Chapter Text
“Ja må han leva…”
The voice is familiar, as are the warm, soft hands closing over his eyes, and a sudden but familiar calm washes over Wille.
“Ja må han leva uti hundrade år …”
With a happy sigh, he melts into the touch, leaning back a little to let himself be cradled in Simon’s arms.
“Javisst ska han leva, javisst ska han leva, javisst ska han leva uti hundrade år…”
He savors the feeling, that complete and utter sense of relaxation, of happiness, he gets every time Simon sings to him, and he smiles when Simon presses a kiss to his cheeck after every hurrah.
They stay like that for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company, on the picnic bench where Wille was hiding from the other Forrest Ridge boys who no doubt would be making a big spectacle of his birthday – something he was not looking forward to at all.
“Did you take an earlier bus or have I been out here too long?” he finally asks, eyes still closed, and Simon humms.
“I asked mom to take me.”
“Smart of you.”
“I’ll be doing the dishes for a week.”
“Smart of her.”
Carefully, Wille turns around in Simon’s arms, and as he meets his boyfriend’s dark brown eyes, his heart jumps a beat. Gods, how was it possible for one single person to hold so much beauty?
“I’ve got a present for you,” Simon says when they finally break apart after their kiss, and Wille misses Simon’s arms around him as soon as they leave him. “Here.”
Out of his backpack, Simon has conjured a smallish, flat present. It’s almost -but not completely- square, and it’s wrapped in piece of newspaper that has a massive title that reads “Remembering Prince: queer icon and the greatest Artist who ever lived”.
He holds it up to Simon, whose eyes are twinkling with barely held-back amusement.
“Really?” he asks.
“It was either this or the dinosaur wrapping paper we used for my cousin’s presents two months ago,” Simon shrugs apologetically, though it’s clear he is not sorry at all. “I thought it was funny.”
Wille wants to glare at him, he really does, but it’s no use – Simon’s looking way too cute to be able to get properly mad at him.
Also, it is funny.
A little bit.
“I don’t think my mom is going to appreciate me choosing pop artist as a career, though,” he says semi-seriously, and Simon bumps his shoulder.
“Come on! Open it!” he urges, and with a smile, Wille starts tearing the paper off – and if he tears right through the word “Prince” in the headline… who’s to say that wasn’t by complete coincidence? It’s not like he was planning to read the article anyway.
“It’s a mix cd,” Simon clarifies, practically buzzing with excitement, as Wille stares at the plastic box in his hands. On the front there’s a drawing of a frog, with the date of his birthday written in a graceful font below it. “They’re mostly soundmixes, but there’s a few where I did both singing and accompaniment. Seventeen songs for seventeen years, see?”
Simon reaches out to turn the box in Wille’s hands, showing the playlist on the back, and Wille feels like his heart his going to burst out of his chest. Simon made this… for him?
“Oh gods you hate it don’t you?”
“No!” Wille’s head shoots up, but Simon doesn’t seem to hear him, his previous excitement all but disappeared and replaced by distress and… anger?
“I should’ve known this was a stupid idea-”
“Simon-“
“-you probably don’t even have a cd player or anything, like, what was I thinking?”
“Simon, listen-“
“As if you’d even wanna listen to my singing for an entire hour-“
“SIMON!”
Wille has grabbed Simon’s face, cradling his cheeks between his hands, almost literally pulling him from his ramblings and back to reality. For a few seconds, they just look at each other, silent but for the sound of their breathing and the angry caw of a crow in a tree nearby.
“It’s a wonderful gift,” Wille says, not breaking eye contact for even a second. “It’s personal, it’s toughtful, and it is, without exaggeration, the best present anyone’s ever gotten me.”He means it, too, though he still hesitates for a moment before he continues. “Even if I don’t, in fact, have a cd player.”
Simon starts squirming, but before he can launch into another ramble, Wille pulls him in.
“Hey, it’s fine!” He starts dotting Simon’s lips with kisses so the other boy doesn’t get the chance to start speaking. “It’s fine.” A kiss. “Mom was asking me-“ A kiss. “-what I wanted-“ Two kisses. “-she’ll be happy-“ More kisses. “-to get me one-” A last kiss. “-okay?”
