Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cold mist licked at Simon’s ankles and burrowed its way under his coat so that by the time he made it from the bus stop and up to the main gates, he was shivering. There was a rusted padlock looped around the bars. It was unlocked, but the chain snaked ominously through the poorly painted iron, the pointed tips of which glinted in the light from the lamp in the courtyard beyond.

Simon pushed and the gate swung open – a slight creak, but almost eerily quiet. His footfalls as he walked up the steps were muffled. Damp, fallen leaves littered the stone and made them slippery. 

He gripped the straps of his backpack more tightly.

The gravel courtyard was deserted. Simon dug into his back pocket for the invitation, pulling it out to squint at the curled script under the glow of the lamp.

We cordially invite you, Simon Eriksson, to an exclusive event at Hillerska Boarding School. 

Dates: 23rd-29th October 2025

You need bring only yourself – food and clothing will be provided

Compensation: 20000 SEK

RSVP Unnecessary

Please arrive at 20:00 sharp

Stand by for welcome party

‘Stand by for welcome party’? Simon still didn’t know what that meant. He refolded the invitation and shoved it into his pocket. Maybe this had been a bad idea. When he’d answered the advert he saw on the local jobs page he’d been scanning online, he’d expected it to be for some survey or focus group or something. The pay was good, he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to earn some quick cash whilst he was still waiting for something more permanent to come his way. 

Simon looked at his watch. 19:56. The lamp flickered and something cold trickled down Simon’s spine. He tugged his coat tighter around his body and tried to suppress a shudder. Slowly, he rotated on the spot, taking in his surroundings. 

Everyone knew about Hillerska. Everyone knew about the old private school that had been shut down over 10 years ago. Simon even remembered seeing it on the TV and being astounded that there was something from his home town on the screen. At the time, being only ten, Simon hadn’t really understood the circumstances under which it had closed.

He didn’t fully understand it now.

Just that it had been a shock to both the locals and the students (and of course their wealthy and entitled parents). Micke had ranted for days about how they thought they were above it all, and how the rules didn’t apply to them, and how if he’d done any of the things those kids had done, he’d be in jail.

It was barely talked about any more. People were trying to forget.

The old buildings looked sad; the white paint covering the walls was dirty and chipped. Vines grew up the exterior of the building to the left, almost obscuring the door. The windows of the main building were grimy, one of the panes decorated with a spider’s-web crack. Tufts of grass sprouted up through the gravel and the small lawn to the side had been left to grow wild.

In the intervening decade, Simon knew that the building had been put to other uses. There had been events and parties, a wedding or two back when it still looked impressive, some corporate retreats. But as time had gone on, these had been fewer and fewer, and Simon couldn’t remember the last time that he’d heard of the old place being opened up. 

That was until he’d received the invitation.

Just as the unease was starting to encourage Simon’s feet back down the steps, onto the bus, and home, the double doors to the main building opened. Warm light spilled onto the gravel for a moment before they were shut again. A tall, dark-haired man with a charming smile strode over to him and held out his hand.

“Simon Eriksson?” the man asked, gripping Simon’s hand a shaking once before dropping it.

Simon nodded. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “That, uhm, that’s me.”

“Fantastic. August Horn of Årnäs. Welcome to Hillerska.” He paused for a moment as if Simon was supposed to do something. When he didn’t, August continued, “I’m overseeing the group this week.” He turned and started striding back towards the doors. Belatedly, Simon realised he was supposed to be following and hurried to keep up. “Did you find us okay?” August pulled the door open and ushered Simon inside. Once across the threshold, August yanked the door closed. The sound echoed ominously through the entrance hall.

“Yes, thanks,” Simon said. A slight panic that Simon couldn’t place had risen up his throat.

“Good.” August’s smile was sharp and quick and didn’t do anything to ease the worry curling at the edges of Simon’s consciousness. “This way.”

Simon followed August through a wood panelled room to a narrow corridor lined with hooks.

“You can hang your coat here,” August said. Then he eyed Simon’s rucksack. “And your bag. You won’t be needing that.”

“Oh,” Simon said, shrugging out of his coat. “But it has—”

“Everything will be taken care of,” August interrupted, with another smile. “You don’t need to worry about anything whilst you’re here. We’ll take good care of you.”

Simon draped his coat over one of the hooks, the rest notably empty, and held his bag to his chest. “I think I’ll keep it with me, thanks.”

Something twitched in August’s face, but then was gone. “Of course,” August acquiesced. “Would you like to be shown to your room?”

Nodding, Simon gripped his bag tighter and followed August the rest of the way down the corridor and up some stone stairs. Their steps echoed off the walls and a prickling at the back of Simon’s neck had him turning on more than one occasion.

There was no one there.

On the landing, August showed him to a door. There was a space where a number used to be attached, but all that remained were three screw holes. The paint was green and faded towards the bottom. There was a small scuff mark where a hand had repeatedly reached for the handle and brushed the wood instead.

“This is you,” August said, pulling the handle of the door and striding in.

Simon followed, squeezing himself into the narrow space between the bed and the desk.

“Dinner is currently being served, would you like to join us?”

As if on cue, Simon’s stomach rumbled, but he couldn’t think of anything worse than going and joining a group of people he didn’t know. Especially when he hadn’t quite got his bearings yet.

“I’m okay thanks,” Simon replied. 

August eyed him for a moment, then smiled again. “I’ll have someone bring you a plate later. We can’t have you going hungry. There’s a sink here” – he gestured behind him at the tiny basin. There was a crack beside the plug and the tap was tarnished. A plastic wrapped toothbrush lay on the side – “and the bathrooms are just down the hall. There are clothes inside the wardrobe. Please change into them. Breakfast is at 6:30.”

There was a moment where they just looked at each other before Simon said, “Thanks.” Very much hoping that it would mean that August would leave.

With an aborted move forwards, August said, “Shall I take—”

Simon pulled his bag closer to his chest. “No, thanks.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer before August’s smile came back. Each time it sent more and more disquiet into Simon’s bones. “Stubborn,” he laughed. “I like it. Well. I need to get back to the others. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Okay.”

With a final nod, August strode from the room, allowing the door to click shut behind him. Simon waited one minute, then two, and when he was sure August was gone, he went to the door and carefully pushed it open. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he’d needed to check, to make sure he could leave. A relieved breath slipped from his lips and he carefully pulled it shut again, turning the catch on the inside.

For several seconds, Simon just stared around the room. There was a desk to the right with a lamp and a small, plastic alarm clock. Opposite, was a narrow bed made up with dark blue sheets. The curtains matched and were drawn over the window. Simon strode across the space and yanked them open. 

His window looked down onto the courtyard where he’d waited, the lone lamp still spilling its watery light onto the gravel. Simon craned his neck to see if he could see anyone else arriving, but there was no one.

Taking a step back, he drew the curtains again. Then he lowered himself down onto the bed and tried to take stock. After a moment, he pulled his rucksack towards him, tearing open the zip and rifling through. There wasn’t even anything particularly important in it, but he had desperately not wanted August to take it from him.

He removed his phone charger and searched around for a plug socket, eventually locating one beneath the desk. Crawling back out, Simon fished his phone from his pocket and plugged it in. He’d told his mother he’d text when he arrived, so he pulled up their message thread and typed a quick message.

‘Arrived fine. Just in my room. Hope dinner was good.’

Two seconds later there was a bing. Message failed to send.

Huh. No service.

Trying to ignore the disquiet that had settled over him, Simon told himself that he’d just have to try again somewhere else. Maybe the room was a black spot for cell service.

Instead of dwelling on it, he opened the wardrobe with the intention of putting away the few clothes he’d brought. Hanging inside were several garments. Carefully, Simon pushed the items aside: three pairs of dark trousers, five white t-shirts, two burgundy zip-up hoodies. Stacked on the shelf were several sets of underwear and socks, and a pair of black trainers.

Simon swallowed and turned away from the items before hastily shoving his own clothes in one of the cubbies and slamming the door. For a few seconds he just stared at the outside of the wardrobe, following the grain of the wood with his eyes. 

Suddenly, he really needed to text his mum. Maybe call her, tell her how creepy this place was and laugh about it. Maybe it would make him feel better, push away some of the clammy foreboding creeping into his lungs.

Just as he was about to grab his phone and head out, there was a sharp knock at the door. It took everything in Simon not to yelp. Giving himself a moment to regain control of his breathing, Simon carefully unlocked the door and pushed it open a crack.

A guy who looked about his age was standing in the corridor. He was shorter than Simon, straight dark hair pushed across his forehead from a neat parting at the side, a benign smile on his face.

“Hi, Simon,” he said. “I’m Alexander. I brought you dinner.”

It was only then that Simon noticed the tray in his hands bearing a plate piled with mashed potato, fish and vegetables, and a glass of water.

“Oh,” Simon said, opening the door a little further. “Thanks. I, uhm…” 

He held his hands out, but Alexander just smiled again. “I can bring it in for you.”

Simon paused for a beat, unsure why he hated that idea, but he couldn’t think of a not-unhinged way to tell Alexander not to. So he wordlessly stood to the side and let Alexander walk past him and place the tray on the desk.

“You haven’t got changed,” Alexander said.

Simon looked down at his clothes: jeans with mud marks on the cuffs from his walk from the bus stop, battered canvas shoes, a purple hoodie.

“No,” Simon said. “I didn’t think there was any point this evening.”

“Hmm,” Alexander said but didn’t elaborate. Then after another awkward few seconds added: “Well, we’ll see you at breakfast. 6:30 sharp.”

Simon nodded but didn’t return Alexander’s smile as he walked past Simon and back out into the corridor. With slightly shaking hands, Simon pulled the door closed and twisted the lock. His stomach gurgled again, but as he prodded the vegetables around the plate he realised that there was no way he could stomach them.

Without thinking too hard, Simon grabbed his phone and slipped out into the corridor. It was deserted; the artificial bulbs casting a sickly light over the pale green walls. For a second or two, Simon strained his ears to try to discern if he was likely to bump into anyone. He couldn’t hear anything, so deemed it safe to retrace his steps and descend the stairs back down to the corridor where he’d hung his coat.

It didn’t take long to realise that it was gone. The hooks lay bare, not a single thing hung on them. Simon glanced up and down the corridor, wondering where he might be able to find it. Or maybe ask someone where the coats were stored.

Tentatively, he started down a new corridor. There were some noises in the distance that might have been cutlery and crockery. The dining hall was probably in that direction. Maybe that was a safe bet. 

Simon followed the sounds until he came to an open door. Quietly, he poked his head around it. In the middle of the room was a long table laid with the remnants of what he assumed was a group dinner. The white tablecloth was scattered with plates and cutlery and a gravy stain or two. Chairs were tucked back in, as though never sat on, and there was no one to be seen.

Carefully, Simon took another step into the room. Somewhere he could still hear the sounds of dishes, and maybe someone… humming? There was a basket on the side with a couple of abandoned bread rolls. Simon swiped them and stowed them in his hoodie pocket for later. Maybe if he couldn’t face cold mashed potato, at least he’d have something to eat.

He was just about to see what else he could pilfer, when there was a clatter and a cry of, “Oh!”

Simon whipped around. Standing in one of the other doorways was a person holding a huge, plastic box. Simon wondered if the noise had been him almost dropping it.

“Hi,” Simon said.

The man’s hair flopped across his forehead when he shook his head as if dislodging something. “Hi,” he replied. “Who are you?”

“Simon. Who are you?”

The other man looked at him for a long moment before moving over to the table, placing the box down, and starting to stack the plates into it. “Wilhelm,” he answered finally. “You weren’t at dinner.”

“I wasn’t.”

Several glasses went into the box along with a handful of cutlery.

“Erik won’t be pleased.”

That flummoxed Simon for a moment. “Erik?”

Wilhelm nodded without raising his head from his task. 

“Who’s Erik?”

This time, Wilhelm looked up, confusion lining his features. “He— You don’t know who Erik is?”

Simon shook his head. “I’ve only met August and” – he wracked his brains for a split second – “Alexander so far. And you.”

A smile twitched at Wilhelm’s lips and then disappeared. “Well,” he said, reaching for a bowl, “you’ll meet Erik at breakfast. He thinks he’s important, but he’s not. But—” Now, WIlhelm raised his eyes and fixed Simon with a gaze that felt like it went all the way down to his bones. “It’s probably best to do what he says.”

A shiver ran down Simon’s spine, partly from what Wilhelm had said, partly from the intense stare that was still being aimed at him. He tilted his chin. “Or what?”

Wilhelm held his gaze for a beat longer before dropping it and shrugging. “Whatever,” he said. “Do whatever you want.”

Then without another word, he hefted the box into his arms and walked back out the way he’d come in.

For a moment, Simon hesitated. He could just go back to his room. Or he could head outside to find some signal to text his mum. Or—

Without him having really told them to, his feet carried him across the room and through the door that Wilhelm had disappeared through. It led to another room similar to the first with yet another door at the far end. With quick steps, Simon rushed after Wilhelm, following the sounds of clattering dishes into what turned out to be a kitchen.

Wilhelm was transferring dishes from the box into a sink full of soapy water.

“Do you work here?’ Simon asked.

Wilhelm’s head turned slightly before he returned to his task. “No,” Wilhelm said. “I got an invitation. Just like you.”

“How did you know—”

“Everyone gets an invitation.”

Simon went to retort but saw that there was a small smile on Wilhelm’s lips and just scoffed instead. 

“How come you got here before me then?” Simon asked, sidling up to WIlhelm to lean against the counter beside the sink.

Wilhelm scrubbed the plate in his hand, then reached to place it on the draining board. “We all arrived separately.”

Simon scoffed again. “Like that doesn’t sound really fucking ominous. What is this thing anyway? Are there, like, questionnaires and shit? Do we have to test anything out?”

Another plate was subjected to Wilhelm’s vigorous washing – scrub, scrub, dip, scrub, rinse – then placed beside the previous one.

“It’s Hillerska,” was what he said in the end.

“Yeah, I know that,” Simon said. “I mean… what are we doing here?”

Wilhelm picked up a fork and started wiping it.

“We got an invitation.”

Maybe Wilhelm was a bit slow in the head. Or maybe he was drunk – had there been wine glasses on the table? Simon couldn’t remember.

“Right,” Simon said. “Okay. Well. If that’s—”

“You could help,” Wilhelm interrupted. 

“I’m sorry?”

Wilhelm nodded to the draining board. “You could dry,” he said. “Then I might be done quicker.”

Simon looked at the side of Wilhelm’s head for a moment whilst WIlhelm forcefully scrubbed a glass. He thought about his room, and the rapidly cooling plate of food, he thought about his phone, and the text he wanted to send to his mum, he thought about his missing coat. He thought about the plastic-looking smiles of August and Alexander.

“Okay,” he found himself saying. “Sure. I can dry.”

Wilhelm turned to him and smiled. A genuine smile. “Thanks,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds were the clinking of the dishes and the scrubbing of the dishcloth. 

“So,” Simon said, carefully placing a glass to the side, “how did you draw the short straw?”

Wilhelm cocked his head but continued his washing. “The short straw?”

“The dishes,” Simon clarified, picking up a plate. “How come you’re in charge of this?”

A few seconds passed where Wilhelm didn’t answer. Then he said, “I want to help.”

Simon scoffed but continued drying. “Are we all going to have to wash dishes?”

Another stretch of silence before: “It’s a privilege.”

Simon looked sideways. Wilhelm was determinedly looking down into the bowl. The bubbles had almost gone. “Seriously? What a weird thing to say.”

Wilhelm’s shrug made the water splash a little. “Erik said— He— We all have to pitch in.”

“Okay.” Simon nodded. “Is that like… a rule or something?”

It appeared that Wilhelm was choosing his words very carefully. “It’s… expected.”

“Right.” Simon placed another plate on the stack. “What is this thing?”

Wilhelm’s hands paused his washing. When they resumed, it was with a little more determination. “I don’t know.”

Simon made a noise in the back of his throat. “Do you think we’ll find out at breakfast?” He swallowed. His chest felt suddenly tight and he really hoped that Wilhelm would be able to soothe his racing mind.

“I don’t know.” So much for that. “Breakfast is at 6:30.”

“So I’ve been told,” Simon grumbled. 

They were quiet for a while longer, the pile of dirty dishes beside them slowly diminishing. Then Wilhelm said, “You’re not in the right clothes.”

Simon looked down at his own body, then at Wilhelm’s. The burgundy hoodie was pushed up to Wilhelm’s elbows to stop it getting wet, but there was still a patch of water on the front of the white t-shirt.

“I’m not,” Simon said. He didn’t elaborate, just waited to see if Wilhelm had anything else to say. But all he did was hum and continue scrubbing.

A restlessness came over Simon, so he placed the plate down that was in his hands and said, “Do you know what, I think I’m done here. I’m going to text my mum.”

He laid the towel beside the draining board and headed to the doorway he’d entered through.

“You might struggle.” Wilhelm’s voice was louder than it had been, rising over the clinking of the dishes.

Simon turned back, but Wilhelm still had his head bent over the sink, apparently very absorbed in the task at hand.

“Excuse me?”

“The text,” Wilhelm clarified. “You might struggle. Signal’s really bad here. Or something. I tried to ring my mum earlier and…” Wilhelm trailed off. 

It was as though something cold trickled down the back of Simon’s neck.

“Thanks for your concern,” Simon said. “But I’m still going to try.”

Wilhelm’s shoulders lifted towards his ears and then dropped down again. “Suit yourself.”

Simon wished he had his coat. The air outside had turned biting and the wind was cutting through his hoodie, whipping his hair around his head, and chilling him to the bone.

There was still no signal just outside the front door, so he walked across the courtyard, gravel crunching underfoot. He continued down the stone steps and across the lawn towards the bus stop, periodically checking his phone. Still nothing.

Turning, he looked back up at Hillerska. The place looked less abandoned now; a few lights shone in windows, silhouettes visible behind curtains. Simon assumed they were of the other invitees. 

Everyone gets an invitation.

Wilhelm’s words rang in his ears. Simon didn’t really know what they meant but assumed things would come clear at breakfast. Hoped.

He wandered up a path to the left of the building, curving up and around the side. There was a steep incline and he could just make out a cave-like archway in the wall at the top, the weak light from the lamps casting it into shadow.

Still no signal.

He rounded the corner and came to the back of the main building. There were even more lit-up windows here, their light spilling onto the stone steps reaching up to a set of double doors. Simon walked up to them and tried the handle. Locked.

Still no signal.

With his back to Hillerska, he gazed out into the grounds. There was a large concrete basin that looked like it might have once housed a pool with a fountain. Now it lay dry and empty, filled with leaves from the surrounding trees.

The lawn was wide, sprawling and overgrown with weeds that would probably come up to Simon’s waist if he were to walk through them. The wind picked up a little and murmured through the trees. A few loose leaves drifted and fell to the ground where a thin mist still clung.

Simon shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. It was dark, and cold, and probably a bad time to be wandering any further to try to get some signal.

Maybe the text could wait. His mum was out of town for the week anyway visiting friends. He didn’t need to tell her about how weird this place was. He was a grown man. He’d call her in the morning to let her know that he got here okay and that the patchy signal might mean he couldn’t stay in touch over the week.

It would be fine.

Teeth chattering slightly, Simon turned and started heading back down the slope to the front of the building. Just as he was passing the bottom of the hill where the cave stood he heard a loud snap. Whipping around, Simon squinted through the trees trying to make anything out in the dark. Shadows moved around: the trees blowing in the persistent breeze. Everything was quiet, unnervingly so. It was as though the sound of the leaves was coming through a filter.

Simon sped up his steps, eventually breaking out into a run as he tore up the path and the stone steps, slipping slightly on the leaves, crunching through the gravel, and to the front doors. He wrenched them open, flung himself inside and slammed them behind him.

The sounds echoed around the deserted entrance hall. The lights felt brighter this time than they had earlier. Maybe that was just in comparison to the gloom outside.

Simon stood with his back pressed to the doors, chest heaving as he tried to regain control of his breathing, which was currently coming out as laboured pants.

As his pulse finally started to slow, he let out a hollow laugh. He was being ridiculous. This place was messing with his head. Where the fuck was everyone? And why couldn’t he wear is own fucking clothes? And why was breakfast so fucking early?

With another small chuckle, Simon pushed himself off the door and headed to the staircase. He’d go back to his room, eat the smuggled bread rolls (even if they were likely to be a little squished), and turn in early. Fuck knows he needed the sleep if he had to get up an hour before the sun. 

His footsteps echoed on the stone stairs, and every few steps, Simon turned to glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was checking for. But… just in case.

Chapter Text

Simon was having the weirdest dream. He was running through a forest with Sara, tripping and stumbling over the branches. Something was chasing them, but it wasn’t clear what. Then suddenly, Sara turned into Wilhelm and he told Simon that Erik was chasing them because Simon’s hoodie was the wrong colour. Then Wilhelm handed him a dishcloth and told him he had to clean the broken window as punishment.

Without remembering how he’d got there, Simon was up a ladder, scrubbing the window. The cracked glass glinted in the sun and Simon had to be careful not to cut himself. Alexander was holding the bottom of the ladder and telling Simon he had to hurry up or else they’d be late to dinner at 6:30. Simon argued that one couldn’t eat dinner in the morning, then August came out and pushed the ladder, causing Simon to start plummeting to the ground. Only the ground never came, he was just freefalling, tumbling through space, unable to grab onto anything until—

The sound of the alarm pierced through Simon’s consciousness and had him sitting bolt upright in his bed, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the chill, his heart racing.

It took a few seconds for his brain to register that it was the noise that had woken him and not him tumbling to his death. He scrambled to quiet the alarm, placed his phone back on the floor, and flopped down onto the bed again. Several deep breaths later, his pulse was almost back to normal and he felt safe enough to swing his legs out of the bed.

The room was fucking freezing. Simon leant over to touch the radiator. Stone cold. 

Grumbling, he reached for his hoodie and pulled it on over his t-shirt. 

After peeing and deciding to forgo a shower until the air temperature had risen a little bit, Simon brushed his teeth (with his own toothbrush, not the one in the wrapper beside the sink), got dressed, and headed down the stairs.

This time, there was the obvious murmur of several voices coming from down the hall.

Simon clenched and unclenched his hands a few times before making his way down the corridor and pausing just outside the room he’d stolen the bread rolls from the night before.

He pulled one last steadying breath in through his nostrils and let it stream out of his mouth, then stepped through the door and into the dining room.

All the voices stopped and everyone turned in his direction. There were several people seated around the table. Most had bowls or plates of food in front of them, mugs of coffee or tea, and seemed to have been chatting before Simon entered.

Now, approximately fifteen sets of eyes blinked at him. Simon felt his cheeks heat up and, on spotting Wilhelm on the opposite side of the table, scurried around and flung himself down into the chair beside him. 

“Good morning,” Wilhelm murmured, a small smile on his lips. 

“Morning,” Simon replied, pulling a glass and a water carafe towards him. “Why’s everyone staring at me?”

As if he’d broken the spell, eyes tore away from him and conversation started up again. But Simon still noticed several intrigued glances being thrown his way.

“Probably because you’re not in the right clothes,” Wilhelm mused. “And you’re late.”

Simon had barely noticed that everyone was wearing the same burgundy hoodie as he had hung up, untouched in his wardrobe. And probably the t-shirt and trousers too. And underwear. What a strange thought.

“Only five minutes,” Simon grumbled, pouring himself some water.

Wilhelm shrugged. It didn’t look very casual. “Still late.”

“Who even cares?” Simon muttered. “It’s not like—”

“Good morning, everyone!” a voice boomed over the chatter.

All heads whipped to the head of the table, where a tall, handsome man wearing a burgundy blazer and a pressed, white shirt was standing behind a chair, long fingers curled over the seatback. He had a charming smile on his face and dark hair slicked back off his forehead. 

Suddenly, all the chairs were scraping as everyone scrambled to stand up.

“What the fuck,” Simon mumbled, but followed suit, getting to his feet and pushing his chair under to stand behind it. In doing so, he took a proper look around the room. Everyone looked around his age. All boys. All with an air of quiet privilege. And every single person was wearing the same clothes. Except Simon.

