, and seeing other people in love is amazing too. Either way, Valentines remains seen as an important date in the calendar. It seems as though from the end of January through to the middle of February, this saint and his legend are all that anyone seems capable of having a conversation about.
It’s a Friday afternoon, the last Friday before Valentines, and the romantic day is very much the topic of conversation for all the students, just as it has been for nearly a month now. Simon sits at the table, his body leaning into Wilhelm, who has his right arm wrapping around Simon’s waist, holding their bodies together. Simon’s hand is on Wille’s thigh, absentmindedly making patterns with his index finger.
They’re all supposed to be doing work, left to their own devices in the hall. Papers and books are spread out on the table in front of them, waiting to be read and studied, but instead, the girls are planning their annual Valentine’s night sleepover.
“Notting Hill has to be on the list.” Stella points out, pausing her writing for a second or two.
“It’s already there.” Felice says, scrolling up on her laptop to double check. “So we have three films, we’re buying facemasks tomorrow. What snacks?”
All the girls start listing off food that is a necessity for their night in.
They do this every year, and honestly, both Simon and Wille are jealous that they can’t join them. It always seems like fun. At least Sara gets to be involved this year, adding to the seemingly ever growing list of girls that file into the bedrooms on Valentines, ready for a sleepover.
“Just to remind you all that today is the last day to send your anonymous letters for your Valentine.” A student's voice booms into the hall, and before anyone can turn to look to see who it is, they’ve already gone.
Ah. The famous Hillerska tradition.
As exciting as Valentines day is, the tradition of sending anonymous letters to the person you like or are dating is definitely the thing that is the most spoken about at Hillerska at this time of year. For weeks now, this is all anyone's been talking about. Everyone wonders how many they will receive, and if they’ll ever work out who it is that has written to them. Trying to find out is most of the fun, and everyone seems to get involved in the gossip - although, that’s not hard to believe at Hillerska.
Madison sighs. “I wonder what drama will come from the letters this year.”
That’s a point. Drama at Hillerska is seemingly an ever present theme. Every year, people try to work out who has sent a letter to whom, and each year it results in a big scandal. Last years scandal was no different. It turns out that one of the third year boys had written a letter to nearly every popular girl in the school, in the hopes of securing a date with at least one of them. When the girls put their letters together, it didn’t take long for them to realise they were all written by the same hand, and thus began the week long search for the mystery sleaze. They eventually found out who was behind the letters…and lets just say he definitely won’t be dating any of the Hillerska girls.
“What are you boys doing this year?” Felice asks, peeking her head over the top of her laptop. Her face is being lit up by the screen, and now all the girls are facing them, waiting impatiently to be told of their plans.
Wille looks down at Simon and he can see a blush forming on his boyfriend's cheeks. He can practically feel the heat. ‘“I’m going to Simon’s. He’s got a surprise for me.”
Suddenly, their night seems a lot more interesting to the girls. One by one they fire off questions to the boys about if Wille is spending the night, and if they’re going to be completely alone, asking for a hint about the surprise.
(Yes, yes and there’s no way I’m telling you yet.)
Both of them are so excited about it. The conversation started weeks ago, right at the beginning of February. It was decided pretty early on in the discussion that they would have a night in together, because they want privacy and even though they’re out to the world now - thanks to Wilhelm’s speech last year - neither of them particularly want to go out for a romantic meal and have that time together be ruined with people staring at them, trying to sneakily take pictures, or even worse, have the press invading their privacy with their flashing lights and excruciating questions. It’s their first Valentines together, they don’t want to give anything the chance to ruin it.
Simon is in his room, standing perilously on his chair, reaching his arms out to the wall. He places the final pin in the wall, attaching the bedsheet to it, and then he smooths the material down as best he can. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. He jumps off his chair, pushing it under his desk and a wave of nervousness takes over his body. He looks around, making sure everything is as it should be, and he finds himself nodding to nobody in particular. He’s happy with it, and he hopes that Wille will be too.
