Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Simon? When you close up tonight, can you make sure you give the extra keys to Henry? He's at the chocolate bar until midnight."

Simon gave Erik a thumbs up as he was handing the card reader to the customer he just helped. He gave them a large smile, some thank yous and handed the bag full of pretty decorations he'd wrapped neatly just before. "Do you remember I actually have to leave early today?" 

Erik looked up from his phone, a slight frown on his face before it morphed into a small smile. "Oh, yes! Your audition? No problem, I asked for an extra from the pretzel stand, give them the keys for Henry instead if you don't have the time to go by the chocolate!" 

Nodding, Simon thanked Erik again for letting him leave early for that audition. It was the opportunity of a lifetime: they'd started casting for the swedish version of the Moulin Rouge some weeks ago, and today was the second call for Christian's part. Simon had been good enough to make it into the second round, and was pratically buzzing with excitement at the prospect of finally landing a role, and a big one at that. 

Simon's singing career was not doing great. He'd gotten small gigs, a few views on his covers and original songs, but no one seemed to be interested in him. He had been forced to put everything on hold for almost a year too, as he had to recover from his heavy surgery. But he felt great now, and ready to try his luck, again, and again. 

In the meantime, he was stuck selling various overpriced glittery ornaments to people visiting the Christmas market in Gamla Stan. Could've been worse, his last job had been at a petrol station, and his boss was an asshole, always trying to make him work overtime without paying him properly. 

Despite setting an alarm, Simon kept glancing at his watch, and old thing that still worked despite him never changing the battery. Around fifteen minute before he had to go, an old lady came up to his stand, and started asking for advice, questions about the ornaments, the pricing and whatnot. Simon humoured her for a while, still stealing glances at his watch. 

His alarm rang, but the woman wasn't finished yet, and bought so many ornaments Simon almost fainted while trying to estimate how much time it'd take him to wrap them all up. He was tempted to throw them all into the bag, but knew better than that. The extra who was supposed to take it up from here wasn't showing up as well, and Simon only felt the stress build up within him. 

About twenty minutes after he was supposed to leave, he finally handed the bags to the lady, and the girl replacing him at the stand came in, not even apologizing about being late. Fuming, Simon slammed the keys on the counter and left without a word. He took his stuff from the back of the stand and tried to run through the crowd of shoppers. 

Of course, the subway was also awfully slow, and Simon almost fell on his butt when he slipped on an ice sheet outside of the theater. It's only once inside, panting and his chest hurting with the effort, that he realized he still had the Christmas hat and the big reindeer sweater on. 

"Last call for candidates!" A voice called from the stage, and Simon unceremoniously dropped all his stuff in a corner before hopping on stage.

"Hi! Sorry I'm late! I'm here for the callback!" He greeted, his voice still a bit rough with how out of breath he was. 

"No shit, we are too. Name?" A guy with tiny round glasses said, barely looking up at Simon as he wrote something on his notebook. 

"Ehm. Sorry. Simon Eriksson." Simon flexed his fingers, fighting the urge to fidget with them.

"You're late, Eriksson, we were about to head out. You get one shot." 

Simon nodded quickly, apologizing again. "Where can I put my music?"

Glasses guy looked him up with a tired look. "Nowhere, the sound tech is already gone. Accapella. Come on, we don't have all night."

Gritting his teeth, Simon nodded again. He took a deep breath, counted the beats in his head and started on his song. He'd worked on Christian's version of "Every Breath You Take" for weeks now, and was pretty confident in how it turned out. Sure, not having music was making it harder, but Simon felt he was professional enough to make it look effortless. Or so he thought. 

"I'm gonna stop you right there." Glasses guy spoke up, interrupting him in the middle of the second verse. Simon swallowed hard. "You're not what we're looking for."

Simon's eyes darted to the two other people sitting next to that guy. They were both busy with either putting on their scarf or simply staring at their phone. Talk about professionals. "I'm not?" He tried, at this point, he couldn't lose anything by pleading his cause a little.

"Yeah, we're looking for a… more traditional take on Christian." He seemed to hesitate, and then added: "Someone more manly looking, you know?"

"I can grow facial hair if needed!" Simon all but whined. "And go to the gym!" 

"And you'll still be smaller than our Satine. Sorry, maybe another time? Keep it up, kid. Maybe we'll call you to be Santiago's understudy." 

The tone was final, and they left the theater, leaving Simon alone on stage, as the staff was finishing packing up things left and right. He let out a defeated sigh, his head low, and finally left, grabbing his stuff on his way out. 

Outside, snow had started to fall, and the temperatures seemed to have dropped significantly. Simon pulled his scarf over his mouth and tried his best to hide his ears under his beanie. His yellow backpack pouncing against his back with every crunchy step he made in the snow was the only sound accompanying him as he started to walk back to Rosh's place. 

Arms crossed, eyes on his feet, Simon mulled over the casting agent's words. Someone manlier, they said. As a second thought, though, and that last comment about being Santiago's replacement didn't sit right with him. 

"Understudy my ass," Simon muttered out loud. "He's so full of sh- Ow!"

He hadn't seen the guy with the bike until his wheel screeched centimeters away from his feet, and the guy on it all but fell onto Simon, who slipped back and hit the building wall next to him. 

"What the fuck man!" He yelled, his jacket now wet with even more snow and his arm hurting slightly. 

The guy had a hard time stabilizing himself, one of his legs still caught up in the bike that wasn't completely on the floor. He reached out for something to help him get his balance back, and Simon dodged his hand, letting him use the wall behind instead. "Watch we're you're going, for fuck's sake!"

"Sorry!" Bike dude finally managed to disentangle from his bike and stood up straight, brown eyes now down on Simon and an apologetic smile on his face. "I got distracted by the lights!" 

The lights? Simon lifted his head up. There were lights indeed, thrown around on the numerous tree branches on either side of the street. Nothing really out of the ordinary for a Christmas season in Stockholm though. He frowned and looked back at the guy, who was still smiling like an idiot. 

"Are you a tourist or something?"

The guy giggled a little and shook his head. "Not really, I've lived here all my life. I just like the lights." 

"Are you a moth?" 

"A moth?"

Simon shrugged. "They're drawn to lights, aren't they?"

The other opened his mouth and then bit his lower lip, supressing a chuckle and showing his front, crooked teeth. On anyone else, that'd look stupid, but on this man? It gave him a kind of boyish charm that made Simon look away. "Anyway, mothman, be more careful on a fucking bike, you almost knocked me down."

"Sorry about that. You aren't hurt at least?" He took a step toward him, and Simon already thought he was quite close. 

"Nah, I'm fine. Just wet I guess." He flailed his arm to show his damp sleeve. "But that's just the cherry on top of a shitty day so…"

Bike dude put his hands in his pocket and looked him up and down. "Something happened?"

"Nothing happened, and that's the problem. I spent all day selling stupid ornaments, listening to coworkers' stupid stories, arrived late to this stupid audition where this stupid casting agent lowkey said I wasn't white enough to play his main character and now a stupidly pretty-" Simon gritted his teeth before he called this stranger pretty. "Why am I telling you all this anyway?" He whined, trying to hide his embarrassment. 

Said stranger giggled again, and Simon wondered how someone could sound so nice with just little laughs. "Oh yeah it sounds like a bad day. But at least some pretty guy ran into you in the end." He gave him a wink, clearly he'd caught Simon's slip up. 

"Oh shut up." He elbowed him and started walking back.

"Wait!" Bike guy gathered his bike and all but scrambled to walk beside him. "What's your name?" 

"Simon. You?" 

"Wille! So you're an actor, Simon?" 

Simon shrugged, turning a corner and eyeing Wille when he followed him there. "Singer, but I try my luck. Guess I don't have any."

"And you sell decorations." Wille continued, as if he was trying to paint his portrait in his head. 

"Well, yes. Until the Christmas market closes, then I'll have to find another job to afford to live." He muttered, letting his shoes scrap against the snow. 

"You don't want to do something specific?" 

"Nope, I want to sing. But people don't want to listen to me, so I guess I'll end up in McDonald's again or something."

"I want to listen!"

Simon sighed and stopped in his tracks to turn around and look at Wille properly. "Wille, with all due respect, we don't know each other, why are you following me, being all nice? If it's because I called you pretty then-"

"You look sad."

Stunned into silence, Simon stared at him, properly. Wille almost towered over him, his brown eyes scanning his face with the earnest concern in them. His cheeks, dusted with freckles that surely popped in the summer, were pink with the cold, and his lips were pursed in a pensive pout.

"And you follow every sad person you encounter, Wille?" Simon tried, his voice a little softer than before. 

Wille shook his head. "Not really. Maybe I just feel bad because you said me bumping you was the cherry on top of a bad day. I don't want to be a bad thing. So I thought…"

He'd stopped himself, and Simon encouraged him to continue: "You thought?"

Again with the lip biting, Simon wanted to slap himself for staring at Wille's lips when he did that. "I thought I'd try to change it into a nice encounter. Or something. It sounds silly, right?"

Simon stared again, for so long that Wille started to fidget with the handles on his bike. When he opened his mouth again, Simon spoke first. "That's not silly. That's stupid." 

Wille's face fell. 

"But in an endearing kind of way." Simon added, putting his hand on Wille's forearm. "You sound like a kind person, Wille. But I'm not receptive to kindness these days."

