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It’s late when Simon makes it home.
As soon as the car stops in front of his house, he hops out with a mumbled thank you and goodbye, not looking back and heading straight inside. It was probably the weirdest journey, the most tense one, the most just hold on a little bit more and then you can let go one, and probably the last one. He doesn’t think he’ll ever step foot in the palace again.
Wille arranged the car for him, still caring that he’d make it home safe although Simon had broken his heart just a few moments before.
To be fair, he broke his own too.
It all feels like a bit of a blur now, especially as the tears threatening to spill from Simon’s eyes cloud his vision and his mind. But he can still see the shock and the pain mirrored on Wille’s face. The pure fear when Simon said that maybe it just won’t work. He had to look away. He didn’t want this to be the last image he’d ever have of him.
Wille tried but didn’t put up a fight and it must mean something. Simon , he began, probably in an attempt to reason with him. But Simon just shook his head and repeated the I can’t do this anymore , not finding any other words, these ones still barely made it through his tight throat. He could feel Wille looking at him but didn’t dare to look back. Scrambling from the bed he informed that he should go home because he could not imagine spending the night with Wille. Maybe a part of him was afraid that if he did, he’d cave in and give him another chance. But a different part of him was just afraid.
Because Wille freaked him out but now Simon realises that he actually needed to see it. He needed the last straw to make a decision. Love shouldn’t be this hard, his mom said and she’s right. And no matter how hard Simon tried, he always only ended up making things worse. Wille has enough to deal with on his own, without Simon adding to that. The worst thing was to watch his boyfriend hurt and not be able to do anything about it, not being able to help. Because everything he did still wasn’t enough. He was left empty, with nothing more to give. And no matter how much it hurts to walk away, there are some things Wille should deal with on his own. Simon would only disturb his process of healing that he really wishes begins for him now. Maybe Simon will begin his own too.
But right now, it hurts like hell.
The lights are on in the kitchen once he enters, but he doesn’t pay any mind to it. His body feels heavy but also tout as if it was ready to snap any second now, not able to bear the weight of all the emotions he’s been keeping inside.
“Hey,” Sara peaks her head from the kitchen to stare into the hallway where Simon is. She’s sitting at the table, doodling in her notebook but Simon only spares her a fleeting glance. “You’re back? Weren’t you supposed to spend the night?” She questions, sounding surprised.
Simon doesn’t answer. If he says even a word now, the whole dam will break. Instead, he quickly toes off his shoes and hangs his jacket before heading straight to his room.
“Simon,” Sara calls after him but he ignores her once more. He can hear the scrap as she must be pushing away her chair and then he can feel her following behind him. “What happened-”
“Leave me alone, Sara,” Simon says through clenched teeth because he just can’t .
“Simon, come on-”
He doesn’t get to hear the rest as he reaches his room and slams the door shut almost right in her face. Once he’s alone, in the closed space of his bedroom, everything begins to crush down on him.
“Simon, let me in please,” Sara’s insistent knocking comes through the door, followed by her alarmed voice. “Or at least tell me what’s going on-”
“Go away, Sara!” He yells, his voice breaking towards the end. His breathing speeds up and he prays his sister will just walk away because he can’t hold it in anymore.
He didn’t cry in the car. He tried not to cry with Wille but failed. But the tears have been building up and it’s only a matter of seconds before he reaches the tipping point.
Faintly, he can hear Sara’s receding steps and almost instantly a sob escapes his throat. He tries to cover his mouth with his palm not to be too loud, he’s always been used to crying in silence but this time, he can’t. This time, he breaks down right there against his bedroom door and his body feels too tired to do anything about it, as it’s being wrecked by his violent sobs. He cries for himself, for all the efforts he’s put into them and it still didn’t work. He cries for Wille, for how hurt the boy has been and for how he himself feels so helpless about it. He cries for their love that wasn’t meant to be, no matter how hard they were pushing for it to be.
He cries until he runs out of tears, until the wet streaks on his cheeks dry, until there are only heavy breaths left as he tries to grapple for air in between his weeping.
Simon has no idea how much time passes, how long he spends slumped against the door like this. All he knows is that it takes him an eternity to drag himself to his bed. He lays his heavy body down, cradling his pillow to himself and willing for any sense of comfort to hit him.
It doesn’t. Instead, underneath the pillow, he finds Wille’s sweater, the one that he stole what seems now like ages ago.