The doorbell rings, invading Simon’s relentless train of thought. He quickly brushes his hands down his clothing, attempting to soothe it down - but also in an attempt to calm himself down. Mainly, he notices how he can feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
There’s a smile growing on his face as he opens the door to see Wille standing there, the anxiety completely dissipating at the very sight of him. Wille is using his shoulder to lean against the doorframe. He’s got his overnight bag over that very same shoulder, and in that hand, he’s holding a gift bag, and in the other, he’s holding a bouquet of flowers out to Simon. There’s a grin on his face. “For you.” Wille says. “My Valentine.”
“When did you get so romantic?” Simon teasingly asks, holding on tightly to Wille’s forearm and pulling him into the house with ease, letting Wille shut the door behind him. Simon can’t wait any longer, and when Wille turns back around to face him, Simon bridges the gap between them, backing Wille into the door and kissing him, his hands on Wille’s cheeks as they both smile into the embrace, his thumbs stroking his skin gently.
“Around the time I met you.” Wille finally responds, and he holds out the flowers in front of him again. “For you.”
There’s a beaming smile on Simon’s mouth and it brightens up his entire face, his eyes begin to water at the kindness of his boyfriend. He holds onto the bouquet, looking at the flowers and then back up to Wille. “I love them.” He admits, his voice wavering just slightly. “I love you. Thank you.” He takes half a step and leaves a peck of a kiss on Wille’s cheek.
“I was at the florist's for ages trying to get the perfect flowers.” Wille confesses, and he places his hands on Simon’s waist, holding them closer to each other. “Wait, let me explain the meanings.”
Simon’s mouth drops open slightly. “You got them for their meanings?” He asks, his voice low.
“Of course.” Wille says, as if that wasn’t the most romantic thing he could’ve done. He points to each of the flowers as he explains them.“I had to get the red roses. It’s a classic, but they mean love and desire. These are white carnations and they mean pure love. Heather lavender, they mean beauty and admiration. I always call you beautiful, so when she told me that, I knew they needed to be included.”
Simon bites at his bottom lip in an attempt to stop his grin from spreading across his entire face. It’s in vain, because he can’t hide how happy he is - it’s an impossible feat. He looks down at the bouquet and notices one more flower that Wille hasn't explained. “What about these?” He enquires, pointing to the small, white flowers.
“Those,” Wille begins, and their faces are so close together that Simon can practically feel the heat of Wille’s cheeks as they begin to flush pink. “Those are arbutus, and they mean that you are the only one that I love.”
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Simon cups Wille’s cheek, letting his thumb run over his warming skin. “I would’ve just been happy with red roses, but no, you decided to go all out.”
“I can take them back if you just want roses.” Wilhelm teases, a laugh falling from his mouth when he sees Simon pull the bouquet away from him, as though he’s protecting it with his life. He never thought he could be this happy.
It was then that he remembers the gift bag he’s holding in his hand. “Oh, I got you these as well.” Wille says, watching as Simon fills a vase full of water and puts the flowers in it. “I asked your mama for help, I hope I’ve got the right ones.”
He hands the bag to Simon, who opens it and peaks inside.
“You didn’t?” Simon asks, his mouth open ajar in shock as he looks back up at Wille. “Seriously?”
Inside, the bag is full of Simon’s favourite Venezuelan treats. Wille had sneakily asked Linda weeks ago if she could provide him with a list of them so that he could surprise Simon with them. It took a while, but he managed to track some down with help from Malin.
“Are they right? I had to ask Malin to help track some of them down. I had to order them so if they aren’t the right ones, I’ll just order whatever you want.” He’s nervously rambling, and Simon knows it. He can read Wille like a book.
Simon puts the bag down on the table and steps closer to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head gently on his shoulder. The scent of Wille’s cologne is overwhelming, all consuming. “Älskling, they’re perfect.” He lets himself leave a warm, searing kiss on Wille’s neck. He eventually pulls away, his eyes flickering down to see the skin he’s leaving glossy. “You’ll have to try some, especially the samba bar. I know how much you love chocolate.”
“Good!” Wille says, his hands snaking over Simon’s body. A chuckle rumbles from his throat. “Because I bought them so I could try them too. You always talk about how much you miss them, so I thought they must be amazing for you to be saying that!”
“Shut up.” Simon laughs, pulling away from the embrace and staring up at Wille’s face. “Close your eyes.”
Instead of doing as he’s told, Wille raises an eyebrow, silently questioning Simon.