"How so?" He looked up at Simon, and something in his demeanor reminded him of a lost puppy. 

He simply shrugged. "Too much in my head." He made a point to give kind Wille a smile, though. "You should try that on other people, Wille. Thank you for trying with me." 

With that, he turned around and started walking again. This time, Wille didn't follow him. 

"Simon, you have to get up, you're going to be late again." 

Groaning against the pillow, Simon only took the blanket to cover his face with. "Five minutes." He mumbled, his voice muffled. 

He heard Madison sigh behind him, then step away towards the kitchen. Then some hushed voices and others steps. He counted to three, and surely, right on three, he felt the blanket being yanked away from him. 

"Get the fuck out of my couch, now." Rosh's voice snapped like a whip, and she also took the cushion from his hands before he could secure his grip on it. 

"I give you money for it!" Simon whined, trying to catch the blanket back. "I'm technically renting it!"

"You ain't renting anything if you don't get your ass to work, idiot. Your coworkers won't cover for you every day, come on."

Rosh was right, of course, but all Simon wanted was to lay in bed - well, in couch - all day and rot away. The prospect of getting up and stand behind a counter all day, being all forced smiles and polite thank yous was dreading to him after yesterday's fiasco. That, plus he'd stayed up late talking shit about those casting agents and snacking on chips with Madison. 

"Can't I call in sick for once?" He mumbled again, curling on himself. 

Rosh let out a loud groan and seemed about to talk him off again, when Madison chimed in and sat down on the edge of the couch. "Simon…" She started, her voice soft. "I know you're disappointed, but you can't exactly hide every time something goes wrong. That's not healthy and that's not how you'll get back on your feet."

Simon hated that she was right too. He should get back into work, try to find another opportunity, a steadier source of income maybe. But all of it seemed too hard. "I don't want to."

He felt a hand stroking his arm, all soft touches and a firm grip to ease him up. Then he was sitting, facing with his friend and her concerned but sincere smile. "I know it's hard Simme. But there's something out there for you. You just don't see it yet, and you won't see it if you stay curled up in here."

Simon pouted, pointedly avoiding Rosh's gaze from behind Madison. He knew he was being a baby about all this, and invading their space more than necessary. He'd been staying on their couch for three months now, and with each passing day, he could feel Rosh's patience wear thinner and thinner. 

"Either you get up and show up to the market on time, or I'm calling Linda back. She's been trying to reach you for a week now." Rosh's voice came up, and Simon grimaced. 

"Oh god, no need to fucking bring my mom into this, I'm getting up!"

He knew Linda had been calling him, and each time he'd let the call go to voicemail. But he had no idea she called Rosh too. In retrospective, it was expected of her. And Simon didn't want to face his family quite yet, so the choice was easy. He got up, took some clothes from his suitcase that was laying around in the corner, and got to the bathroom to get ready. 

He didn't have time for a proper shower, so he just changed and got the minimum done. His eyes lingered on the faded line on his chest, before he covered it with a grey shirt. His curls got their usual "hidden under a beanie" treatment from when he was too lazy to tae them, and he got out with only one sock as he hadn't taken the whole pair while grabbing his clothes. 

He finished getting ready under Rosh's stern gaze, and for good measure, he stuck his tongue out to her as he walked out of the apartment, bidding them both a good day. 

His day wasn't going to be good, Simon could tell by the simple fact that his earphones didn't want to work, and he had to go to the market without good music to grace his ears before he had to endure a day long of shitty Christmas music being blasted at full volume. 

And his instincts didn't betray him, because as soon as he arrived, Erik had graced him with the awesome news that Simon's uniform was finally repaired. Simon had ripped it on an ill-placed nail and had to work with a simple Christmas sweater for the last week, but now he had to get back in the full Santa's little helper outfit. He started looking around for ways to ruin it again as soon as he buttoned up the red and white shirt. 

The outfit wasn't really made for Stockholm's December weather either. Shivering each time he had to get out of his stand, Simon ended up stealing one of the unused caroler's heavy capes in the storage shed. What he hated the most, though, was the annoying tinkle of the little bells sewn on his boots that made his teeth grit with every step he made. 

All that didn't help with his sour mood, and he felt as his fake smiles weren't as effective as usual, as his sales weren't doing so good. After one in the afternoon, he finally caved in and took his lunch break. One of the perks of working at the market was free access to the market's food and drinks during their breaks. Simon had liked it at first, but living off of Christmas food had proven to be tiring after only a few days. 

So that was with his head hung low and unwilling to talk to anyone that he sat down in a corner of the large food court, trying to enjoy his cheese sandwich in peace while scrolling on his phone. 

"Simon?" 

His peace had lasted three minutes and thirteen seconds total. He let out a sigh and looked up at the stranger who dared to bother him. 

Wilhelm was standing on the other side of the table, leaning against it really, and his face broke into a smile when his eyes caught with Simon's. "I knew it was you! Hi! You remember me, right? It'll be awkward if you didn't…" 

Simon did remember him. The cute boy who ran into him with his bike the day before. Simon hadn't thought about him all that much, and truly wasn't expecting to see him again. His frown softened and he swallowed around his mouthful of cheese. "I remember you, Wille. What are you doing here?" 

"Enjoying the market, of course!" He giggled, and sat down in front of Simon after the other nodded for him to do so. "What about you?"

"Obviously not enjoying it." He replied, gesturing to his attire. "I work here, and it's as dull as you'd think." 

Wilhelm raised a curious eyebrow. "Dull? I'd love to work in a Christmas market! It must be so nice! Everyone all ready to celebrate and stuff, why don't you like it?"

Simon shrugged and took a sip of his apple juice. "Not much into the whole Christmas thing. I'm too old for this maybe."

"You're never too old for Christmas! It's like the best season of the year." Wilhelm stopped himself, a passing look of genuine concern. "Oh, maybe you don't celebrate? I don't want to-"

"You're fine, Wilhelm." Simon waived his worries away. "I used to celebrate, I just don't find much joy in it anymore. I guess it lost its magic when my dad took down the tree that one time because he was drunk." 

And that was maybe oversharing. Simon coughed loudly and took another bite of his sandwich to hide his embarrassment. 

Wilhelm winced a little, and sighed. "I'm sorry he ruined it for you. That's unfair someone can make something turn so sour like that." 

Simon stared at him, slowly chewing on his cheese. Wilhelm looked so earnest, with his tousled hair, pink cheeks and bright eyes. Simon put his sandwich down as he felt a tinge of sadness rip through him: Wilhelm looked exactly like he did, before. 

"Well. I take it you have a nice family to celebrate with, right?" Simon tried, suddenly a bit curious about this boy.

Wilhelm's smile faded for a second before he caught himself. "Kind of. My parents are a bit traditional and stiff, but we always manage to make the most out of it." He giggled. "So I take it you don't have plans this year?" 

Simon shook his head, making a little ball of the wrapping paper that contained his sandwich. "Keeping my best friend's couch warm until she and her partner come back from New York and kick me out for being a pain in their asses, I guess."

"Maybe you should make some, then! Christmas alone sucks, you know." 

"Christmas sucks, Wilhelm. It's for happy people, and I'm not happy." Simon gave a sad smile and stood up. "I should get going, those stupid ornaments are not going to sell themselves."

With that, he left Wilhelm behind, not hearing what he said under his breath as he left the tent. 

"Is your phone broken?" 

Simon looked up from his register, and caught Sara's eye from the other side of the counter. His sister was standing there, bundled up in a thick winter jacket, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

Shit . 

"How did you find where I work, Sara?" He said, in lieu of a greeting. 

She rolled her eyes and leaned on the counter, getting closer to him. "I have my ways." That was code for "Ayub told me after I nagged him enough", but Simon didn't linger on it.

"What do you want?" He asked instead, faking being busy with recounting the register's contents, again. 

"Come to dinner tonight. Mom's been asking you for days to come. She's not shutting up about it." 

"Not my problem. I'm busy tonight." 

Sara groaned loudly and slapped his hand off of the register to make him look up at her. "Simme! You're not skipping another family dinner to brood."

"What if I want to?" He retorted defensively, taking his hands back. 

Sara's shoulders sagged a bit, and she ran a hand through her slightly damp hair. "I have something to tell mama. And to you too. So I want you both there. Felice will come too. Please? For me?" 

Oh how Simon hated when Sara did that. Because she knew he couldn't refuse her anything, not after the awful years they had both because of Micke, and him. She knew Simon was selfless and he'd drop everything for his loved ones, even if it was taking a toll on him. She even yelled at him for it, more than once. But when it benefited her… 

"Can't you just text everyone and be done with it?" He tried, knowing she won't have any of it.

And as expected, she lowered her gaze and her lips pursed in that hurt grimace she always had on when things didn't go her way. "It's important. Please Simme, we miss you." 

Of course, Simon caved in. He promised that yes, he'd be there tonight. He even texted Rosh to tell her as much in front of Sara. When she was sure he wouldn't dip last minute, she left to go back to Felice who was apparently busy shopping a few streets away. 

So tonight Simon would've to see both his mother and sister, and pretend to be all fine. Great. As if his day wasn't shitty already. 

He took his sweet time finishing up with work, almost tempted to ask Erik for overtime to justify coming in late to the dinner. But in the end, he didn't, and stood in front of his mother's flat in the suburbs with five minutes to spare. He even had the time to drop buy a grocery store and buy her favorite marzipan treats. What a joke. 

