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Chapter Text

Wilhelm meets the love of his life on an unusual warm October night.

The third years are throwing yet another party at the Palace, this time as a farewell to their freedom and lack of responsibilities before the exam period begins in two weeks. To the death of our brains, Vincent toasted earlier that night and people laughed and drank to it, Wilhelm included.

Then, the night became chaotic as it always did. People made out with each other, some stole bottles to drink on their own and others got into fights over nonsense. A typical party at Hillerska.

Wilhelm escaped the chaos of it a while ago. He hates crowded places. They make it hard to breath and his skin to prickle.

He is standing by the Palace entrance with Nils and Henry, who saw him trying to sneak out and followed him, when he sees him.

The most beautiful boy he has ever seen, with dark curls that his hands immediately ache to run through, a soft tanned skin and red cheekbones that his nose wants to trace over, and a face he could look at for hours and not get tired.

And when the boy looks his way, when their gazes meet, Wilhelm’s heart skips a beat and something within him swifts. A hot, needing warmth spreads over his chest, and all he can do is stare at this beautiful boy like he is a light he needs to follow. Like he is someone he needs to know.

The boy stops a few meters away from them, looking a bit out of breath and wary. He glances at the entrance behind Wilhelm, Nils and Henry and then at one of the many broken windows of the Palace, from where loud music is coming.

 Wilhelm is sure the boy has never been here before. If he had, Wilhelm would have noticed him.

This is strange.

Wilhelm has been attracted to girls, yes. Might have dwelled on the idea about a boy or two in the past, sure. But nothing that made his body freeze like this. Nothing that made him want to fast forward to a time when this boy isn’t a boy that he has just met but someone he knows like the palm of his hand. Someone he can talk to about anything. Someone he can touch. Kiss.

Wait, what?

Rewind.

Wilhelm can’t think like this, not about someone he has just met. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name. What is he doing imagine something more with him? He sounds like a weirdo.

Jesus, when was the last time he hooked up with someone?

He knows when. His initiation party, Felice Ehrencrona.

They agreed never to do it again because they are better off as friends; have been since kindergarten. What happened that night was a mistake for both of them. Wilhelm had just started at Hillerska despite begging his parents to let him stay at a school in Stockholm, got completely shitfaced and turned to Felice’s familiar comfort in a way he shouldn’t have, while Felice let herself linger into the memories of a long-distant unresolved crush on Wilhelm when she shouldn’t have either.

They talked it through and, thank God, worked it out.

So yes, it has been a while since he hooked up with someone. Perhaps that’s why he is feeling so intensely attracted to the cute boy in front of him

Or maybe it’s the vodka he drank kicking in just now.

Wilhelm snaps out of his thoughts at the same time Nils asks the boy, “You’re Marcus’ boyfriend, aren’t you?”

When the boy nods, Wilhelm’s heart drops and thinks defeated, of course. Of course, a beautiful boy like him is already taken.

Dodged a bullet there, he adds as a mental pat on his back, as if talking himself out of feeling weirdly attracted to a stranger is such a difficult task. 

“Simon,” the boy introduces himself and tries to look over their shoulders. “Is Marcus here? He told me he would be here.”

“He’s in the back with Walter, I think,” Henry says, doodling on the wall with a Swiss knife Wilhelm is sure he isn’t allowed to carry in school.

“He’s at the stables,” Wilhelm corrects and the boy looks at him. Ignoring how his heart beats faster, not going there, remember Wilhelm?, he adds, “I can take you there if you want to.”

The boy hesitates before nodding.

Wilhelm turns to Nils and Henry and says, “Be back in ten.”

He motions for Simon to follow him and soon they dive into scary-looking dark woods of Hillerska.

At the beginning of the year, Wilhelm was terrified of these woods. As part of his initiation, he was left in them, blindfolded, and told to find his way to the Palace. Without ever being to Palace. It took him hours to find the place. The older boys had laughed at him when he finally stumbled upon the old building because he had been placed ten minutes away from the it and had stupidly taken the opposite direction.

But how should he have known that?

Those third-years are all idiots.

“So,” Simon begins, cagey eyes inspecting the dark woods around them, “how do you know Marcus is at the stables?”

“Marcus likes to pet the horses when he is drunk.” Wilhelm fixes a strand of his hair that tries to fall over his eyes and glances at Simon. “Don’t you know that?”

Simon, uncomfortable and tense, hides his hands inside his mustard jacket and admits, “I have never seen him drunk.”

“Really? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Of a year, yes.”

“Oh…”

That’s odd. Marcus always got drunk at the Palace parties. Wilhelm has known him for two months and has seen the guy drunk at least seven times.

Sensing Simon’s guardedness, perhaps overthinking the situation, Wilhelm decides to jump into Marcus’ defense. “Well, he is a fun drunk. I mean, how many people do you know that, when drunk, decide to pet a horse?” He says with a chuckle.