“Close your eyes. You’re not the only one who can organise a surprise, you know?” Simon grins.
There’s a gentle laugh from Wille as he does as he’s told. As he closes his eyes, it’s as though every other sense heightens. He can hear the soft padding of Simon’s feet as he steps closer to him. The scent is intoxicating. Wille is certain that if he had to pick Simon out of a line up just from his scent, he’d be able to do so without difficulty. It’s warm and loving and there’s a distinct vanilla aroma which Wille knows is from his cologne. The laugh is caught in Wille’s throat as he senses Simon standing right behind him, their bodies merely millimetres away from touching. Then, Simon reaches his hands up and around Wille’s face, covering his eyes. Simon leaves a burning kiss on his shoulder blade, leaving behind a promise of more later.
“Where are you taking me?” Wille asks as Simon begins to walk, in turn making him move too.
“Not far.” Simon says. “Don’t worry, I’m not kidnapping you.”
They continue walking, Simon guiding Wille for all of ten more steps and they finally make it to their destination. Simon releases his hands and says, “You can look now.”
Wille opens his eyes and takes it all in. He’s standing in the doorway of his boyfriend's bedroom. There’s a white bed sheet pinned to the wall, and a small table in the middle of the room with a projector on top of it. The bed is full of pillows and blankets and looks so warm and enticing. The only things illuminating the room are the lava lamp that sits near Simon’s computer, and fairy lights that are set to twinkling.
“This is beautiful, Simme.” Wille exhales, and it’s true. It’s like something from a film.
“You were saying how romantic it would be to watch our favourite films on a projector, so I managed to find one for pretty cheap.” Simon walks in front of Wille. He points over to a basket near the bed. “And look, I bought all your favourite food. We don’t have to eat it all tonight, you can keep it here for when you’re back next.”
Wille takes half a step forward and his body is pressing against Simon’s back. His arms snake around Simon’s waist, and he feels his boyfriend's body fall into him as though their bodies slot together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He leaves a gentle kiss on Simon's neck. “I love you.” He says, and he can’t believe he gets to say this all the time now, especially after the heartbreak he suffered the first time he uttered those words. “So much.”
“I love you too.” Simon says, sinking into the touch, straining his neck just so that he can steal a look at his boyfriend. He purses his lips and Wille takes the hint, meeting him somewhat in the middle with a gentle kiss, warm and loving. “I got you something else, for your room.”
Wille releases Simon from his hold and watches as Simon walks over to his computer desk. He picks something up, and Wille notices his thumb running over the edges of it, a smile making its way onto his face, suddenly shy. “It’s just a little something.” He passes the present to Wille. It’s a photo frame, matching perfectly with the ones he already has in his room at Hillerska. Inside the frame is a photo of the two of them, and Wille knows that it’s Simon’s favourite photo that they have. It was taken months ago, early one morning as they watched the sunrise in the sky. Wille’s arms are around Simon, both of them with lazy yet content smiles on their faces, their cheeks flush and there’s a small purple bruise just about visible on the side of Wille’s neck. Their hair is wild and unruly and it’s crazy how in just one photo, one moment - a snapshot of their lives together - you can see the love that they have for each other. “You said a few weeks ago how you wanted more photos in your room. I know you have the frames with you and Erik and how much you love those, I just thought you might want one of you and me?”
He’s nervous. They both know by now that each of them rambles on when they’re nervous.
Wille absentmindedly runs his fingers over the picture, finding himself tracing the outline of Simon’s face, staying silent, overcome with emotion.
Simon finds himself breaking the silence that falls over them. “You can change the picture if you want. It doesn’t have to be me and you, it can be anything you want.”
“Shut up.” Wille says, but there’s no malice behind it. He finally tears his eyes away from the photo, looking up at his lovely, thoughtful boyfriend. “I know how much you love this picture. I was actually hoping you would get the hint that I wanted a photo of us in my room.”
“You like it?” Simon asks, and for some unknown reason, there’s shock in his voice.
Wille nods. “I love it. I can take pride of place when I go back tomorrow.”
The projector works perfectly, and Wille was right - it was romantic. They’re now two films into the night, and tiredness falls over them, but both of them remain fighting off the sleep. Their legs are tangled around each other, Simon resting his head against Wille’s chest, Wille’s arms around him. It’s comforting.