When he rang the bell, Linda took all but seconds to open the door and wrap him in a soul-crushing hug. "Mi amor! Oh I missed you!" She began before taking his face in her hands. "How are you doing? Oh you're so pale, you don't go out enough! And you're not eating well, look at how skinny you are!" 

"Linda, let him breathe or he'll turn purple." Felice giggled behind them, and that made Linda release him. He shot her a thankful smile and greeted her as well. He endured the praise shower when he handed his mother the box of treats, and could finally take his sneakers and jacket off when Sara called up asking if it was normal the roast had started fuming. 

"How are you, Simon?" Felice asked quietly when they finally got to sit in the living room, waiting for Sara and Linda to get the food ready. Simon wanted to help, but he knew that'd only stir up some scolding from his mother as he "needed to stay put". 

"All fine, I just tried out for a musical, I'm hoping for some news soon." He lied, knowing his smile felt too fake for Felice's watchful eye. But she didn't push, and took the bait when he asked her about her work. She apparently got a nice promotion, but she'd tell him more later, as Linda called them up to eat. 

"I'm so glad you finally came, Simon! I was starting to worry. Do you need another phone, maybe? You don't seem to get my messages…" Linda started, only to be cut off by Sara. 

"He doesn't need a new phone, but manners, mama." She gave him a pointed look, and Simon groaned. 

"I just got busy, I got a new job at the market and I got tryouts too. I hope to land a role soon." He smiled up at Linda who brushed one of his curls away from his face. 

"Be careful not to do too much, mi amor. The doctor said…"

"I'm fine, mama, really." Simon moved his head away from her reach, already not liking where the conversation was going. 

"Still, I think you're over-" 

"Mama! He said he's fine! Stop coddling him." Sara sighed and pointed a fork at Simon. "But she's right too, Rosh told me you only got junk food and you don't exercise anymore."

"Why the hell would you talk mama down to be worse in the next minute?" 

"Because she is coddling you and you are being careless, duh." 

"Can't you guys just leave me be, for once?" 

"Can't you just take our advice and take care of yourself so we can fucking skip this never-ending conversation just once?"

Linda and Felice could only stare at each other as Simon and Sara went on shouting things at one another. Felice tried to calm Sara down by putting her hand on Sara's arm, and Linda offered Simon another glass of water. To no end, because Sara was too worked up. 

"It's always the same shit with you! You do whatever you want, and you don't care if it scares us! It's easy for you, you're not the one that'd have to learn to live without you!"  

Silence followed that last sentence, and all Simon could hear was the sound of his own heart beating in his ears and Sara's heavy breathing. 

"I shouldn't have to care about your little feelings when it's my life at stake, Sara." He simply stated, and it was too much for her, as she got up abruptly. 

"I don't know why you feel the need to ruin everything up. You're starting to be like him." She spat and stormed out. That last comment was too much on Simon, and he stood up to throw his glass at the door she just slammed behind her, making both Felice and Linda yelp next to him. "Don't bring him into this you-"

"Simon!" Linda yelled, taking his wrist after the glass shattered on impact. "Are you crazy? You could've hurt her!" 

"Well maybe she would've gotten the fucking attention she wants so much then!" 

"That's enough!" Linda forced him to sit down. "You're going to clean that up. Felice, darling, go find Sara. I'm sorry it turned out like this." 

Felice nodded, and apologized to Linda for Sara's behavior before leaving, only sparing Simon a last glance as she disappeared through the door while tiptoeing around the glass shards. 

Linda really made Simon clean up his mess, and while she was doing the dishes and putting the leftovers away in tupperware boxes, he was on his knees picking up the shards, sweeping the smaller ones and moping the floor off of the water that spilled everywhere. 

"What you told her was really uncalled for, do you realize that, Simon?" Linda tried as she took the mop from his hands when he was done. 

Simon shrugged. "She didn't have to guilt-trip me either." 

Linda sighed and pulled him to sit down on the couch with her. He let himself be pulled into a hug, his head resting on his mother's chest as she carded her fingers through his messy hair. "She's worried, and she doesn't know how to express it properly, that's all. She didn't intend to guilt-trip you."

"Can't she be worried in silence then?" Simon muttered, and got a light flick of Linda's fingers on his forehead for it. 

"It's been hard for her too. You don't realize it because you were dealing with it first hand, but she had to see you whither away, and she couldn't do anything to help. You wouldn't let her. You wouldn't let anyone, quite honestly." 

"I didn't need it, mama. I just wanted things to be normal again. I don't like to see you guys look at me as if I was a fragile little thing." 

"Sorry, baby, but you are a fragile thing. And it's not to undermine you. You've been so strong, all these years. You stood up for me, for your sister, you fought back your father, you got your sister the help she deserved, you gave me the strength to change things. And you suddenly needing our help back doesn't make you weak." 

"You just said I was fragile ain't that-"

"That doesn't mean you're weak, Simon. You're still my strong, brave little boy that I'm so proud of." She pushed his hair back and made him look up at her. "But your body is fragile, and needs to be taken care of. Proper care. That means feeding it properly, moving it more and accepting helping hands when you're not able to do those things." 

Simon's lips pursed into a pout. Of course, his mother was right. "I don't know how to do this, mama." 

"Do what, mi amor?" 

"Live." 

He accepted Linda's invitation to stay overnight. Cuddling on a real bed felt really good, and for once, he got a full night of sleep. He even got a proper breakfast, laced with tender memories of the happy days of his childhood, when they would eat breakfast together, with the soft sound of the radio playing in the kitchen, the smell of eggs and toast mixed with coffee and the warmth of his old bunny slippers he'd forgot in his old bedroom. 

Leaving for the Christmas market was even more of a chore than the day before, Sara's words still playing in head. He knew she'd been unfair to him, but he also could've made an effort to ease his family's worries. He didn't even get to hear what Sara wanted to tell both his mother and him that evening. 

He powered through the day as usual, trying to not let his mood win over the fake Christmas spirit he had to display to customers. Still, he ate alone, and left as soon as his shift ended without a kind word for his coworkers. 

Simon could only get three steps out of the market before someone called out his name. 

Looking up, he was met with Wilhelm's bright smile and shiny eyes. "Are you done with ornaments today?" 

Simon's shoulders sagged, and he nodded quietly. He wasn't sure he was in the mood to chat with that guy. "I am. Why? Did you want one?"

"Maybe another time. Are you free right now?" He tried, his smile widening and staring down at him with an hopeful eye. 

Simon was torn. On one hand, it was very tempting to hole up inside and try to sleep his feelings away. But on the other hand, Rosh and Madison surely were home and would question him about his family dinner. And he didn't want to answer their questions. Wilhelm didn't know about yesterday's shitshow, so Simon could pretend everything was fine. 

"Depends, what for?" He tried, still wanting to keep his options open. 

Wilhelm rocked back and forth on his heels. "Well, you told me you weren't happy yesterday. So I thought… Maybe I could help changing that?"

Simon frowned. Now that was daring. Why did Wilhelm think he could make a difference? Simon's life was a mess, and a cute boy wouldn't be the miracle he needed. He wasn't in a rom com. He almost told Wilhelm as much, but Wilhelm spoke again. 

"I know it sounds stupid, but let me try? At least? Then you can tell me to fuck off. How does that sound?"

Simon pursed his lips. Oh, and what did he have to lose in the end? 

"Fuck it, alright. Impress me, Christmas fiend."

Wilhelm's smile was so wide Simon thought it looked painful. Still, he took the gloved hand Wilhelm held out to him. "The stakes are high." 

Walking side by side, Wilhelm started by showing Simon some of his favorite places in Gamla Stan, an old bookshop here, a nice café there. He laced his walk with anecdotes about the nice moments he lived in there, or the cool stuff he found in an antique shop. He wasn't doing a full-on conference on himself either, he made Simon participate, asking him questions about his favorite foods, books, wanting to know more about the boy who had a hard time opening up to this almost stranger springing his happiness on him. 

Wilhelm expertfully dodged all of Simon's attempts at bringing the mood down with his snarky comments. He had an answer to each of them. 

"I don't like reading that much, after I'm done I remember my life isn't as cool or interesting as-"

"We can't all be dragon riders, Simon, but it doesn't hurt to pretend for a few pages!" 

"The doctor said I'm not supposed to eat that much sugar, so I didn't get to eat my favorite cake in a while."

"Liar, I'm sure you were the kind of kid to sneak candies in when they were forbidden."

"Oh great overpriced stuff I couldn't ever afford!"

"What, you want me to steal a whole-ass golden mirror for you?"

Each time, Simon felt lighter. Wilhelm wasn't letting him ruin their moment, and he wasn't holding him accountable for trying either. No, he just continued on, until he reached the large Christmas tree on the Skeppsbron waterfront. "Look Simon! Isn't it beautiful?"

Simon looked up at the tree, a slight scowl on his face. "That's a waste of money. So many lights, and for what, pretty pictures on Instagram?" 

Wilhelm squeezed his hand and made him turn around towards him. "Simon, I'm gonna ask you to see through my eyes for a minute, okay?" 

"And ignore the ecological disaster that is this tree?" He retorted, and Wilhelm positioned himself behind Simon, putting his hands on his shoulders. 