Simon cracks a shy smile. He seizes Wilhelm up and down before turning forward again.

Marcus is one of the few nice third years that Wilhelm has met at Hillerska. One of the few that doesn’t care that his older brother, Erik, used to be the school star. Rowing, horse riding, top-A grades, Erik did it all. That’s why their parents expect Wilhelm to do it too.

So, Wilhelm needs to be a valuable asset in the rowing team, to horse ride at least twice a week, and be top student of his class. He does nothing of this except the horse riding.  That’s how he stumbled upon a friendship with Marcus.

Not that they are friends per say. But they hang out sometimes. Marcus lets Wilhelm hide in the stables whenever he needs to escape the chaos of Hillerska hallways. The older boy gets him. “I prefer animals to people too,” Marcus had said once.

Wilhelm and Simon finally reach the stables, where it’s quiet and peaceful, smelling of horses and pasture, an odor Wilhelm has grown used to, but Simon hasn’t. He wrinkles his nose in an adorable way that has Wilhelm snap at himself again, don’t go there.

They find Marcus petting Felice’s horse, Rosseau. With eyes shut, forehead on the horse’s muzzle, his left hand strokes the horse slowly, almost hypnotizingly. Wilhelm almost feels bad to disrupt him. And so does Simon, who stares at his boyfriend with a furrowed forehead.

As if sensing someone’s presence, Marcus flusters his eyes open, blinks a couple of times, and notices the two boys staring at him. When his eyes find Simon, he breaks into a happy smile. “Simme! You’re here!”

He pulls Simon into a tight hug who, still wearing that confused expression, answers, “You told me to come…. Remember?”

Marcus pulls back and grabs Simon’s face. “Yes, of course I remember!”

“Okay.” Simon’s still frowning. “Then, why didn’t you answer my texts then?” He asks and, when Marcus tries to squeeze his face with his hands, Simon shakes him off and steps back. “Stop it. I mean, you knew I was coming and still bailed the party. I texted and you didn’t reply.  I had to find my way here alone! You know I have an early tutor class tomorrow and still begged me to come. And,” Simon jabs a finger on Marcus’ chest, “you’re drunk. You didn’t drink before coming here, Marcus.”

Wilhelm’s eyebrows shot up in his forehead. He shouldn’t be here for this.

But it’s not like he can sneak out without being noticed either.

“Come on, Simme.” Marcus tries to reach for the other boy’s arm, but Simon steps back again, almost hitting Wilhelm in the process if Wilhelm hadn’t stepped away in time. “I drank, like, three beers. Drinking a bit doesn’t make it like…”

He struggles for a moment, glassy eyes ping ponging between the different parts of Simon’s face.

“Like I’m your father,” he finalizes.

Wilhelm doesn’t know Simon at all, but the way the boy tenses up, stumbles further back from his own boyfriend, with the broken expression of someone who has just been betrayed, tells him that Marcus has just crossed an unspoken line.

He decides to intervene, for Marcus’ sake.

“Hey, come on.” Wilhelm puts himself between the two boys. He glances at Simon, who is staring at Marcus with hurt, but angry eyes, and then at Marcus whose dosage of alcohol is clearly more than three beers. “How about we take you to your room, Marcus? Sleep it off? And you,” he turns to Simon, “can stay here or… I can take you home?”

“He lives in Bjarstaal,” Marcus says. “How are you going to take him there?”

Wilhelm shrugs. “By horse if necessary.”

Marcus’ drunk brain takes a second to understand Wilhelm’s words. The older boy throws his head back, laughing.

“You’re always so funny, Wilhelm,” he says.

Wilhelm blinks. He is the least person funny he has ever met. Marcus must be really drunk to say that.

Marcus tries to get closer to Simon again and this time, the shorter boy lets him. He touches Simon’s curls like Wilhelm daydreamed about doing for a second when he saw Simon for the first time, and says, “Can we talk tomorrow, Simme? Please?”

Simon hesitates, then nods, and Marcus pulls him into another hug. From over Marcus’ shoulder, Wilhelm sees Simon’s numb eyes and wonders why he is so sad. So defeated.

When the couple breaks apart, Simon looks at Wilhelm. “Can… you help me?” He asks.

Wilhelm nods eagerly. “Of course.”

Together, they manage to take Marcus up to the dorm, help him crawl into his room through the window and then make sure he drinks at least a glass of water. But not before he puts his head out of the window again and kisses Simon. Wilhelm looks away to give them privacy.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Marcus promises after pulling away.

“Okay,” Simon replies.

Marcus closes his curtains, leaving Wilhelm and Simon standing side by side in awkward silence.

Wilhelm wishes he could say something to the other boy. What that something is Wilhelm doesn’t know. Does he defend Marcus? Or does he tell Simon he deserves more clarity, if not better than a drunk boyfriend? But how does Wilhem know if Simon deserves better than Marcus? He knows nothing of their relationship, only that Simon is too beautiful and Marcus is too lucky to have him.