“We have a new face this morning, I see,” the man said, with a nod towards Simon. 

All faces turned to him once more and he wanted the ground to swallow him up and eat him. He tried to smile and gave a small wave.

“Nice to meet you, Simon,” the man said. “I’m Erik. I hope you’ve settled in okay. I’ll see to it that someone provides you with some clothes as there seems to have been some sort of mix up.”

Erik’s smile made something cold trickle down Simon’s spine.

“I got the clothes, thanks,” he said, with a tilt of his chin. “But I’m okay in mine for now.”

There was a gasp from somewhere and the corners of Erik’s mouth twitched slightly. He cocked his head to the side. “I see. You think different rules apply to you?”

Simon bristled. “No,” he said, hotly. “But I see no rules anywhere. We’re all adults. This is voluntary. I can wear my own clothes if I want.”

“Ah,” said Erik, with a small chuckle. “I understand where the confusion is now. In accepting our invitation, you also agreed to abide by the rules.”

“What rules?” Simon said. “And besides, I didn’t accept the invitation.”

“You are here, are you not?” Erik’s eyes flashed with something. “You have therefore entered into the contract.”

This was getting annoying now. “What contract?”

Everyone’s eyes had been bouncing between Simon and Erik. Simon could feel Wilhelm’s gaze burning into the side of his face. The silence stretched as everyone held their breath.

Then Erik let an easy smile spread on his face. “All will become clear in due course. Now – I believe we have some breakfast to eat! Little brother, a word, please?”

Simon breathed a sigh of relief as the hubbub resumed, and was just about to turn to ask Wilhelm to pass the bread when he saw him rise from his seat.

In shock, Simon blinked up at him and hissed, “Little brother?”

Wilhelm just shot him an apologetic smile and scurried down the room to bend his ear to Erik.

Slightly shaken, Simon reached for the bread himself and tore a chunk off the roll. As he chewed, he watched Erik and Wilhelm have what appeared to be a whispered argument. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

“Huh?” Simon wrenched his gaze away from Wilhelm’s scowl and came face to face with Alexander, who had rounded the table to lean over and talk to him. “Oh. I… uh…” Images from the dream flashed through his mind. “Yeah,” he said. “Not bad. You?”

Alexander nodded. “Really well,” he replied. “I must have been really tired. I went up at curfew and just… fell asleep.”

Simon nodded, not really processing Alexander’s words. Until— 

“Wait. There’s a curfew?”

Alexander nodded. “Yes. 9:30.”

“Seriously? They’re sending adults to bed at 9:30?”

Alexander gave him a strange look. “I mean… yeah. Is that really so bad? It’s not like there’s much else to do around here. And it means we can be up and refreshed for breakfast.”

“Yeah. But…” Simon trailed off. He couldn’t formulate a good response. And Alexander’s good-natured shrug made him swallow his attempt.

“Enjoy breakfast,” Alexander said, with a small smile, and returned to his seat at the other side of the table. 

Another few seconds later, Wilhelm flopped down in the seat next to Simon again, the scowl still in place. Simon glanced over to Erik, who was looking at Wilhelm with a severe expression on his face. Wilhelm looked his way and Erik gave the smallest of headshakes before turning to August, who was trying to get his attention.

“What was that about?” Simon asked. Then added: “And ‘little brother’? You didn’t say anything last night.”

“You didn’t ask,” Wilhelm snapped, reaching for his coffee.

“What?” Simon retorted. “I was supposed to guess and say ‘hey person that I’ve never met before tonight, the one that people keep mentioning, does he happen to be your brother?’”

“Ha ha,” Wilhelm said drily. “Very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Simon said indignantly. “I just feel like I’m completely out of the loop here and—”

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have skipped dinner last night.”

Simon glared at the side of his head, but instead of arguing like he wanted to, he scraped his chair back and stalked to the other side of the room to get himself some more food off the table that was pushed against the wall.

When he returned to his seat, his mood had mellowed somewhat, but he still sat down more dramatically than he might otherwise have done. Wilhelm was pushing his yoghurt around his bowl moodily.

“Sorry,” Wilhelm grumbled into his breakfast. “I should have told you Erik was my brother.”

“Yes,” Simon said. “You should have. But… it’s okay. Just… tell me next time, yeah?”

Wilhelm turned his head and with a small smile said, “Tell you next time my older brother is in charge of a group at a Hillerska retreat?”

“Oh, it’s a retreat is it?” Simon retorted, but he returned Wilhelm’s grin.

“Something like that,” Wilhelm replied. 

“I suppose I’ll find ou—”

“Find out at breakfast,” Wilhelm interrupted. And they both burst out laughing.

“Something funny, Wille?” August called from the end of the table.

Simon stopped laughing immediately and watched as Wilhelm turned to August. The rest of the room had gone quiet.

“We’re just chatting, August.”

August’s smile was too perfect, his eyes too sharp. “Anything you’d like to share with the group?”

“No—”

“We were just joking that no one really knows what’s going on. And that breakfast seems to be some—”

“I’m sorry,” August interrupted. “What was your name again?”

“Simon,” Erik answered, watching Simon with a calculating gaze. “Simon Eriksson, right?”

Simon nodded. 

“Well, Simon,” Erik said, smiling at him. “All will come clear soon. Why don’t you finish your breakfast, and then we can talk.”

As if by magic, the chatter started up again, but something leaden had fallen into Simon’s stomach, so he pushed his cereal away and glared at the tablecloth.

How had he been made to feel like a scolded child? He was twenty years old for fuck’s sake. 

“Just ignore him,” Wilhelm murmured. “He thinks he’s more important than he is.”

“I didn’t see you defying him when he called you over there like a little lap dog,” Simon snapped.

He watched as Wilhelm’s face fell and Simon’s heart sank. “Shit,” Simon rushed out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t— Sorry, Wilhelm. I’m just annoyed, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” For some reason, Simon found he didn’t want to push Wilhelm away. There was something about him. And he was considerably less unnerving than anyone else Simon had met so far.

Wilhelm sniffed and nodded. “No. You’re right,” he said. “It’s just… complicated.”

“I bet.”

“But… you can call me Wille. If you want.”

Simon looked at him for a long moment. There was a shy smile on Wille’s lips. Then he felt his own spread on his face. “Sure,” he said. “Wille.”

Maybe having a friend wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Breakfast didn’t last much longer. Apparently everyone was anxiously awaiting more information about what the fuck was going on. Or maybe that was just Simon projecting. But regardless, it was less than ten minutes later when Erik stood, and an anticipatory hush fell over the room.

A self-satisfied smile spread on his face as he nodded around the room.

“Good morning!” he called. “Again.” He paused and some of the people nearest to him laughed. Simon tried to suppress his eyeroll. “I’m sure you are all wondering what you’re all doing here. Well…” He paused for effect once more. “You have all been selected from a pool of potential candidates to be involved in a secret project we have going on at Hillerska this year. Similar things have taken place in previous years, but we hope that this year’s will be extra special.”

Erik and August shared a conspiratory smile.

Simon leaned over to Wille and whispered, “Did Erik have anything to do with the prev—”

“Talking whilst I am will not be tolerated!” Erik’s voice boomed through the room and a hush fell over the table. All eyes turned to Simon, including Wille’s, who was staring at him with a panicked expression on his face, eyes clearly saying ‘don’t bring me into this’.

It took all his effort to bite down a retort, but he did. “Sorry,” he muttered, nodding his head at Erik. “Go ahead.”

Erik watched him for a moment, his eyes hard and calculating. They weren’t a bit like Wille’s. But maybe that was just the coldness.

Then he smiled again, lips stretched over startlingly white teeth. “Good. Right. Well… now that’s cleared up. You’re free to go about your days.”

When no one moved immediately, Erik waved his hands around. “You are dismissed.”

The air was suddenly filled with the cacophony of chairs scraping back. It meant Simon’s, “Seriously, that’s it?” was almost lost to the noise. But clearly Wille heard, because he sent him a hasty “shh!” and hauled him up by the sleeve of his hoodie.

People moved around them, everyone seeming a little aimless. Simon wondered if they’d all been hoping to find out what the fuck was going on like him. Because Erik’s little speech had cleared up exactly nothing.

“Come on,” Wille muttered under his breath.

Simon felt another tug on his sleeve and it propelled his feet into motion, following Wille out of the room, across the entryway, and out of the front doors.

Wille didn’t stop until he’d descended the stone steps, walked along the gravel path, and turned onto a tree lined road. Only then did he halt, whipping round to face Simon.

“You have to be more careful,” he said.

Simon slowed his steps, having only just caught up to Wille’s long legs. The wind blew through the trees, errant leaves fluttering down. One landed in Wille’s hair. He brushed it away impatiently.

“Why?” Simon said. “Erik’s, what, a few years older than us? He’s not my boss. Or my dad. Or… anyone to me.”

“He’s in charge.” Wille had crossed his arms over his chest. It was difficult to tell if it was due to petulance or the biting breeze.

“Yeah. Well. I always did have a problem with authority figures, apparently.”

Maybe that was Wille’s lip twitching, or maybe he was shivering.

“I suppose I shouldn’t piss him off if he’s the one paying me.”

Wille’s face did something funny. His eyebrows shot up and then quickly came back down in a frown. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, then opened it again, before giving a small shake of his head. “I—” Another shake. “You’re getting paid?”

That caused Simon to frown too. “Er… Yes,” he said. “That’s… why I’m doing this. I— Are you not getting paid? Are you just here because of Erik?”

“No!” Wille cried. “I— No, I’m part of the group. But I— I’m not… getting money.”

The way he said it made it sound like he was hiding something. Simon narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting?”

Wille’s fingers started twitching against each other and he pulled his lips to the side. “I… I don’t want to tell you.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

He turned on his heel to stalk back up the hill. Mostly because he wanted to get away, but also partly because he really did want to know what Wille was getting. What would make someone do something like this if they weren’t getting paid?

Unless Wille was getting something big. 

Irked at the idea that Wille might be getting preferential treatment, Simon quickened his steps, and slammed the front door behind him maybe a little harder than was necessary.

He’d expected the hubbub of people still milling around from breakfast, but the room was deserted. There wasn’t even the sound of dishes clinking in the sink. Ignoring the urge to go and see who was having to clear up, if anyone, Simon took the stairs two at a time and darted down the corridor to his room.

As soon as the door clicked into place, Simon knew that something was wrong. It took him a few seconds to realise what it was. His bag, which he’d abandoned on the floor after getting out his things this morning, was missing. Simon carefully opened the wardrobe door in case he’d put it in there without remembering, or in case cleaning staff or something had been in and moved it, but he knew what he would find.

Not only was there no bag. But also, the few clothes that he’d put away last night were gone. The clothes that had been there already hung innocently on the rail, swaying slightly from the force of the door opening.

“Fuck,” Simon muttered under his breath. So they really weren’t joking when they said you had to wear their clothes. What the fuck was this thing? 

Closing the wardrobe door, he sank down into the desk chair and pulled out his phone in order to see if he could find anything out about the previous Hillerska events that Erik had mentioned.

23% battery.

Grumbling, Simon reached down to grab his charger. He sat back up, yanking the cable, and yelped as it pulled further than expected. For a moment, he didn’t realise what had happened. Then his eyes focused on the cord dangling in front of his face; bare wires glinting in the October sunshine that was streaming through the window. Simon swallowed and peered below the desk. The other half of the cable was on the ground, its own severed end lying useless on the carpet.

23% battery.

What the fuck was this place?

Chapter Text

Simon spent some time trying to decide what he was going to do. The first thing he did was to turn his phone onto airplane mode to conserve the battery; it wasn’t like he was getting any signal anyway. Then he sat in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk as he weighed up his options.

Option one: he could leave. Buses ran every hour and he wasn’t obliged to stay. But he wanted his things back. Plus, there was 20000 SEK on the line. He’d done way worse things for way less money. He could deal with some puffed-up wannabe leaders trying to feel in control. 

So… that left option two: stick it out. At least for a little longer. He could cope without his clothes, however annoying it was that they were gone. He’d rather not have to go without his phone though. Surely someone else must have a charger he could borrow.

Decisively, he pushed himself to his feet and out into the corridor. It was lined with doors just like his. Before he could chicken out, he knocked on the door of the room directly opposite his and waited. There was no answer. Simon knocked again and, this time, pressed his ear to the door too.

Nothing.

Damn.

Okay. So maybe everyone was really spread out. Simon tried the next door. Same thing. And the one after that. He tried every single room on the corridor, and not only did he not get an answer, he couldn’t hear a single thing behind any of the doors.

Maybe he’d been the last to arrive and had been put somewhere different. Or maybe everyone was together somewhere other than their rooms. Had Erik mentioned anywhere they needed to be? Simon didn’t think so. But maybe he’d missed something after he and Wille had left. 

He hurried to the stairs and strained his ears for the sound of chattering voices as he descended. Once at the bottom, he paused to listen. Carefully, he walked towards the dining room. Peeking around the door, he saw that the table had been cleared of breakfast things and was set and ready for the next meal. A piece of paper stuck to the door told him:

Lunch served at 12:00.

Simon pulled out his phone. 09:42.

21% battery.

Fuck.

The bang of a door rang through the air and Simon whipped round, startled. He wanted to call out, but something made his voice stick in his throat. He strained his ears. There were no footsteps, no further sounds at all except Simon’s heart, which was beating somewhere in the region of his throat and reverberating around the inside of his skull.

He took a tentative step towards the sound, then another. Once he was back in the entrance hall, he scanned around. There was the door leading outside, and two others: one on each side. Trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible, Simon crossed the hall and tried the handle of the first door. 

It wouldn’t budge.

Drawing in a breath to steel himself, he moved to the other side and tried the second door. Nothing.

The front door then. Half expecting it to also be locked, Simon pushed and was surprised when it swung open. The wind caught the door and made it bang against the outside wall. The noise caused Simon to jump again. A nervous laugh burst out of his mouth.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, catching the door as it swung back in. “Pull yourself together, Simon.”

The day was overcast and the wind was biting. Not for the first time, Simon wished he had his coat. Instead, he tucked his arms into his hoodie sleeves and was just about to head back inside when he heard another bang. 

Whipping his head to the right, Simon hesitated for a moment before calling, “Hello?”

The wind whistled, but no one answered.

Simon grumbled under his breath, more to cover the panicky rabbiting of his heart than anything else, and started walking across the courtyard to the edge of the building. 

Just before he reached the corner, he slowed his steps and listened hard. Nothing.

Slowly, he peered around the wall. The path that wound around the side of the building was empty of anything except fallen leaves. Taking another steadying breath, Simon trudged along the path, glancing left and right to see if he could spot anyone.

“Simon.”

Simon whipped around, eyes wide, throat tight. There was no one there. Whose voice had that been? Had it been Wille? Simon wasn’t sure. But Wille had been out here with him earlier. So maybe…

“Wille?” Simon called back. “Is that you?”

Even though the wind had dropped a little, Simon couldn’t hear a reply. Pivoting on his heels, Simon looked towards the direction he’d been heading. This time, when the bang came, Simon’s whole body jolted.

He couldn’t even be annoyed with himself anymore.

Where the fuck was everyone? Who was banging doors? And who the fuck had said his name?

Simon hadn’t moved an inch when the next bang came. With a noise fairly close to a growl, Simon stalked the length of the building, coming to the open patio he’d seen the previous day. Trying to not think too hard, he walked up to the double doors and pulled.

Locked.

Of course they fucking were. Simon glanced up and down. There were no more doors. Where the fuck was the noise coming from? How could a door be banging if they were all fucking locked?

Bang.

There it was again. It sounded further this time, but now that the wind had almost completely gone, he could just about hear it.

He tore down the steps and started hacking through the waist-high weeds. They were felled pretty easily, and soon Simon was tripping out of the other side onto a wide dirt road. In the distance, there was a white building. Or a building that had once been white. Now it was a grimy brown colour.

The bang came again, closer this time, and Simon took off down the road towards the building.

As he got nearer he saw that a door was open, swaying slightly. Every now and then there was a gust of wind and— bang… the door would hit the wall.

Simon frowned at it. Had it really just been a door blowing in the breeze? How had he heard it from all the way up at the main building?

With quick steps, he approached the door and reached a hand out to stop it banging again. He gave it a few experimental swings and then peered into the gloom beyond it.

It was a hallway of sorts – looming shapes pushed against the walls.

Simon looked over his shoulder up to the main building, then back into the dark, took a breath, and stepped over the threshold.

It didn’t take long for Simon’s eyes to adjust, the weak outside light filtering through the grubby windows to show Simon where there was a clear path.

It looked like most of it was just abandoned furniture. He could see a desk with a leg missing, several paint cans, a stack of plastic chairs, a long bench, a tool box, and a whiteboard propped against the wall.

Light was coming out of a room to the right. He peered around the doorway to find what looked like an old classroom. All the desks were missing, but there were still shelves lining the walls and a table at the front. There was even a mug full of pencils. Simon gently touched his fingers to the crest on the mug: Hillerska School.

His footsteps echoed as he headed back out into the corridor. 

There were some stairs leading up to the next floor, but Simon bypassed them and headed down a different corridor.

The sound here was different: echoey and thin. It made something twist in his gut. Upon rounding another corner, he realised why. It was the old school gym. He walked past the showers – bags of equipment stashed against the wall, through the changing room – a bench lying sideways on the ground that he had to step over, and into the gym itself. 

It had high ceilings, a scuffed floor and a lone basketball hoop. Mirrors spanned the wall to his right and there were two crash mats pushed haphazardly to the side. It smelt of dust and old sweat and the smell, just like the sound, reminded Simon so viscerally of his own school days that a shudder ran down his spine.

He was just about to turn and leave when there was another bang. This one was different to the others; this one sounded like metal and the echoes rang out through the room, bouncing off the high ceilings.

Was it just the groans and rattles of an old building? Was there someone else in here? Had someone followed him? And if so, why weren’t they showing themselves? Why were they playing games?

His shoes squeaked a little on the polished floor as he made his way back out through the changing room. Another clang – louder this time – had his heart rate spiking. What the fuck was it?

Then, there was a sound he couldn’t quite figure out, a ripping followed by some low thuds. Swallowing hard, Simon took another step towards the corridor when he stopped in his tracks. Several balls rolled slowly into the room.

Simon stood frozen to the spot, watching as they came to a stop. One, two, three, four balls. The fifth hit the toe of his shoe, and he just stared down at it, blinking.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Simon bent down and picked the ball up. It was slightly deflated. Red and rubber. His fingers dug into it a little as he gripped. Holding it somewhat like a shield, Simon delicately moved towards the corridor. As he neared the corner, he slowed so that he could peer round it.

Two more balls lay stationary in the middle of the floor. There was no one in sight. Simon walked over and picked up a second ball. A tennis ball this time. And there were three more on the floor in the showers, the bag they must have once been in was lying on its side. Simon could have sworn it was upright when he came past earlier. Maybe he’d disturbed the place enough that it had fallen over. Maybe it had been the wind. 

Cautiously, Simon stepped towards the bag and prodded it with his toe. It flopped to the side, almost empty of its contents. Simon’s breath caught in his throat as he noticed a long gash in the side – the bag was ripped almost from top to bottom. With slightly shaking hands, Simon reached out and traced his fingers over the edge of the tear. Clean and straight, the fibres severed. As if with scissors. Or a—

Another clang had Simon whipping round. This wasn’t funny anymore. Not that it ever had been. Making a snap decision, Simon instructed his feet to move, but before he’d made it more than two steps, there was a loud groaning noise and, suddenly, every single shower turned on. Freezing cold water shot into the room, splashing off the tiles, and soaking Simon to the bone.

“Fuck!” Simon cried. “What the—”

But instead of trying to figure it out, he just dropped the balls from his hands and ran, feet slipping on the wet floor, hands scrabbling at the walls to try to remain upright.

His waterlogged shoes slapped dark footprints onto the concrete floor as he tore down the corridor, round the corner, and out of the door through which he’d come.

The wind was howling once more, cutting through his sodden clothes like a knife. But Simon didn’t stop. He propelled his freezing feet back down the road, across the lawn, up the steps and around the building. He didn’t stop until he’d flung himself through the front door and slammed it behind him.

He leant against it, panting and shivering and dripping a puddle steadily onto the floor. His curls were plastered to his forehead, water trickling down his face and into his eyes as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

“You’ll have to mop that up, you know.”

Simon’s head whipped up, his heart shooting into his throat as he was ready to scream. August was standing at the other side of the room, a wry smile on his lips.

“There are mops in the cupboard by the coat hooks.”

Finding his voice again, Simon said, “Where’s my coat?”

August’s smile tightened. “You don’t need it. You do need dry clothes though. You’d better go and get yourself changed. Lunch is in ten minutes. Don’t be late.”

And then he turned on his heel and left.

Ten minutes? How— It had barely been 10am when he’d left. He must have spent more time out there than he’d thought. Simon straightened up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. His teeth were chattering and his whole body trembled. August was right. He really did need dry clothes.

Each step had water squeezing between his toes and made an unpleasant squelching sound. He trudged up the stairs and to his room, closing the door firmly behind him.

With difficulty, he peeled his soaked clothes off his body, dried himself roughly with a towel, and pulled on the clothes that had been provided. The t-shirt was soft and the hoodie warm and Simon found himself burrowing down into it despite himself. Dry socks were absolutely bliss, and by the time he tugged on the shoes and checked the time (on his mercifully undamaged phone), he saw that he needed to hurry if he didn’t want to be late.

18% battery.

He looked at the pile of wet clothes on the floor, and then, without thinking too hard, bundled them up as small as he could, dropped down onto his belly, shuffled under the bed and pushed them to the farthest corner.

By the time he stood back up he was red-faced and dishevelled, but he was fairly confident nobody would find them and take them away. At least, he hoped not.

“Almost on time this time,” Wille said with a smirk as Simon slipped into the seat beside him.

“Fuck off,” Simon grumbled.

“And in the right clothes. Maybe Erik will give you a medal.”

Simon didn’t say anything. His hair was still sopping wet and was making the collar of his t-shirt damp. Something about finally being in the uniform that everyone else was in made him feel uncomfortable. He’d clung onto his own clothes as though they were armour, and without them he felt more exposed. Vulnerable.

Wille deflated a little next to him and Simon felt him turn to where Erik had just entered the room.

“No need to stand,” Erik said, waving his hands as some people had made a move to get out of their seats.

Wille hadn’t, Simon noticed. Neither had he. 

Erik sat at the head of the table once more, August to his right.

“I hope you’ve all had enjoyable mornings,” Erik said. “Please eat!”

There was a general kerfuffle as people dragged dishes towards themselves, or stood and loaded their plates at the table to the side. Simon waited until there was less of a crowd and then went to see what was on offer: Some sort of potato salad, bread, a green salad, and soup.

Simon ladled some soup into a bowl, grabbed a bread roll, and returned to the table.

“Not eating?” Simon asked as Wille glowered down at his plate.

“Not hungry,” Wille replied, shrugging.

“Suit yourself,” Simon said, as he tore a chunk of break off with his teeth. “Where did you disappear to this morning?”

He tried to sound casual about it, but something had been niggling in the back of his head. Something didn’t feel right, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

Wille shrugged again. “Nowhere,” he said. “Just… around.”

“Around?”

Wille nodded, still not meeting Simon’s eye.

“So… you didn’t call my name? In the grounds?”

At this, Wille’s head whipped towards him. 

“I— No… I didn’t. You… You were out in the grounds? I thought you went back to your room after we— When you left?”

Simon watched him for a moment. Wille’s eyes were wide and a little… scared. There was a small downturn to his lips and Simon almost told him. Almost told him about the banging doors and the ripped bag and the balls bouncing around the place. And the shower. 

But he didn’t. 

He didn’t know if he could trust WIlle. He barely knew him. Plus he was Erik’s brother. And Simon hadn’t figured out what was going on yet. If there even was anything going on. Or if it was just Simon’s overactive imagination. 

But then a rivulet of water travelled from the tip of one of his curls right down the back of his neck and made his whole body shudder. 