"Ignore every negative thing that comes your way. What would little Simon think of this? Would he think of the logistics behind this tree, or would he marvel at the pretty lights and that giant star?"

Simon looked up again. His first instinct was to diss the ridiculously large tree and its too many lights. But he wanted to humour Wilhelm, so he took a long, deep breath, and tried to remember. Remember what his little self felt when he looked at pretty decorations. What he first thought when he saw the illuminated streets of Stockholm for the first time. And yes, little Simon would've loved that stupid, giant ass tree. 

"I think he would've liked that, yes. It's kinda pretty." 

"The prettiest, yes."

Unconsciously, he had leaned against Wilhelm's chest, and he realized the other's arms were now circling him, keeping him there. And curiously, that didn't bother him. Instead, he turned his head to look at Wilhelm, who was already looking back at him, his eyes soft, reflecting the bright, multicolored lights from the tree. He really was pretty, too. 

He almost told him as much, but his words caught in his throat when he felt Wilhelm's fingers stroke his face, gently tucking a strand of hair back in his beanie. The gesture was tender, but it also made Simon come back on Earth. 

He straightened up and turned around, though unable to hide his smile. "That was incredibly cheesy, Wilhelm." 

Wilhelm grinned, apparently unfazed by the way Simon broke their moment. "But it worked, right?"

"It did. You get a point, congratulations."

"Nice! To celebrate, could you stop calling me Wilhelm? Wille's better." He asked with his lips in a slight pout. 

Simon couldn't help but giggle. "Alright then, Wille . Is your quest to make me happier over?"

Wille shrugged, offering his hand again. "You tell me, are you happier?"

Simon hesitated, but took his hand anyway. "Well, to be fair it couldn't have been worse. So yes, I am." 

"Then I'm done for the night, but I'll come again." Wille started walking again, strolling along the waterfront. "Small steps, small victories, right?" 

Simon nodded, and let a comfortable silence settle between them as he tried to sort his thoughts out. Wille really came from nowhere, but Simon couldn't help but feel… A connection. Like he was drawn to that boy, despite his dumb happy-go-lucky energy that usually gritted on his nerves. He also realized that besides his name and several details about his tastes, he didn't know much about him. 

"Say, Wille. Are you happy?"

Wille took his time to answer the question. He chewed a little on his lower lip, trying to come up with an actual answer, before settling for a shrug. "I guess I am. I went through some bad stuff, but I reached a point were I am actually glad to wake up and start a new day. So I'd say I'm fairly happy. Why?"

"Well, you cared about my happiness, it's only fair I cared about yours." Simon mumbled, hiding his face a little under his scarf. 

A light chuckle escaped Wille's throat, along with a puff of white air. "If you put it that way!" 

"How do you do it though?" 

"Do what?" 

"Be happy?" 

Wille slowed down his walking, humming as he lifted his face up to the night sky. "I just decided I would be. I don't like my job, but it pays nicely, so I use my money to help around, give nice things to my loved ones, and finance some of my hobbies. I love collecting and building wooden models, so I buy them and make them. I love going out with a bottle of hot tea and a friend to chat with, so I do that. I look for happiness, Simon, otherwise it's easy to forget it's just there."

Simon sighed. Of course, Wille would have a stable life. Steady job, nice family, circle of friends. Those were ingredients to a nice life. "Yeah, well I don't have all that. I don't have money, my family is a mess, my friends are starting to hate me and my hobby is stupid." He mumbled. 

"Then try something else." Wille stopped in his tracks and pointed to a building with a sign from the Salvation Army. "When I was at my lowest, I tried that. Helping others, so I-"

"So you could see people more miserable than you and it made you feel better about yourself?" Simon barked, making Wille startle. 

"That's not-"

"That's exactly why people volunteer in these places, Wilhelm." Simon sighed, letting go of his hand. "I shouldn't have asked, we're a bit different, the two of us." 

Wilhelm frowned, confusion painted on his face. "I don't get it Simon, what did I say…"

Simon shook his head. "Nothing. I just realized that… Maybe I shouldn't follow the advice of someone who already has everything."

Wille's silence was enough for him. He gave a little smile, and took a step back. "Thank you for trying though, I appreciate it. I gotta go now, before I… Yeah. Have a good night, Wille."

"Simon, seriously, you should apologize to Sara." Madison said around her mouthful of garlic mushrooms. 

Simon sighed loudly, avoiding her eyes. He just finished telling Madison and Rosh about how his family dinner went down, and of course they were taking Sara's side. Or well, Madison was. Rosh reserved her judgement, saying she didn't want to take anyone's side because she felt both of them were right. Sara was right to worry, and Simon should've made an effort to reassure her. But Simon was right about her blowing it out of proportions. 

"What if I am not sorry? Rosh said I was right!" He tried to defend himself, only to be shut down by Rosh coughing. 

"I said you're right to want them to leave you alone a little. But you didn't have to talk to her like that, let alone throw a glass at her. That was very Micke of you." 

Ouch, that one hurt. Simon dropped his fork, defeated. "That was low."

"But true. Apologize for that if you feel like you were within your right to ask for her to let you breathe." Rosh shrugged, and helped herself with another serving of mushrooms. 

Simon didn't even try to look at Madison for some support, as she was already in the "apologize to Sara" camp. Feeling that none of them would let go until he actually did it, he took out his phone and typed, saying out loud what he was planning to send her. 

"Hi Sara, I wanted to apologize for my behavior during dinner last time. I didn't want things to escalate like that, and I went too far. Hope you're okay." 

The silence that followed his reading made him think something was wrong with his message. "Too formal?" 

"Knowing Sara, maybe throw in a heart emoji or something, or she will think you're being forced to do it by your mom." 

"I kinda am tho-" He interrupted himself upon seeing Rosh's unimpressed glare. He added the emoji and sent the message. 

He didn't expect an answer. Not for days, actually. Because if he was stubborn, Sara was ten times worse. So he almost jumped when he felt his phone vibrate almost an hour later, as he was getting comfortable on the couch. He took it out and opened Sara's conversation. 

"Hi Simon, Felice here. Sara's still upset, and I think she'll need time. I'd still like to talk to you though, if you're free tomorrow? Coffee? My treat?"

And well, who was Simon to refuse a free coffee? He wasn't very close to Felice, as she usually lived in Göteborg and only visited Stockholm once in a while. Simon wasn't on her priority list when she visited, and he hadn't let her enter his life more than necessary anyway. He always did that. 

But he agreed to meet for coffee after his shift at the market. He let Felice choose the café, and he was glad he did, since she went for a nice little cosy one, not far from Rosh and Madison's place so he wouldn't have to walk a lot to get back home. She was already there too when he entered the café, drawing in a booth with a large cup of sugary coffee. She waved him in and he sat on the other side of the booth. 

"Hi Simon! How are you?" She asked, a large smile on her face, though Simon noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

They made small talk until the waiter came to take Simon's order. He asked for a large vanilla latte and Felice ordered them a slice of prinsesstårta to share. He dumped two sugar cubes in his latte, deeming it enough of a sugar bomb to satisfy his palate. 

"So, you wanted to talk to me, right?" He prodded, eyeing Felice as her face fell a little. "Is it that serious?"

She played with her spoon, shrugging her shoulders. "Kinda? I mean, it's about what Sara and I wanted to tell both you and your mom." 

"Spill it, Felice." Simon started sipping on his coffee. 

Felice sighed a little, and leaned on her elbows. "Well, you know Sara and I had been dating for almost two years now…" Simon nodded for her to continue. Was she hinting at a break up or something? "And well, with me living in Göteborg and her in Stockholm, it's been kinda hard… So we thought. Well Sara… She got a promotion at work and." Felice took a deep breath. "And she's moving in with me." 

Simon dropped his spoon. 

Sara? Moving in with Felice? Well that wasn't what he expected. Sara always said she didn't want to live too far from their family, and now she… Oh. 

Simon's surprised expression morphed into one of resignation. "So that's why she was angry at me not taking care of myself? Because she felt guilty to leave while I was not healthy enough?"

Felice let out a groan and rubbed her temples. "I knew you'd come to that conclusion. And well, you're not far from the truth. But Simon, she gave up a lot for you and she. She just thought she could start living her life again so-"

"What exactly did she give up for me? I'm the one who switched schools for her. I'm the one who protected her from Micke when he got angry! I'm-"

"And you're the one who made y'all move to Stockholm, away from the stables and her routine. She had the option to move out last year, but she decided to stay to help you with your recovery. And you pushed her away, Simon. She's tired of reaching out when you don't want her anyway."

Ouch, that one hurt, because it was true. Simon really did push her away. Actually, he pushed everyone away, and only agreed to live with Rosh and Madison because they basically forced him to. He knew, deep down, that he had been a weight on his family's shoulders, but hearing Felice say it was… Hard. 

"Woah, thanks for that, Felice. Really, what I needed to be happy about my sister moving five hours away!" He groaned, going to pick his scarf up so he could leave already.

"Wait Simon! I'm sorry." She pleaded, grabbing his wrist. "Sit, please. I didn't mean to be harsh. I." She sighed and let go of him. "I'm just tired of you guys fighting over all this. You both care about each other, it's really stupid to fight over nothing."