In the end, he chooses to remain quiet. For all good intentions that Wilhelm might have in speaking, not only is he a stranger to Simon, but also a guy that goes to the same school as Simon’s boyfriend. Someone who has seen Simon’s boyfriend drunk when the boy himself hasn’t. Someone who knows a version of Marcus that Simon doesn’t.

Better not mind other people’s businesses.

“So,” Wilhelm clears his throat, “where should I take you?”

Simon eyes him warily – always so warily – and says, “I’ll take the bus, don’t worry.”

“I’ll take you to the bus stop then.”

Simon seems taken back. “No need for that.”

Wilhelm puts on his best smile. “I insist. It’s dark, late, and buses take forever to get here. And also,” he starts walking, hoping inwardly that Simon follows him, “I know the way there better than you.”

Wilhelm takes slow steps in the hope that Simon follows.

Soon, he hears the crack of twigs on the ground and muffled steps following him down the hill and into the Hillerska woods again.

They walk quietly next to each other, Wilhelm still glancing Simon’s way each chance he has, always finding the same wary, sad expression on the boy’s face. He looks tired, Wilhelm realizes, and then remembers that Simon had said he had an early morning tomorrow.

“So, you have a tutor class tomorrow, right? For what subject?” Wilhelm asks.

Simon blinks, almost as if waking up from a haze, and turns to assess Wilhelm who, in turn, gives him a polite smile, one that conveys a message of just trying to make small talk, nothing else.

Simon seems to realize he is harmless and reluctantly says, “Math. I hate it. This year’s material is harder than last year, and the teacher doesn’t explain things clearly.”

“I have that problem here too, but with Home Economics. Unless I pay for the extra tutor classes, the teacher will only give be a B.” Wilhelm motions for Simon to watch out before going around a fallen tree branch. “Henry always gets A+ because he pays him. It’s so unfair.”

“Hum,” is all that Simon says for a while. Then, he adds, “Rich kids have different problems, I suppose.”

A dreadful feeling drops over Wilhelm.

Great, now he thinks I’m spoiled.

Sometimes he forgets how privileged he must come off to a stranger. Especially to Simon, in whom he now notices small details that he had yet noticed. Like the clothes. No top brand like the girls here in school wear. Nothing recently bought like Nils’ accessories. No fancy watch like the one Erik gave Wilhelm for his birthday. Simon’s purple sweatshirt seems old and overused. The color of his jacket is washed up.

Simon doesn’t go to Hillerska despite living close by. And he is dating Marcus who is here on a scholarship. Marcus had told Wilhelm he used to go to a school in Barjstaal. Simon lives in Barjstaal, right? Marcus had said that.

It all adds up.

Wilhelm should have seen the clear differences between them. Should have realized sooner that Simon’s wariness and discomfort came from the fact that he looked at him, Wilhelm, and saw a privileged boarding school kid, and not from being scared of Hillerska woods.

“I didn’t mean it like-“Wilhelm struggles to find the right thing to say. “I mean, I was, I was just trying to make conversation, that’s all. I know… I know it’s different.”

“What’s different?”

“Hillerska. Boarding school. Rich kids.” Wilhelm nods. They step out of the woods and onto the cemented pathway that links the school grounds to the bus stop down the road. “We have different realities,” he adds.

He has overheard his cousin August saying too many times how special they are. How normal people – people who aren’t born into old-money families – could never understand them.

Simon doesn’t reply.

They keep walking, now in deeper awkward silence, one that Wilhelm wishes he knew how to undo, until they reach the bus stop.

Awkwardly, Wilhelm motions to the small wooden stop shelter and says, “Here we are.”

With one long glance at him, Simon moves to sit on the bench inside the bus stop. Wilhelm lingers on his spot, wondering if he should sit too or stand until the bus comes.

“Are you going to wait?” Simon asks, an unreadable expression on his face. When Wilhelm nods, he furrows his eyebrows for a second before nodding to the spot next to him. “Come on then.”

Wilhelm sits next to Simon.

And, once again, they wait in awkward silence.

Wilhelm realizes he sat too close to Simon, their knees almost touching, and the other boy’s odor slips into his nose welcomely. It’s a sweet, strong smell. It’s…

Citrus fruit.

Simon smells like citrus fruit and, for some reason, Wilhelm likes it. Not only the smell itself, but the fact that he knows one more small detail about Simon.

He is not doing a very good job at keeping it together, is he? Hasn’t he already scolded himself tonight about Simon? He doesn’t know the boy. The dating one of his school friends-boy.

He needs to hook up with someone. Quickly. Someone who isn’t the boy next to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Wilhelm blinks and, for a second, thinks he imagined the words. But no, Simon is looking at him with a sheepish smile and, when their eyes meet, he says, “I might have come off a bit… rude. Or cold? Or…” Simon wrinkles his nose, looking up as he searches for the right word. “Or weird in general, I guess.”