It hadn’t been his imagination. Someone was fucking with him. And he didn’t know who. At the moment, Wille was still on that suspect list. So instead he just shrugged and said, “I wandered around a bit. I thought I heard someone shout. But it must have been the wind.”

“Yeah,” Wille said, looking entirely unconvinced. “The wind.” 

Simon ate his meal mostly in silence. True to his word, Wille didn’t get anything, but Simon saw him eyeing his bread so offered him some, which he declined with a decisive shake of his head.

“You should eat,” Simon said around the bite he’d just taken. “Keep your strength up.”

Wille drew in a sharp breath. “For what?”

Simon chuckled. “Nothing. It’s just a saying, right?”

“Oh.” Wille let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Of course.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Simon asked. “Are you still mad at me for saying I’m not scared of Erik?”

Crumbs fell down his front as he took another bite, and he brushed them off as Wille said, “No,” a little bit too forcefully. He must have heard it in his voice because he added, “I mean… I’m a bit envious maybe. But I’m not mad at you.”

“Envious?” Simon said as he chewed. “Why? He’s your brother. Surely you’re not scared of him?”

Wille looked nervously over his shoulder, but Erik was deep in conversation with August. “Not… scared,” Wille whispered. “I just— I kind of have to do what he says.”

Simon scoffed. “No you don’t,” he said. “You’re, what? Nineteenth? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

Wille nodded. “Twenty.”

“Like me. Then you can do what the fuck you want.”

It was with maybe a touch too much gusto that he speared a potato and Wille watched him chew a little bit in awe. Then Wille gave another surreptitious glance over his shoulder and leant in to whisper in Simon’s ear. His breath ticked the damp skin and made goosebumps erupt. But nothing sent a shiver down his spine quite like the words Wille said.

“I think they’re spiking the food.”

Simon half choked on his potato and swallowed it with a dramatic cough.

“Everything okay over there?” August called.

“Fine,” Simon wheezed and he reached for his water as Wille clapped him on the back, almost knocking the whole glass out of his hand. Then he murmured, “What the fuck, Wille?”

“Try to be more subtle next time,” Wille whispered.

“Next time?” he hissed. “Next time you try to tell me the food literally in my mouth might be fucking poisoned?”

He took a huge gulp of water and set the glass down on the table.

“Not poisoned.” Wille snuck another look around. “And not here. Meet me in the common room after lunch.”

“Where’s the—”

But Wille had already got up from the table and walked out of the room.

Erik watched him go and called, “See you later, Wilhelm!” Then he turned to look at Simon with a contemplative expression on his face.

Simon held his gaze, lifted his fork, and took another mouthful of potato, not breaking eye contact until Erik smiled and sent him a small wave before turning away.

Suddenly unable to eat anything else, Simon placed his cutlery on his plate and pushed it away. Just as he went to stand Erik called, “Er, Simon! It’s your shift in the kitchen this afternoon.”

“What? Why?”

“Everyone has to chip in. And it’s your turn now. So if you could just hang around until everyone’s done and then clear the table and do the dishes. I know you already know where the kitchen is.”

There was a glint in Erik’s eye as if daring him to challenge it. Simon weighed it up. Like he’d said to Wille: he was an adult, he could do what the fuck he wanted. But… he also found himself not wanting to completely piss Erik off.

So instead of arguing like he wanted to, he nodded and settled back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, and glaring at everyone until they were done eating.

Just before everyone got up from the table, Erik called for everyone’s attention. “Dinner is a little earlier tonight at 17:30. Then afterwards we’re setting up for a movie night! See you all later.”

Simon was halfway through his second sink full of dishes when there was a knock on the door frame and a soft, “Hey.”

Turning, arms elbow deep in soapy water, Simon spotted Wille poking his head round the door. “Oh. Hey,” he said, returning to his task. “Sorry I didn’t come to find you. I got corralled into doing this.”

“That’s okay.” Wille stepped into the room. “Want some help?”

“Sure,” Simon said, then turned to Wille with a smile. “You can dry if you want.”

They worked side by side in silence for a few minutes before Simon said, “So. What’s your conspiracy theory?”

Wille ceased his drying and twisted to look over his shoulder. No noises were coming from the dining room, but he still dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I think someone spiked my food yesterday.”

Simon continued his scrubbing, if only to have something to focus on. “What makes you think that?”

Wille was quiet for a moment – picking up another glass and carefully wiping it before placing it to the side. “I, uh… I have trouble sleeping,” he began, “in general. Like… it usually takes me ages to fall asleep. And then I often wake up in the night. I’m not, like, an insomniac or anything. It’s not awful. But… I’m not a great sleeper. And I never have been. But… last night. I barely even remember getting back to my room, and I feel like I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. And I didn’t wake up at all until morning.”

There was a dried-on bit of soup on the bowl in Simon’s hand. He scrubbed at it until it came off and then handed it to Wille. “That’s it? You have one good night’s sleep and think you’re being poisoned?”

“Again, never said poisoned. And yeah. I do.”

Simon twisted his head and found Wille already looking at him, a defiant expression on his face.

“Maybe the bed’s just comfy,” Simon said and Wille scoffed.

“Is your bed comfy? Because mine certainly isn’t.”

Simon shrugged and returned to his washing. “It isn’t awful.”

There was another stretch of silence before Wille said, “Did, uh, did you sleep okay?”

“Fine,” Simon said quickly. Then decided he had nothing to lose by adding, “Same as normal. Except… I had a weird dream.”

“A weird dream?”

“Yeah.” He thought for a moment then decided to come clean. “You were in it.”

“Me?” 

Wille’s expression was so flabbergasted that Simon had to laugh. “Don’t look so surprised,” Simon chuckled. “You were the last person I’d spoken to before I went to bed.”

“I know but… You dreamt about me?”

Something in Wille’s expression made the back of Simon’s neck feel hot. “It was nothing,” he muttered, scrubbing at the plate in his hand. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But sneaking a look sideways, Simon saw a pleased little smile on Wille’s face, which didn’t help with the flush. 

With Simon trying hard not to engage in any more conversation after his embarrassing admission, they worked quickly, and soon all the dishes were washed and either away or stacked neatly to the side.

“So… I was thinking,” Wille said, looking a little nervous.

“Sounds serious.”

“Fuck off,” Wille laughed. “I’m trying to—” He cleared his throat and gave his head a little shake. “I… I want to be able to trust you.”

“Oh.” 

Wille’s eyes were boring into Simon’s and it made him want to curl up in a ball. Unable to do that without looking ridiculous, he pulled his hoodie over his hands instead. The sleeves were a little long, which helped. 

“Okay. And… do you trust me?” For some reason, Simon found himself really wanting to have gained Wille’s trust.

“I… I think so. I… I didn’t really realise that I would— That I would need to trust anyone. But… But I think— This place is weird, right?”

Hearing someone else admit it out loud made Simon’s own experiences feel different. Did it make them feel tamer? Now that he wasn’t alone? Or did it make them feel worse? Knowing that maybe he hadn’t made them up?

“I… I dunno,” Simon said, stalling. “Maybe? I mean…” He took a breath, deciding that he wanted to trust Wille too. “Someone took my coat. And broke into my room and stole my bag. And cut my charging cable.”

He hadn’t checked his phone in a while, so he pulled it out of his pocket.

11% battery.

He turned it to show Wille. 

“I— You got to keep your phone?”

“Er… yeah,” Simon said, repocketing it and frowning. “Didn’t you?”

“No!” Wille cried in outrage. “Erik confiscated it this morning! Said no one was allowed their phones! How come you got to keep yours?”

“Well it’s going to be useless soon, isn’t it? If I can’t figure out a way to charge it. Did you ever manage to find enough signal to make a call?”

“No,” Wille sighed. “But it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“What, why?”

“Because we might have bigger problems. Do you believe me about the food?”

Simon considered Wille. He was still looking at Simon with that borderline unnerving intensity. Simon did want to believe him, but his brother was running this whole charade. Could he ever really trust him? And if there was something weird with the food… that was something Simon didn’t really want to consider.

“I don’t know,” Simon said.

“Fine. You don’t have to believe me. But… will you help me?”

“To do what?”

“This place must have food, right? Something other than the stuff they serve us?”

Simon looked around the kitchen. “I mean… maybe. But surely they cleared this place out.”

“I bet we can find something. Will you help me look? I don’t want to eat anything they’re serving me.”

“I thought you got a good night’s sleep?” Wille glared at him and Simon held up his hands. “Sorry. Fine. I’ll help you.”

They started opening cupboards. There were huge pots and cracked vases and stacks of plates and—

“Aha!” Wille called from across the room.

Stepping closer, Simon craned over Wille’s shoulder to see what he’d found. “How are we supposed to open tins of soup?”

“We?” Wille said, looking round. “I thought you didn’t believe me.”

Wille’s face was very close, so Simon straightened up. “I think you’ll find I said— Wait.”

“What?” Wille’s voice sounded slightly panicked, and Simon understood why. Simon was standing stock still and staring out of the window. 

“When did it get dark?”

Wille scrambled to his feet and followed Simon’s gaze. “That can’t be right,” Wille said, frowning. “It’s only—” He looked at his watch – one of those fancy metal ones that rich businessmen wear. “That can’t be right. How is it 5 o’clock already? Lunch literally just finished.”

“Maybe we… lost track of time?” Even as he was saying it, it didn’t feel right. How had they not noticed four hours passing? Maybe they’d just got caught up in the conversation.

“We should… go,” Wille said, tugging on Simon’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” Simon said. “We should.”

Grateful that it didn’t have to be him making the suggestion, they both fled the kitchen, an intense unease spreading in the pit of Simon’s stomach.

Chapter Text

They decided to skip dinner. Wille half dragged them to his room, which was on the opposite side of the building to Simon’s.

“Is there anyone else on your corridor?” Simon asked once Wille had closed the door.

“What?” Wille said, only half listening as he strode to the window and pulled the curtains shut against the unnerving blackness outside.

“The other rooms,” Simon clarified. “I’m not sure there’s anyone else on my corridor. No one answered when I was looking for a phone charger.”

“Huh?” Wille was still clearly distracted. “Oh. I, uh, I think there are other people. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

For lack of anything else to do, Simon perched himself carefully on the edge of one of the beds. Wille was still pacing the small space between them. “How come you get two beds?” Simon asked. “Hardly seems fair. Unless… do you share?”

“What? No. I, uh, no… it’s just me in here.”

“So you don’t share with Erik?”

“No,” Wille said, finally sitting down on the bed opposite Simon and jigging his knees. “He sleeps somewhere else. He arrived a few days before me to get everything ready.”

“Get what ready?” Simon asked. “We haven’t done anything. Except apparently eaten poisoned food.”

“Do you really think it’s poisoned?” Wille’s eyes were big and he looked terrified.

“I don’t know!” Simon cried. “It was you who said it! I mean… I ate lunch and didn’t die, so—”

“Well I didn’t die either,” Wille snapped. “It was just… Did it not make you feel… weird?”

Simon stopped and tried to pay attention to his body. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, apart from his heart rate still being slightly elevated. “No,” he said. “I don’t feel weird.” It was only a little bit of a lie. But it wasn’t like he could blame the food for the persistent unease.

“We have to go back after dinner and sneak some of that food we found. I’m not eating their meals again.”

Wille’s mouth was set in a stubborn line, chin slightly tilted as if expecting Simon to argue. 

“Okay,” Simon said. “I mean… I’m not saying I’m not eating any more of their food because… I don’t want to starve myself just because you had a good night’s sleep for once in your life. Because that seems… drastic. But I’ll help you. If you want.”

The relief on Wille’s face made the whole thing soften and Simon found himself smiling back.

“Really?” Wille said. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

Simon scoffed. “Get me into trouble? What are we, twelve? It’s fine, Wille. I’ll help you smuggle some tins of soup from the kitchen. They can’t stop us.”

His words hid the worry niggling at the back of his mind. Because whilst he thought that Erik and August absolutely shouldn’t be able to stop them, he wasn’t convinced that they wouldn’t. Without meaning to, Simon thought about his severed charging cord, and missing bag and coat. A shiver ran down his spine. But it just further hardened his resolve.

“We’ll go after they’ve finished dinner.”

“Are you—”

“I’m sure.”

They killed time just lounging around in Wille’s room. Without phones to entertain them, they talked instead. Wille told Simon all about growing up with Erik, and how they used to play in the grounds of their home. Simon told Wille about Sara. And his mum. And about Rosh and Ayub. Talking about them made him miss them as if he hadn’t only seen them two days ago.

Simon learned that Wille had gone to university straight out of school, but had dropped out after a few weeks. That was how he’d ended up here – apparently his parents had wanted him to do something other than just mope around. Simon disclosed that he was in between jobs at the moment but had big plans for moving to the city. At some point. Once he’d saved enough.

After Simon had just finished telling Wille about how he’d been uploading videos of his songs to Instagram, and Wille had made him promise to send him his handle when they were out of here, Wille checked his watch.

“It’s almost eight,” he said. “Do you think they’ve finished with the cleanup yet?”

“Probably,” Simon said. “And I mean… there’s no rule about not wandering around, right?”

“No…” Wille said, drawing out the word. “It is before curfew.”

“Exactly,” Simon said, trying to inject as much confidence into his voice as he could. “So if there’s still someone there, we just leave and go back later. No big deal.”

As they approached the dining room, it was starting to feel like a big deal. But that was probably because every time there was the smallest noise, Wille jumped out of his skin and made a small, squeaking noise.

At one point, Simon whirled around and hissed, “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Wille shot back in a harsh whisper. “I just— I don’t want to run into Erik.”

“What is he going to do? Nothing. Pull yourself together.” He was being a little meaner than necessary, mainly because his own heart was beating uncomfortably in his throat, and Wille being jumpy made the whole thing even harder to deal with.

Luckily, as expected, they didn’t come across anyone. The lights were all off in the dining room and there were no sounds of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen. Still, they walked cautiously across the room, Wille very bravely offering to go first, Simon trying hard not to step on his heels as he tried to leave as little gap as possible.

When they got to the kitchen, Simon flicked the switch and breathed a small sigh of relief as the overhead lights cast a slightly flickering, sickly glow over everything. Wille was already rifling through a drawer for a bag.

“Here.” He thrust one into Simon’s chest, who responded with a small ‘oof’. “Start filling this.”

Simon swallowed the retort that was on the tip of his tongue and instead crouched down next to Wille by the cupboard with the tins.

“I think these are more likely to poison you,” Simon muttered.

“What? Why? Don’t tins last forever?”

“Well this one has a best before date of four years ago.”

“Oh,” Wille said. “Fuck. I didn’t realise.”

Simon laughed and nudged Wille’s shoulder with his own. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “That’s just a general guideline. I’m sure the soup is still good.”

“I don’t know.” Wille crinkled his nose. “Some of these flavours sound vile. And look, this tin’s rusty.”

“Maybe don’t take the rusty one,” Simon chuckled.

They loaded their bags and hefted them out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into Wille’s room, where they stashed them under the bed.

Pleased with a job well done, Simon was just about to ask what Wille would like to do when there was a knock at the door.

Simon assumed his own eyes were as wide as Wille’s as he slowly got to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it a crack; Simon couldn’t see who was on the other side until he heard Alexander’s voice say, “Good evening, Wille. Erik asked me to remind you that it’s movie night. We’re all gathered in the common room waiting for you.”

“For me?”

“For both of you.”

Wille jerked away from the door and threw Simon a panicked look.

“Hi, Simon.” Alexander was still out of sight and Wille shook his head at Simon as if to ask what he should do. Slightly rattled, Simon just shrugged and Wille pushed the door further open. “We missed you at dinner.”

Alexander’s face was placid and it sent a shiver down Simon’s spine.

“It was early,” Simon said. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Yeah. Me neither,” Wille added.

“But you didn’t eat at lunch.” Alexander turned to Wille. “You must be hungry. Let me get you—”

“No!” Wille interrupted with a cry. “No. It’s— I’m fine.”

Alexander paused for a moment, fixing Wille with a look that made Simon’s insides writhe and it wasn’t even directed at him.

“Suit yourself.” Alexander’s smile reminded Simon horribly of August’s on that first night. Yesterday? How was it only yesterday? It felt as though Simon had been here forever. “But please do join us. We’re waiting.”

There was a stretching silence as Alexander just flicked his placid gaze between Simon and Wille, but it was painfully clear that it was not a suggestion.

Wille clearly thought the same, and after a moment said, “Sure. We’ll, uh, we’ll be right there.” Then he closed the door in Alexander’s face. If the whole thing hadn’t been so tense, Simon might have laughed. As it was, he just let out a shaky exhale.

“We have to go, right?” Wille asked, stepping back into the room and lowering down onto the bed.

“I mean… technically no.” Simon wasn’t sure he believed his own words. “But… Do we really want to deal with not going? It’s just a movie, right? We can watch a movie.”

Wille nodded. 

“Do you need something to eat before we go?”

Wille shook his head. “Probably. But… I’m not sure I could eat anything now anyway.” His chuckle was thin and shaky.

Simon got it. His own stomach was roiling uncomfortably.

“Well then… Shall we… head to the common room?”

“Sure.”

They walked in silence. For Simon, that was so he could strain his ears for any noise. He wasn’t even sure what he was listening out for, but something about this place made him feel like he had to be on high alert.

As they approached the common room, their steps slowed. It wasn’t clear who had instigated that, but Simon was glad to hang back for a moment. The murmuring of voices could be heard through the door, and the sound felt strange to Simon given how quiet the whole place usually was.

“Are you okay?” Wille asked.

Simon nodded, even though he wasn’t really sure. He was rattled and on edge, but admitting that felt a little ridiculous. “Yeah,” he said. “You?”

Wille nodded, but his eyes were wide and he was fidgeting with his fingers. “Shall we… head in then?”

The nod Simon sent back felt jerky. He made a move towards the door but Wille grabbed his sleeve with a, “Wait!”

Simon turned and looked to see what Wille wanted.

“I, uh— Sit next to me?”

With a small shake of his head and a frown, Simon asked, “What?”

“In… In there. For the movie. Will you… sit next to me?”

The question was so absurd that Simon laughed, the sensation cutting through the tension in his chest. But Wille’s expression was so earnest that he just replied, “Sure, Wille. I’ll sit next to you,” and didn’t let on quite how relieved he was that he wouldn’t be alone.

When they opened the door, the conversation stopped and everyone turned towards them. The sensation of having several pairs of eyes blinking at them made Simon’s skin crawl. He was just about to duck his head and scurry to the back corner when a voice called out, “Nice of you to join us, Wille!”

Simon glanced over to find August watching them, a saccharine smile on his lips.

“And you’ve brought your new friend. How thoughtful.”

Despite his unease, indignance prickled at Simon’s skin and he scowled at August.

“His name’s Simon,” Wille retorted, and Simon was smug to hear the defensiveness in his tone.

“Well… Welcome, Simon.”

“I’ve met you before, August,” Simon snapped. Who did this guy think he was?

But August was saved from Simon’s wrath by a different voice pining up. “Hey, Wille! You can sit over here.”

The boy had fair hair and an arrogant smile and was eagerly patting the space on the floor beside him. 

“Thanks, Henry.”

Wille tore his glare away from August and began shuffling towards Henry, but not without first reaching behind and gripping the sleeve of Simon’s hoodie. The gesture made something warm explode in his chest as he was half dragged between the rows of people before settling cross-legged beside Wille. 

Once they were seated, conversation picked up again – quiet murmuring around them as people talked to their neighbours. Simon took the opportunity to scan the room. Most faces Simon recognised from breakfast, but none he could attach a name to. He supposed Wille must have met some people at dinner on the first night. And then there was all of this morning when Simon hadn’t been able to find anyone, maybe they’d all been together somewhere.

People were no longer paying much attention to him, chatting instead to the people around them. Simon’s eyes moved to August, who had got up and was fiddling with the projector. Sitting at the back, next to where August had been, was Erik. And he was looking straight at Simon, a small, sharp smile on his lips. Simon held his gaze, hoping to convey as much disdain as he could with just his face.

A nudge to his shoulder drew his attention away. Wille was looking at him with concern. “Everything okay?”

Simon glanced back at Erik, who was now chatting amicably to the boy next to him as if he hadn’t just been staring Simon down.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

Wille smiled and nudged his shoulder again.

“Good.”

There wasn’t time for Simon to analyse the warm bloom under his sternum before loud music blasted over the speaker and the projector flickered into life. August knocked the lights off, plunging them into darkness, before sitting back in his spot beside Erik. 

Unease crept slowly up Simon’s spine, his attention rapt on the screen as the title card flashed up.

Of course. Of fucking course they were watching a horror film. Simon wasn’t sure his nerves were up to it, and if the shaky exhale Wille let out was anything to go by, maybe Simon’s nerves weren’t the only ones that were frayed.

At the start, it wasn’t so bad. The film was so truly terrible, and the plot so utterly ridiculous, that derision was the main feeling Simon was dealing with. Made all the more so when August made a loud noise and half of the group yelped.

“You don’t have to be a dick, August,” someone complained. 

“What?” August laughed. “If you weren’t all so twitchy—”

“Fuck off, August. You don’t have to be here.”

The grumbling eventually died down again and Simon felt Wille resettle next to him. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d shuffled just a little bit closer, and Simon found himself doing the same. Maybe it was because of how weird this place felt, but for some reason he was drawn to Wille. Perhaps not drawn, but… safe. And after the chaos of the morning, that was definitely something that he was looking for.

He was only half paying attention to the screen, but at that moment, something huge jumped in front of the camera, and almost everyone in the room yelped, including Simon, who jumped and instinctually reached out for the closest thing. As it happened, the closest thing had also reached out to him, and it resulted in Wille gripping his hand with almost painful force.

There was a titter somewhere from the back of the room and the tension was broken, everyone resettling as they laughed at themselves for overreacting.

“Shit, sorry,” Wille muttered, extracting his hand.

“It’s okay,” Simon whispered back. Then, because he was more than a little shaken up he quipped, “You can just say if you need me to hold your hand.”

Wille chuckled. “Fuck off.”

But he didn’t sound too displeased.

The same thing happened at the next jumpscare. They both laughed and let go. Simon couldn’t help but notice his skin tingling a little as they did.

Then, ten minutes later, there was a loud crack and the screen went black. Someone actually screamed and Wille grabbed for his hand so hard that it was as though he could feel his knuckle bones rubbing together. When Wille went to let go, Simon gripped on – hard –  not wanting to relinquish the small amount of comfort it was giving him.

Because he couldn’t see a fucking thing.

Loud muttering broke out as everyone turned to their neighbours to figure out what was going on. 

“Erik! What the fuck!”

“Who’s nearest the lights?”

“Someone turn them back on!”

“Lars, are you dicking around?”

“Who just grabbed my leg?”

“Someone put a torch on!”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“Wait – do you have your phone?”

Underneath all the hubbub, Simon heard a whispered, “Are you okay?” 

It wasn’t the words so much as their proximity to his ear that made a shiver run down his spine. He gripped Wille’s hand tighter. “Yeah,” he replied, then let out a breathy laugh. “It just surprised me.”

“Me too.” Wille sounded a little relieved, so Simon gave his hand another squeeze and felt one back in response.

The next moment, the projector whirred back into life and there were several groans of relief. 

Simon twisted to look behind him. August and Erik were sitting in the same spots, smug smiles on their faces. As he turned back, he caught sight of Alexander, who looked both petrified, and confused, and… kind of out of it. 

It was too far for Simon to ask if he was okay. He was just considering getting up and going over there when his attention was pulled by Wille carefully untangling their hands where their fingers had all linked together.

“Sorry,” Wille said sheepishly, stretching out his fingers.

Simon’s palm was a little clammy, but he found he didn’t care. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

Wille sent him a small smile. It was still pretty dark, but Simon wondered if he could see a blush high on his cheeks too. Regardless, Wille’s proximity now made it even more impossible to focus on the terrible film. 

Perhaps he should have berated himself for the giddy butterflies flitting around with all the unease in the pit of his stomach – it made for a fairly noxious mix – but maybe he wasn’t mad that Wille continued to reach for his hand every time something even remotely scary happened on the screen. Partly because Simon was starting to feel a little freaked out, but mostly because he found that he really liked holding Wille’s hand.