Simon sat back down, his hands gripping the fabric of his pants. "It's unfair." He mumbled, avoiding Felice's gaze. 

"What is?" 

"That she's able to do it. I mean, she didn't have to pause anything for me. But she did. And she's moving on. And I just. I just can't."

Felice's hand shot up to grab his, her thumb grazing over the back of his hand. She shot him a small smile. "You need to. Don't you have plans? Things you wanted to do? I know you had to pause your studies, maybe you could-"

"No. I didn't even like it, to be honest. I enrolled to please my mom, but I really didn't want to study at all. I thought it was useless." Simon turned his hand up to return Felice's grip, and he kept his eyes on her pretty manicure. "I actually don't know what to do with my life. Don't tell Sara but…" 

The words died in his throat as he felt it close, a sob threatening to come out instead. Felice stayed silent, only stroking his fingers in a gentle, encouraging gesture. "I was so sure I wouldn't…" He took a deep breath. "I wasn't planning on staying, honestly. I thought I wouldn't… Live. So I didn't think about what I could do with the life I wasn't about to live, y'know?" 

He felt the pressure on his fingers increase as Felice processed his words. "Oh Simon…" 

He was about to babble some kind of reassurance, to back down from his statement, when he heard the tremor in her voice. "I'm sorry you felt like that, Simon." 

He looked up at her, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw the tears shining in her eyes. "Oh my god don't cry, I'm fine I swear-"

"I'm not, actually. And what you said reminded me of why I was in Stockholm in the first place. Your little feud with your sister almost made me forget." She let go of his hand to wipe at her eyes, not offering further explanation.

Simon hesitated, but still asked. "And… Why are you in Stockholm?" He'd just assumed she had family there and was about to spend Christmas with them. But he was surely wrong. 

"Christmas, and a friend." She breathed out, trying to collect herself. "He. He died last year, around this time. Bike accident, it was… Anyway, I wanted to make sure I'd be there if his family needed support, and to visit his grave. Maybe pay him a little tribute. I don't know." 

It was Simon's turn to feel bad for her. "I'm sorry Felice… And I'm sorry our stupid fights got in the way. Do you…" He bit his lower lip, maybe that was forward. But maybe not? "Do you need something? Maybe someone to go with you? You said you wanted to pay him a tribute?"

Felice nodded. "Yes. Yes I want to. See, he was the kindest soul ever. I won't lie, he was dumb, and he often didn't know how to properly help others, but he tried, and always gave so, so much. Mind you, one time, he spent his Christmas Eve offering warm meals to people instead of just enjoying his family gathering." She laughed, a dry laugh. "Oh, I remember his mother was fuming…"

Simon's mind unintentionally drifted to Wilhelm. Those two could've been friends, maybe. And that gave him a little idea. "Well, a kind of friend of mine showed me a place yesterday. Maybe we could be useful there, give a little time, like your friend did?"

Felice gave him a smile, and a nod. "That'd be a lovely idea. Thank you Simon. But first, finish this cake, I'm getting nauseous just looking at the cream." 

She didn't have to tell him twice, and he swallowed the rest of the cake in three spoonfuls. She got up to the counter and paid for their coffees and snack, while Simon got outside to get a good breath of crisp, fresh air. When Felice got out, he offered his arm as a mock-gentlemanesque gesture, and she took it gracefully. 

"Don't ever tell Sara I'm getting softer." He said with a wink as they reached the Salvation Army's premises. 

Felice giggled and let him guide her inside. They were greeted warmly by a young woman at the desk, who redirected her to the kitchen as they needed more staff to finish preparing the meals for tonight. Felice gracefully accepted Simon's offer to use his oversized plaid shirt as a covering for her expensive top. They rolled their sleeves and got to work. 

Turned out that serving food to other people wasn't as easy as it seemed. Simon was handling heavy trays and pots, while Felice handed out full plates and warm smiles. He cut his finger on the bread station, and had to run it under cold water until another volunteer finally found a finger glove he could put on and avoid contaminating the food. 

He made silly faces to children, making them laugh while Felice struggled with cutting even slices of chocolate cake that made the whole room smell delicious. They accepted to share a cup of tea and some biscuits with a group of nice ladies at the end of the service, before they had to help with the dishes. Felice broke a nail but made a joke out of it, and Simon was sure his feet would hurt like a bitch in the morning. But in the end, he felt good. Good, because he felt useful. Because everything he did, he could see the result of. Because every interaction, every smile, every laugh made his heart warmth in a way it rarely did before. 

He remembered the times he actually volunteered, back in Bjärstad. When he used to help out with Rosh's football club, when they needed chaperones for the kids or people to sit behind the fair's stands. When he helped out fot the local associations, handing out flyers and raffle tickets, selling hot chocolate cups and helping with flower crowns on Midsommar. He remembered a time he felt like he had a purpose, a place in the world. 

"Thank you for tonight, Simon." Felice finally told him when they finally got out, all bundled up in their winter jackets. Her eyes were shining again, and this time, Simon was sure her tears were happier ones. "I needed this." 

Simon only nodded. "I think I did too."

"I'll talk to Sara. She won't leave Stockholm without talking to you." Felice squeezed his shoulder. "Good night Simon."

"Thanks. Good night, Felice." 

She smiled, and turned around to leave. Simon stayed a little, his eyes drifting back to the large Salvation Army sign. Maybe now, he understood Wille better. 

"I thought volunteering was for privileged people that needed to feel better about themselves." 

Simon jumped, turning around to be faced with none other than Wille, his hands in his pockets, smiling smugly. How did he get there at the right moment? Simon didn't know. 

"What the fuck, Wille? Are you following me?" 

Wille chuckled and shook his head. "No, I was just getting some air and I thought I recognized you and your ugly beanie." 

"Wow, criticizing my fashion choices now?" Simon crossed his arms, a smile playing on his lips. Banter felt easier than the heartfelt conversations they had. 

"I wouldn't call it 'fashion', but sure." He bit down a giggle, and gestured to the association's building. "So, you tried it out in the end?" 

"I did." Simon, this time, offered his hand. "Walk with me? I don't feel like going home just yet." 

Wille's smile was truly blinding as he took Simon's hand. "Gladly."

They walked in silence for a while, their fingers intertwined between them. Wille hummed a little tune Simon was sure was yet another Christmas song he couldn't replace. 

"Do you like music, Wille? Real music, I mean. Not Christmas shit." 

Wille stopped in his tracks, as they reached a small park. Looking left and right, he pushed the little metal gate and held it open for Simon. "I do. And I won't argue on the quality of Christmas 'shit', because I know you're a lost cause." 

"Am not!" Simon stuck his tongue out, carefully stepping on the goo that used to be snow on the path. Wille wasn't fond of it, apparently, as he just started walking on the snow-covered grass, towards the trees. 

"Sure." He turned around. "You said you were a singer, right Simon?" 

"I am. I mean, I want to be." He scratched the back of his neck, and stared in horror as Wille simply sat down in the snow. 

"Sing for me, Simon." Wille grinned. "Please?" 

And how could he say no to those eyes? 

"What do you want me to sing then?" 

"A Christmas song?" He giggled, and backed down fast as Simon made a gesture to grab a handful of snow. "Okay now, mh. A love song? I like vintage stuff, if that helps!" 

Simon squinted a little. A vintage love song. He held up a finger and opened his Spotify. He scrolled through his playlists to find one with old songs, and cracked up a smile when he found what he wanted. "I need the lyrics with me, but imagine I'm good at it, okay?" 

"I'm all ears." Wille pulled his legs against his chest, still smiling widely. 

Simon took a deep breath and pressed the play button. The piano notes were faint because of the shitty quality of his phone speaker, but it was easy to recognize Roxette's " Listen To Your Heart ". 

I know there's something in the wake of your smile

I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yeah

Wille's smile faded as he recognized the song. But his eyes didn't strain from Simon, offering him his unwavering attention. He actually straightened up a little, seemingly all ears for Simon's honeyed voice, still uncertain and a little overpowered by the sound coming from his phone. 

Listen to your heart when he's calling for you

Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do

Simon gained assurance as the song went on. He'd said he needed the lyrics, but he actually heard this song so many times he didn't really need them in the end. The only thing he missed was some cues to go one with the following verse. 

Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile

The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yeah 

As he reached the second chorus, where his vocals could truly shine, following Roxette's singer's lead, Wille stood up. He didn't bother to wipe the snow off of his pants and coat, his focus solely on Simon. He took his gloves off and took Simon's free hand in his, squeezing it softly, almost making him miss his cue. But the intensity of Wille's gaze on him was almost too much.

I don't know where you're going and I don't know why

Listen to your heart before… you tell him goodbye 

Simon didn't miss the way Wille's lips moved, mouthing the words along with his singing. And the assurance he gained before wavered a little as Wille brought Simon's hands to his chest, pressing them against him. Feeling the warmth under his fingers, Simon forgot about the last lyrics. 

He stood on his toes and pressed his lips against Wille's. 

That kiss had been everything Simon was waiting for. Magical, perfect, and just the right amount of cheesy romance for him to be on a literal cloud for the following days. Wille had been adorably flustered, cheeks all red and words all jumbled into a mess. Simon had no choice but to shut him up with another kiss, and another one, until they were both giggling, stumbling in the snow. 