“You-“ Wilhelm clears his throat –“You seemed perfectly fine.”

Simon’s lips quirk at that. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m just really tired. School, working, and… Marcus.”

“I see.”

Simon’s teeth worry on his bottom lip, like he is debating to say more or not.

Wilhelm decides to ease his worry. “I know Marcus, but… We’re not buddies, okay? If… if you need to… vent about something, it’s –“ What is he saying? –“it’s fine?”

Simon lifts an eyebrow. “Was that a question?”

Wilhelm chuckles, shaking his head. “Sorry. It wasn’t meant to be one. Like… I know that you don’t know me, okay? And I know you know that I know Marcus –“ What on EARTH is he saying now? – “but… we’re not close, so… if you want to vent to a stranger, you can use me.”

He can use him? What choice of words was that?

It seems to be the right choice, apparently, because Simon lets out a small laugh and then, with his body trembling, laughs harder, head thrown back.

Wilhelm smiles, unsure of what to do or say. Unsure if Simon is laughing at him for the wrong reasons or the good ones.

Simon’s laughter dies slowly. When it fully disappears, its remains can be seen on Simon’s bright smile and twinkling brown eyes.

“You’re awkward,” he points out.

“Thanks…” Wilhelm blinks. “I guess?”

Simon chuckles again. He leans his head on the wooden wall behind him, eyes up to look at the starry night outside the bus shelter, a smile lingering on his lips.

Wilhelm watches him, one part still unsure of what had just happened and another just admiring how beautiful Simon is.

He truly is the most beautiful boy Wilhelm has ever seen.

Stop it.

He opens his mouth to say something, to distract himself from his stupid thoughts, when a yellow light flashes the pavement in front of them. The sound of an engine rumbles down the road. They wait in silence until the squeaky of tires braking on the cemented floor has the bus stop right in front of the shelter.

Simon hesitantly stands up. He looks over at the driver, who waits impatiently inside the bus, and then at Wilhelm. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens again. Wilhelm believes he will leave without saying anything, but hopes he does. He hopes Simon says something, asks for his Instagram, asks to keep in touch. Anything.

Then, from all things Wilhelm could imagine Simon saying, the boy says one of the last ones that crossed his mind.

“Thank you for making me laugh tonight, Wilhelm.”

And then he beeline for the bus, hops on and vanishes from Wilhelm’s sight.

The bus takes off, leaving Wilhelm alone at the bus shelter with the fresh memory of Simon’s last words to him playing over and over.

Slowly, after what seems like ages, Wilhelm stands up. He steps out of the bus stop, looks in the direction the bus took off and makes his way back to the Palace where surely his presence has been missed.

Only halfway there, deep in the quiet, dark woods of Hillerska, does Wilhelm realize that Simon said his name. He never gave Simon his name. It was Marcus that used it in passing, and Simon memorized it.

Simon memorized it.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm is closing his locker when he almost has a heart attack.

He has just grabbed the English novel he needs to read for English class (reminder: tell Henry and Walter to do the same), and is minding his own business, humming a melody to himself, when the corner of his eye catches a large shadow coming up from behind the closing locker door, startling him into a jump.

“Fuck!”

With a hand over his heart and his back against the locker, he blinks his panic away. Only to find Marcus, all in black clothes with a dark grey beanie on his head, leaning against the locker next to his.

He straightens his posture, a hot ball of embarrassment bouncing inside of him.

“Jesus, Marcus. Don’t sneak up on people!”

Marcus looks guilty as he apologizes, “Sorry.”  He then stands straighter, puts on a grateful smile and says, “I want to thank you.”

 “For what?” Wilhelm asks confused, walking out of the locker’s area.   

Marcus follows him closely. “For last night. For taking care of Simon.”

Simon.

His heart shouldn’t fluster at the sound of the curly-haired beautiful boy he had met last night. The boy who is dating Marcus.

He swears he is trying his best not to think about Simon. Nor about the words he gave Wilhelm as a farewell.

Thank you for making me laugh.

Simon had been cagey and upset most of the night, being at a Hillerska party for the first time, a place full of people that are nothing like him, and having to deal with a missing boyfriend who didn’t reply to his texts because he was petting a horse, but Wilhelm - yes, this Wilhelm - had put a smile on his face when no one else did. Had made him laugh in a terrible circumstance, when laughing wasn’t even a possibility in Simon’s mind.  

He wishes he could it again.

Wilhelm realizes he is lost in that small memory (for the hundredth time since last night) when he feels the tugs of a proud smile creeping up on him when it shouldn’t. He pulls himself together and glances at Marcus to make sure the older boy didn’t catch the weird expression on Wilhelm’s face.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice anything out of ordinary.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Wilhelm says with a dismissive wave. “Did he… Did he get home safely?”