After the film, everyone dispersed fairly quickly. Alexander and a couple of others hung back to help clear away the cushions and blankets. Wille and Simon exchanged a look and, in unspoken agreement, left the common room and headed to the stairs.

Hovering at the bottom, Simon twisted the toe of his shoe into the ground, and was just about to open his mouth when Wille blurted, “You could come up to my room! For a bit… If you want. I mean… you haven’t eaten. We could… try to work out how to get into those tins.”

“Yeah…” Simon said, with a small smile. “I’d, uh, I’d like that.”

Wille grinned and turned but then whipped back, his smile slipping. “I, uh… Maybe you could… I mean, only if you want to, you could maybe… sleep in my room? Tonight? I have a second bed. Unless you think that’s weird. You don’t have to. I just—”

Simon placed a hand on Wille’s arm. “Wille, it’s fine. I— Yeah. I think I’d like that. If— If you don’t mind?”

“No. I, uh, I’d rather not be alone to be honest.” He gave a weak chuckle, and Simon understood that sentiment.

“Can I just run and grab my toothbrush? And maybe a change of clothes?”

Wille smiled again. “Sure. Do you want me to wait here? Or—”

“No. I’ll come up to your room. Give me five minutes?”

“Sure.”

Simon dashed up the stairs and tried very hard to keep the dopey grin off his face. Now was not the time to be developing fond feelings for someone he met literally yesterday when they were both at this weird whatever-the-hell-it-was. 

After shutting the door behind him, he grabbed his toothbrush and a spare t-shirt and some underwear from the wardrobe. He was just about to head back out when a thought crossed his mind.

Something clenched in his chest and he swallowed before slowly lowering down to his belly and wiggling half underneath the bed.

His wet clothes were gone.

At some point, someone must have come in and taken them. And they’d gone to lengths to find them to make sure he didn’t have them. Why was it so important that he didn’t have his own clothes? Why did they care? And who even was ‘they’? Was it Erik? And August? Or was it some of the others playing daft pranks? It wasn’t like Simon had made any effort to befriend any of them. Except Wille.

Wille.

Simon started shuffling back out from under the bed when he heard a noise out in the corridor. A scuffle, and a soft thud, and a low chuckle, and then the telltale sound of a key being turned in a lock.

It was as though Simon had been doused in cold water again.

He shimmied backwards, hitting his head on the bedframe as he tried to get himself out of the small space. Scrambling to his feet, he flung himself at the door and tried the handle.

Locked.

Simon raised his fist and banged on the door. “Hey!” he yelled. “What the fuck? You can’t do that!”

There was a small laugh outside the door, and then the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps.

Frantically, Simon pounded on the door again.

“Hey! Let me out! Come back here, you fucker! Unlock the door!”

The silence rang in the room around him.

He gave one last futile bang on the door before dropping his forehead to it.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Then he turned his back to the door, slid slowly down and thumped to the ground, all thoughts of cute boys and warm hands banished from his mind, and a cold dread spreading from his chest through his whole body.

Chapter Text

Watery, pre-dawn light crept under the edge of the curtain and Simon squinted his eyes open. There was a horrible crick in his neck and the whole of the right side of his body ached.

At some point in the night, he’d fallen asleep and slid sideways against the door, crumpling in an uncomfortable heap onto the ground.

He mustn’t have got more than two hours of sleep. He was achy and exhausted and hungry and – more than anything else – really freaked out.

He reached up behind his head and tugged at the handle halfheartedly. To his surprise, the door swung open, with him leaning against it, and he tumbled rather gracelessly into the corridor.

What the fuck? That door had been locked every time he’d tried it all night. How had it been unlocked without him noticing… When he’d been leaning right up against it?

Scrambling back to his feet, Simon looked up and down the corridor, but, unsurprisingly, there was no one there. No people, no sound, no nothing. Quietly, he snuck back into his room and pulled the door shut behind him. The click of the catch made him jump, and he hastily pushed it open again to make sure it hadn’t somehow locked itself.

He let out a wobbly laugh and pulled it shut again, rubbing his hands up and down his face to try to steady himself. It didn’t really work. He tried splashing some water on it instead and that helped a little more. 

What time was it?

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was dead. Fuck. Something horrible clenched in his chest and he found that he really wanted to cry. It wasn’t like he was one of those people who couldn’t survive without their phone – he absolutely could. But… here it just felt like it was the only thing tying him to some sort of sane reality. Not that he’d been able to use it.

It was then that it hit him. He had to get out of here. Whatever the fuck this place was, whatever they were doing, no matter that they were paying him a huge sum of money… it wasn’t worth it. Nothing could keep him here now. Nothing except—

His heart lurched in his chest. Maybe Wille would come with him? Was that ridiculous?

Yes. But Simon had seen the look on Wille’s face yesterday. He was as freaked out as Simon was. Maybe he could come and hide out at Simon’s house until this whole thing was over. Or – more likely – get a train or taxi home. Simon didn’t even know where he lived.

Regardless, Simon gathered his resolve and left the room, barely pausing before he made it all the way to Wille’s door. He didn’t see a single soul on the way. Surely it must be past 6:30? It felt too light to be earlier. Perhaps breakfast was later today? No one had said. Which, he supposed, was weird after how militant they’d been about it on the first day.

But weird shouldn’t surprise Simon any more.

Taking a deep breath, Simon knocked quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention. Nothing. He tried again, this time pressing his ear to the door. If he strained his ears, he thought he could maybe hear something in there, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really sure of anything this morning.

The third time he tried, he leant in close and whispered, “Wille? Are you in there? It’s Simon.”

This time, there was the unmistakable sound of movement and then, “Simon?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“They locked the door.” Wille’s voice sounded wet and sniffly. “They—”

“Try it,” Simon interrupted. “They locked mine too, but it opened this morning.”

There was a small click and suddenly, the door was swinging open to reveal Wille’s puffy, red face. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed and his hair was sticking up every which way.

“Simon?”

It took Simon a little by surprise how relieved he was to see Wille. And – sure – he didn’t look like he’d had a great night, but at least—

He didn’t have the chance to finish his thought because Wille had reached out, grabbed a handful of Simon’s t-shirt and dragged him forwards into a bone-crushing hug. Wille’s arms were strong around his back, holding him so tight it almost hurt, but Simon found that he didn’t care. He found that being pressed into another real human body was grounding and reassuring and helped a little of the tension he’d been holding in his body leak away.

Wille drew in a shuddering breath, and Simon wondered if he would start crying. He didn’t though, he just clung a little tighter, past the point that it was awkward. But Simon didn’t want to let go either. Maybe they could just stay here, clinging to each other, and pretend none of the other stuff was going on around them. Maybe in a few days they could walk out of here together and laugh about how weird the first couple of days had been. Maybe it would all be fine.

Eventually, Simon eased himself out of Wille’s arms. A sound not unlike a whimper slipped out of Wille’s mouth, but Simon sent him a small smile and nodded to his room. “Can I come in?”

Wille stood to the side and let Simon past, pulling the door shut quickly behind him. 

“Sorry,” Wille muttered as Simon lowered himself down on the bed. “I was just— It was a weird night.”

“Yeah.” Simon let out a short laugh. “Mine too.”

“Did, uhm… what happened?”

Wille went to sit on the opposite bed, changed his mind and came and joined Simon. They weren’t quite touching, but Simon appreciated the proximity. Apparently Wille did too.

“I got locked in,” Simon said. “I… uh… I think someone locked the door from the outside. I kept trying it all night and it wouldn’t budge. I must have fallen asleep at some point though, because when I woke up this morning it just… opened.”

When Wille didn’t say anything, Simon turned to look at him. He was looking down at his hands, picking at the skin down the sides of his fingers. “Was… uhm… was that what happened to you?” Simon asked, resisting the urge to take Wille’s hand in his own.

Wille raised his head and looked at Simon with slightly panicked eyes. The urge grew even stonger, itching at Simon’s fingers, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea, so instead he tucked his hands under his thighs.

“Yeah. I—” Wille cleared his throat and glanced away before pinning Simon with his gaze once more. “My door locked. I didn’t notice it happening. I’d been waiting for you to come back. And when you’d been a while, I tried the door. I was going to come and meet you. Make sure you were okay. Or… something. I don’t know. And it just wouldn’t open. I spent a while trying to force it, assuming it had just got stuck. Assuming I just needed to—” Wille broke off and shook his head. “But then… then the noises started. And I—”

“What noises?” Simon’s heart had leapt into his throat.

“Banging, mostly,” Wille said. “It sounds silly. It wasn’t anything— Just banging. And… And maybe someone running? I thought I heard a voice at some point, but maybe I was imagining it. I— I wasn’t coping particularly well.” He let out a weak chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. 

This time, Simon didn’t resist, and when Wille brought his hand down into his lap, Simon took it. “Have you slept?”

Wille huffed. “No. Not at all. I— I just couldn’t. The door was locked basically all the way up to you arriving. I thought you were— Stuff had been banging against the door now and again in the night. I thought it was that again.”

“Shit, Wille. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. I— I’m so sorry you’re here. I… I don’t even—”

“Wille,” Simon interrupted, squeezing his hand. “What is this place? What’s going on? Why—”

“I don’t know.” Will shook his head. “I had no idea it would be— Erik didn’t tell me anything. It’s really fucking scary. I don’t— I’m just sorry you’ve ended up—”

“I chose to come myself.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know.”

Wille looked so earnest and it made Simon’s chest contract. “Neither did you,” he murmured.

The small smile Wille sent him and the gentle grip on his hand shot straight to his heart. 

“Do you need to sleep?” Simon asked. “I can stay here whilst you do if you want? So that you’re not alone?”

Wille nodded. “Maybe that would be good. Just for a little bit.”

Simon expected Wille to get up and move to the other bed. Instead, what he did was shuffle sideways and lie himself down with his head in Simon’s lap. Simon scooched backwards so he was leaning against the wall and, after pausing for only a moment, laid a gentle hand on Wille’s head.

A content noise slipped out of Wille’s mouth and Simon instantly felt his breathing deepen. It was less than a minute before Simon guessed that Wille had fallen asleep – gentle, snuffly snores warming Simon’s thigh where Wille’s head was laid.

It was strange. Most of the last nine or so hours, Simon had been on high alert – tense and wound tight, waiting for something to happen even though it never did. And it sounded as though Wille had had it even worse. But now, with Wille soft hair underneath his hand, Wille’s warm palm resting on his leg, Simon felt his whole body relax. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, perhaps it was the relief of no longer being alone, or perhaps it was Wille.

Or maybe some combination of the three.

Whatever it was, Simon found himself slipping into sleep as well. And once, when he jerkily woke as he slid sideways on the wall, his sleepy brain decided it was an excellent idea to carefully move Wille’s head off him, and lie down beside him instead. It also thought that maybe Wille still needed the reassurance of physical contact, so it didn’t seem presumptuous at all to slip his hand around Wille’s middle, or to slot his knees behind Wille’s, or even to bury his nose in the hair at Wille’s nape, nuzzling into the warmth and inhaling the reassuring scent of another body, someone who made him feel safe when everything else didn’t. 

And that was how they awoke, what felt like several hours later, except Wille’s hands were now laid over the top of Simon’s arms, and if Simon wasn’t mistaken, Wille was carefully stroking his palms along them.

Simon must have made a noise because Wille’s hands ceased their movement, his whole body tensing in Simon’s arms. But Simon was still too sleepy to feel embarrassed about it, so he just nuzzled his nose closer to Wille’s neck and murmured, “Hey.”

Wille’s body melted a little and Simon tried to bite back his smile.

“Hey. Did you sleep?” Wille’s voice was gravelly and rough and made Simon’s toes curl in delight.

“Yeah. Did you?”

Wille’s hair tickled Simon’s nose as he nodded. “I did, yeah. I, uh… thank you. For letting me do that. I don’t know how I’d have managed the day without that.”

Regretfully, Simon’s arms slid away as Wille sat up and rubbed his palms over his face. Then he turned and smiled down at Simon who suddenly felt much more exposed and sat up as well. Too quickly. He closed his eyes against the spinning.

“Dizzy?” Wille chuckled.

“A little,” Simon admitted sheepishly.

“We should eat.”

“We should.”

Between them, they rescued some tins from the stash under Wille’s bed. Miraculously still there even though Simon’s clothes had gone. Then, with the help of Simon’s keys, they managed to prize open some of them.

Wille looked in disgust down at the cold soup but held out his tin for Simon to clink.

“Cheers,” Simon chuckled, and then they both took mouthfuls.

“Yeurgh!” Wille exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Simon choked, swallowing his down. “That’s disgusting.”

“Maybe I’d rather be poisoned.”

“That is sounding like the better option.”

They both giggled and Simon couldn’t believe how much lighter he felt as they both took more mouthfuls of the revolting soup.

“What time is it, anyway?”

Wille looked at his watch. “Eleven thirty.”

That made something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. “Almost lunchtime,” he said. “Do you think they’ll send someone for us again?”

“Almost definitely.”

They fell into a tense silence, Wille absentmindedly swirling the soup around in its tin. It turned Simon’s stomach, so he put his own down on the desk. Wille followed suit.

“So, uh…” Wille started.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here?” Simon rushed out.

Wille blinked at him several times before huffing and saying, “What?”

“We could leave,” Simon said. “We could— I don’t live far from here. I got the bus in. We could… You could come with me. Then figure out how to get home from there. We— We don’t have to stay. If it’s— We could leave.”

Wille blinked at him again, and Simon suddenly felt small as he tugged his cuffs down over his hands. What was he thinking? Why would Wille want to leave with him? He had his brother here. Why would he—

“Okay.”

Wait. What? 

“Seriously?” Simon blurted.

A grin spread on Wille’s face. “Yeah. I mean… Unless you’re retracting the offer. But—”

“No!” Simon cried. “No. I— Yes. You can come. If you want to. I mean… and figure out how to get home or whatever. I— The buses come every hour. I can’t check the times, but the worst that happens is we’ve just missed one and have to wait an hour. But if you don’t mind—”

“That’s fine,” Wille rushed out. “I don’t care. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m done with this circus. When can we—”

“Now?”

A giddy thrill burst in Simon’s chest. “Now? Yeah. I can— Do you need to get anything?”

Wille shook his head, grin still in place. “Do you?”

“I don’t think so. I mean… I want my coat and my bag and my clothes back. But… you can ask Erik for them after, right? I assume they’ll end up in lost property or something. And to be honest, I just want to get out of here.”

“Yeah. I’m sure they will. Should we take extra hoodies? I bet it’s cold. And if we’re waiting…”

Wille had already pulled open his wardrobe door and handed a spare hoodie to Simon. It was bigger, but that just meant it fit well over the top of his current one. It was a little too warm with both on in the room, but Wille shucked his own onto his shoulders and said, “Ready?” and then they were walking out of the room and closing the door behind them.

Simon half expected to meet someone on the way down, and wasn’t sure if he should be worried that they didn’t. But he tried not to focus on that, and instead focused on the giddy little smile Wille kept throwing to him, and the way his own heart flipped a little every time he did.

There was no one in the corridor, or in the entrance hall. There was no one in the courtyard or on the path down to the bus stop. There was no one on the lawn, or on the road leading up around the side of the building. They didn’t see a single soul and, whilst grateful, Simon couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved again. There were so many people here, where did everyone go?

When they made it to the bus stop, Simon turned around to face Wille. “Are you sure?” he said. “You really don’t have to come. I’m fine going on my own.”

“I want to,” Wille rushed out. “Last night was… And even before then. This place is…”

“Batshit insane?”

Wille chuckled. “I was going to say ‘a bit creepy’. But yeah. That too.”

They grinned at each other for several seconds before Simon started feeling self-conscious. He tore his eyes away from Wille and stepped backwards up the little step and into the bus shelter.

“We should maybe sit,” he said. “It might be ages.”

“Is there space for both of us?” Wille said, following him in.

Simon snorted and sat down. “How much space do you think I take up?”

Wille threw him a cheeky grin and sat down beside him. “I don’t know. It did feel a little like you were hogging the bed this morning.”

“Fuck you!” Simon cried in mock outrage. “I barely took up any space at all!”

“Yeah because you were cuddled right up to me.”

Simon felt his cheeks grow hot. “I wasn’t—”

But Wille just bumped his shoulder with his own and sent him a small smile. Simon nudged back but didn’t say anything. Now, in the harsh light of day, he was starting to feel a little reckless for having napped in Wille’s bed. With Wille in it. Curled around him.

The wind blew a flurry of leaves past the front of the shelter and Simon shivered, tugging Wille’s borrowed hoodie tighter around him.

“I wish we had flasks of hot chocolate,” he mused.

Wille hummed. “Or warm soup.”

“Urgh,” Simon laughed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to eat soup again.” 

Wille giggled. “Actually, yeah. You’re probably right. That might have been the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“I’ll cook for you when we get to mine. I mean… If you want. It’s a shame my mum isn’t around this week. She’s a great cook. And I’m fucking starving.”

A look of surprise crossed Wille’s face. “I— uh… yeah. I mean… that would be great. If it’s not intruding?”

“I literally invited you, Wille. It’s fine.”

“Oh. Well.” A little, pleased blush spread on Wille’s cheeks. Simon had the ridiculous urge to trace it with his fingers. “Then yes. That would be lovely.”

Why was Wille reacting like Simon invited him on a date? Did Simon invite him on a date? This whole thing was ridiculous. Maybe their emotions were just heightened because of their horrendous nights. And their lack of sleep. And food. He absolutely shouldn’t be having a stomach full of butterflies at the idea of bringing a boy home. This wasn’t a date. They were fleeing. 

Very slowly. 

If this bus ever showed up.

They sat in the shelter idly chatting for the best part of an hour. Without the stress of the main building, Simon found it easier to relax and was soon leaning his head back on the wall and closing his eyes as Wille talked about an old school friend of his – Felice. The fondness in his voice was clear and Simon let it warm him when the double-hoodie stopped doing its job quite so well.

Apparently the words weren’t enough though, because after a while Wille said, “Are you cold?”

Simon opened his eyes to find Wille looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. And that warmed his heart a little too. Only… not quite enough to stop the shivering.

“A bit,” Simon admitted. “But the bus should be here soon. What time is it?”

Wille checked his watch. Simon had never been so glad that Wille was the type of person that, for some reason, still wore a proper watch. “Twelve fifty.”

Huh.

“Did you notice what time we got down here?” Simon asked.

“No.” Wille shook the sleeve of his hoodie back over his wrist. “But… maybe not until twelve? I mean… We had to get the hoodies and stuff…”

Simon hummed. It didn’t feel like it had taken them that long. Maybe the bus was just late. They did that sometimes. Then he had a thought. “Shit. My phone has no charge.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket as if to prove the point. “How do we pay?”

“You pay with your phone?” Wille looked genuinely surprised and, despite the sudden panic, it made Simon laugh.

“Yeah.” He shook his head in disbelief. “There’s an app. Have— Wille. Have you never got on a bus before?”

A few things crossed Wille’s face. It was as though he wasn't sure whether to be defensive or bashful. Simon decided to put him out of his misery with a gentle hand to his arm.

“It’s okay,” he said. “But… we might be fucked if neither of us have got a phone.”

“I have my wallet,” Wille said, fishing it out of his back pocket. “Do they take card?”

Simon’s face lit up. “I think so! Maybe! Well… I’m not sure actually, I always use the app. But it’s worth a shot, right?”

Wille grinned. “It is.”

“Would you, uh, pay for my ticket for me?”

Wille laughed at that. A full belly laugh, flinging his head backwards. “I think I can stretch to a bus ticket. Since you’re going to feed me lunch.”

“Oh. So this relationship is transactional, is it?”

Wille’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he made a face not dissimilar to that of Simon’s pet fish. “I— uh…”

“Well if that’s the only way to get a bus ticket, then fine, I suppose I did offer lunch.”

His prize for not drawing attention to Wille’s fluster was a sweet, abashed smile. And, fuck, maybe it was a mistake to call it a relationship, because now Simon’s insides were all wiggling happily at the soft expression on Wille’s face. And what they should have been doing was clenching in worry about—

“Where the fuck is this bus?”

They waited another thirty minutes. Then another sixty.

It was getting colder and colder and Simon almost couldn’t feel his fingers. He’d taken to standing up and jumping up and down on the spot to keep warm.

He was also becoming ravenously hungry. He’d not eaten properly since lunch yesterday, and even then he’d stopped before he’d had his fill. 

“What time is it?” he asked for what felt like the millionth time.

“You’re like a kid on a road trip,” Wille grumbled. He’d become considerably less amicable the longer they’d waited. “It’s almost two thirty.”

“We should have had at least two buses by now. Where the fuck are they? I swear when I checked before I came they were every hour.”

“Maybe they broke down?”

“Both of them? And no replacement? Unlikely.”

Wille looked at him for a long moment and it made Simon’s insides writhe – and this time not in delight. Especially when, with slight trepidation, Wille said, “What… are you saying?”

For some reason, Simon felt caught, and he crossed his arms, huffing as he sat back down on the bench, “I don’t know,” he grumbled. “I just don’t get why they haven’t come yet.”

“Do you think…” Wille paused for a moment to slowly make his way over to Simon and lower himself down on the bench. “Do you think that they’ve… been cancelled?”

Simon turned his head to Wille, whose wide, worried eyes were fixed on him. A whoosh of breath slipped from between Simon’s lips. It was a terrifying thing to admit, but—

“Yeah…” he breathed. “Maybe. It—” He gave a humourless chuckle. “It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen here, right?”

Wille was still looking at him with concern and it made Simon want to turn away. So he did, shuffling himself further back into the wall and tucking his hands into his sleeves.

“You don’t have to wait,” he snapped, suddenly mortified. “I just thought— If you want to go back, you can.”

An answer didn’t come immediately, but Simon stubbornly glared at the floor. It wasn’t like Wille had done anything wrong, but Simon was tired, and hungry, and scared, and now embarrassed on top of it all.

“I— Do you want me to go?”

Wille’s voice was careful and quiet and that made Simon even angrier.

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “Do whatever you want.”

The silence stretched and Simon tried his best to not meet Wille’s eye, even though it was clear that Wille was watching him. Then Wille reached out his hand and carefully touched his fingers to Simon’s elbow. “I— I’d like to stay. If… If you’re still okay with me being here?”

Simon lifted his head and found Wille was looking at him with that intense gaze that Simon couldn’t seem to get away from. All the fight went out of him and Simon deflated. “Yeah,” he said. “I— That’s fine. Sorry I snapped. I’m— I’m really on edge.” He chuckled and was glad to see Wille’s face split into a grin.

“That’s okay,” he said. “And it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do than wait for a bus, is it?”

And so they waited. And they waited some more. At some point Simon realised that he had actually stopped expecting the bus to ever arrive, but they both still whipped their heads to the road any time there was a sound.

It was getting colder and colder, and darker and darker, and, over time, they’d both gravitated towards each other on the bench, hands hidden in sleeves and tucked in armpits to keep themselves warm. Wille had jokingly suggested huddling for warmth, and Simon’s laugh had been a little too high pitched in response.

By 5:30, it was painfully clear that no bus was coming. But it seemed that neither of them wanted to admit defeat. Simon’s stomach gave a loud growl and neither of them even joked about it. It was as though they existed in this little bubble, just the two of them at the bus stop, swapping stories and talking about everything and nothing. And despite the cold, and the hunger, Simon didn’t really want to go back.

He didn’t want to leave their sanctuary, and deal with all the shit that might be thrown at them back up at the school. He didn’t want to admit defeat, or look too closely about why the fuck no buses had shown up. He didn’t want to be away from Wille, and the comforting safety he’d come to represent.

The choice was taken off them though when, at just before 6 o’clock, a voice called out, “There you two are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

August was sauntering down the hill, not looking at all worried about their whereabouts.

“Naughty of you to just disappear like that.” He tutted at them and Simon felt a wave of dislike rear up in his chest.

“Fuck off, August.” Luckily Wille got there first.

“Now, now,” August said, taking the last few steps and stopping just before the bus shelter. “Is this how you thank Erik for giving you this opportunity?”