Wille had walked him home, never letting his hand go. If Simon hadn't stopped him, he would've launched into a whole conference about how Simon's voice was magical. Melting under the praise, Simon had felt his heart swell, but the good kind. With a last goodbye kiss, Simon had been left alone on the building's front porch, staying there for a while to watch Wille's retreating back until he turned a corner. 

He'd came home to a very awake Madison, who was curled up in the armchair, crocheting away like a madwoman. When asked about it, she had explained she tried to crochet while Rosh was asleep, so she could finish her super-secret last minute Christmas gift. But that didn't keep her from questioning Simon about him coming home so late at night, and she listened to his retelling of his day while her fingers flew over the threads. 

Simon's sudden happiness was contagious, and Madison stated several times that she was proud of him for getting himself out there, for helping Felice out and trust a stranger to settle into his life like that. Only thing she scolded him for was for not having any picture of Wille, nor his phone number. That last fact was actually devastating, and Simon berated himself for forgetting about that very important thing. 

Still, he woke up with a dopey smile on his face, and even Rosh seemed happier that morning. She graced him with smiles and a hand ruffling his hair, an affectionate gesture she had withheld for a while. Even the prospect of getting dressed up as a Christmas elf all day couldn't bring Simon's mood down. 

"Sorry Erik, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe this year we let it be empty?" Stella groaned as she was trying to lift a box of glass ornaments onto the counter. Simon took it from her hands and carefully placed them on said counter. 

"Why did they have to cancel out on us…" Erik sighed, scratching something on his clipboard. He had been whining about the kids show for Christmas Eve. Apparently, the performers just cancelled on him, and he was scouring his employees to try and find an idea to replace them. Simon didn't really know why Erik was so invested in this, as the show was supposed to be free anyway. 

"Simon? Would you happen to have any idea?" He asked, hopeful, and Simon pondered it a little. 

And since his mind was focused on a certain boy, he blurted out: "A Christmas choir? Like, with a small setlist of Christmas songs, and some volunteers?" 

Erik lifted his nose up from his clipboard to look at Simon properly. "That'd be a great idea, but I don't know anyone who could direct a choir." 

"I could do it." 

Simon regretted his words the second they were out of his mouth. Because Erik seemed so excited he knew he couldn't back down from it. 

"Would you? That'd be so great! I have a lot of Christmas songs that could fit! We should discuss this, wait." He scratched and wrote some things on his clipboard. "I'd need to move people around a bit but that can be done." 

"Erik I-" Simon tried, maybe it was still time to back down, to say he was too busy to conduct a whole choir for Christmas Eve on such short notice? But Erik lured him with something he desperately needed.

"I'll give you a bonus for your trouble, don't worry. And maybe Walter could design the flyers…" He gave him a large smile, and Simon shut his mouth, because said smile reminded him of someone else. "Oh you're a life-saver, Simon!"

And with that, Simon was entrusted with creating a whole choir show, recruting volunteers and scurying for costumes. Rosh had laughed hard when he told them about this new addition to his job, but Madison had said it was a nice opportunity: he would be paid to sing, wasn't that what he wanted, in the end? 

Turned out she was right about that. Simon actually found some joy in recruiting choir members, trying out some songs in the market. He worked with Walter to make some pretty flyers, and nailed them around the city. Erik had given him some money, and he used it to thrift some accessories that, with some of the unsaleable decors from the market as well as the old carolers' uniforms, he and some of the girls transformed into nice-enough costumes. He surprised himself by not minding as much about the bells on his shoes anymore. 

As the days to Christmas went by, Simon found himself rather busy with that choir show, and the volunteering he was still doing at the Salvation Army. If he went firstly because he liked it, but also because, deep down, he hoped to see Wille there. 

Since he forgot to ask for the man's phone number, he was stuck with hoping he'd show up at some point. He realized quickly that he had no idea on how to contact him. He didn't have his informations, not even his last name. 

So Simon tried to provoke another encounter. More than volunteering, he also walked through all the locations Wille had showed him. He'd waited for hours at the foot of the Skeppsbron tree, strolled through the park and the waterfront, walked the streets of Gamla Stan, eyeing the inside of the shops and cafés Wille liked. 

But no trace of him. It was like Wilhelm simply vanished. 

"Okay, I think we're settled with these songs… We still need a soloist for those, though." Simon mumbled, circling said songs on the notepad. 

"What do you mean 'we need a soloist', can't you do it?" Walter asked from his large piece of paper where he was drawing little things to advertise for the show. Simon handed him the glitter jar he was aiming for. 

"What, me? Be serious right now, I'm not-"

"You're literally a singer and you're clearly the best of this choir. I heard you." He stated, spreading glitter over the little dots of glue he put here and there. 

"But wouldn't that be presomptuous to have the choir director also be the soloist…?" 

Walter shrugged. "Hey, that's not a professional show. I don't think anyone would mind." 

Simon wasn't really sure about this, but Walter had a point: he truly was the best singer in that choir. Those who volunteered clearly didn't have much of a musical background, and most of them were barely able to hold a tune. So he filed Walter's idea away, and suggested it to the other choir members when they got together for rehearsal. 

"That's not even a question, Simon!" A nice lady named Marit giggled behind her lyrics sheet. "You have the voice of an angel!" 

Everyone seemed to agree, and Simon couldn't hide his rosy cheeks and proud smile for long. So they rehearsed for the last songs with him as the lead singer, and it went as smoothly as it could. 

After the rehearsal, Simon was dying to tell Wille about all this. He'd wanted to tell him all about his progress, about his little show and him opening up to people at last. But Wille was still nowhere to be seen. 

So he caved in, and asked Nora, the association's receptionist, about him. 

"Wilhelm you say?" She frowned a bit, and stared at the listing on her large notebook. 

"Yes, or Wille. I know he likes to be called that so maybe… He said he volunteered here a lot." Simon leaned forward, trying to peer at the notebook. 

"You know, I've only been here for three months, but I think I'd remember a Wilhelm…" She said, flipping through the pages. "I have no trace of him in there either. Maybe he meant another location?" 

Simon shook his head. No, Wille had showed him that one. Why would he say he volunteered here if he didn't… "No, no, I'm sure he said he went here… He's the one who showed me the place!" 

Nora could only shrug, her lips pursed. "I'm sorry Simon, I don't know who you're talking about. Don't you have his contact?"

That was the thing, he didn't. He didn't have any way of contacting him, and the more days passed, the more Simon thought he wouldn't ever see him again. That was a bit frightening, and he left the association without helping out that night. 

Once again, he walked through the places he went to with Wille, trying to find him, and losing hope as he was only met with the other man's absence. He was searching for him everywhere, eyeing all tall blonde guys he crossed path with - which, admitedly, was a lot in Stockholm - and he even tried to remember what his bike looked like as he passed in front of bikes being attached in the streets. 

He was starting to walk back home, abandoning any idea of seeing him tonight, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Looking at the screen, he saw it was an unknown number calling him. Simon didn't usually answer those, but there was still the little sliver of hope that this unknown caller was the one he was actually looking for. So he picked up. 

"Simon?" A gruff voice spoke on the other side of the line. "Is that you?" 

Frowning, because that clearly wasn't Wilhelm, Simon replied. "It's me, who's this?" 

"Oh Simon, it's me, Micke. Your dad? Finally I can reach one of you! How are you doing, my boy?"

Simon froze. Oh, he recognized this voice now. The deep, hoarse voice of a man he didn't want to think about for even one minute. He could clearly remember the last time he'd heard him. He was screaming at him back then, berating him for withholding Sara's contact informations. Sara had cut all contact with him since they were teenagers, and Simon had made the mistake of giving a second, then a third chance, only for Micke to turn around and abuse substances anyway, forgetting about meet-ups they planned or to help out with Simon's keyboard when he needed it. In the end, he had tried to reach Sara for her eighteenth birthday, and Simon had refused to help him out. He'd lost his temper and Simon had never ran that fast. 

"How did you get this number?" He managed to croak out, feeling his chest tightening. 

"Does it matter? I heard about your surgery, I'm so sorry I haven't been there. I'm in Stockholm next week, maybe we can meet…?" Micke barreled on, and Simon's breath hitched. 

No, he couldn't be in Stockholm. Not when Sara was moving away. It was easy to resist the temptation to let him into his life when his sister was there to keep him in check. With her away, Simon could very well fall into old habits. 

That couldn't be happening. Not when he was starting to get his life back on track. 

Not when his family was starting to move on. 

"Simon?" 

"Leave me alone!" He almost yelled, his voice coming out weak and unsteady. That was when he realized he had a hard time breathing properly. 

Micke didn't take the hint. "Simon, please, can we talk, like adults?"

Simon leaned on the nearby wall, feeling his legs wobble under his weight. His breath came out in shallow puffs, and he felt like he couldn't get any proper air in. "Please, don't…" He pleaded, his eyes watering with tears, blurring his vision as he clutched at his chest, feeling a too familiar pain there.

No, no, no! 

It was supposed to be over. 

He was supposed to be fine!

He couldn't be sick again, not again. Sara needed to move. His mom needed some peace of mind. He needed to leave Rosh and Madison in peace… 

"Breathe in, Simon!"

He couldn't have his heart fail him. Not like this, not over that dipshit of a father. 

"Breathe out, come on!"

Why did it hurt again… And why was his forehead so cold? 

"You're doing great, come on Simon, look at me." 

