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“I’m going to get snacks,” Simon announced, uncurling himself from sitting cross legged on the floor.
Wille smiled up at him, admiring the way his shirt rode up when he stretched his arms, “OK.”
“Do you want another drink?”
“No thanks, I still have some left.”
“OK, no cheating while I’m gone,” Simon pointed a finger at him.
“I’m not!” Wille laughed. He put his controller down and held up his hands.
“Hmmm. Doubt.”
“Just go! God!” He made a swiping motion towards the back of Simon’s legs. Simon giggled, easily dodging him on his way out of the door.
Wille stretched himself out, leaning his head back against the side of the bed. He really liked Simon’s room. He liked the posters and the keyboard propped up in the corner. He liked the fish tank and the little red lava lamp on the bedside table and the way everything smelled like fabric softener. But he didn’t like sitting on the floor.
He leaned over Simon’s bed to grab another pillow, something to rest his back against so the ridge of the mattress would stop digging in so badly.
Huh. That was weird. Why did Simon have…? Oh .
His sweater. The red one he thought he’d lost months ago, the day his mother tried to force him out of school. He’d gone back to the classroom to look for it, but when it wasn’t there he assumed it had been thrown away, or someone else had picked it up by mistake. But it had been here. Here with Simon all along.
The thought made Wille grin like an idiot. He brought the sweater up to his face, nuzzling the soft material the same way he nuzzled Simon’s neck first thing in the morning.
“Sour cream and onion, or” Simon appeared in the doorway, all cute and bouncy and brandishing two huge bags of crisps.
Wille dropped the sweater, hastily trying to shove it back under the pillow, “I was just, erm…”
Simon’s eyes followed his guilty glances. He looked away, mortified, like Wille had just caught him doing something awful. Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
“I was gonna give it back.”
“It’s OK.”
“I only took it because you left it behind, and I didn’t want someone to steal it, and I thought you might,” he shook his head, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat, “I thought I was gonna lose you.”
Wille walked over to him, slowly closing the gap until their chests were almost touching, “Simon, it’s OK.” He reached down to cup his face, drawing him in even closer, “I like you, too.”
Simon sighed into the kiss, half laughing at hearing his own words repeated back to him.
Their controllers sat side by side on the floor, games forgotten for the rest of the afternoon.
“You can keep it if you like,” Wille said later, idly playing with Simon’s curls as they lay next to each other.
“I was actually going to ask if you would take it back, temporarily,” Simon started to blush, “it, erm, it doesn’t smell like you any more.”
They met outside the maths classroom on Monday morning. Wille reached into his backpack, pulling out the grey jumper he’d worn the previous day, “I thought you might like to have this, while you’re waiting for the red one.” He smiled shyly as he handed it over.
Simon smiled back.
He sat by his keyboard that evening, happily composing a new song for Wille, the arms of the sweater wrapped around him like a hug.