Work Text:
Red.
Not just any red.
Summer red.
The type of red that comes with a hot sunset and sun rise.
Burning bright.
Reflecting its passion.
Red.
Not just any red.
Your red.
The red of your sweater.
The sweater you left behind with me.
It was lonley. Abandoned. Discarded.
So I....
I took it.
Took it in the wishes to give it back to you.
....it's just....
I ran it through my fingers and caught a flare of you cross my senses and I....
I might've...
Adopted the fabric...
Stuffed it into my backpack and nestled your red home.
Your love.
My love.
Your desire.
My desire.
Your need.
My need.
I took all of it home with me.
And I was scolded by its flames.
Causing third degree burns upon my heart.
That's what I'll accuse all these feelings on...
All this want on your....
On.
On,
You.
Felice escorted her best friend put of the hall of congested on lookers out of the building. Wille, shakin and clearly in need of some fresh air.
They sat on some secluded concrete stairs taking in the unforgiving Swedish winter air. Their coats forgotten but by the way Wille's skin lashed with hot fever, she doubts he cares much for the frostbite air. Neither does she for he needs her.
His eye's closed and breathing a simulated exercise to lower his heart rate.
"In..." she whispers and they silently count together before Felice gives him guidance to breathe out.
"In." Wille swallows the ice and holds, while Felice tucks a frazzled gelled piece of amber behind Wille's pale ear. "Out."
They repeat this dance for a few more moments before Wille reopens his eyes to the world. Signaling he's ready once again to face reality and possibly not explode under all it's grueling pressure.
"Good." She praises and rubs his back to comfort him more. Her head of thick curls coming down to rest on his boney shoulder.
The slience is nice between them and the cold comes calling despite the sharing of their warmth. It reminds Felice of coats then of sweaters then of.....
"I think you still have a chance with Simon."
"What?" Wille asks suprised at her sudden comment. "He took your sweater, the red one, when you left from class."
Their eyes meet and Wille can't believe what he's hearing, "Maybe he did that so I would get it back?"
Felice shrugs at his question, "you should ask him and see." She offers and he doesn't respond, just goes back to thinking. Until finally he does with an unsure answer,
"Maybe..."
Wille waited days for Simon to come to him with his sweater... but he never did. He stayed the same and continued to ignored him.
The whole ordeal was driving him crazy.
Simon had a boyfriend now and he had his sweater hostage.
Did he still like him or was Simon going to sell it or......????
Ugh!
He doesn't know!
"Hey." Wille "greeted" really scare the shut out of Simon who was texting at his locker. He nearly dropped his phone in his jump out of his skin.
"W-Wille what the hell!?"
"Sorry! Sorry. I didn't mean to....anyway can we talk?"
Simon eye's him and sighs in reluctance but nods before shutting and locking his locker. They go into the music room and Simon waits for Wille to speak. The door shut from the hallway of strangers.
"I umm..."
Wille starts off shaky and Simon rolls his eyes at him, "Wille spit it out." He's clearly done with him already.
Alright then.
"I want my sweater back."
Would've thought Wille had shot Simon by how big his eyes got.
"I- I- I- don't..." Simon startles out and Wille throws his words back at him, "Spit it out, Simon."
He shakes his head of curls in disbelief, "I don't have it." He lies and Wille tilts his head with a glare.
"So you sold it?" His question stabs Simon and his chest numbs out around the wound. "N-no!" Simon defends immediately and double downs with, "I'd never!"
"But you don’t have it?"
Simon clenches his eyes in remorse and bites on his pride, "I.... I do. I have it."
"Why haven't you given it back?"
Simon opens his eyes to Wille's voice, his voice turning from harsh to that softness that melt his core into molten fudge. He, suddenly feels so much closer to him. Simon can almost make out his cologne....
"I-" he presses his lips together in a strain line, "I can't...." he admits, his eyes tailored to the ground in shame. Wille's finger takes the bottom of his chin and lifts it so their soul can meet.
"Why can't you?"
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"I....."
I love you.
I love you and miss you so much....
"Wille... I can't.... I just.... I can't."
He shrugs and then takes Wille's wrist to draw his hand away, then can't seem to let go of this prince. The smell of luxury, of old money, and spice... of Wilhelm and he's lost to him, to his home.
Don't make me say it...
Wille steps closer into his space and Simon is engulfed by him. His nose hooked on his shoulder and his in his hair of curl forest.
He could cry.
He can't fight it.
This.
Fighting this was useless from the start.
He doesn't have to say it....he already knows.
His hand lets go of Wille and arms encircle him like a snake catching its prey. He won't be eaten by Wilhelm through, no, he'll be cared for, worshipped, and loved by him.
He loves him.
Loves him so much.
So much his heart beats only for him.
Keeps going just for him alone.
Wilhelm,
He will always love Wille.
In any universe or time period,
It will always be him he comes back to.