“I can’t believe you bought me the exact same hoodie.” Simon lets out a giggle, sinking further into his boyfriend's embrace as Wille carefully twists Simon’s curls around his index finger.
“I thought you might need a new one!” Wille responds, leaning down to kiss the crown of Simon’s head.
Simon looks up immediately, a shocked grin on his face. “I wonder why that is?” He teasingly asks. “Are you going to steal this one too?”
Wille once accidentally wore Simon’s purple hoodie to class one day. It was the first thing his tired eyes picked up, and absolutely everyone noticed it that day. Naturally, none of their friends have ever let him forget that day, and ever since, it’s been a common thing for Wille to steal it whenever they spend the night together - albeit without the entirety of the school seeing him wearing it again.
“Only when it smells like you.” Wille admits. “Otherwise there’s no point.”
“I see how it is.” Simon laughs, lifting himself further up the bed as he nudges his cold nose against Wille’s neck, resting there.
“Have you had a good day?” Wille asks, one of his hands resting on Simon’s waist, his fingers painting his skin with patterns.
Simon nods against Wille’s body, leaving a kiss on his collarbone. “The best.” He admits. “You’re the best Valentine ever.”
“Have you had many?” Wille asks, but he knows the answer already.
“Shut up.” Simon says, nipping at Wille’s skin teasingly, but getting butterflies in his stomach as he hears a short gasp falling from Wille’s mouth. “You know last year doesn’t count.”
Wille hums. “Not even our kiss?”
“That ridiculous wig.” Simon laughs. “I don’t know how I kissed you without laughing.”
“Just what every boy wants to hear.” Wille deadpans. “So romantic.”
Simon rests his chin on Wille’s chest, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Would you feel better if I said I have something else for you?” He asks inquisitively.
Wille raises a single eyebrow, silently questioning Simon. “Depends.”
Simon rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it. “Close your eyes then.” He groans as he pulls away from Wille, his body suddenly feeling cold and empty. He wonders if it’ll always feel like that. Like Wille is his safe space, his home. He opens up his bedside drawer, finding the piece of paper immediately, folded up in the shape of a rectangle. He places it on Wille’s hands which are outstretched. “Open.”
Wille does as he’s told, and needs a moment to adjust his eyes again, the room even darker than before, with only a few pieces of artificial light illuminating the room. He unfolds the paper and only gets to one line in before he realises what this is. The Hillerska tradition. Simon has written a love letter to him. He places the paper down on his chest and laughs. “Close your eyes.” He says, moving quickly as he climbs off the bed and to his overnight bag.
“What?” Simon asks, wrapping himself in his blanket.
“Just trust me.” Wille says. “Close your eyes.”
Simon does. He trusts him with his life. So he shuts his eyes.
“We didn’t get to do this last year.” Wille says, placing his own paper in Simon’s hands as he climbs back into Simon’s bed. “You can open your eyes now.”
Simon immediately looks down at his own hands, unfolding the paper and knowing instantly what it is. There’s a flush on his cheeks as he looks back up. “Yeah, about that…” He trails off.
Wille looks at his boyfriend. “What?”
Simon finds himself grinning. “I wrote one last year. To you. I just didn’t send it.”
“Why not?” Wille asks, but he’s pretty sure he knows why. They don’t speak about it anymore, Marcus is long since forgotten about in their eyes.
Simon shrugs. “It wasn’t the right time. Most of it was me being angry, it was stupid.” He looks down at his hands, picking the skin at the side of his nails so that he doesn’t need to look up at Wille’s face. He feels the bed move.
“Hey.” Wille says, hooking his fingers underneath Simon’s chin and pushing gently, making their eyes meet. “I wrote one to you too. Felice wanted me to send it, but it was a lot. I was angry at myself, and at the world, but never at you. That letter would’ve told you everything. It definitely wouldn’t have been anonymous, unless you somehow had a whole lot of drama with another prince at the time.”
Simon snorts out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
Wille nods, a smile growing on his face and he’s glad that he has the ability to make Simon smile and laugh. He hopes that never changes. “Yeah, and you love me.”
“I do.” Simon grins, leaning in to seal that love with a kiss.