“Yes, yes.” Marcus steps away to let two first-year girls pass through him and Wilhelm. “He’s coming by later. We need to talk. He was pissed last night. And with reason.”

“Hum,” is all that Wilhelm says.

“The thing is, since coming here… things have been different between Simon and me.” Why is Marcus still talking? “He thinks I’m becoming… someone I am not. But I am not. I mean, you know me, Wilhelm. Right?”

“Right,” Wilhelm replies, unsure, and opens the door to Hillerska back site, the quickest way to Forest Ridge House. Then he adds, “I mean, I know who you are here, Marcus, in school. I don’t know the Marcus Simon knows.”

“But it’s the same Marcus!”

I wouldn’t know, Wilhelm thinks.

Like Marcus would never know the kind of thoughts Wilhelm has had about his boyfriend.

“Anyway,” Marcus opens the Forest Ridge door for Wilhelm, “I wanted to say thank you. Honestly. I’m lucky that Simon ran into you.”

That makes Wilhelm stop and turn to Marcus. “Why?”

“Because you’re you.” Wilhelm lifts an eyebrow, still confused, and, as they walk down the hallway, Marcus gestures with his hand, trying to explain, “I mean, you’re not like… most people here. You’re… cool.”

“Thanks?” Wilhelm is not sure if he was just insulted or not.  

“And Simon has this idea that… rich people are all the same.”

“Ah.” That Wilhelm knows.

Marcus notices Wilhelm’s tone of voice and straights his back, worry crossing his eyes. “Did… did he say something to you?”

Wilhelm hesitates and Marcus quickly says, “I’m sorry if he did. Simon is a bit straightforward, especially when he thinks the other person can be an asshole.” Wilhelm blinks and Marcus corrects himself, “I mean, not that you look like an asshole. You don’t, Wilhelm. You’re really cool. That’s why I’m thankful he ran into you yesterday.”

“Okay…?”

They linger in front of Wilhelm’s dorm room now. Wilhelm has one hand on the doorknob, ready to escape as soon as he can.

Marcus sighs, coming to a defeated conclusion. “All I’m saying is that he can be a bit straightforward, okay? And he’s not comfortable with people from Hillerska, and I need to talk to him today and show him that he doesn’t have anything to worry about. Because he doesn’t. Right?”

Why is Marcus looking at Wilhelm like he has the answers to his problems? Wilhelm doesn’t even have the answers to his own problems.

“I guess, Marcus.” He turns his room’s doorknob and opens it slightly as a subtle warning that he is about to end this conversation before actually saying it. “I got homework to do.”

“Of course. Thanks, Wilhelm.”

Again, for what?

Wilhelm is almost inside his room when he halts. He shuts his eyes and scrunches his face almost painfully, the feeling of be a better person making him feel guilty, before he turns around to face Marcus again. The older boy is looking at him, lost but hopeful.

Wilhelm does what he wishes someone would do for him if he were in Marcus’ shoes.

“Good luck today. Hope you guys can work it out,” he says sincerely.

Marcus’s shoulders relax and a thankful, yet a bit embarrassed smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Thank you, Wilhelm. Really.”

Wilhelm shrugs. “Yeah, no problem.”

He closes the door on Marcus’ face.

***

Wilhelm hadn’t planned on leaving his room for the remain of the day, having instead decided to start on the book he was assigned to read for English class and its presentation, one that he has to do with Henry and Walter.

Knowing the two boys well enough and their tendency to procrastinate, Wilhelm has already taken preventive measures and sent them a threatening message saying read the book or I’ll tell the third years you guys hooked up with someone last Friday, which had Henry and Walter flipping because they did not in fact hook up with anyone and didn’t want to embarrass themselves in front of the other guys. They have sent him a selfie of them reading the book as proof that they follow Wilhelm’s order.

A small victory for Wilhelm’s parents’ plan of having him be top of his class.

Anyway, Wilhelm got himself ready for a night in at his dorm. But then Felice texted him, asking him to join her for dinner at Manor House, and he gave in easily because Felice is probably the closest friend he has. After his brother, of course.

He thanks whatever God there is that their hook up at the beginning of school year didn’t ruin their friendship. He doesn’t know what he would do at Hillerska without Felice’s reasonable advices and common sense.

They order in Chinese food, watch a rom-com and talk trash about the third-years they dislike. Like August and Vincent.

August because he thinks he is Wilhelm’s life guru (Erik shouldn’t have had asked August to keep an eye on his younger brother) and because he keeps trying to date Felice even though she has said no multiple times.

Vincent because he became an asshole ever since stealing August’s captain position in the rowing team a couple of weeks ago and because he tends to mansplain things to Felice, even when the conversation doesn’t include him.

“I swear if he tries to tell me one more time how the system works, I’ll lose it,” Felice complains. Vincent talks a lot about the system, like it’s a thing that he totally didn’t make up in his head.

Wilhelm laughs. “You should hear his motivational speeches in rowing practices. Whoever told him that people react better to tough love got him good.”