He thought he had run out of tears but suddenly, there are new ones appearing in his eyes as he touches the soft material.
It’s too much.
Simon pulls the sweater out from under his pillow fully and tosses it as far away as he can to the corner of his room. It doesn’t help. As if he only could remove Wille from his life, from his heart like this, by crumbling and tossing him away. But he knows he can’t. Even if he once finally does, he’ll be gentle about it.
So for now, he just continues to cry. Silently this time, hoping for sleep to come and ease his suffering at least for a bit.
But it never does.
He must have laid awake like this for the whole night.
The sun is up in the sky now, he can feel it although his curtains are drawn. But he just keeps lying here, staring blankly into nothingness, desperately trying to steer his thoughts away from Wille. Each time he thinks about him, involuntarily, there are new steaks of tears wetting his cheeks.
“What do you mean he hasn’t left his room?” He can faintly hear his mother’s voice from somewhere in the house.
“He just came back last night and went straight there. Didn’t tell me what’s going on,” it’s Sara who replies now.
Simon tunes out the rest of the conversation, it feels like too much of an effort to pay attention to it.
He startles once there’s a knock on his door.
“Simon?” His mom’s voice sounds accompanied by a knock. “Can I come in, mi amor?”
That is literally the last thing he wants.
He turns on his other side, facing away from the door, deciding to pretend to be asleep once his mother enters. Because he knows she will.
“I’m coming in, sweetheart, okay?”
She doesn’t really wait for an answer as she turns the doorknob.
Simon’s plan somehow works. He can feel his mom’s presence in the room and her eyes on his for a while, before a heavy sigh leaves her lips and she decides to leave.
“I think he’s asleep. Maybe we should let him rest a bit…” He hears the beginning of her recalling her visit to his room to Sara but then gives up on listening.
Everything feels too exhausting now.
After a few more hours, he stops believing this feeling will go away. Now he’s convinced he’ll have to live with the heartbreak, with this hole that Wille has curved out in his heart, that there’s no healing from this wound.
Around what Simon assumes is the afternoon, another knock comes on his door.
“Simon, can I please come in?” It’s Sara’s alarmed voice. “I’m worried about you.”
He doesn’t have the strength to reply. He kind of doesn’t even care anymore if his family sees him like this. Everything really feels pointless.
Sara lets herself in then, stepping into the room with concern clearly written on her face. She takes Simon in for a moment, his rumpled form on the bed from which he has barely moved from since last night. And although she doesn’t know that, he can somehow tell that she feels it.
“Hey,” she starts softly as she steps towards him, sitting at the edge of his bed tentatively. “Are you okay?”
Simon shuts his eyes tightly. He’s so done with pretending. He’s been doing it for way too long.
He shakes his head and feels new tears forming behind his eyelids.
“What happened?”
Simon sniffles. It takes all of his strength to drag himself up into a sitting position but even once he does, he doesn’t feel any more ready to say these words out loud.
He looks at his sister who tries to offer an encouraging smile. God, she’s trying, he has to give her that. And fuck, he missed her. He’s been missing those times when they used to tell each other everything, when there weren’t any secrets between them, when she was there for him instead of throwing him under the bus and ruining his life. But he’s also so tired of holding it all against her. He needs someone now and she’s right here, and he just wants his sister back.
Simon takes a deep breath.
“I broke up with Wille.” His gaze drops to where he’s twisting his fingers anxiously in his lap.
“What?” Sara asks, sounding shocked. “Why?”
Simon shrugs.
“It just wasn’t working,” he sniffs. His voice is purely emotionless, almost as if it was someone else speaking and reciting those ready-to-use formulas.
“I’m sorry,” Sara says genuinely. There’s something deeply sad and sympathetic in her tone. She reaches to rest a comforting palm on his knee.
“It’s for the better,” Simon just shrugs again.
“Better for who?” His sister’s question makes him look at her in confusion. It’s her turn to shrug. “For you? I don’t think so because you are a mess, Simon.”
Always count on her to be direct with him.
It doesn’t matter, he wants to say but bites his tongue, realising that she might not like that.
“So, for who?” Sara continues. “For Wille? For the royal family?”
“For everyone,” Simon urges. “I-,” he exhales, trying to calm himself down. “I couldn’t do this anymore. You just don’t get it,” he shakes his head.
“Then explain to me.”