“What opportunity?” Wille seethed. “Starve me and terrorise me?”

“We’ve given you plenty of opportunities to eat. It’s been your choice not to.”

“Yeah. And what about—” But he stopped as Simon reached out and tugged on Wille’s sleeve, shaking his head.

“Listen to Simon, Wille,” August cooed, and Simon had a sudden urge to punch him in the face.

“Come on, now. Dinner’s about to start. You can warm up and get some food and everything will be okay.”

Wille looked sideways at Simon, as if asking his opinion. But Simon just shrugged. What else were they supposed to do? If there were no buses, the only way out of here was walking, and it wasn’t like they were prepared for that.

So, with a heavy heart, he followed August back up to the main building, Wille next to him, shoulders brushing every few steps. And they allowed themselves to be led to the dining room, where they both ate the food served and didn’t join in conversation with anyone else.

When they were dismissed, and mercifully dodged kitchen duty, Wille hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m sorry the bus didn’t come,” he said.

“Yeah,” Simon sighed. “Me too.”

Wille shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Will— Will you?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

They hovered for a second or two before Wille blurted, “The offer’s still there! Of… You could stay in my room tonight! If… If you wanted. In the spare bed. I mean… If you’d rather not be alone. I can— You can… If you want?”

Simon’s heart swelled in his chest and, despite the implications, found himself smiling. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d still— That would— That would be good, actually. But… Can I just come now, instead of going back to mine? So that—”

“Yeah, of course,” Wille rushed out. “Come on.”

They walked up the stairs in silence, Wille throwing bashful smiles over his shoulder every few steps. When they got to the room, they brushed their teeth without exchanging words, eyes catching in the mirror, toothpaste dripping down their chins as they tried not to grin too widely. Simon was suddenly bone-tired, as if their day standing out in the cold was finally catching up to him. His eyelids were heavy and his whole body felt sluggish, and if the bed wasn’t right there, Simon would be tempted just to curl up right here on the floor.

When it actually came to it, neither of them said anything as Simon climbed into Wille’s bed, yawning widely and shuffling as far against the wall as he could to give Wille space. And when Wille lay down, head pillowed on Simon’s arm, back against Simon’s chest, with Simon’s hand draped around his middle, all Simon whispered was, “Is this okay?” Words slightly slurred as he already started drifting off.

And Wille’s response was just a small nod and a huge yawn and Simon could feel himself slipping into slumber. He barely registered Wille running his palms along his arm before he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep – undisturbed by locked doors, or mysterious noises, or buses that never came.

Chapter Text

Wakefulness came slowly. It felt as though he were underwater, trying to kick up to the surface, but something was holding him back. Someone was waiting for him, he knew that much, but Simon felt sluggish, and tired, and so, so warm. 

Then he became aware of a noise. Something loud was piercing through the water making him want to clap his hands on his ears, but he couldn’t move his arms. Something was pinning them down. His ears hurt, he wanted to make it stop, but his body wouldn’t respond to him.

Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness he realised he wasn’t actually underwater, but he still couldn’t move. Focussing all his energy on his arms, he gathered his strength and pulled them towards him. They moved a little, but in doing so, they made something else move. And make a noise.

Panic flung Simon fully awake and he gasped. Suddenly, he became aware of an alarm blaring on the bedside table. The bedside table where a hand was currently blindly fumbling around. A hand that was not his.

Another groan slipped out of Wille’s mouth as he finally managed to quiet the alarm on the little clock. Then he flopped onto his back arm slung across his face and made a discontented noise.

“Good morning,” Simon said, at a loss of what else to do.

Wille moved his arm a little and cracked one eye open. Then his face split into a sleepy smile.

You’re beautiful, Simon thought.

Shit. That wasn’t what he was supposed to think. He swallowed and shuffled back a little.

“Good morning,” Wille replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

Simon cleared his throat. “Yeah. I— uh… really, really well, actually.”

Wille hid his face under his arm again before saying, “Do you still not think we’re being poisoned, then?”

Without waiting for a response, Wille sat up, swinging his legs down to place his feet on the floor.

When had Wille taken his t-shirt off? Had he done that before they’d got into bed? Simon couldn’t remember. But then— Shit. He hadn’t worn a t-shirt either. Why had he thought that was a good idea?

The previous evening was blurry. He remembered trudging in from the bus stop with August. He remembered dinner. Then…

“Do you remember anything about last night?” Simon asked.

Wille was reaching for his trousers and stood up, pulling them on. “We didn’t have sex did we?”

Simon spluttered, half choking on his tongue and Wille threw him a smirk over his shoulder.

“I— No… We didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because I can’t even remember how you’ve ended up in this room. So…”

“We didn’t have sex.” Simon’s voice was decisive despite the burning in his cheeks. 

Even though he couldn’t remember everything, he could vaguely remember getting into bed and falling asleep. Maybe. Probably. And he was fairly certain he would remember having sex with Wille. With anyone. But… particularly with Wille.

Wille shrugged again and headed to the wardrobe. “I’m going to have to take your word for it.”

“How are you so chill about that?” Simon burst out. “How are you— You seriously don’t remember.”

There was clattering as Wille rummaged in the wardrobe, reappearing around the side pulling a t-shirt over his head. Simon tried not to watch his naked chest disappear with too much dismay. 

“I don’t remember,” Wille said, returning to the bed and standing beside it. “Do you?”

“Not everything,” Simon admitted. “Just… bits. It’s fuzzy. But I do remember parts of it.”

Wille nodded and pulled one side of his lip into his mouth. “That’s good,” he said. “That’s— I wonder why it seems to affect me more…”

Unease bubbled in the pit of Simon’s stomach. “You still think there’s something in the food?” He took the opportunity to reach for his own discarded t-shirt and tug it on.

“I mean… yeah,” Wille said. “How else could I explain it? The first night I slept like I did last night, barely even remembering how I made it upstairs – both nights I ate at dinner. The one night I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep at all and thought I could hear banging on my door all night.”

Simon dragged his hoodie on and ran a rough hand through his hair. He really needed a shower. “Isn’t hearing things something that would be more likely to happen if you were being drugged?”

“But you heard them too.”

“Not like you did. And I slept like normal on the first night.”

“You didn’t eat dinner though, right?”

“I—” Simon closed his mouth. “No. I stole some bread rolls. But… no. I didn’t eat dinner.”

“Whatever it is,” Wille said. “It’s really fucking weird. And the bus yesterday makes me think that they’re trying to keep us here for some reason. Against our will.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in Simon’s stomach. “You make it sound like it’s some sort of cult.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Erik,” Wille said, darkly. And that didn’t help Simon’s unease at all. “Shall we go down to breakfast?”

Breakfast was the same as normal. If anyone else was experiencing the same weird things that Simon and Wille were, then they weren’t letting on. Everyone seemed relaxed and jovial and seemed to be getting on well. 

Maybe that was why Erik stood up towards the end of breakfast and banged the table to get everyone’s attention.

“Good morning, everyone!”

There was a murmur around the room. Simon noticed Wille kept his mouth firmly shut behind his coffee mug.

“Great to see you all settling in!” Erik’s smile was wide as he surveyed the room. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

At this, Simon noticed a few slightly confused expressions. So at least they weren’t the only ones very much not enjoying themselves.

“We thought we might set you a few tasks today, since apparently some of you are getting bored.”

His eyes definitely landed on Simon and Wille as he said it, his sharp smile glinting in the early morning light. Simon shifted in his seat. 

“As some of you have probably noticed, the school has fallen into a bit of disrepair over the last few years. It’s a shame. But we thought you could help bring a bit of shine to the old place. If you all come to August on your way out, he’ll assign you your duties for the day.”

“Are they compulsory?” someone shouted.

Simon whipped his head to the voice. Henry.

Erik’s smile widened. It showed more of his white teeth. “Absolutely not,” he laughed. “But… it is… recommended.”

A hush fell over the room, and Simon understood why. The threat was subtle, but it was definitely there. And the shock of it rippled through the room.

“But finish your breakfasts! No rush. And then head over to August.”

And with that, Erik sat back down, a serene smile on his face. Simon narrowed his eyes at him, hoping that some of his disdain was being psychically transferred across the room.

“I bet we get split up,” Wille whispered, his breath tickling Simon’s ear and sending a shiver down his spine.

“What?”

“The activities. Or whatever the fuck they’ve got planned for us. I bet they split us up.”

Trying to kick his brain into gear, Simon moved slightly out of Wille’s space. “Do you think so?”

“Definitely.” Wille twisted to glare at August, who had started chatting to a couple of people who were already done. “No way August is letting us stay together after yesterday.”

For a moment, Simon thought Wille meant the bed and felt heat spread up his neck. But then he remembered the bus, and all the embarrassment was chased away by a hollow feeling instead.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You’re probably right.”

“Well,” Wille said, pushing his chair out, “let’s see what they’ve got in store for us.”

Simon was tasked with sweeping the leaves out of the old fountain, and Wille was assigned work in the kitchen. The look on Wille’s face as they were led in opposite directions tugged on Simon’s heartstrings until he shook himself out of it.

He was being ridiculous. They were being ridiculous.

The fact that it felt as though Wille was the only thing keeping him sane here was ludicrous. Yesterday had been fine. Yeah, the buses hadn’t come, and yeah, he maybe didn’t love the idea that he couldn’t quite remember how he’d got to bed. But there’d been no creepy door banging, no showers turning on of their own accord, no disembodied voices calling his name, no locked doors. 

So, yeah. This place was really fucking weird. But they only had a few more days. If all he had to do was sweep up some leaves in the fucking freezing cold without a coat. Well… it was worth the 20000 SEK he’d be getting at the end of it.

So Simon swept the leaves, and then cursed the wind as it blew them everywhere, then swept them up again. And maybe the mist clinging to the ground made him feel a little more on edge than he might otherwise have been. That was to be expected. And if he hurried a little bit more than necessary in the shadows as he dumped them all in the big bins around the side of the building. That was fine. Normal even.

He couldn’t deny that he looked over his shoulder more than he might have otherwise done. And shot upright every time he heard anything even remotely whispery. But that was just left over from the other days. It was fine. Fine.

Yes, the cold had seeped through his clothes and chilled him to the bone. But he wasn’t about to let that bother him. Even if it did take several minutes to regain the feeling in his hands once he re-entered the building for lunch.

Simon was grateful for the hot soup warming him from the inside, and he barely even thought about the disgusting cold stuff from the day before. It didn’t slip his notice that Wille shuffled his chair a little nearer as they ate. But Simon didn’t mind. The closeness was nice.

In the afternoon, they were reassigned: Simon to painting one of the hallways and Wille to weeding the paths.

“Do we really have to do this?” Simon overheard someone grumble only to be violently shushed by someone else followed by a hissed, “Don’t let them hear you say that!”

So they worked without complaint. Although Simon tried to channel his frustration into every run of the roller, imagining each pass was smearing paint all over Erik and August’s smug fucking faces.

By the time 6 o’clock rolled round, Simon was exhausted, aching and covered in paint.

“Great work, everyone!” Erik called from where he’d gathered them all into the entrance hall. “This place is looking better already! So, quick showers, then we have a surprise for you. I expect everyone back down in the common room in half an hour. Chop chop!”

“Did he really just fucking say ‘chop chop’?” Simon muttered, glaring darkly at Erik from behind Wille’s shoulder.

Wille twisted slightly, but didn’t say anything, just gave a small hum to acknowledge that he’d heard. Simon knew that he was Wille’s brother, but he was still being a bit of a twat. On previous days it had seemed that Wille had been just as willing to badmouth Erik. Maybe Simon had got it wrong.

Forty minutes later, Simon descended the stairs feeling slightly more alive, and significantly cleaner. 

“Ah. You’ve decided to join us.”

Simon bit down his retort and instead just glared at August as he picked his way across the busy common room to where Wille was sitting in the back corner, perched on the windowsill, one knee drawn up to his chest.

“Hey,” Simon said as he approached. He was a little apprehensive and he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Good shower?”

Wille tore his eyes away from the window, where he’d been looking out into the dark. His hair was damp and flopping down onto his forehead. “Oh,” he said. “Hey. Yeah. It was fine.”

Simon leaned against the wall beside the window and crossed his arms. “Everything okay?”

Bringing his hand up to his mouth to chew at the skin around his thumb, Wille nodded. He removed the digit long enough to mumble, “Yeah. Fine.”

Simon was about to press him on it, but Erik clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention and then, with a wide flourish, revealed several pizza boxes stacked on the table behind him.

“Since you all worked so hard today, we decided to treat you all to pizza! There’s this fantastic greasy place in town. Really something else. They seemed pleased to have the custom. I hope it doesn’t make anyone ill.”

He laughed and Simon noticed, with something akin to vindication, that only a couple of people joined in.

“So dive in! Relax! Get to know each other a little. But remember, curfew at nine thirty.”

There was a flurry of movement as people gravitated towards the pizza. Simon turned back to Wille. “Still a curfew then?”

Wille gave an unimpressed huff. “Apparently.”

“Do you think they’ve poisoned the pizza too?”

A frown appeared between Wille’s eyebrows. “You don’t have to—”

“Sorry. I was joking,” Simon rushed out, unsure why Wille felt a little standoffish. 

The frown remained, but Wille shook his head. “It’s fine. And… the pizza’s probably fine. You should have some.”

“Do you… not want some?”

WIlle did a weird half shrug thing and it made Simon’s stomach squeeze. “Hey.” Simon reached out and placed his hand on Wille’s arm. “What’s wrong?” The idea that he might have done something to upset Wille bothered him more than he might have thought it would. 

Wille dropped his gaze to Simon’s hand on his sleeve and, self-conscious, Simon whipped it away. Before he’d pulled it fully back, Wille darted out his hand and grabbed it, giving Simon’s fingers a quick squeeze and then dropping it again. His face had softened and he sent Simon a tight smile.

Relief flooded Simon’s chest. 

“Nothing,” Wille said. “I just— It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Eyes darting around Wille’s face, Simon tried to work out what he could say. But, unable to land on anything else, just said, “What sort of pizza do you want? I’ll bring you some.”

The evening wasn’t awful. Simon and Wille mainly kept to themselves, Wille slowly thawing as the evening went on. Alexander and Henry both stopped by to say hi, and a couple of the others, who seemed to know Wille but who Simon hadn’t spoken to.

Everyone had that stiff, upper-class air, and Simon wondered how he’d ended up here with all of them, and why they needed the money.

“Do you have any pets?” Simon asked. They’d been chatting amicably for half an hour and, in that time, Simon had ended up on the windowsill opposite Wille, who’d had to tuck his legs in further to make space. Their knees were bent up to their chins and their toes were touching. It was cosy.

“No,” Wille sighed. “I’d love one, though. Erik isn’t around as much anymore, and my parents…”

“Oh, so you live with your parents?”

Wille nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean… there’s no point moving out. It’s not like— But it’s fine. It’s big enough that I can avoid them most of the time. How about you?”

“Parents or pets?” Simon joked and was pleased when Wille laughed.

“Both. If you want,” he chuckled. 

“I have three fish,” Simon said. “Olle, Oski and Felle. I’ve basically been cycling through them since I was twelve. These three have been with me for a few years though. And—”

Suddenly, they were plunged into darkness, just like they had been at the movie night. Simon, more on edge this time, almost swallowed his tongue with the force with which he jumped and tried not to scream.

Several others did scream though. There was shouting and banging and Simon couldn’t figure out why chaos had erupted quite so quickly.

It soon became clear why. A forceful hand closed around Simon’s wrist and jerked him from the windowledge. The fingers were long and cold.

“Wille?” Simon yelped. But he knew it wasn’t Wille, he would recognise Wille’s touch. A point further proven by an anguished, “Simon?” screamed from somewhere on the other side of the room. How had he got so far away?

“Wille!” Simon tried again and he clamped his own hand down on his captor’s and tried to prise the fingers off. A hot chuckle grazed his ear and Simon recoiled. “Get off me!”

The hand did not loosen, just yanked Simon further from the window causing him to stumble on something. There was a groan, and Simon realised in horror that he’d kicked someone lying prone on the floor.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the hand disappeared and Simon stumbled again as he regained control of his body.

There were still screams and shouts as people tried to orient themselves. The dark was so thick that it made Simon’s eyes hurt as he tried to focus them – as though the blackness were pressing down on his eyeballs.

“Has someone got a torch?” someone yelled.

“Try the lights!”

More scuffling, a couple of bangs, a scream, and a thud. Simon’s heart was beating so hard, it felt as though he might throw up. He held out his arms and tried to sense his way across the room, unsure of his target, but needing to get somewhere.

With a short, sharp, crackle, the lights came back on. Simon squinted his eyes against them, trying to work out what he was seeing.

Several people were trying to pull themselves back to standing, clearly having tripped in a bid to move. Everyone looked confused and disorientated. There was muttering and grumbling and Simon spun round frantically to try to find—

“Wille,” he breathed out, strode over to where Wille was pressed against the opposite wall, arms out to the side as if trying to make himself as flat as possible. Without thinking about anything except the immense relief, Simon reached out and hauled him into a hug.

Wille clung to him, fingers scrabbling at his back, breath coming out harsh against Simon’s ear.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Simon mumbled into his shoulder.

The shake of Wille’s head jostled them both, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he squeezed back even tighter. Until—

“Oh, fuck.”

Simon turned around to see what had caused Wille’s exclamation.

Henry was trying to sit up. From where he was on the floor, there was a chance it had been him who Simon had kicked as he’d been dragged across the room. Simon watched in horror as Henry lifted a hand to his head, his fingers coming away shining with blood.

“Oh my god,” Simon murmured, and let go of Wille to stride towards Henry.

“Are you okay?” he said, dropping to his knees.

Henry blinked at him, dazed. “Yeah. I, uh, I think so. Fuck. It hurts.”

Simon moved Henry’s head carefully to see what had happened.

“It’s a shallow cut,” he said. “It’s just bleeding a lot because it’s your head. Here.” He shrugged off his hoodie and bundled it into Henry’s hands. “Press this on it and it should stop bleeding. What happened?”

“I dunno,” Henry said, doing as he was told and lifting the hoodie to the wound. “I tripped, I think. Banged my head on the way down. Probably on that.” He gestured to the low table beside him. Simon thought he was probably right, hitting the corner of that in the wrong way would pack a nasty punch. “Fuck. I hate blood.” The laugh he let out was weak and shaky.

“Here.” Wille had appeared at Simon’s elbow. “For your hands.” He held out a wad of the napkins they’d used for the pizza.

“Thanks.” Henry took them and, whilst Simon held the hoodie on his still bleeding gash, tried to wipe the worst of it off his hands. Simon’s stomach turned. He’d never been particularly bad with blood, but there was a lot, and his body was still thrumming with the adrenaline from earlier.

“Wille, will you hold this for me?” Simon asked. “I want to get him some water.”

“Sure.” Wille stepped past and replaced Simon’s hand with his own. Their fingers brushed and Simon was so hyper-aware of every part of his body, it sent electric shocks up and down his arm.

Just as he was pouring a glass of water, Erik appeared in the doorway. “What happened here?” he said. “Is everything— Shit. Is that blood?”

Simon watched as Erik’s eyes went wide. It looked like a genuine reaction, but Simon was so cynical about this whole thing that he narrowed his eyes anyway. “The lights went out,” someone said. “Henry fell and hit his head.”

Erik strode across the room and dropped down beside Henry. “Let me do that.” He tugged the bundled hoodie out of Wille’s hand rather roughly and pressed onto Henry’s head. “Henry, are you okay?” Erik asked.

“I don’t feel great.”

Simon had to admit that Henry did look a little grey.

“Wille, help me get him up. I’ll move him somewhere more comfortable.”

Between the two of them, the brothers hauled Henry to his feet. He wobbled slightly. Erik tucked his shoulder under Henry’s armpit and half dragged, half carried him to the door.

“Don’t worry!” Erik called over his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. And sorry about the lights again. Old building, you know.” And then he disappeared around the corner.

The room erupted in hushed conversation. Simon steadily made his way back to Wille, who was looking a little lost in the middle of the room. Simon shivered – it was cold without his hoodie.

“Hey,” Simon said, reaching a hand out to touch Wille’s forearm. Wille’s hand curled immediately around Simon’s elbow, holding him in place, grip firm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Wille murmured, eyes darting around Simon’s face. “Are you?”

Simon shook his head. “I’m not sure. I— Someone grabbed me. I thought it was you, but—”

“It wasn’t me,” Wille rushed out. “Someone grabbed me too. Dragged me across the room. It was—”

“Terrifying,” Simon interrupted.

The grim look on Wille’s face as he nodded was confirmation enough.

“What the fuck is this place?” Simon whispered. “What’s going on? Are they just trying to fuck with us, or—”

He was interrupted by someone calling out across the room. “Wait!” Everyone turned their heads towards them. The boy had wide eyes and his voice shook as he said, “Where’s Alexander?”

Chapter Text

It felt as though they’d looked everywhere. Most people had given up after a few rooms, claiming that he’d probably just gone to bed and would show up at breakfast.

Simon was not convinced. Neither, it seemed, was Wille, or a handful of other people who had joined the search.

The problem was that… maybe Alexander had gone to bed. Maybe he’d got tired and slipped out of the pizza gathering without anyone noticing. Although one person insisted he’d been there right before the lights had gone out and Simon was inclined to believe him. 

So they looked. They searched the kitchen and the dining room and the corridor outside the common room. They scoured the dusty old room in which he’d apparently been sorting books earlier and checked the bathrooms. No one seemed to know which his bedroom was, but they banged on all the doors anyway.

Then, having run out of ideas, Simon suggested checking the grounds.

“But it’s dark,” Lars said.

“And cold,” someone else added.

“Surely he didn’t go outside.”

Frustration coiled in Simon’s stomach. “Fine,” he snapped. “Stay here in the warm. I’m going to look for him. Even if I have to do it alone.”

Perhaps it was because he felt the need to get out of the stifling building, but Simon couldn’t bear the idea of sitting and doing nothing. Still, he was a little surprised when Wille stepped forward and said, “I’ll come too.”

Simon sent him what he hoped was a grateful smile and was rewarded with a soft quirk of Wille’s lips. For a moment, Simon was sad that they hadn’t met under different circumstances, but then the reality of the situation hit him and he said, “Shall we go then?”

Wille convinced Simon to run upstairs and grab a new hoodie, which he did before they headed out into the night.

It was cold, and Simon tugged his hoodie gratefully around his body. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep the wind out, and he was already shivering by the time they reached the middle of the gravel courtyard.

“Where do you think we should look?” Wille asked.

Simon swung his head left and then right. Straight ahead was the path to the bus stop, and the road out of here, which was currently looking very appealing despite it being dark and cold and a several kilometre walk that Simon didn’t even know. To the right was the path to the other side of the building, and to the gym. To the left was—

“Maybe that way?” Simon said, gesturing to a wooded area to the left.

“Seriously?” Wille said. “Out of all the options, you want to go into the creepy woods?”

Simon bristled. “You asked me. What’s your genius idea then?”

“How about round there?” Wille gestured to the right. “He could just be on the other side of the building."

The idea of going anyway near the gym again completely freaked Simon out, but maybe Wille was right.

“Okay,” he said, taking a shaky breath. “Let’s look round there.”

“Why don’t you want to?” Wille asked. Despite the dark, Simon could see concern on his face, thrown into relief by the weak light from the lamp.

“I—” He’d never told Wille what had happened that day in the gym. Once he’d been back in daylight and surrounded by people again, Simon had half wondered if he’d imagined it. But Wille’s face was open and earnest and Simon found that he wanted to tell him. “I, uhm… On the second day we were here. Remember I said I thought I heard you calling for me?” Wille nodded. “I followed the sound out here.”

“Of my voice?”

“Yeah. Well… No, actually. A banging door. And then your voice. Only… it wasn’t you. I just thought it might have been. And I followed the banging all the way to this separate building that’s round the back there. It’s the gym, I think, from when it was a school. Some classrooms too. And… It was creepy.” Deflating slightly, he watched as confusion flitted across Wille’s face.