He carefully pulls back, fully expecting Simon to start another rant, but instead his boyfriend is just looking at him a little sheepishly.
“Okay?” Wille repeats, and finally Simon nods.
“Okay.”
“And until then you-eh… you’re gonna have to sing to me live, I guess?”
He says it teasingly, expecting Simon to go along with it, but instead panic takes over Simon’s features for the second time in as many minutes.
“Shit! Choir!”
“What?”
Wille looks baffled as Simon hurriedly stuffs the cd in his backpack, throws it over his shoulder, and starts dragging Wille back towards the main building.
“I got choir practice at eight!” Simon yells, just as the clock on the school chapel strikes a first time, and as if that was the signal Wille had been waiting for, he now also starts running in earnest. Together, they run – past the football field, past the chapel, and finally -finally- onto the central square. It’s crowding with students though, and they expertly slalom between and around them – until they don’t.
“Oof!”
“I’m sorry!” Simon yells, skidding to a halt and only barely avoiding a second collision when Wille slams into his back. “I’m so- Miss Ahlgren?”
The choir teacher sternly looks them down over the rim of her glasses, and even if most of her ire seems to be directed at Simon, Wille can feel himself shrink in under that look.
“Where’s the fire?” she asks, and Simon smiles apologetically.
“Choir room,” he says. “I mean, there’s no fire, but there’s practice, and I’m-“
“Late?” Miss Ahlgren asks, one eyebrow raised. “You know choir was moved to 8.30? I sent an email yesterday.”
“Oh.”
“However, now that I have you here-“ she pauses, glancing at Wille before she continues. “Simon, I saw you forgot to sign up for the Valborg performance. I understand you are a very busy young man, but we do have rules and if you want a solo at Valborg I need to-”
“I can’t be there for the Valborg performance.”
“Huh.”
It’s clear that is not the answer Miss Ahlgren was expecting.
“U-unfortunately,” Simon continues. And is Wille looking into it, or is Simon actually avoiding eye contact with her? “Family obligations, you know…”
“Well, I would never ask you to put the choir before your family,” Miss Ahlgren says, looking as if she would, in fact, like to ask Simon to put the choir before his family. “But know that you will be missed.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon says.
“It’s ok.” Miss Ahlgren waves her hand as if to shoo away his apology. “I’m sure there will be plenty of singers who will fancy themselves a good replacement for you. Which… well. I’m going to my office now to have another look at the set list. Practice in half an hour, yes?”
“I’ll be there, Miss.”
“Good. Good. We’ll miss you. On Sunday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
For a moment, it looks like she’s going to say something else, but then she just nods, and with a tight smile she sets off in the direction of her office.
“Are you really not going to Valborg?” Wille asks, not even attempting to hide his disappointment the way Miss Ahlgren had. He’d actually been looking forward to celebrate Valborg with Simon – to sing , and watch the bonfire, and just generally enjoy the celebrations together.
“I’m sorry,” Simon says as he picks up his backpack that had fallen and sets off towards the main building in a brisk pace, leaving Wille to tail behind him. “We always celebrate with family, it’s sort of tradition.”
“I mean I could come with you then.” Wille hasn’t exactly made a second home of Simon’s place, but he’s been there often enough over the past few months that it wouldn’t be strange to celebrate Valborg with them. He thinks. “I mean it’s probably gonna be more fun than whatever stuffy traditions they’ll have going on here at Hillerska-ah!”
“Wille…”
Simon has stopped so abruptly that Wille very nearly bumped into him – again.
“I’m sorry,” Simon says – and when he looks up at Will, Wille can tell that he means it. “But Valborg is just… It’s a family thing. It has to be.”
Wille nods, even if he can’t ignore the pang of disappointment in his stomach. He doesn’t want me there.
“Now come on.”
Simon starts pulling his hand, and reluctantly, Wille lets himself be dragged along. He doesn’t want me there.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“The choir room has a cd player,” Simon says matter-of-fact-ly, but when he looks back over his shoulder at Wille, there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And it is going to be blissfully unoccupied for the next half hour.”
And with a wink and a smile, all Wille’s worries disappear like snow in summer. They can talk about Valborg later – right now, they’ve got a cd to listen to.
Or. Well…