Simon's eyes shot open. 

Wilhelm was there, right in front of him. It was his voice that guided him back to reality. It was his hand he felt gripping his arm firmly. It was his fingers, cold with snow, that stroke his forehead. "You're fine Simon, everything's fine." 

His breath evened, but the pain in his chest remained. He gripped at Wille's coat, hanging onto him for dear life. "I'm scared, Wille…" He croaked out, and Wille hoisted him up after picking up his phone from the ground. 

"I'm here, Simon, you'll be alright, I promise." 

And Simon trusted him, despite his disappearance, despite the obvious lies, he let him walk him to a nearby building. "Luckily, I don't live far." 

Simon almost slid on the floor of the elevator while Wille was trying to close the outside door behind them. He caught him last minute, and almost carried him to his apartment. Simon didn't get a proper look of the place before he ended up in a soft bed that smelled like faded laundry detergent. 

"Wille?" He called out when he felt the other move away from him. 

"I'm right here, Simon." Wille answered, bringing back a glass of water from the kitchen, and taking his coat off. "You should drink a little."

Simon nodded, and with Wille's help, he sat up to get a few sips of water in. "How did you know? What to do?"

Wille chuckled a bit, a sad kind of laugh. "I know a panic attack when I see one. I was a specialist." He brushed Simon's hair away from his face and lightly pushed him to lie back down. "You should rest a little."

"Where were you?" Simon grabbed his hand before Wille could stand up. 

Wille smiled, and sat down on the bed, next to him, playing with his fingers. "Around. Don't worry about me."

"I don't. I just wanted to see you." Simon tried to catch Wille's eyes, but the other seemed determined to avoid his. "Why did you disappear?" 

"You didn't need me, did you?" Wille finally looked back at him, a smile still stretching his lips. 

Simon frowned and shook his head. "I did. I needed you. I did all these things…" He coughed a bit, and went to clutch at his chest, only to find that Wille's hand had shot up to press there. 

"And you did them all without me, Simon." Wille's voice came out soft, his hand slowly rubbing over his heart. "You can do all of this without me." 

"But I don't want to. I want to share them all with you." Simon admitted, feeling tears build up in his eyes again: this felt like some sort of goodbye, and he hated it. Why would Wille say goodbye when they only just started? 

He closed his eyes, and felt Wille's lips press on his forehead. "I'll be with you, always." He murmured against his skin, and Simon couldn't tell if the wet streak on his cheek came from his tears or Wille's. 

Simon hadn't noticed he had fallen asleep on Wilhelm's bed. The last thing he remembered were the little promises, the kind words and Wille holding him, his fingers carding through his hair. It was like his body had been drained of every strength he had left, and for once, he had trusted someone else to lull him to sleep. 

He awoke to the sound of a door slamming shut. Opening one eye, he quickly realized he wasn't on Rosh's couch. He had to do a double take to remember where he was, and when he recognized Wille's interior, he closed his eye back, expecting the noise to come from Wille getting ready or something. 

But a surprised yelp made him startle, finishing to wake him up completely. 

"What the fuck?!" Erik's voice came out, a little croaked. 

Simon sat up on the bed a little too fast, immediately seeing stars dance in his eyes. He shook his head and squinted to look at Erik. 

His boss was standing in the doorway, his usual navy blue coat on, carrying his leather bag on one shoulder. He was staring at Simon with a mixed look of confusion and fear, and Simon couldn't, for the life of him, understand what the hell he was doing in Wilhelm's apartment. 

"Erik?" He croaked, his voice hoarse with sleep. "What are you doing here?" He looked around, maybe he knew Wille? Sweden was awfully small when it came to connections sometimes. But again, there was no trace of him, not even his coat that he'd draped over the chair the night before. 

"Me? No, the question is what are you doing here, Simon? How did you even get in?" Similarly, Erik started looking around, seemingly searching for what Simon was looking for. 

"Wille let me in… Have you seen him?" He tried to get up, his head spinning a little. He clearly wasn't in his best shape yet.

Erik frowned, and let his bag fall on the floor with a soft thud. "Wille? What do you mean he let you in…?" 

"Ain't this his place? He brought me here." Simon rubbed his face a little. "Do you know him?" 

Silence followed Simon's question. Erik walked towards Simon with slow, measured steps, and stood up in front of him, leaning on the wall behind. He crossed his arms, and a look of concern settled on his face. He studied Simon's figure for a while before speaking again. "Wilhelm was my little brother." 

That didn't help clear things up. Well, at least Simon now understood how Erik managed to get in. And Wille hadn't mentioned a brother, but again he hadn't told Simon much about himself. If only he'd known Wille was related to Erik, he wouldn't have roamed the streets trying to find him… 

Wait.

"Was?" Simon looked up, meeting Erik's sad eyes. He simply nodded. 

"He passed away last year, Simon. Some dumb driver hit him while he was crossing the street on his bike. It was his place, but I'm the one managing it until I can bring myself to sell it and…" 

He shut himself up, or maybe Simon tuned him out, it was hard to tell. Because none of this made any sense. Wilhelm couldn't be dead. Simon had seen him. He spoke to him. He held his hand. He held him. He kissed him. That wasn't possible. 

"Maybe we aren't talking about the same Wille…" Simon muttered, trying to get up without falling back on the bed. 

Erik held out his phone, showing a picture. Simon took the device and stepped back. His Wille was there, all smiles and floppy hair going in every direction, as he was holding a much happier-looking Erik by the shoulders. There was no mistake here. Erik was casually telling him the guy he'd been bonding with, and falling for, was actually dead. 

"Is this some kind of cruel joke…" Simon gave him his phone back, and rubbed his face again. 

"No, Simon. That'd be my line actually. Why are you there, pretending you met my dead brother?" Erik's voice was firm this time, and Simon felt a shiver run down his spine. 

Once more, he looked around, and was suddenly hit with the horror of the situation. The room he was in was actually kind of bare. Devoid of any personality. The bed he slept on had obviously not be touched in months, the walls were bare of any personal decor. There was even a stale smell you could easily associate with a place that hadn't been opened up for quite some time. And looking at the open dresser, Simon noticed the emptiness of it, only a simple cardboard box on the bottom which kept it from being fully closed. 

This place was not lived in. 

Because the owner wasn't alive anymore. 

Ignoring Erik's calls, Simon ran away. 

He stumbled down the stairs, ignoring the elevator. He barged out in the fresh snow, his throat closed up and his lungs burning with the effort. Still, he ran. Away from the building, away from the city centre. He slipped several times on the ice sheets here and there. He passed the street Wille ran into him, the market he found him in, the park they kissed in. 

Everything had been in his head? 

Another ice sheet made him lose his balance, and this time he didn't manage to steady himself, and fell face first into the snow. 

The shock was enough to leave him breathless, panting as he laid down on the ground, the cold seeping through his clothes. 

Wilhelm was not real. He never talked to Simon, he never held him, never promised him anything. Simon had truly be alone all this time, because bike boy actually- 

Bike boy. 

He died last year, around this time. Bike accident, it was…

Simon scrambled to sit up, and to take his phone out. Luckily, he still had some battery. He called Felice. 

"Simon?" 

"Felice, was your friend's name Wilhelm? The one that died?" Simon blurted out.

Silence followed his question. He could hear her breath hitch, and some rustle on the other side of the line. 

"Yes. Wilhelm Norling. Why? Simon, is everything alright?" 

Norling. That was Erik's last name too. So he wasn't lying. He wasn't playing a stupid prank on Simon. Felice wouldn't stand for that. Felice lost Wille too. Wille was real. He was . 

"Felice. I need you. Please I. I don't know what to do…" He felt his throat close up again, a shaky sob escaping his lips. 

"Hold on, send me your location, I'll be on my way." 

Simon did as she asked, and managed to curl up on the side of the sidewalk. He felt snow run down his spine from where it was melting in his hair, and the crisp air of the December morning only made him shiver, his teeth chattering. 

Thankfully, Felice was quick to find him, kneeling in front of him. His vision blurry with exhaustion and tears, he barely recognized her. She took both of his hands and slipped a warm hand heater in them. 

"Come on Simon, I'm taking you home." She said, slipping an arm around him to help him up on his legs. She'd chosen to take her car to find him, and Simon was glad to sit down on the passenger seat, apologizing with a small voice about the snow that would surely stain the leather. 

Felice had none of it and drove them back to Sara's place. Simon had momentarily forgotten about his fight with his sister, and suddenly dreaded to see her, but Felice cut his worries off, explaining that Sara was at work. 

She made him strip down and gave him some of her own sweatpants and oversized hoodie with a silly dog printed on it. Simon gladly curled up under a thick plaid and accepted the fuming mug of hot chocolate Felice handed him. 

"Now, how about you tell me what the hell was that about?" She asked in a soft voice, her hand squeezing his knee in a reassuring gesture. 

Simon hesitated. Felice had confirmed what Erik told him, that Wille had been in his head the whole time. He didn't want to sound crazy, and he didn't want to reopen old wounds. But Felice insisted, and Simon caved in quite easily. He did feel like he was going mad over the whole thing. 

So he told him about Wille, about his first encounter with the boy and his bike. About the kind person that went and held out a hand to him, trying to make him see the little wonders of the world again. The one that made him get out of his comfort zone. The one he laughed with, the one he, truly, fell for. 