“It was… creepy?”

Simon nodded.

“Do you not think… this whole place is creepy?”

Huffing out a frustrated breath Simon explained, “Some stuff… happened in there. And it was weird.”

“What happened?” Wille rushed, eyes wide.

“I think someone followed me. Or was already there or something.”

“You saw someone?”

“No. But… the bag of balls got ripped. And… the showers turned on.”

Saying it out loud sounded even more pathetic than he thought it would. But Wille didn’t look like he thought it was pathetic, he had a grim expression on his face and reached out to gently touch his fingers to the back of Simon’s hand. 

“We should go,” Simon rushed out, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “See if we can find Alexander round the back of the building.”

“Yeah,” Wille said. “Well… this way then?”

Simon nodded and followed Wille around the edge of the wall. The lawn was much tidier now having been trimmed and weeded by someone in the group earlier in the day. They’d done a bad job though. Simon wondered if any of them had ever tended to a garden before. 

“Do you think we should go to the building or down that road?” Wille asked.

The moon was mostly hidden behind clouds, but now and again it peeked out from behind them and cast its eerie white glow over everything. A shiver ran down Simon’s spine as he looked between the two. 

Neither, he wanted to say. Can we just go back and crawl into bed and cuddle as if we’re not in this weird, twisted nightmare place? Maybe I could rest my head on your chest. Maybe I’d be able to hear your heartbeat. Maybe you could wrap your arms around me. 

Maybe you’d kiss me.

Simon shook the thought away and distractedly pointed down the road, wanting to avoid the gym building for as long as he could. They began down the steps and across the lawn before Wille said, “Should we be shouting for him?”

“I dunno,” Simon said. “Yeah… Probably.”

For some reason, the idea of drawing attention to themselves made Simon’s skin feel tight on his body. But… if they wanted to find Alexander, surely that was the best way.

So trying not to overthink it, he shouted, “Alexander!”

The call was whipped away by the wind, but then thrown back with an eerie echo off the building.

“Alexander!” Wille tried.

When there was no response, Simon said, “Maybe we just look for a bit?” 

It was partly because he thought it would help, but he couldn’t deny that an even bigger part was suddenly terrified of what or who might be out here. Listening. They’d not really talked about it, but the fact that they were out here looking for Alexander at all meant… What? Did it mean that they thought he’d left of his own volition and gone for a night time stroll?

That was not what Simon thought.

And so they walked in silence for a minute or two, finally making it past the treeline and onto a gravel road. It crunched underfoot and every step made a little more adrenaline shoot into Simon’s bloodstream. 

“I think there’s a lake down this way,” Wille said after a while.

“How do you know that?”

Wille shrugged. “Erik’s been before. I think he’s been out rowing on it.”

Simon had so many questions, but none of them were as important as keeping his ears open for sounds, and eyes open for any sight of Alexander.

“Maybe Alexander went to check it out?” Wille said after a while. “I think it’s through there.”

The place Wille was pointing was a dirt path that wended its way through the trees. Simon swallowed. He really didn’t want to go in there. But the longer it went, the more worried he was about what might have happened to Alexander.

“Sure,” Simon said, knowing full well his voice didn’t sound as casual as he was trying to make it. “We can try that.”

Carefully, they left the road and started down the path. It wasn’t as clear as it had first looked, and Simon had to use most of his concentration to work out where to put his feet to prevent himself from tripping over branches or slipping on loose mud.

“Wait.” Wille’s voice was low as his hand shot out and gripped Simon’s wrist.

“What?” Simon hissed back.

The trees had grown thicker and very little moonlight was making it through. Regardless, it was still clear that Wille’s eyes were wide. After a moment he shook his head. “Nothing,” he whispered. “I— I just thought I heard something.”

Simon let out a hiss of breath. “Fucking hell, Wille. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” 

Wille dropped his wrist and continued walking. Simon wished he would hold it again.

The woods got thicker, their steps muffled with fallen leaves and needles. Twice, they had to stop because the path was blocked and choose a new route. They’d been walking for a few minutes when—

“Oh.”

Simon collided with Wille’s back where he’d stopped dead. Heart in his throat, Simon gripped Wille’s upper arms probably a little harder than necessary and peeked around his shoulder.

They were back at the road.

“Fuck,” Wille murmured. “We must have turned ourselves around somehow.”

Simon looked behind him. The trees were swaying a little in the breeze – the leaves rustling, branches trembling. “Huh,” Simon said. “We must have.”

“Maybe we should… mark the trees somehow?”

That sounded far too much like the sort of things people say in movies when they’re about to die. But Simon agreed that it was a sensible idea, since they clearly didn’t know where they were going.

Simon picked up a sharp rock from the ground and carved a small ‘X’ into the nearest tree. “Like that?” 

“Sure.” Wille looked less than convinced and it didn’t help with Simon’s conviction. “Let’s go.”

This time, they were more purposeful with their strides. Simon carved a mark every few trees and Wille called for Alexander.

Simon was starting to feel more confident now that they had more of a purpose. That was until—

“Fuck.”

Wille spun back to look at him. “What?”

“We’ve been here already. Look.”

Simon pointed at the tree he’d been just about to carve. And there, at about eye height, was a little ‘X’ mark.

Wille blinked at it for several seconds. “Maybe… someone else put it there?”

Simon swallowed. “I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

Turning to him, Wille said, “Do you want to keep going?”

No. 

“Sure. Maybe we just went off track a little.”

Wille watched him for a moment before turning and making his way through the trees again. The dark was oppressive, pressing in on his eyeballs and making him feel a little light-headed. It was as though Simon’s ears were tuned in to every tiny sound. The crack of the branches as Wille carefully picked out a path, the rustle of the leaves, a scrabble that Simon really hoped was an animal of some sort. Then—

“Simon.”

Simon whipped around so fast he almost stumbled. “What was that?” he whispered harshly.

“What?”

“I heard— Didn’t you hear someone say my name?”

When Simon turned to Wille, he was watching him with wide eyes. Simon could see his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Wille said.

“Why would I— I’m not fucking with you. I thought I heard—” He strained his ears. The trees groaned a little as they moved in the breeze. Maybe he’d been hearing things. Maybe—

“Simon.”

Heart in his throat, Simon whipped back the other way. 

“Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Wille’s voice sounded panicky.

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Simon. You’re freaking me out. There isn’t any—”

“Shh!” Simon flapped his hands and Wille went quiet, lips pressed together so hard they almost disappeared.

Every sound made him flinch. But there was nothing that sounded like a voice. He turned his head, straining his ears once more. Then, just as he was about to tell Wille they could keep moving, he saw something move in the trees.

“What was that?”

“What? Simon. Please tell me you’re not messing with me. This is really—”

“No. I thought I saw something.”

He pointed to a gap in the trees. There was a bush low to the ground. The branches were swaying a little. Simon could have sworn he saw something. It had almost looked like a face. But it was gone before he could really process it. “Maybe it was an animal,” Simon said after a moment. “We should keep going.”

“Are you sure? We could—”

“We need to find Alexander.”

He was glad to find that his voice sounded firm.

“Okay.” Wille sidled up next to him. “If you’re sure.”

They ploughed on. Simon had stopped marking the trees. At one point he thought he saw one of the ones they’d passed, but he just kept going, determined to not let this stupid forest rattle him more than it already had. Now, Simon was in the lead, Wille stumbling to keep up. He shoved back branches and climbed over roots and ducked under boughs.

Suddenly in front of them, a shape started to materialise out of the gloom. A lumpy mound on the ground. Small, and dark. And horribly familiar.

“Look.” Simon’s voice came out choked.

“What is it?”

Simon bent down and picked it up. “A hoodie. One of the Hillerska hoodies.”

Wille took the hoodie out of Simon’s hand and turned it over. “Fuck.”

That was Simon’s thoughts precisely.

“Do you think it could be Alexander’s?”

Wille lifted his eyes to Simon’s. “I mean… Maybe? We’ve got no way of knowing. They’re all the same.”

Simon snatched it back, desperate for some clue, some way to find out what it was doing here. There was nothing, though, as he knew there wouldn’t be. No name, no mark, no defining feature to set it apart from all the others. All they knew is that it probably belonged to someone from the group. But they had no proof that it was Alexander’s, or that it had been left here recently.

“Come on. Let’s keep going.”

With renewed determination, Simon fought through the undergrowth, hacking back the things that clawed at him as he went, stopping once to detangle himself from some thorn, crashing and crunching and barrelling through everything until he heard it again.

“Simon.”

This time, he definitely wasn’t making it up. Skidding to a halt, he turned round. The path behind him was empty.

“Wille?”

Maybe the sound had been Wille calling him to catch up. “Wille!” he shouted. “Where are y—”

Something cold wrapped round Simon’s upper arm and he screamed, dropping the hoodie. He yanked his arm forward and stumbled away. Whipping round, his eyes darted between the trees where the blackness seemed even deeper. 

There was nothing there.

“Wille, was that you?”

No answer. Just the trees whispering amongst themselves. 

“Wille!” There was no denying the edge of panic in his voice now. “Wille!”

Something brushed past his ankles and he yelped and jumped away.

“What was—”

“Simon.”

Bile rose up the back of his throat. What was that voice? And where the fuck was Wille?

“Simon.”

Something landed on his head and he gasped so hard he almost choked. Then something that felt alarmingly like a hand thudded down on his shoulder. A scream tore from Simon’s mouth and he wrenched himself away, bolting through the trees, stumbling on the uneven ground, clothes getting caught on the branches.

He heard something rip but kept going. 

“Wille!” He yelled, his voice coming out almost as a sob.

“Simon!”

Was that Wille? Or the other voice?

“Sim—”  A blood-curdling scream came from the direction of the shout.

“Wille!”

Where was he? Was he hurt?

“Wille! Where are you?”

Simon twisted and turned and tried to re-orient himself, but it was no good. He was completely lost.

“Simon.”

Simon started thundering through the trees again. Partly to try to get to Wille, partly to get away from the other voice.

“Simon! Where are you!”

“Simon.”

“Wille!”

“Simon!”

“Simon.”

Another scream. Something caught on Simon’s sleeve. He shrugged out of his hoodie without looking back and carried on fighting through the trees.

“Wille!”

“Simon!”

“Simon.”

It was impossible to tell what was the wind, what was a scream, what was the ringing in his ears, what was his own imagination. Branches scratched at his arms. How had they got so far from each other?

“Simon!”

“Wil—”

With a yelp, Simon crashed headlong into something, tumbling to the ground in a pile of limbs. 

“Simon?” a familiar voice panted. Then: “Oh, thank fuck.”

And before Simon could even comprehend that the soft, warm body pressing down on top of him was Wille, there were hands gripping his cheeks, breath dancing across his face and lips being pressed to his in a fierce kiss.

It was over before he had a chance to react, and then he was being hauled into Wille’s arms whilst he buried his face in Simon’s shoulder and pulled in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh my god, I didn't know— I thought— You were gone and… I heard screaming and— Thank fuck.”

Simon clung back, mind reeling, heart thumping, skin tingling, a sob building in his throat. The trees swayed above them. Simon watched the leaves ripple innocently before he squeezed his eyes shut, and instead just revelled in the comforting weight of Wille on top of him. On his calming scent, his strong arms, and the tip of his cold nose nudging the side of Simon’s neck.

After a minute or two, it was getting a little difficult to breathe, so, reluctantly, Simon gently shoved at Wille's shoulder, and Wille placed his hands on the ground beside Simon’s head and pushed himself up. Luckily, he didn't go far. Just enough to take his weight off Simon’s chest, but close enough to gaze down into Simon’s eyes.

“I was so worried,” he murmured and Simon’s heart lurched in his chest.

With shaking fingers, Simon reached up and tucked a strand of Wille's hair behind his ear. It fell forward again immediately.

“Me too,” he whispered. “I turned around and you were gone. And I—”

It was as though his brain wouldn’t let him process all the things that had happened in the last… it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. So instead of trying to articulate everything he wanted to say, he propped himself on his elbows, leaned up, and pressed his lips to Wille’s.

This time, he was able to savour it. This time, when Wille’s lips slotted between his own as if they belonged there, he was able to let that feeling seep into his very bones. This time, though slightly taken by surprise, Wille kissed him back – enthusiastically, unquestionably, passionately.

It didn’t matter that they were lying on the forest floor. Or that they’d been terrified for their lives moments ago. It didn’t—

“Wait.” Simon tore away, leaving Wille blinking blearily down at him. It actually did matter that they’d been scared for their lives. Being disconnected from Wille’s lips allowed some logical thought to filter back through Simon’s brain. “We should go.”

WIlle blinked once more before scrambling backwards and to his feet. “We should.”

He held out his hand, which Simon gratefully took to allow himself to be hauled to his feet.

Very unhelpfully, Simon found that his eyes were now level with Wille’s lips. Lips that had been on his only moments ago. Lips that he now knew the taste of. 

A rustle behind them made Simon jump. “Fuck,” he murmured. “We really need to get out of here.”

“Agreed.”

They started moving as fast as they could through the trees in what Simon hoped was the direction of Hillerska. Wille kept Simon’s hand clasped tightly in his own, for which he was immensely grateful. Partly because he really wanted to be holding Wille’s hand, but mostly because he really, really didn’t want them to get separated again.

After a minute or two, Wille cried, “Look! One of your marks! I think this is the right direction.”

Simon was slightly less optimistic, knowing full well that, even with the marks, they’d got turned around more than once. But the further they went, the more Simon thought Wille might be right. The trees started to thin, and he started catching glimpses of the cloud-covered moon through the canopy.

The wind still murmured through the trees, but no clammy tendrils grabbed at him, no whispery voices called his name, and no visions appeared in the bushes.

Not much later, they were breaking through the edge of the tree line and back onto the road.

Simon turned to look over his shoulder. “How did we get out so quickly? It felt like we were walking forever going in.”

He felt Wille shrug, with a tug on his hand. “I have no idea, but I’m not going to question it.”

Heart sinking slightly, Simon said, “We didn’t find Alexander.”

Wille frowned. “I know,” he said. “But… maybe the others were right. Maybe he’s just gone to bed. Plus… it’s dark. How likely is it that we’ll find him now?”

Simon wasn’t convinced. “Are you just saying that to make you feel better?”

It hadn’t slipped his notice that Wille hadn’t dropped his hand, and was, in fact, now carefully stroking over the back of Simon’s knuckles. It was distracting. 

“No,” Wille defended. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really do not want to go back in there. I don’t know if I was imagining things, but—” He visibly shuddered. “I really think the sensible choice right now is to go back inside and hope Alexander shows up for breakfast.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Wille pressed his lips into a thin line. “Then we look again.” He pulled Simon’s hand to his so he could envelop it in both of his own. “He has to be somewhere. But it’ll be so much easier to figure out what to do during the day.”

Simon wasn’t sure if he was being convinced because it was the right thing to do, or because he really wanted to get as far away from those woods as possible. But he found himself saying, “Okay,” and letting Wille send him a small, pleased smile and tug him back towards Hillerska.

The building was silent as they slipped through the doors and made their way up the stairs. Simon’s stomach tingled at the fact that neither of them questioned that he was going to Wille’s room.

Once safely behind the door, Wille dragged his desk chair over and wedged it under the handle. Simon was immensely glad that he wasn’t the only one jittery about being back here and about what might happen tonight. He massively regretted not just taking off and walking the previous day. But he didn’t know the way, and it was so far, and at the time, staying had felt like the sensible option. It very much did not anymore. 

With shy glances, they carefully peeled off their clothes – leaves and twigs and dirt falling onto the floor. Having abandoned his hoodie to the forest, Simon’s arms were scratched from barrelling through the trees. He let Wille walk him over to the sink and soak a cloth in warm water. Simon was transfixed with Wille’s face as he carefully pressed the cloth to the scratches, only flinching back once.

“Sorry,” Wille murmured.

“It’s fine.”

Simon wondered if Wille could feel how his pulse had sped up where he was gently holding Simon’s wrist. 

“Here,” Simon said as Wille went to place the cloth down. “Let me.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his arm out of Wille’s grasp to run the cloth under the tap again. Then he carefully raised it to Wille’s face to wipe off the dirt smudged there.

“Thanks,” Wille breathed.

Goosebumps erupted on Simon’s arms. “No problem. And you’ve got—” Slowly, he reached up and combed his fingers through Wille’s hair.

Debris rained down in front of them and they giggled, trying to brush it off.

“We should probably shower,” Simon said.

“Probably. But… I don’t know about you. But I really don’t want to go out there again.”

Relieved, Simon shook his head. “Me neither.”

Wille’s grin was all teeth and made Simon’s heart flip in his chest. “Well then… If you don’t mind” – he nodded towards the bed – “I don’t mind.”

The implication caused some even more alarming things to happen in Simon’s chest, which was ridiculous since they had already shared this bed. Twice.

But still, nervous butterflies flapped in Simon’s stomach as Wille led Simon to the bed by his hand. They didn’t exchange a word as they crawled under the covers, and this time, neither were they being tugged into the depths of sleep without their consent.

Without those soporific effects, they were able to lie face to face, cheeks cushioned on hands, and just… look. And sure, Simon was looking. But… fucking hell, was Wille looking. Simon felt stripped bare, as though Wille weren’t just tracing his gaze over Simon’s face, but seeing through him. Right down to his bones. Right down to his soul. And Simon found that he wanted him to see it.

He also found that he wanted to kiss Wille again. So he shuffled forwards, paused for a fraction of a second, then closed his eyes and leaned in.

How was it that after only three days, Wille already felt like safety to him? In his normal life, his life outside of this circus, Simon was not quick to trust, and was even less quick to open himself up quite like he wanted to do with Wille.

But perhaps that was precisely because of where they were, and what was happening. Trying to shut out the memories of dark woods, and whispering trees, and bushes with faces that disappeared, and grasping hands, Simon pushed himself even further forward, squeezing his eyes tight against the memories.

And maybe this wasn’t the most sensible way to be dealing with one of the most fucking terrifying experiences of his life, but damn if it wasn’t working. It worked even better when Wille’s fingers brushed Simon’s side causing him to gasp, which in turn allowed Wille to further deepen the kiss.

Wille’s palm was warm and strong in the dip of Simon’s waist and all thought left his brain as he allowed his own hands to reach round behind Wille and—

A loud clatter pierced through the cloud of lust that had descended on Simon’s brain and made him yelp and scramble backwards. Terror clawed at his insides and he was right back in that forest, running for his life. Only he wasn’t. He was in bed. With Wille, who had whipped round and pushed himself away from the edge of the bed, so he was almost squashing Simon against the wall.

“What the—” Wille murmured.

With their heart rates slowly dropping from life-threatening speeds, Simon saw that the sound had been the window swinging open. The curtains were billowing out into the night, flapping in the howling wind. 

Slowly, Wille stood up from the bed, reached out, and pulled the window shut. “I mustn’t have latched it properly,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Simon whispered, trying to choke the word past the lump in his throat. “Maybe.”

It was clear, though, when Wille crawled back into bed, that he was just as rattled as Simon was because instead of resuming their previous activities, Wille pulled Simon close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and tucking Simon’s head into the crook of his neck.

Simon went willingly, allowing himself the tiny comfort of being held. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, and he was shivering, not only due to the cold from the briefly open window.

“Are you okay?” Wille whispered into Simon’s hair.

Was he okay? He’d been on such high alert for so long that he couldn’t remember what ‘okay’ felt like.

It was a moment before he answered truthfully. “I don’t know.”

Wille’s arms squeezed momentarily before loosening again.

They were quiet for a while before Simon voiced the thing that  had been niggling at the back of his mind for a while now.

“Are we going to be okay?”

The arms tightened once more, and a pair of lips pressed a soft kiss to his head. Then an answer was murmured into his hair: “I don’t know.”

That wasn’t what Simon wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that he was overreacting, and that all these things were just an old building playing tricks on his mind. He wanted Wille to scoff and tell him not to be silly. And he wanted to be able to shove at him indignantly but be secretly pleased that it was all his overactive imagination.

But apparently Wille was just as terrified as he was. And that unsettled him even more.

It took them a long time to fall asleep. 

Chapter Text

They were rudely awoken by the alarm. Wille reached out of the warmth of the duvet with one hand to quiet it, then dove back under before Simon had the chance to move.

But he had no intention of moving, he didn’t want to be anywhere other than in Wille’s arms. And that was only partly because of how much he liked Wille, how much he wanted to kiss him again. Mostly, it was because sleep had done nothing to lessen the terror that was bubbling under Simon’s skin. If anything, it had solidified a thought in Simon’s mind.

They had to get out of here.

“Morning,” Wille mumbled, voice thick with sleep, arms still wrapped tightly around Simon.

Simon snuggled himself closer, tried to absorb some of the comfort Wille gave him, tried to imagine himself somewhere else. Them. Imagine them somewhere else.

“Morning,” Simon replied, pressing the words directly into Wille’s chest. 

“Did you sleep okay?”

A dark chuckle tumbled from Simon’s lips. “No,” he said. “Did you?”

Wille’s responding laugh shook them both. “No.”

Their levity didn’t last long, and they both slipped back into pensive silence.

“Do you want to go to breakfast?” Wille asked after a while.

“Not really,” Simon replied. “But… We probably should, right?”

“Probably.”

Neither of them made a move to get out of the bed. It was as though they were both thinking the same thing. Thinking that if they never did, maybe they wouldn’t have to face it all. That was what Simon was thinking anyway.

Wille was warm, and soft, and his arms were strong and comforting. And Simon wanted to stay in this bed with him. Maybe forever. But definitely until the end of the day, preferably the week.

Eventually, it was Wille’s bladder that drove them from the safety of the covers, Simon begrudgingly tugging on his dirty clothes from yesterday whilst he waited for Wille to return.

Together, they made their way to Simon’s room so that he could change and grab a hoodie – he tried not to shudder at the fact that his wardrobe had been replenished in his absence – and then made their way back down the stairs to breakfast.

A quick scan of the room told Simon that Henry was alive and well, with a small plaster on his forehead, which he was proudly showing to his neighbour. It also confirmed that Alexander wasn’t present. His stomach dropped a little, but he still forced himself to get a bowl of cereal and a clementine from the fruit bowl. He absentmindedly peeled it and handed Wille half before trying to chew and swallow his own.

It seemed Wille was having similar problems. Simon watched his long fingers peel all the little white bits off the fruit and make them into a pile on the table. Then they drew swirling patterns through them before piling them all back up again. It was mesmerising. The segments lay uneaten.

“Good morning, little brother!” Erik’s voice boomed over the heads of everyone as he entered the room.

Wille lifted a clementine segment and shoved it in his mouth, offering Erik a nonchalant grunt.

“Did you sleep well?”

Wille continued to chew the fruit and gave Erik a noncommittal shrug.

“Excellent.” Erik grinned and sat himself down at the table. “Good to know that you’re settling in.”

“Where’s Alexander?” 

Simon took great delight in seeing Erik’s irritating smile slip a little. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but apparently his filter and his patience had been abandoned somewhere on the forest floor.

“He must still be in bed,” Erik replied casually. “I’ll have to have words with him.”

“So he didn’t disappear last night then?” The room had gone quiet and everyone was watching the words thrown between Erik and Simon. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon watched Wille swallow the segment of clementine and reach for his glass of water.

“Disappear?” Erik’s laugh was too loud. “What makes you say that? Alexander is a grown man, he can go to bed whenever he pleases.”

“Has anyone seen him though?” Simon looked around the room. “Does anyone actually know where he is?”

Muttering broke out as people turned to their neighbours.

“I will have someone check on him,” Erik interrupted, causing the whispers to die down instantly. “Since you seem so concerned.”

Eyes moved from Erik to Simon once more, as if waiting to see if Simon would argue. And he wanted to, he really did, but he wasn’t really in any position to. So, through gritted teeth, he said, “Fine. Good,” and returned to his clementine, pretending it didn’t taste of ash.

“Hey, Wille,” Erik called. All eyes whipped to Erik, then immediately to Wille who was frowning. “Come over here for a moment?”