“Asshole.”

“The biggest.”

“After August, though.”

“Obviously.”

They laugh.

It’s a bit past nine when Wilhelm says goodbye to Felice and heads over to Forest Ridge House.

He is not expecting to run into anyone at this hour, apart from the usual sneaky couples who refuse to be seen during daylight but always sneak into each other’s rooms after dinner. But, as he is approaching Forest Ridge entrance, right before he aims for the doorknob, the main door snaps open and someone runs into him.

His head almost bumps against a sea of dark curls, the immediate smell of citrus fruit invading his nostrils, and Wilhelm knows – he just knows – who the person in front of him is. In a swift movement, he grabs Simon’s upper arms to their imminent head-crash.

Simon raises his head, cheek reddened in anger and eyes snapping daggers at whoever crosses his way. For a second, Wilhelm thinks Simon will bite his head off and take some of his frustration out on him. But the moment Simon’s gaze finds Wilhelm, realizing who in fact is in front of him, has all those negative emotions vanishing. Simon physically relaxes under Wilhelm’s hands, and inwardly, Wilhelm sighs in relief.

“Simon,” Wilhelm tastes his name in his mouth, savoring it, “are you okay?”

The boy stares at him, and Wilhelm takes the moment to, for the second time in his life, drink in Simon’s beauty. Up close, with the front light over them, he can perfectly see how clean, skin marks free, Simon’s face is.

The soft dark curls fall effortlessly over Simon’s forehead and Wilhelm’s fingers twist to touch them. They have to be as soft as they look.

Simon’s half-opened lips are plump, tempting, and-

And his smell.  Citrus fruit.

Wilhelm’s sure he will never see citrus fruit the same way again. Not without associating it with Simon.

Before any of them can say anything, before Simon can answer Wilhelm’s question or Wilhelm does something reckless like see if Simon’s lips taste as he smells, steps echo from within the hallway and a determined Marcus appears from the left-sided rooms.

He stops abruptly, eyes flickering from Wilhelm to Simon to Wilhelm’s hands grabbing Simon’s arms, and frowns confused.

Wilhelm immediately steps away from of the smaller, feeling guilty over nothing. Because nothing was happening between them.

“Hey,” he greets dumbly.

Marcus snaps out of his confused haze. “Hey Wilhelm. Where are you coming from?”

Really, that’s what Marcus wants to know?

Wilhelm glances at Simon, who has found a blank point on the floor and is chewing the inside of cheek nervously, and answers as casually as he can, “Manor House. Had dinner with Felice.”

“You guys a thing?” Marcus frowns, and Wilhelm knows he is thinking of that awful, pestering lunch on the day after Wilhelm’s initiation party, when August and Vincent forced Wilhelm on top of the table to talk about what had happened between Felice and him. Wilhelm did not say a word. He cherishes Felice too much to even think of saying anything about their dumb, drunk hook up.

“No, no.” Wilhelm shakes his head several times, glancing one more time at Simon. “We’re friends.”

“Oh, okay.”

Silence falls between the three of them.

Marcus looks Simon’s way with concern while Simon refuses to acknowledge anyone’s presence, and Wilhelm avoids looking at either of them, wondering why again he is standing in the middle of the couple’s fight and wishing he could teleport into his room.

Almost suffocating in such dreadful silence, Wilhelm notices Marcus taking a tentative step in Simon’s direction.

Simon, who must have been watching his boyfriend through the corner of his eye, snaps out of his trance and faces Marcus, jaw clenched. “Don’t.” And then, to Wilhelm’s surprise, he turns to him and asks, “Care to show me the way to the bus stop, please?”

“Ah…”

Wilhelm’s attention jumps from Simon to Marcus and back to Simon. He almost asks are you sure you don’t want Marcus to take you?, but he knows it’s a stupid question to ask. Simon clearly doesn’t want to be around his boyfriend right now.

But should Wilhelm take Simon to the bus stop? Won’t Marcus be upset?

“Please take him,” Marcus asks, almost like he heard Wilhelm’s worrying thinking. “He doesn’t know the way well and it’s dark.”

That settles it then.

Wilhelm finds himself, for the second night in a row, walking down the woods of Hillerska with Simon. This time, though, he is fully aware that Simon’s tense shoulders and guarded expression aren’t because of him, and that makes him a bit more relaxed.

Yet, Simon’s unsettling silence concerns him, and he wonders if he should say something.

After all, he had offered his listener services to Simon last night. He could be a shoulder… not to cry on, but to vent on, if Simon needed.

He gathers up his courage and, halfway down to the bus stop, he finally dares to ask, “You okay?”

Simon throws a quick glance at him. He rolls his shoulders, shaking away some of his tension, lets out a puff of cold air, and answers in a strained tone, “yes.” Which is obviously a lie.

Wilhelm bites his bottom lip and says nothing.