All the while, Felice's face expressed first concern, then her eyes softened, looking at something Simon couldn't see. He caught her wiping at her eyes several times, but she never interrupted him. She only spoke when he was done, telling her about him waking up to the sound of Erik's surprise. 

"Simon… I don't know how it's possible, but the boy you're telling me about… He does sound like Wille." 

"But why? Why did I see him? I didn't even know him…"

Felice shrugged, her brow furrowed. "Maybe it was some kind of-" She sat up a little straighter. "Wait, when did you get surgery again?"

"Surgery? You mean my heart transplant?" Simon frowned. "Actually, about a year ago. December 23rd. I remember the doctor calling me while I was making cookies." 

Felice's face fell. "Did they ever tell you who the donor was…?"

Simon shook his head. "Only that they died earlier that day, and that I was lucky they were compatible… I don't they were allowed to- wait." 

Looking up at Felice, Simon understood what she was hinting at. His hand came up to his chest, feeling the need to rub at the tightness he felt there. Her eyes went to his hand, and she grabbed it. "It'd be… I mean they asked his mom about his heart, Erik told me, so… that makes sense… They don't do transplants every day, so…" 

He felt his lips quiver. Was the boy he liked in his head the one that gave him his heart? The dates matched, and Simon knew for a fact that those operations weren't as common as to allow for doubt. And if Wilhelm's heart was truly used, the chances he went to Simon… 

"Felice, what's happening to me?"

She shook her head. "I just think you have a guardian angel now, Simon." She gave him a sad smile, before wiping at her nose. "Can I ask you something?"

Simon nodded. "Can I listen?" 

She didn't have to explain. Simon understood immediately what she meant. Once again, he nodded, and opened his arms. Felice put down her cup of coffee and went to lay down against him, pressing her hear against his chest. 

Simon held her, tight. Carefully, he ran a hand through her curls, playing with the strands flowing through his fingers. She closed her eyes, and Simon feigned to not hear the soft sound of her sniffles. 

"Can you. Can you tell me about him, maybe?"

And Felice did. Her voice trembling at first, she told Simon about Wilhelm. About the boy she met in kindergarten, who gave her a drawing of a cat because he thought she was sad, and he thought cats made people feel better. She told him about the boy that struggled with anxiety, but that still wanted to help his friends out, so much that he went out of his way to talk to strangers if that meant he could help. She told him about that boy who liked frogs and sugary treats, and once made her travel to Belgium to visit a stupid soup festival. 

Simon listened to her, chuckling at the silly anecdotes and marvelling at the memories she shared with him. He didn't shake her up when he noticed her voice getting lower and lower, her speech reduced to a mumble as she was falling asleep against him. He held her close, his own eyes heavy, and he kept her there, when the only sound that he could make out was the sound of Wilhelm's heart, beating in his chest. 

Getting the call had been scary. He had been on the list for heart transplants for two years already when it happened. Quite frankly, he was starting to believe his fate was sealed, and that his days were almost over. He had learned to make the most of each of those, and he actually tried to give the most of his time to his family, and his friends. 

His gut told him that this Christmas would be the last, so he'd insisted to spend all his time at his mom's house, decorating, cooking and baking with her, playing cards with his sister, gaming online with his friends and hanging out around the city. He was monitored, and his next appointment was scheduled for after the New Year's Eve. 

Still, he'd tried his best to be his ever happy-go-lucky self, being the life of the party like he'd always been. So when his doctor called up, he had asked for his mom to pick up, his hands being covered in the cookie dough he was fighting with. 

She'd cried, with fear, relief, hope? And he didn't realize until he was laying down on a hospital bed, the anesthesist walking him through the next steps that he was about to gamble the days he had left. 

He'd panicked, crying for his mom as the nurse tried to calm him down. You'll be fine, it will work, you'll live to see her again. 

When his eyes closed with the heaviness of the anesthetic, he genuinely thought he was about to leave for good, and he'd shed a single tear, remembering how he hadn't said a proper goodbye. 

He awoke like he did the year before: his mouth feeling pasty and his eyes too heavy. A notable difference was the warmth he was surrounded with, and his neck feeling slightly sore. He felt a hand run through his curls, and the familiar scent of a sugary perfume he recognized to be Sara's. 

His eyes shot open and he looked up to see his sister, leaning against the couch's armrest, holding him against her. She gave him a small smile, and murmured reassuring words. He was fine, he was home, nothing was happening. 

When he felt awake enough, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and apologizing for barging into their apartment. Sara shushed him, and told him how Felice awoke from their nap about an hour ago and gave her a quick call. She'd used her lunch break to come and listen to their story, cuddling him as he was sleeping heavily. 

"Are you alright, Simme? If you need to sleep again I can pull out the sofa bed."

Simon shook his head. "No… I mean. I'm okay? I guess? It's been a lot. I don't know what to do now." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, I only moved because I felt inspired by Wille. And to know I have his heart… I feel bad-"

Sara stood up and held out her hand to him. "Don't ever feel bad about it. He died, and there's nothing you can do about it. His heart is yours now, and even if it feels unfair, he's given you a second chance at life. Don't waste it because you feel you don't deserve it. He inspired you, but you did it all on your own. You can do it, Simon." 

Simon stared at her hand. Sara's words were blunt, as always, but they were true. 

So he took her hand, and stood up. 

He stood up and picked things up where he left them. He went back to Rosh and Madison and apologized for his behavior, he accompanied them to the airport and hugged them goodbye. He went back to the market and found Erik. He told him about Felice, about the conversation they had, and his heart. He held him when he crumbled under the weight of his grief, and helped him close the market for the night. He went back the day after, and handled the Christmas show as well as he could. He directed rehearsals, made people laugh, and they sang in front of a decent enough crowd, gathering donations for the Salvation Army. 

He added the bonus Erik gave him to the donations, and gave it to the front desk of the association. He helped a bit with the preparations for Christmas dinner there, and left just on time to make a stop to the grocery store before it closed for the night. He knocked on his mother's door, and offered a hand in the making of the Christmas dinner. 

He spent the evening with his mother, making dinner and watching a telenovela. Late in the evening, Sara and Felice dropped by, their dinner at Felice's parents' being over. They shared another slice of the chocolate cake Simon had baked, and played cards until he was falling asleep on the table. 

That night, he let his mother tuck him into bed, listened to her mindlessly singing one of the old lullabies she used to sing when he was little. He told her he loved her, and he promised he would try. He would try to be the son he used to be. 

On Christmas morning, Simon asked Felice to take him to Wilhelm's grave. She agreed, and they scurried around to find some of the flowers that made her think of him. He didn't have a favorite: he knew some plants, but couldn't ever remember the names of flowers. They settled for white and red ones, a touch of green arranged into what ultimately looked like a Christmas wreath. 

Felice walked him through a snowy cemetery. She was counting the tombstones, trying to remember where they'd put Wille to rest. In the end, they reached a corner of the cemetery, where a small, very white, tombstone was engraved with Wilhelm's name. 

She gave Simon the wreath, and put down the little bouquet she made with the remaining flowers. Simon stepped back, letting her talk to her friend in peace. He strolled around, giving her some space until he saw her stand up and wave him back. Then, she hugged him and told him she'd be waiting outside of the cemetery, and that he could take his time. 

Simon was then left alone in front of the tombstone. 

Alone with Wille. 

Hesitating at first, he kneeled down and put down the wreath. He sat on his heels, and let the silence wash over him. 

He'd almost expected Wilhelm to appear to him again. What he guessed was some kind of ghost to wrap its arms around him like he did back then when Simon was panicking. Maybe his voice, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

"I can't believe you're gone." He finally whispered, his voice sounding hollow. 

Of course, no one answered. 

"You're gone, but I'm here." Simon swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his voice. "I'm here, and it's thanks to you? I'm not sure you even know you saved me."

Wilhelm's name on the stone was like a punch to the gut. These letters weren't supposed to be there. They weren't supposed to be engraved for a long time. If anything, Simon would've expected his own letters. 

"Your heart is beating inside me, Wille. And I… I didn't take proper care of it." He wiped a stray tear rolling down his cheek. "I didn't feel like I… Like I could live again. Is that why you came to me? Because I was ruining the life you gave me?" 

A small breeze lifted his curls off of his forehead, and Simon closed his eyes. If he tried hard enough, he could still feel the warmth of Wille's lips on his skin. 

"I'd like to think there's other us." He whispered, letting his tears flow more freely. "Other universes, other timelines, where we actually met. Where we're happy. Maybe there's one where we hate each other?" He giggled. "But it wouldn't matter, because we would both be alive." 

He wiped his cheeks, the cold biting into wet skin. "I want to be in a universe where I can love you, Wille. This isn't one." He took a deep, shaky breath. "But I can't leave it. I can't waste the life you gave me. I can't leave my family, my friends. I'll cherish this life, Wille. I swear. I'll do something with it. I'll make good use of that heart. And when my time comes, when I'm old and tired of all the good I did with your heart, I'll come to you. How does that sound?" 

A single, red petal fell from the wreath that was propped up against the tombstone. Simon watched as it slowly fell on the ground, carried a little toward him by the wind. 

He knew it was probably a silly coincidence, but he took that as a sign that Wille heard him. He heard him, and will be waiting. So Simon made good on his promise.