“Actually” – Wille stood up, his chair scraping across the floor and echoing around the otherwise silent room – “we’re going. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Then he turned to Simon and reached his hand down. Heart beating hard in his chest, Simon placed his palm in Wille’s and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, where he was promptly tugged from the room by their clasped hands. Simon took great delight in watching Erik stare after them and August’s stunned face, eyes bouncing between their faces and their hands.

Wille continued to drag him out of the dining room and along the corridor, not stopping until they’d made it to the common room and slammed the door behind them.

Chest heaving, Wille slumped back against the wall and let go of Simon’s hand. But Simon didn’t give him a chance to recover, immediately stepping into his space and pressing a fierce kiss to his lips.

On instinct, Wille’s hands came up to the back of Simon’s neck, cradling his head as Simon gripped Wille’s shoulders, pressing himself as close as he could.

The kiss was over quickly, but Simon didn’t go far, pressing his forehead into Wille’s and closing his eyes. Wille’s hands dropped to his hips and the squeeze of his fingers made Simon open his eyes again.

“What was that for?” Wille murmured. The words danced across Simon’s kiss-wet lips and it made his tongue dart out as though he might taste them.

“Nothing,” he whispered back. Then: “I don’t like your brother very much.”

Wille chuckled. “Me neither a lot of the time. He— It’s complicated.”

Siblings often were, Simon knew that from his own relationship with Sara. But still…

“What do we do now, then?” Simon asked, still reluctant to step out of Wille’s space.

Wille’s responding sigh tickled at Simon’s skin. “I think we have to go back out and look for him.”

Simon nodded, the decision sitting heavy in his chest. It had become clear quite how desperately he’d wanted Alexander to be at breakfast.

Wille worried at his bottom lip. “You don’t think he’s in his room?”

With a shake of his head, Simon said, “I don’t. Do you?”

It took a long time for Wille to answer. Before he did, he pulled in a deep breath. It shuddered on the way in. “I don’t. But… I think we probably have to check.”

“I agree. We should go up and check the rooms first. But… the hoodie. I think— We’re probably going to need to go into those woods again.”

Wille’s fingers dug into his sides and Simon was surprised Wille couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating. Then, Wille voiced what was on Simon’s mind. “I’m scared.” His voice was small, and Simon wanted to wrap him up in his arms and never let go.

“Me too,” Simon breathed. “But… We’ll stick together. And it’s light now. And—”

“But what if it’s still dark in the trees? What if—”

“We’ll take a torch.”

Wille blinked at him. “But we don’t have phones.”

Simon stepped out of the embrace, Wille’s hands dropping to his sides. “There must be a torch in here,” he said, turning to survey the room. “Look at all the drawers and things. Come and help me.”

He started tugging open cupboards at random: board games, plastic cups, a pack of paper napkins, spare cushions. But no torch.

The next one looked more promising. He rifled through a drawer containing several batteries, paper clips, elastic bands. 

“Maybe in here?” 

Simon turned round to find Wille holding up a cardboard box with jumbled cables and chargers. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, they started rifling through the box. There were auxiliary cables and usb extenders and chargers. Simon got excited at one point before realising that none of them would fit his phone. 

Abandoning the box, Simon continued to tear open cupboards and drawers and—

“What about this?”

This time, Wille wasn’t holding up a box, but an old phone: Bakelite yellow with chunky black buttons. 

Simon’s heart did a euphoric lurch in his chest. “Do you think it still works?” he said as he scrambled around the sofa to get to Wille.

Wille trailed his hand down the wire and grabbed the end. “I don’t know. But… we have to find a socket for this.”

They went separate ways and started scouring the walls until—

“Aha!” Simon cried. “This, right?” He gestured to the box on the wall as Wille made his way over.

“It looks like it!” Wille bent down and pushed the connector in. “Yes! Wait. Let’s see if it…”

Balancing the phone on his knees, he lifted the receiver and Simon watched as his face lit up. “It works!” He reached out and pressed it to Simon’s ear – an unpleasant tone sounding across the line. 

“Amazing! Okay. Give it here.”

“Who are you calling?” Wille asked as he handed the phone over. “The police?”

“No,” Simon said, starting to punch in the number. “They either wouldn’t care or wouldn’t do anything. Do we know of any actual laws being broken?”

“Well… there might be a missing person…”

There was an uncomfortable twist in Simon’s stomach. “Yeah, but Alexander’s an adult, and he’s only been missing about twelve hours, if he’s even missing at all.”

“So who then? I don’t know any phone numbers by heart.”

“My mum made us learn them when we got our first phones.” Simon pressed the receiver to his ear and held his breath waiting for— “Shh! It’s ringing!”

It rang six times, each one making Simon’s tiny flicker of hope diminish. He was just about to give up when there was a rustle and a, “Hello?”

“Sara?”

“Simon? Is that you?”

Simon had never been so relieved to hear Sara’s voice. “Oh, thank fuck,” he breathed. “You have no idea how pleased I am. Listen. I’m at that event at Hillerska. And some really fucking weird shit has been happening. I—”

There was a loud crack and Simon jumped, pulling the phone away from his ear. “What the—”

Another noise tore his attention away from the phone. “What was that?” Wille sounded terrified, and Simon had to admit that he was feeling more than a little rattled too.

“I’m sure it was just—”

There was an ear-splitting screech and an echoing thud and Wille darted a hand out to grip Simon’s arm. “What’s going on?”

Carefully, Simon placed the phone down and headed towards the door. With quiet movements, he eased it open and pressed an eye to the gap. Wille had stepped right up behind him, and it was both comforting and distracting and Simon gently nudged him back with his elbow. “Sorry,” Wille muttered, stepping away slightly. “Can you see anything?”

Simon leant away from the door. “No,” he whispered.

Several steps carried him back to the phone, which he picked up and pressed to his ear once more. “The dial tone’s gone. It’s been cut off.”

“Or it’s broken.” Simon raised an eyebrow and Wille shrugged. “It might have done.” Wille sounded defensive.

“Yeah,” Simon said. “Except it’s probably been sitting in that cupboard for decades and it worked fine three minutes ago.”

“Maybe using it was what broke it.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

Wille tugged his bottom lip into his mouth before saying, “No. I don’t.”

Silence settled over them as they both let that sink in.

“We really have to get out of here,” Simon said. And then, after a pause, “And we really have to find Alexander.”

Nodding his agreement, Wille headed over to the door and, after checking Simon was following, stepped out into the corridor.

With light feet, they ascended the first set of stairs. Between the two of them they made quick work of all the doors. Most were locked, some bore empty rooms. All of their knocks went unanswered. 

By the time they’d finished the fourth landing, they were running out of options. They still didn’t even know which one Alexander’s room was, and the fact that they’d not come across a single soul as they’d searched filled Simon with a sense of foreboding.

“We have to go back out, don’t we?” Wille said.

Simon pulled in a breath. “I think we do. It doesn’t seem like he’s here. And besides… The hoodie.”

Wille nodded.

Simon swallowed. “Do you think he’s okay?”

The determined look on Wille’s face helped to calm Simon’s nerves a little. “We have to find out.”

A shiver ran down Simon’s spine. This place had turned into a complete nightmare, but he was so grateful that he wasn’t having to deal with it alone. He reached out and took Wille’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Let’s go then.”

Simon kept hold of Wille’s hand as they descended the stairs. Wille sent one final fleeting look over his shoulder and stepped into the entrance hall.

It was deserted.

No one milling around after breakfast, or heading up the stairs, or on their way to the common room. No one.

“Where the fuck is everyone? Why is it always empty?” Simon whispered into Wille’s back.

“I don’t know.” Wille sounded grim. “But there’s only one person we need to find.” And with that he strode across the room, tugging Simon with him, and tried the door.

Locked.

“What the fuck?” He rattled the handle.

“Going somewhere?”

Both Simon and Wille whipped round to find August leaning against the wall. Beside him, Simon felt Wille pull himself up straight, the only sign of nerves was a compulsive grip to Simon’s fingers.

“Yes.” Wille’s voice was firm and clear. “Open the door, August.”

August’s lip curled. “We’re staying indoors today,” he sneered. “We can’t have anyone running around the grounds and getting lost. Health and safety.”

“We are all adults, August. If we want to leave we can. Open this door.”

Something in the commanding tone of Wille’s voice made Simon’s skin tingle. August’s smile flickered slightly but then returned.

“Why don’t you just go up to your room to freshen up and then join the rest of the group in the common room. We have some more—”

“No.”

This time, Simon gripped Wille’s fingers and Wille squeezed them right back.

“Wille.” August chuckled a little and Simon had never wanted to punch another person so much in his life. He ground his teeth hard. “Don’t be unreasonable. Erik was doing you a—”

“Don’t you dare say that this had anything to do with me. This whole charade is just some fucked up way of having power over people. And I want nothing to do with it. Let. Me. Out.”

August's charming expression was slipping slightly and Simon could see the edge of something different underneath it.

“Wille.”

“Don’t call me that.” Wille’s voice was dangerous.

That definitely threw August, but he recovered quickly, and clearly decided not to push it.

“Wilhelm. Remember what’s at stake here. Being in your position… It’s a privilege. So many people would kill to be there.”

Simon had no idea what August was talking about, but he’d felt on the back foot for pretty much the whole time he’d been here, so it wasn’t exactly surprising. What position? As an invitee at this thing? Simon was too. As was everyone else. Or was there something else?

“I don’t care,” Wille ground out. “Open the door. Or I swear, August, I—”

“You’ll what?” There was definitely a sneer on August’s face now. “You don’t have any power here. You’re just like the rest of them with an invitation. You haven’t got anything—”

Wille tore his hand from Simon’s and shoved August in the shoulder – hard. Taken by surprise, August stumbled back hitting the wall with a small ‘oof’. A muscle in Wille’s jaw was ticking and Simon watched him clench and unclench his hands at his sides. For a thrilling moment, Simon thought Wille might punch him.

“Open this door, August.”

August looked at him, eyes flitting over his face, before he dug into his pocket and retrieved a key. “Here, but don’t—”

Wille snatched the key out of August’s hand and reached for the door.

“Wille— Wilhelm. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Wille turned and glared over his shoulder as he tugged the handle. “I won’t.”

There was another moment where August almost looked apologetic. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A beat of silence passed where Wille just glared at August, then he nodded his head over his shoulder and said, “Come on,” turning and leaving before Simon had moved.

Hurrying to catch up, Simon slipped through the doors and followed Wille across the courtyard, a sick feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t believe August had caved so easily. What did Wille have to do with any of this? Why did August seem almost… wary of him?

“What was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wille snapped. “Come on. If we hurry, we can get a few hours of searching in before it goes dark.”

“Don’t take it out on me,” Simon retorted as he jogged to keep up. “I’m not the one that got you in this situation.”

Wille didn’t answer immediately, his long legs taking him further away from the building as Simon stumbled behind him. Then, without warning, Wille stopped and whirled round. With a small yelp, Simon crashed into him, hands planted firmly on Wille’s chest. Wille gripped his upper arms to steady him. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I— I know it’s not your fault. But… I kind of feel like it is mine. And what if something’s happened to Alexander? What if—”

Shaking his head, he cut himself off and leant down to press his forehead against Simon’s. 

“How could it be your fault, Wille?” Simon lifted his hands and buried them in the hair at the base of Wille’s neck. He was rewarded for the affection by Wille twisting his head to and fro, brushing their noses together.

“Because…” He drew in a breath and the rushed exhale tickled Simon’s lips. “Because it’s Erik and it’s August and it’s family and—”

“Wait.” Simon pulled himself back, leaving his hands on the sides of Wille’s neck. “August is family?”

Wille nodded.

“Urgh,” Simon scoffed. “Sucks to be you.”

A small chuckle slipped out of Wille’s mouth, but Simon rushed to add. “But, Wille… what they do has nothing to do with you. Right? You’re here just like the rest of us. We all got an invitation. You’ve been subjected to all this shit just like us. They think they can fuck with us, but they can’t.”

Wille didn’t answer. What he did was watch Simon for several seconds, intense eyes bouncing between his own, before leaning forward and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

“Come on,” he murmured. “We should start looking,” and then he tugged Simon’s hand and strode off whilst Simon stumbled to keep up.

The edge of the treeline loomed ahead of them as they approached, hands clasped together. 

Wille turned to him, a grim expression on his face. “You ready?” 

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

They both took a breath together, Wille squeezed his hand, let go, and stepped into the trees.

It was considerably less terrifying in the day, but as they lost sight of the road, the dense trees still blocked out most of the light, giving the whole thing the feel of twilight. Simon wished they’d been able to find a torch.

“This way, right?” Wille said after a while.

“Yeah.” Simon ran his fingers over the marks on the trees. “I think the hoodie was further in though.”

It was difficult to tell since they’d got so turned around the previous day, but Simon was fairly sure they were heading in the right direction.

He was even more sure when they got to a weird shaped bush that he was convinced they’d passed. “I think it was around here that we found it.” Simon gestured to the ground. “And then I dropped it when…” He trailed off. “Over there I think.”

They pushed through the trees and, sure enough, on the ground lay the hoodie. 

Wille bent down to pick it up. “Didn’t you lose yours though too? How do we know this is the right one?”

“Does it matter? At least we know we came this way yesterday.”

A gust of wind ripped through the trees and made the hair on Simon’s arms stand up.

“Yeah,” Wille agreed. “I suppose you’re right. We keep going then?”

Simon nodded before stepping further away from Hillerska, trying to push away the memory of grasping hands and disembodied voices.

They walked in silence for a while before Wille stopped.

“What is it?” Simon asked, body so tense he felt like an elastic band about to ping.

“Is it getting dark?”

Simon looked up at the tree canopy. The sky was barely visible through it. “I… don’t know. Maybe the trees are just getting thicker?”

Wille looked at his watch. “It’s barely midday. It shouldn’t be— Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s the trees.”

It was clear to Simon that Wille did not think it was the trees, but since he didn’t want to contemplate any of the alternatives, he just kept his mouth shut. 

The further they went, the closer they gravitated to each other, until it got to the stage that they could barely move without tripping up. But neither of them seemed to care. It had got cold, and dark, and the wind had picked up again – whistling through the trees and rustling the bushes. Every sound made them jump, and every movement had them flinching towards each other. 

Simon had never been more grateful for Wille’s hand wrapped around his. 

Every shadow felt ominous, every rustle had them on edge. Simon had gone as far as trying to quiet his breathing in an attempt to pick out all the noises around them.

After what felt like hours, Simon was chilled to the bone and his fingers ached from where they’d gripped Wille’s so hard. Then out of the shadows materialised a—

“Is that a building?”

Wille’s voice made Simon flinch, a silent scream getting caught on its way out of his mouth.

“Sorry,” Wille said sheepishly.

“It’s fine. I’m just on edge.”

But Wille was right. It was a building.

“What do you think it is?” Simon asked as they approached.

Whatever it was, it was a mess. Which was saying something after the disrepair the main building was in. Almost the whole thing was covered in various shades of green: vines and ferns and mosses. One of the top corners seemed to have completely collapsed, the wall jutting up towards the trees. 

The foliage cleared as they neared it, and they picked their way across a low wall and down to a path that seemed to loop around the building. 

“I don’t know,” Wille replied. “An outbuilding or something?”

“Isn’t it a bit far for that?”

Wille placed a hand flat on the wall and frowned up at it. “I don’t know,” he said. “There used to be rumours of…” He trailed off.

Everyone knew the rumours. 

The things that had gone on when this place was a school had been horrific. And Simon assumed that the reports had only scraped the surface. Several traumatised students had come forward, there’d been a few police reports, a big case that had been settled out of court. And then one exposé that had ended up shutting the school down.

But Simon knew that the closure had just buried a lot of it. The spectres that must haunt these walls…

A shudder ran down his spine and he chastised himself. There was no point freaking themselves out any further.

“Should we… go in?” Wille asked, voice tentative.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Simon replied. “Look at the roof. I bet it’s not safe. If you breathe funny in there the whole thing could come—”

But he was cut off by a gasp from Wille, who shot out a hand to grab Simon’s arm and pointed at something ahead of them on the path. “Is that—”

Smeared on the floor a few metres ahead of them was a pool of what looked terrifyingly like—

“Blood,” Simon breathed.

Nausea roiled in his stomach, the phantom metallic smell permeating his nostrils and making him suppress a gag.

“Maybe it’s not,” Wille said. “It’s dark in here. Maybe it’s something else.”

They took a tentative step closer. And another. The stain was dark, and wide, and made Simon’s stomach roil again. It was just underneath a gaping hole in the wall where Simon assumed a window used to be.

“What do we do?” Wille murmured. “Do we… go in? Do we leave?”

“We can’t leave,” Simon said, voice shaking. “What if someone’s hurt? What if it’s Alexander? We have to see.”

Wille nodded, mouth pulled into a resolute line. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. I’ll go first.”

And before Simon could argue, Wille had hoisted himself up and in through the hole. He let out a sharp hissing noise followed by a, “Fuck. Ah.”

“Wille?” Simon rushed to the opening, trying not to step in the maybe-blood. Up on his tiptoes, Simon craned his head into the gap. The light was weak and the air smelt dank and musty. But once his eyes adjusted, he could see that Wille was crouching against the wall opposite the window, arm cradled to his chest.

“Shit, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Wille said, his voice alarmingly weak. “I— There must be some glass still in the frame. I— I’ve— I think I cut myself.”

Wille lifted his hand to reveal a long gash down his forearm.

“Fuck, Wille,” Simon breathed. As quickly as he could, he used his sleeve to brush enough of the moss away to check for broken glass, then scrambled up over the ledge himself, being exceptionally careful where he put his hands.

It was quite a drop on the other side and he stumbled slightly before crouching down in front of Wille. “Let me see.”

Obediently, Wille lifted his arm. It was a fairly long cut, but mercifully not bleeding quite as profusely as Henry’s head wound had. Why had Simon had to deal with so much blood the last few days? Trying not to answer that question, he shrugged off his hoodie and wrapped it around Wille’s arm, more to hide it than anything else. 

“You’ll be okay,” Simon said, trying to convince himself. “Hold that there and it’ll slow the bleeding. We just need to get you out of here. Do you think you can stand?”

“I don’t know,” Wille said, his voice still not sounding quite right. “Maybe. I think I feel a bit dizzy.”

Fuck. 

Simon scrambled to his feet and looked around. Eyes adjusting to the gloom, he could see that the corridor was wide and bare – concrete walls and floors and very little else. Except a pile of crates in the corner, amongst which was—

“Wille… What’s that over there?”

Wille shifted his head to squint in the direction Simon was pointing. Simon watched as Wille’s eyes went wide. That confirmed that Simon wasn’t hallucinating. With trepidation, he turned his head again. Over by the crates, slumped as if in slumber, was Alexander.

Chapter Text

Simon took a step, then just before he took another, Wille’s hand shot out and grabbed his trouser leg. 

“Don’t,” Wille said. 

“I have to,” Simon replied. “What if he’s— What if— I have to go over there.”

What he didn’t volcalise was that he really didn’t want to, that he wanted nothing more than to climb out of the window, wander back through the woods, maybe even head up to his room. He’d take all the weird vibes in the world if only he could walk away from this, able to convince himself it had all been in his head, that there hadn’t been any real danger. That the only thing messing with him was his overactive imagination.

“Simon…” Wille sounded devastated. 

Simon’s heart was beating so hard in his throat he could barely swallow. As he approached, he could see that Alexander’s head was tipped back, mouth slightly open, hands resting in his lap. Without all the other shit that had gone down, without Alexander having disappeared under strange circumstances, without the pool of blood outside the window, Simon would have been convinced that he was asleep.

Even with the very weak light coming through the trees outside, Simon could tell that Alexander was pale – the skin of his face drawn and pallid. 

“Is he—”

“Shh!” Simon cut off Wille’s question with a flap of his hand. He couldn’t cope with anything right now except convincing his brain to let him put one foot in front of the other whilst it was currently screaming at him to grab Wille and run. 

One more step. Another. And another.

Simon could feel his breaths hiccuping in his chest as he tried to keep himself calm. 

Alexander remained slumped sideways and Simon willed him to blink his eyes open, give a huge stretch and yawn, and say, ‘Hey, Simon. What are you doing here?’.

No such luck. The only movement was Simon’s shaky steps and the swaying of the trees outside the building. A particularly strong gust of wind made the closest one creak and groan. What Simon wouldn’t give to still be fighting his way through that forest, instead of here, faced with this.

Another step. And another. And one final one before he could crouch down in front of Alexander.

“Is he…” But this time, Wille cut himself off, clearly unable to finish his sentence.

“I don’t know,” Simon said, frowning at the still face in front of him. “How do I tell?”

A shuffling behind him told him that Wille had dragged himself to his feet. Simon spun around. “Stay there!” he said. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” Wille said, brushing it off. “I think it was mostly shock.” The tremble in his voice told Simon that that was a lie.

Cradling his arm to his chest, Wille made his way over to Simon and bent down, so that they were elbow to elbow, looking down at—

Don’t think of it as a body! Simon screamed at his brain.

“Do we… check his pulse?” Wille asked.

“How would I know?”

“Didn’t you say your mum was a nurse?”

“Yeah! But that doesn't mean I know how to—”

“Okay, okay!” Wille held up his good arm in surrender. “I’m sorry. I just thought— But it’s fine. Maybe… Maybe we check it though?”

Simon knew that Wille was right.

“I’ve never had to check someone’s pulse before,” Simon said quietly after a few seconds.

“You didn’t do it in science class at school?”

“Well… yeah. But not to, you know, actually check if someone was alive…”

Wille shuddered beside him and it helped Simon to screw up all his courage and lean forward.

Alexander’s skin was clammy and… was it cold? It was hard to tell if it was just his imagination. The air was frigid, perhaps it was just that he was underdressed for the weather. Simon wasn’t sure where to check for a pulse, so just prodded round until—

The sound of three voices screaming pierced through the dank air. Alexander had bolted upright, scrambling back, and Simon and Wille had stumbled and fallen onto their backsides on the cold concrete ground.

For several seconds they all just gaped at each other – chests heaving, breaths ragged. Alexander recovered first, straightening his t-shirt and giving a breezy chuckle.

“Oh. Hey, Simon. Wille,” he said.

Simon just blinked at him, still unable to catch his breath. It seemed that Wille was equally as stunned, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out.

“Alexander… what…?” Simon tried to formulate a question. But he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask. 

“What are you doing here?” Alexander said, his tone casual, like they’d bumped into each other at the supermarket. Or maybe Alexander had been pleasantly surprised to see them taking a walk in his favourite park. Not in a crumbling abandoned building in the middle of creepy woods having gone missing the previous night.

“We, uh, we were looking for you,” Wille said, having recovered the ability to form full sentences first.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Simon burst out.

Alexander smiled that placid smile that Simon had seen on his face so often these last few days, but just as he was about to open his mouth, he caught sight of Wille’s arm. 

“Wille!” he exclaimed. “You’re hurt! What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” Wille hastily recovered his arm. Simon saw the cut though. There was a lot of blood.

“You’re bleeding. Here. Come with me.”

Wille went to argue, but Alexander gripped him with a surprisingly strong arm, hauled him up and steered him down the corridor. Simon scrambled to follow them past several heavy, metal doors, all of which were shut. They rounded a corner and came to a dead end, just before which there was one final door. 

This one was open.

Wille had almost disappeared into the room, and Simon ran to keep up, skidding in behind them just as Alexander was lowering Wille down into a chair.

Rotating slowly on the spot, Simon asked, “What is this place?”

There were some crates piled against a wall, a long surface that might have once been a bar, several broken stools, two tall tables and a few errant chairs, one of which now housed a perplexed-looking Wille.

“You stay here, I’ll go and get some help.”

Alexander was already halfway across the room, and just as Wille was calling, “I don’t need any—” the door fell shut behind him. “...help.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Wille muttered under his breath. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” Simon snapped. 

He strode over dropped down in front of Wille. “Let me see,” he said.

Obediently, Wille held his arm out. Simon’s previous assessment had been correct – there was a lot of blood. But most of it seemed to be congealing and drying. It looked horrendous, but it wasn’t life-threatening. With careful fingers, Simon turned Wille’s arm over.

Wille hissed and pulled it back.