They step into the cemented path, slowly approaching the bus stop.

“Actually, no,” Simon blurts out. “I’m not okay.”

Wilhelm nods, not knowing exactly what to say next. He dumbly settles for asking, “Because of Marcus?”, like it isn’t obvious that Simon isn’t okay because of his boyfriend.

Simon shakes his head. “If Marcus was the only problem in my life, I’d be thrilled.”

Simon falls into silence again and Wilhelm is once again unsure of what to do.

 Should he ask for more? Or say a nice vague thing that sounds like a pat on the back and throw a used phrase like life has ups and downs, am I right? or things will get better?

He is sure if he tried the second option it would come off phony.  Interiorly, he empathizes with people very well. He feels what they feel; gets how shitty some situations are; how happy-inducing some moments turn out to be. He cheers for his classmates’ accomplishments in class. His heart breaks a little when he sees a girl hiding her tears in the hallway, surrounded by her group of friends, because it’s hard to see someone sad, hurt.  He feels for them. good, bad, he does.

 He is just… not very good at showing people how much he feels for them.

So, saying something vague and tacky wouldn’t help the case. Not only that, but Wilhelm would also be lying if he doesn’t admit that he wants to know more about Simon’s situation. About anything Simon can give him.  

 They reach the bus stop.

Simon beelines for the stop bench and sits. Wilhelm hesitantly takes the spot next to him, just like last night. Tonight, though, he allows his knee to bump into Simon’s. He allows it to rest there, feeling the warmth of Simon’s knee against his, pressing, and waits for the other boy’s reaction.

When Simon doesn’t pull back, a triumphal warmth that shouldn’t exist rushes through Wilhelm’s body and he finds himself fighting a smile.

One that Simon notices.

“Why are you smiling?” He asks, defensive.

Shit.

“Ah, remembered something.” Say something more. “From the movie I saw tonight with Felice. Sorry. Bad timing.”

Simon’s scrutinizing eyes burn holes on Wilhelm’s face, like he knows that he was just lied to. Wilhelm, in turn, blushes and avoids facing him.

They sit like that for an unsettling, unbreathing moment, and Wilhelm wonders if this is when the fresh, breakable bond that he has just barely created with Simon vanishes. If there’s no turning back. Before anything even started.

All because Wilhelm fought back a smile and lied about it to Simon’s face.

“What movie?” Simon suddenly asks.

Wilhelm blinks and lets out a confused sound.

“What movie did you watch with, hum, Felice?” Simon rephases.

“Ah. It was The Proposal,” he answers.

“A classic romcom,” Simon points out, breaking a small smile. Wilhelm feels he can breathe again at the sight of that smile. “Although my favorite is Love Rosie.”

A moment of silence.

And then, without looking directly at the other boy, Wilhelm confesses, “I cried watching that movie.”

“No way!” Simon sits up straighter, turning to him with sparkling eyes. “Me too!”

The way Simon seems so excited sharing the fact that he had cried during a romcom provokes a fond chuckle out of Wilhelm, who, fearing that he will break the moment, watches Simon closely through the corner of his eye.

“It’s a great movie,” Wilhelm praises. “Felice made me watch it, but… yeah. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“It’s the best!” Simon leans back on the wooden wall again. “I watched it with Ayub and Rosh. They are my best friends. Ayub picked it thinking it would be lame, but, man, we were all crying by the time Rosie gave her speech at the wedding.”

“I can relate.”

They share a warm, private glance, just like old friends do.

Wilhelm takes a moment to examine Simon. With his hands inside his jumper, head tilted back and a smile playing on his lips, there are no traces of the angry Simon that Wilhelm had found leaving the Forest Ridge House earlier. It made Wilhelm smile.

This time, when Simon notices his smile, he smiles back.

Almost shyly, Simon flickers his gaze away from Wilhelm for a moment before looking back at him once more. In a tiny voice, he says, “Thank you.”

Wilhelm blinks, heart pounding loudly in his chest. “For what?”

“For making it easier.”

Wilhelm tilts his head to the side, confused.

He knows Simon is trying to say something between the lines and Wilhelm doesn’t want to be an idiot who doesn’t get it, yet it’s hard to understand what Simon wants to say because (sadly) Wilhelm doesn’t know the boy well enough to get what he is not saying.

 So, he has to ask, “Making what easier?”

“My experience with Hillerska people.” Simon recoils into himself, half of his face tucked behind his jumper. “I was a bit… uncomfortable coming here yesterday. But Marcus insisted and insisted. He says that I don’t get Hillerska students because I don’t hang out with them. But if I did, I would understand.” Simon hesitates on his next words. “I guess he was right about that.”

“But you didn’t hang out with many Hillerska students,” Wilhelm carefully points out. “Only with me.”

Simon’s mouth quirks up on its right side, and Wilhelm follows the movement.  “Yes.”

“And… I lived up to your expectations?”

