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“Is this seat taken?”
Wille looks up from where he was staring out of the cafe window into the face of an old man pointing at the chair opposite Wille.
“Oh,” Wille says, sitting up a little straighter. “No. Here, let me.”
Wille manoeuvers the chair to the next table over, where a woman – he assumes the man’s wife – is already sitting, and returns to his seat. It’s less common these days to be recognised in small interactions like this, but he can already hear the couple whispering between themselves, so he takes that as his cue to leave. He’s already been here too long anyway.
The November chill bites through his coat as soon as he leaves the cafe, and he tucks his hands into his pockets, his chin into his scarf, and takes a deep breath. A strand of hair comes loose from his bun and he tucks it behind his ear before setting off.
As usual, his long strides take him towards the water. Despite the cold, the sun is shining, and Wille lowers himself onto a bench at the side of the boardwalk and watches the light glint off the water. People barely look at him as they stroll past; far too determined to get where they’re going to pay him any heed. He likes it here, likes blending into the background, likes watching the world go by.
He wonders if Simon has ever walked past him like this – head down, steps quick – wonders if Wille would even recognise him.
But he would. Of course he would.
Wille would definitely recognise the face of the person who has changed his whole life. The face of the person who he’s fallen in love with. The face of the person who he’s fallen in love with… and can’t have.
With a frustrated groan, Wille shakes his head, trying to rid himself of those unhelpful thoughts. Unfortunately, the thoughts come along with the sound of Simon’s devastated voice. A voice that also sounds like it might—
No.
There’s no use going down that route. It doesn’t matter how either of them feel. They can’t do this. Wille has seen how destructive he is. He’s seen first hand how knowing him, being close to him, ruins lives. When he was younger and more selfish, Wille tried anyway, was willing to bring people down with him if it meant getting what he wanted. But now he’s older, he can restrain himself. Now he’s older he can protect people from what being with him means.
And Simon doesn’t deserve that. Nobody does, but Simon especially. Because Simon is everything. Simon is light, and joy, and—
Abruptly, Wille stands, a restlessness in his body that won’t allow him to remain seated.
The sun is beginning to set in what promises to be a beautiful golden and orange explosion across the horizon. Wille takes a moment to watch it, the rest of the sky still startlingly blue in contrast. A memory hits him. One of sitting outside on his terrace, the sky bruised purple and blue, body full of adrenaline as he coaxed Simon through the writing exercise. He should have known then. He probably already did, deep down. He’s not been able to look at a sunset since without thinking of that evening.
It’s even immortalised in the book. A book that he poured far too much of his heart into. How could anyone read it and not know?
Wille looks at his watch.
It’s a mistake. The whole point of this excursion was to distract him from the fact that he desperately wants to be at the book reading. He asked Felice to go away with him for a couple of days, but she wasn’t able to. He hoped it was later in the day, but it’s just early enough that, if he runs, he could make it.
It was a terrible idea to come to this part of the city. But perhaps that’s exactly what his body was doing. Taking him to the one place he wants to be more than anywhere else in the world.
Wille is still too selfish. It’s not fair. He should be able to stay away, should be able to protect Simon.
Before he can talk himself out of it, his legs start moving, their long shadows striding across the concrete as they propel Wille through the streets and towards the narrow lanes and cobbles that house the little shop Simon sent him the address of.
Just so you know, the message read. Nothing else. Simon has stopped trying. And that breaks Wille’s heart.
He’ll just go to see. He’ll just stand at the back and listen to the reading, get a chance to see Simon in real life, hear him read from the book that brought them together. Wille wants to be there, wants to share in the joy, even if he does it in secret. No one has to know he’s there.
It takes less time to get there than Wille anticipated, and as he skids to a halt, he finds that there are still people entering through the little door with peeling yellow paint. Good. Wille won’t have to sneak in and cause a scene.
Using the momentum that drove him here, Wille steps forward and catches the door before it swings shut behind the couple that entered before him.
“Sorry,” one of them turns round and says.
“No problem.”
Wille closes the door behind himself and tries to shuffle through the standing people to get to a quieter part of the room.
“Ouch.”
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” Wille mutters, holding his hands out in apology to the person whose toe he just stepped on. “My bad. I— Do you mind if I just…” They send him a reproachful look, but let him pass. Then, to Wille’s dismay, the person standing beside them hits them on the shoulder and, with wide eyes, whispers something in their ear. That’s probably his cover blown then. Fuck.
He tries to make himself less conspiculous, and it’s actually easier than he thought to duck past a couple more people and lose sight of the whisperers. There are lots of people here. Enough that perhaps, if he’s careful, he can just be a face in the crowd.
All of these people are here for the book! Warm pride swells in his chest, chasing away the malcontent that had wrapped around his lungs. They did this! They wrote the book that brought these people here! They—
The crowd parts a little, and there, sitting behind a little table at the front of the room, looking exceptionally nervous, is Simon. Wille tries to take a breath and it hitches on the way in. Simon is so, so beautiful. Wille already knew that, had already looked him up online and found his social media. It isn’t fair. It’s not fair that Wille could spot Simon in the street and Simon couldn’t do the same.
But then… Wille hasn’t been fair to Simon for lots of reasons.
Simon is drumming his fingers on the top of the table and Wille can see his knees jigging underneath it. He can’t help the fond smile that spreads on his lips. That’s the man that he fell in love with all those months ago. That’s the man who he’s shared more of himself with than anyone in his life.
And the man he’s kept so much from.
Right then, in that moment, watching Simon nervously glance at an intimidating-looking woman with a clipboard at the side of the room, Wille comes to a decision.
He has to meet him. He has to talk to Simon, somehow, this evening. Even if it’s selfish. Wille will perhaps always be a little bit selfish.
Calm settles over him, as if his whole body was just waiting for him to make that decision. He leans back against the bubblegum-pink painted wall and watches as Simon takes a breath before clearing his throat and beginning to speak.
And hearing that voice, the voice that has comforted him down the phone for so long, hits Wille so hard that it brings him to tears.
Nothing in the universe could keep him from Simon now.
With wet tracks chasing down his cheeks, Wille smiles, and listens to the love of his life read an excerpt from the book they wrote together. And waits for the rest of his life to start.