“Sorry,” Simon murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Wille said, and Simon couldn’t tell how much he was putting on a brave face. “But I really am fine. Alexander didn’t need to go and get someone. I can walk.”

Simon looked at Wille’s face and tried to determine if he was about to pass out on him. His eyes were shining in the low light, but he didn’t look as dazed as he had earlier. That was good.

Now that he knew there wasn’t a medical emergency on his hands, Simon allowed all the other problems to start queuing up in his brain. “What the fuck was he doing here?” Simon mused, staring at the back of the door.

“Fuck knows,” Wille grumbled. “I can’t believe we thought he was missing when he was just camping out here. What the hell? We went through all that, scared ourselves shitless and then—”

But Simon had stopped listening. Unease prickled at the edge of his consciousness, and something had him hauling himself to his feet and striding across the room to try the door.

“—that fucking forest last night. And—”

“Wille.”

“—he was here the whole time. We didn’t—”

“Wille.”

“—need to have—”

“Wille.”

“What?”

Wille had stopped his tirade and was staring at Simon with an expectant look on his face. Something noxious curled in Simon’s stomach as he looked around the room. The only windows were thin strips at the top of the walls. And there was no other door.

“Simon. What is it?”

Simon turned back to Wille and saw as panic started to creep into his face, as realisation hit. He took a deep breath. “We’re locked in.”

Shaking his head, Wille stood from his seat and made his way over to Simon. And the door. He pushed it. Nothing.

“Maybe it’s just stiff,” Wille said. “This place is falling apart. Maybe it’s just difficult. Here, help me.”

Stepping up beside him, Simon leant his shoulder against the door, mirroring Wille. They both gave it a shove, but it didn’t budge.

“Let’s try at the same time. As hard as you can, yeah?” Simon tried not to note the panic in Wille’s voice. “One, two, three!”

All of Simon’s muscles screamed as he heaved his whole weight against the door. Effort made Wille’s face scrunch up, his cheeks turning red. Simon really hoped he wouldn’t pass out.

After a few seconds, they both feel back, breathing hard.

“I think maybe it moved a little?” Wille said.

Simon shook his head. “No it didn’t.”

“Let’s try again, then.”

“Wille… It’s—”

“Come on, Simon!” Wille flung his whole weight against the door. Then again. And again.

“Wille.”

Each contact of his body with the metal made a dull thudding sound and caused Simon’s heart to clench.

“Wille.”

“We have to try!” Wille cried. “We have to—”

Another thud.

“—keep trying! We can’t just—”

Thud. 

“—give up!”

“Wille!”

Simon grabbed him to prevent him from crashing himself into the door again. Wille fought against him for a moment before crumpling to the floor, back sliding down the door, head in his hands, sobbing.

“Hey,” Simon cooed, crouching down next to him. “Hey. It’s okay. We can—”

“It’s not okay!” Wille wailed into his hands. “We’re fucking locked in, Simon! Why? What are they— What’s going on? Did they lock us in? On purpose? What if they— I’m just so, so terrified. And— And what if no one comes back? And we’re stuck here? And what if someone does come back? But they’re going to—” The rest of his words were lost to desperate, hiccuping wails. 

Simon didn’t know what to do other than lower himself fully down to the ground and wrap his arms around Wille’s shaking shoulders. Wille turned and buried his face in Simon’s neck, fists bunched in the back of Simon’s t-shirt as he tried to hold them as close together as possible.

Wille’s tears tickled Simon’s collarbones as they slid inside the neck of his t-shirt. Simon tried not to think about the blood that was likely being smeared across his back.

“What do we do?” Wille whispered, the words caressing his skin. “Simon… What do we—”

“We have to get out of here,” Simon said as he tore himself back. “You’re right. We have to— We can’t be here when someone gets back. If someone comes back.”

Wille blinked at him, tears rolling off his eyelashes and down his cheeks. “But we’re locked in.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Simon whipped around, taking stock of what they had. “We have to find another way out. And get the fuck out of here.”

Zoning in on one of the crates, Simon dragged it over to the wall underneath the windows.

“Simon, what are you—”

Simon hauled himself up onto the crate and started pushing at a window. There was a small handle, proving that it had once had the ability to open, but was now jammed shut either with rust, paint, or the strangling vines covering the building on the outside.

“I’m trying to get out of here.”

“And then what?” Wille came to stand beside him as he shoved harder at the window.

“I don’t know.” If Simon squinted, he could maybe convince himself that the vines outside were shaking, and he was therefore making a difference.

“You need a plan, Simon. You can’t just—”

“Oh, because you’re so full of excellent ideas!” Simon whipped round and dropped down off the crate, dragging it over to the next window. It screeched on the concrete floor.

“Hey!” Wille cried. “That’s not fair!”

Simon turned to face him. “Sorry. I know it’s not. But, Wille. I really can’t stay here.”

Wille looked at him for a long moment, then sighed and said, “I know. What do we do then?”

If Simon strained his ears, he could hear the wind howling in the trees. “We try the windows”

Wille nodded. “We find a way out. And then…?”

“And then we figure it out from there.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, and then, taking Simon completely by surprise, Wille grasped the sides of his face with a determined expression, and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips. When he pulled back, his mouth was set. “We figure it out,” he repeated. “Together.”

Simon’s heart flipped in his chest and he found himself saying, “But… Don’t you need to go back? To Hillerska? Erik… and August… and—”

“No,” Wille interrupted. “I don’t want anything to do with… Whatever this is. I’m out. I want— I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to— I—”

It seemed as though Wille was struggling to get his words out, so Simon lifted a hand and brushed Wille’s hair off his forehead where it was stuck to the dirt and sweat. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. We will figure it out. We can—”

“Is it really bad,” Wille interrupted with a wobbly voice, “that… in some ways… this has been one of the best weeks of my life?”

Wille’s voice was quiet, but Simon couldn’t help the sharp laugh that punched out of him. When Wille just looked at him with earnest eyes, Simon scoffed, “Seriously?”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I know it’s been awful and— I know… But, Simon. You— You’re… You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. And—”

“We’ve known each other for five days, Wille.” Despite his words, Simon’s heart was beating somewhere in his throat. Because… maybe there had been something good he’d got out of this.

“I know.” Wille was shaking his head and stepping further away from Simon. “I know. It’s silly. It’s… But—”

Simon reached for him again, grasping his hand and tugging him back. “It’s not silly,” he reassured. “It’s not. It’s just— Let’s get out of here first, yeah? And then…”

Wille was watching him expectantly, but Simon didn’t know what to say. So he just carefully leant forwards and captured Wille’s lips in a gentle kiss. He hoped it conveyed what he was struggling to put into words. That, despite all the other shit, meeting Wille meant a lot to Simon too.

When they broke apart, Wille’s eyes stayed shut just for a few seconds, a content smile on his lips. Then he fluttered his eyelashes open and grinned. It made Simon’s stomach tingle. “Let’s get out of here, then.”

With renewed drive, they set about trying all the windows. Each of them would drag a crate over to a window, spend a few minutes trying to brute force their way through, to no avail. By the eighth window, they were both exhausted, and nothing was moving. 

“Wille…”

Simon watched as Wille jumped to try to shoulder the next window open.

“Wille…”

“Come on!” Wille cried. “One of them has to— If we just—” The window rattled as he threw his weight against it once more. 

Simon reached out and gripped Wille’s wrist, tugging him down off the crate. “There’s no point exhausting ourselves doing this. What if they’re, like, nailed shut from the outside or something?” The thought had crossed his mind earlier and he’s pushed it away. But now… “And look – your arm’s bleeding again. Come over here and sit down.”

Reluctantly, Wille allowed himself to be led to one of the chairs and flopped down onto it. His breathing was coming hard and fast, and it was difficult to tell if it was exertion or encroaching panic. It was likely to be both.

As they’d been working, the scant light outside had gradually faded, and a watery twilight was filtering through the grimy windows through the gap in the trees created by the building. Simon didn’t really want to think about what would happen if they went into the woods in the dark again. But he also didn’t want to think about what would happen if they were still stuck here.

Needing some sort of reassurance, Simon reached out for Wille’s hands. Wille gripped them tight before stroking his thumb across Simon’s knuckles. The touch was grounding, but it wasn’t enough, Simon needed to do something. So he carefully pulled Wille’s injured arm towards him. With the bottom of his t-shirt, he started dabbing at the blood, being careful not to touch the wound. 

It was bad. But it wasn’t life threatening. Simon hoped.

Wille watched him as he worked, eyes boring into the top of Simon’s head and making his ears grow hot. Wille’s skin was warm under his fingers and it helped to calm the racing of Simon’s heart. Once most of the new blood was gone, Simon started meticulously rewrapping the hoodie around it, gently pressing down and then finishing by tying it off. He let his fingers trail down Wille’s arm, then gripped his fingers.

“What now?” Wille asked, voice husky. “Do we… wait?”

Simon shrugged. That idea made dread pool in the pit of his stomach, but what other option was there? 

“We could try the door again? Or the windows? Once we’ve had a rest. Or we could…” He trailed off and glanced around the room again. It had clearly once been well used. There was evidence of parties or gatherings: a plastic crate filled with grimy glasses, one lone streamer hanging from a bare lightbulb, a torn flag bearing a coat of arms or a badge of some kind hanging on the wall. 

“Do you think they held parties here?” Simon asked. “Back when it was a school?”

Wille hummed. “I think so. I… I think this place is called The Palace.”

Simon’s neck cricked as he whipped his head to Wille. “What?” he said. “You— You know this place?”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like Wille’s cheeks had gone pink. “I— Not really… But… My parents came to Hillerska. When it was a school, I mean.”

“They— What?”

Wille sighed. “Erik was all set to come too. And then the school got shut down. But growing up, we’d heard so many stories about this place.”

“We all had,” Simon said darkly.

“I know.” Wille looked a little contrite. “But the ones I heard… It was different. For some of the people here.”

“You mean for the abusers compared to the victims?” Rage was making Simon’s cheeks warm, and he went to snatch his hands out of Wille’s grip.

“That’s not what I meant,” Wille said. “I— I know that what went on here was terrible. And I hate the idea that… maybe my parents were involved. Or their friends. People I grew up with. That I felt safe with. When Erik couldn’t come… he was so devastated. Our whole life we’d been waiting to come and then… nothing. But… then Erik started coming to these… retreats. And he said it was like Hillerska was open again. Said it was… like getting the chance to come after all. This year was the first time that I— And then they were going to let me…”

Wille trailed off and turned away from Simon.

“Wille.” Simon felt a little bit sick. “Were you— What did they promise you? For being here this week?”

Wille’s eyes were shining in the low light, tears gathering along his lower lash line. “I… It was— But I didn’t— It wasn’t—” None of Wille’s words made sense, but the panic in his eyes made Simon reach out. His cheeks were warm as Simon cupped them, using his thumb to brush away the moisture. Instead of letting Wille answer, he leant forward and pressed his lips to Wille’s trembling ones. A small hiccuping sob left Wille’s mouth before he was kissing back – deep and desperate. It was as though their hands didn’t know where to land, frantically trying to find purchase, but nothing was enough. They needed to be closer, needed to erase the space between them, needed to—

A horrendous screech echoed through the air, followed by a deafening thud.

They tore apart, heads whipping back and forth to try to locate the sound.

“What was—”

It happened again.

“It’s coming from outside,” Simon said, standing up.

“But what is it?” Wille’s voice was high-pitched and maniacal. 

“I don’t know.”

It sounded again.

“Simon?”

Simon turned. Wille’s eyes were wide and his chest was rising and falling quickly. Something determined settled in Simon’s chest. “We have to find another way out of here.”

Nodding frantically, Wille got to his feet just as there was a terrible pounding noise. “Was that the door?” Wille’s grip almost hurt on Simon’s forearm.

“No,” Simon said. “It was further away. But… come on. Let’s see if we can find something to break one of these windows.”

They rifled through the piles of stuff, Wille grabbed a chair and started banging one of the legs against the window. Dust billowed into the air as Simon dragged a dust sheet off more broken chairs and tables, an old amp, an empty beer crate, a bookshelf, a—

“Wait.”

“What?” Wille was panting as he paused, looking over to where Simon was frowning at the bookcase.

“Come over here,” Simon called. “Give me a hand.”

Wille’s rushing footsteps echoed on the concrete as he made his way over. “What is it?”

“This bookcase…” Simon put his hand on the wall beside it. “I think it’s covering something.” The wall was cold as he pressed his cheek to it, trying to see behind. “It is! I can’t tell— Help me move it.”

Wille was already by his side, bracing his weight against the bookcase before Simon had a chance to look for him. The determined look on his face made Simon’s skin tingle, and he sent him a grateful smile before setting his own shoulder against the wood.

“Ready? One, two, three!”

It was heavy. But with both of their efforts, it edged across the floor, screeching and screaming as it went. They paused for a breath, then tried again. It took them five attempts, by the end of which they were both panting and sweating and Simon felt a little nauseous from the exertion.

But, breaking up the wall in front of them, was another door. This one was wooden, not metal, and looked old and tired. There was a tarnished brass doorknob above an ornate keyhole.

Holding his breath, Simon reached out, placed his hand on the handle, and twisted. With barely any resistance, the door swung open. At exactly the same time, another thud sounded outside the building.

They scrambled through the new door and slammed it behind them. The new room was even darker than the last one, despite having a slightly larger window, a lone bulb swinging from the ceiling, but this time—

Wille reached up and pulled the chain and the room was flooded with sickly, yellow light. The swinging bulb sent terrifying shadows to all corners of the room as they tried to work out what they were looking at.

Unlike the previous room, this one looked more recently used. There was a hotch-potch of furniture, upon which lay a number of cases and boxes. In the corner sat an old, but well-maintained projector beside a chair that had a bizarre contraption on the back – metal reaching up from the seatback and tearing at the air with its stationary claws. 

“What is this place?” Simon breathed.

“I have no idea.” Wille reached out to open one of the boxes when there was another pounding. This time, unmistakably, from the metal door into the other room.

Then, as though it was right there with them, Simon heard the voice that had plagued him in the woods.

“Simon.”

His gasp was so harsh it tore at the back of his throat. “Did you hear that?”

“The banging. Yeah. Do you think it’s—”

“No. The—”

“Simon.”

Terror clawed at the inside of Simon’s chest and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or cry. Suddenly, he watched as Wille’s face contorted and he gasped. 

“Was that you?” His voice was shaky. “Did you just—”

“Simon.”

“Wille?” His voice came out shrill. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

Another loud banging. Then the ear-splitting screech.

“Shit. Wille. What are they— We have to get out of here! We have to—”

“The window!” Wille cried. “We have to try. Maybe this one—”

Between the two of them, they dragged a table over to the window. Simon banged his knee as he clambered up onto it, but when he put his hand on the handle, it moved, the window swinging outwards and letting in a harsh gust of wind.

“It’s open!” Simon cried, as Wille climbed up beside him.

“Will we fit?” Wille asked, already cupping his hands so that Simon could get a leg up.

There was a great deal of pushing and shoving and wiggling, but, barring a couple of scrapes and probably a nasty bruise to his elbow, Simon wriggled his way out of the window, dangling and dropping down onto the concrete path outside.

Wille followed, and despite being bigger than Simon, managed it almost unscathed – just hissing a little as he caught his already injured arm on the window frame. He tumbled into a heap on top of Simon and let out a hysterical laugh.

“Simon.”

“Shush!” Simon hissed. “Get up, Wille! We have to go.”

There was banging and clattering coming from inside the building, and Simon shoved Wille grabbing at him to get them both off the ground.

“Simon.”

“Simon!”

Mixed in with the spine-chilling whispers were louder shouts now, some of his name, some of Wille’s, all coming from inside the building.

“Wille! Wille, we have to run.”

Without questioning him, Wille started running, long legs propelling him through the forest faster than Simon’s could. The undergrowth scratched at his legs as he scrambled to keep up, branches catching on his t-shirt, roots threatening to trip him.

“Come on, Simon!” Wille yelled over his shoulder. “Hurry!”

Wille reached back and grabbed Simon’s hand, hauling him forward and then along beside him.

For several minutes, they just ran. Or at least, ploughed through the trees as fast as they could. Once their legs were screaming at them, and their breaths hurt their lungs, they stopped, leaning against a tree, gasping as they tried to catch their breath.

It was almost completely dark now, the trees stretching up into a bruised sky, wind bending the boughs to blot out any light filtering through.

“Where are we?” Simon panted.

Wille shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Fuck.” It was as though Simon’s lungs were filled with needles as he tried to drag in the cold air. “Wille… we can’t get lost in this fucking forest.”

“You said run so we ran!”

“I know, but—”

“Simon.”

Wille’s eyes had gone wide, mirroring the expression Simon assumed was on his face.

“We have to keep going,” Wille said. “We have to—”

“But which way?” Panic about staying still was warring with panic about moving in the wrong direction. “Back to the school?”

“No, we— Do you know which way your house is?”

“My house is, like, ten kilometres away, Wille. We can’t walk ten kilometres through the woods at night. We’ll get lost. Or freeze. Or—”

“Simon.”

“It’s not night yet. We can— We could—”

Something snagged on Simon’s trousers and he yelped, leaping away from the tree and clattering into Wille.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Wille’s eyes were shining in the dark, he looked almost as terrified as Simon felt.

“Something—”

Another bang. Another yell.

“Fuck,” Wille whispered. “What—”

“Simon.”

A rustling in the bushes made both of them scream and, without waiting to see what it was, they both set off, plunging through the trees again. All thoughts of distance and difficulty flew from Simon’s mind to be replaced by only one.

You have to get out of here.

Something caught on Simon’s arm and he screeched. Wille turned to grab him and haul him closer, feet still pounding on the ground.

“Simon.”

“Wille!”

“Come on, Simon!”

More voices joined in the cacophony of their pounding feet, their clothes snagged and caught, their feet stumbled, their ears rang, but they kept going.

“Simon.”

The cold was biting at Simon’s skin, the frigid air tearing at his lungs, his trainers were soaked through, he could barely feel his toes. But still they kept going. Wille’s hand was warm and solid in his, and though it slowed them down, Simon wouldn’t have let go of it for anything. Not when Wille tripped and almost fell, not when the gaps between the trees narrowed to the point where they had to slide sideways between them, not when the undergrowth got to waist height and they had to fight their way through. 

Time lost all meaning. Every sound was a threat. They stopped calling to each other, just periodically squeezed their fingers. And kept going.

After what felt like hours, Simon tried to raise his leg over a root, but it was like it was made of lead. He couldn’t lift it up. It caught and he stumbled and fell, dragging Wille down with him. A sharp pain shot through his ankle and up his leg.

“Are you okay?” Wille panted.

“I— My ankle,” Simon wheezed, a sob building in his chest. “It— I think I’ve twisted it.”

Another jolt went through him as Wille tentatively touched it and Wille snatched his hands away. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t— Do you think you can stand?”

Gritting his teeth, Simon nodded. “Help me up.”

Wille wrapped his arms under Simon’s armpits and hauled him up. The tiniest bit of weight on his foot made Simon cry out in pain and crumple. Wille caught him, but they were barely standing.

“Come on,” Wille almost sobbed. “You can do it. We can— We can do it, Simon. Please.”

Tears were coursing down Simon’s cheeks – partly from the pain, partly from the terror that this was it. That he couldn’t go any further. That they were trapped in these godforsaken woods with who knows what horrors, and they were just going to have to await their fate.

“I can’t, Wille,” he hiccuped. “I can’t. It— It hurts. You have to— Maybe you can go ahead. And— And—” Even thinking about it, Simon knew it was no use.

Wille shook his head vehemently. “No. Simon, I’m not leaving you. I can’t. We have to—”

“We can’t stay here. What if—”

But Simon was interrupted by a dazzling brightness. Beams of light cut through the trees ahead of them and Simon felt a wave of terror roll over him. He tried to scramble back to his feet, leaning on Wille so hard that Wille yelped and almost collapsed. 

They backed up. Simon hopping, Wille trying his best to support them both. The lights stopped, pointing right at them. Simon had to squint into it, temporarily blinded after the thick gloom of the woods. The lights were accompanied by a horrifying rumble – low and loud.

It was as though his heart was trying to beat out of his chest, crashing against his ribs in a bid to escape. His tongue felt too big for his mouth and every breath was a chore. He could hear Wille trying to pull oxygen in, one hand pressed hard to his chest, the other still holding onto Simon’s in a vice-like grip.

All that was going through Simon’s head was that this was it. This was where it all ended. Standing here, in the middle of the forest, after the weirdest week of his life, holding the hand of someone he only met a few days ago, but who had come to mean so much to him.

A sob built under his ribcage and he turned to bury his face in Wille’s chest. Wille’s arms came up to hold him and he felt his hot breath behind his ear as they clung to each other. The rumbling noise got louder, and then suddenly stopped. Simon rubbed his nose hard against Wille’s skin, trying to remember how he smelt, how he felt. Trying to fill his senses with something pleasant, something that eased his mind, something that made everything easier to—

“Simon?”

His nose almost hurt due to the force with which he was pressing it into Wille’s chest. It was almost impossible to block out the whispering voice, it was as though it had grown closer.

“Simon!”

And louder. And—

With a huge gasp, Simon lifted his head and whirled around.

“Sara?”

The bushes shook and the next moment they parted and through them crashed—

“Sara!”

Simon let go of Wille’s hand, took a step, and promptly collapsed onto the ground.

“Simon!”

Two pairs of knees dropped down on the ground beside him and two pairs of hands grabbed at his arms.

“Get off him!” he heard Sara screech at the same time as Wille’s voice yelling, “Don’t touch him!” and then a loud: “Ow!”

“Sara,” Simon yelled. “It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s— Leave him alone.”

Between the three of them, they wrestled Simon into a sitting position. Wille and Sara were watching each other warily, neither relinquishing their grips on his arms.

“Simon. What the hell is going on?” Sara sounded worried, her voice wobbling.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “But, Sara, we have to get out of here. Is that your car?”

It took more than a little effort to get them all standing. At one point, Wille hissed and snatched his arm away. “Fuck. Are you okay?” Simon said, just as Sara cried, “Are you bleeding?”

A few more bumps and scrapes and winces, and they made it to the car. Simon collapsed into the backseat, Wille pushing in after him and shutting the door.

Sara had just dropped into the driver’s seat when Wille gasped and screeched, “Felice?”

In all the hubbub, Simon hadn’t noticed there was someone else in the car, but she turned around now, worry lining her face. “Wille, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Felice… What the fuck are you doing here?”

She sent him a wry smile. “Well someone had to save you, didn’t they?”

That didn’t answer any of the questions currently bouncing around Simon’s head. But now was not the time. “Sara, for fuck’s sake, drive,” he snapped.

She did as she was told, firing up the engine and pulling them away as quickly as she could as she navigated through the trees. Simon was about to ask how she’d driven through a whole forest when, seconds later, they emerged from the treeline onto a road that Simon didn’t recognise.

The iron-like grip that had been around Simon’s lungs loosened a little. Then, as another car passed on the other side of the road – headlights swinging past them – it loosened a little more.

A warm pressure on his hand drew his attention, and he looked down to see Wille lacing their fingers together. When he looked up at him, Wille had a grim expression on his face. His cheeks were streaked with mud and tears. There was a scratch from his temple down to his chin. The cut on his arm had opened again, dirty, dried blood crusted around the gash where. The makeshift bandage had been lost to the forest at some point.

But they were here. And Wille was still staring at him.

“What the fuck happned, Simon?” Sara asked from the front.

No words came. Nothing that could sufficiently describe what he’d been through in the last few days. Simon twisted in his seat and looked over his shoulder. The forest whizzed past. The place where they’d emerged lost to the crowded trees.

“Are you okay?” Wille murmured beside him.

Simon turned back to look. “No,” he replied. “Are you?”

With a small, unamused huff, Wille shook his head. “But… we will be. We got out. We—”

The words were cut off by Simon leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Wille’s lips. “We got out,” he whispered, before kissing him again. “We got out.”

“And we’ll be okay,” Wille breathed against his lips. “We’ll be okay.”

Simon wasn’t sure he believed it.