“You weren’t here, Sara,” his tone comes out sharper than he intended but he can’t help it. He tries to continue more calmly. “You weren’t here when I was getting fucking hate mail, when someone threw a rock through our window, when every day I was getting called out online for fucking up the monarchy or being called names that I don’t even want to repeat. Or when I had to delete my social media because it was all too much and I couldn’t even express myself the way I wanted to because the royal family forbid me to, because they took away my only way of defending myself and my relationship. I…” He feels his voice breaking again. “I just can’t do this anymore,” he hides his face in his palms as he begins to sob again.
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” he can feel Sara’s arm coming around him as she hugs him to her side. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you.”
Selfishly, Simon wants to agree with her.
“But I thought you didn’t want to see me,” his sister carries on. “That you hated me. And I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I think I did for a while,” Simon admits with a sniffle.
“But you don’t anymore?”
He shakes his head and pulls back a bit to look at her.
“No. You’re my family, Sara. We all do fucked up things. I don’t want to spend my whole life hating you.”
“I don’t want you to spend your life hating me either.”
The comment makes him crack a smile but it’s a fleeting one. Sara still manages to mirror it.
“And I’m so sorry you’ve been through all that. It sounds awful,” she retorts. “Couldn’t Wille help? With the media attention.”
“He tried,” Simon sighs. “But he… he has a lot of shit going on on his own. I didn’t want to add up to that.”
“Hmm,” Sara just hums thoughtfully.
“And he like, went off during the birthday celebrations,” Simon recalls then. “Started yelling at his parents and like, yeah I actually think they need to hear all that but he threw like a proper tantrum and it was… scary.”
“Scary how?” Sara inquires with a frown.
“Just seeing him like this. It was like was a totally different person. Then he apologised and said he didn’t mean for me to see that but even if I hadn’t, he’d still be acting that way. Which is scary anyway.”
“It must have sucked to witness it though.”
Simon nods.
“I… I can’t even imagine how it all feels for him. With Erik dying and then… everything. And the worst part is, I felt like I couldn’t even do anything to help. Every time I tried to be there for him, I was only making things worse. I’ve never felt so… helpless,” he confesses.
“But Simon, it is not your job to fix him. He has to deal with some of his issues on his own,” Sara suggests tentatively.
“I don’t want to fix him,” Simon insists. “But I just… wanted to be there for him, to help.”
“And he didn’t let you?”
“I don’t know,” Simon sighs. “Maybe once he let me in, I actually saw someone different from who I thought he was.”
Sara offers a sympathetic smile, running her palm up and down his arm reassuringly from where they’re still pressed into the half-hug. Simon kind of missed her hugs. He used to hug her every day.
“Maybe it is for the better then?” Sara prompts after a moment.
Yeah, maybe. He desperately wants to believe it.
Simon bites his lip.
“If it is… then why does something that’s supposed to be the right choice hurt so bad?” He can’t help but question, feeling another wave of tears incoming.
“Because you still love him?” His sister prompts.
And she’s right. He does. He really does.
It seems she doesn’t need him to say it out loud.
“Do you think you’ll ever stop? That you’ll get over him?” She questions.
And no, he won’t. No matter what, no matter if he moves on eventually, it feels like Wille will forever be a part of him. Like their love, no matter how short-lived, was so passionate, so intense and so right that it was it . He doesn’t think he’ll ever experience something like that again.
He shakes his head. Sara hugs him tighter as he cries.
But it felt good to tell her all that, to let it out. He doesn’t feel better, he doesn’t think he will for a long while. Healing from this will take time, if it’s even possible to move on.
But right now, he feels like he has his sister back more than ever. It’s like those nights when they were little and hid from their father in either of their rooms and made up stories to keep their mind occupied not to think about whatever bullshit Micke was up to. Even back then, deep down Simon felt some pain, different than the one today, connected with a different person. But there was this sting, poking into his heart each time he found his dad drunk. Sara has always had the power to mitigate the sting. She kind of still does it seems.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” She asks after a moment, once he manages to calm down a little. “We can, you know, eat ice cream or do all the other breakup bullshit they do in the movies.”
Simon let out a wet laugh at that.
“No, thank you,” he sniffles. “I think I just want to stay like this for a bit.”
“Of course,” Sara agrees and rests her cheek on top of his head. “I’m here for you, okay?”
Simon nods a little, burrowing himself further into her embrace.
Everything still hurts but at least he’s not alone.