Wilhelm is fishing for something now, he knows he is, and shouldn’t be doing it, but can you blame him?

Simon pauses. Then, admits, “You were better.”

“Oh.”

Wilhelm’s heart shouldn’t be beating this fast. His mind shouldn’t be trying to read into Simon’s words. He is only saying that Wilhelm isn’t as much of an asshole as he expected a Hillerska student to be. The bar isn’t that high.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Wilhelm mutters shyly.

Simon chuckles. “Don’t be coy now.”

“I- I’m not?” Wilhelm reacts without thinking, because he is feeling shy under Simon’s amused gaze. He is feeling nervous, his insides twirling at every smile he gets out of Simon, hoping this moment never ends. Hoping the bus doesn’t get here.

Simon throws his head back in a laugh.

“You’re blushing,” he lets Wilhelm know. As if he can’t feel how much his cheekbones are burning. Have been burning since the moment they sat down and Simon didn’t pull his knee away from Wilhelm’s.  Which he still hasn’t, by the way, and that fact is imprinted on Wilhelm’s mind.

“I’m… always embarrassing myself in front of people,” Wilhelm confesses, bringing a hand up to fix a strand of loose hair. His mother keeps bugging him to cut it short like Erik, but he doesn’t want to. He loves his brother, but he doesn’t want to look like him. “I guess I’m not the best example of a Hillerska student,” he jokes.

“Hum…” Simon tilts his head, thinking. After some deliberation, he smiles at Wilhelm and says, “I’m still glad you’re the Hillerska student I know.”

Wilhelm doesn’t know how else to react but to blush more. He is sure that even his neck is red right now.

“I’m glad you’re… the Bjarstaal person I know?”

Simon chuckles, but it’s weak. And if Wilhelm hadn’t been paying extra attention to Simon and each detail about his face, he wouldn’t have seen how his smile tugs down, so little, barely noticeable.  

“Marcus is from Bjarstaal too, so you know two people from there,” Simon points out.

“Right.” Wilhelm feels at loss again. “I don’t remember that he is from there. I’ve always known him here. How…” He clears his throat. “How long have you guys known each other?”

“For over a year.” Simon licks his lips, nervous. “I mean, I knew of him before. His mom knows my mom. It’s a small town. But… we only crossed paths about a year ago.”

“But… didn’t you say last night that you have been dating for a year?”

Simon’s eyes widen a bit. “I did?”

Ah shit.

Wilhelm, you’re not supposed to remember everything a stranger tells you on your first meeting.

“Maybe I imagined it…?” Wilhelm tries to play it cool. He tilts his head up, pretending to search for a long-lost memory when he knows damn well that he remembers every little thing Simon told him last night.

“Well, if you did imagine it, your imagination is spot on.” Simon eyes him with a hint of amusement. “We have been dating for almost a year now. It’s our anniversary in a month.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?” Simon repeats. The corner of his lips quivers up, trying to conceal the amusement.

“I- Was I supposed to say something else?”

Wilhelm tilts his head, adding a gist of dramatic confusion to his expression to amuse Simon, whose lips tremble as he fights back a bubble of laughter in the back of his throat.

“Would you rather that I said congratulations? Or does ‘when is he popping the question?’ sound better?” Wilhelm asks, wanting so badly to burst that bubble of laughter that Simon is fighting.

And he does. Simon’s shoulders shake as he lets loose his laugh, head thrown back, half-shut eyes, as if what Wilhelm had said was the funniest joke ever. Wilhelm joins him.

Their knees bump against one another. Wilhelm admits he provokes it first by pressing his knee against Simon’s, but Simon presses back right after, their feet lining up together, touching from edge to edge, and it does something to Wilhelm’s heart. Courage to lean his upper body against Simon too. Their entire bodies touching all the way down to the tip of their feet. And he hears Simon holding his breath, realizing how close they are, how easily it would be to turn their heads and-

Stop.

Wilhelm needs to stop.

He can’t do this. Let his heart control his head and his actions, unthinkingly messing with Simon and Marcus’ relationship when one, he barely knows Simon and two, Marcus, unlike most arrogant third years, has always been nice to him.

 How would he feel if he were in Marcus’ shoes? How would he feel if Simon broke up with Marcus for him? Wilhelm has to see that he is the stranger in Simon’s life. Marcus was here first. Sure, the couple is having issues right now, but all couples have issues. They can still work it out. And, if they don’t (and part of Wilhelm knows that he is overthinking an entire situation that isn’t his to overthink), he would not want to be a rebound. Or, worse, one of the reasons they didn’t work out.

Through the corner of his eye, he senses Simon slowly turning his head to him, lips falling apart, tongue curling into something he wants to say, and Wilhelm’s breath catches, waiting. Hoping and not hoping at the same time that Simon does something. Says something to make them closer. To make them un-strangers.

God, he needs to stop.

Simon opens his mouth and what comes out of it doesn’t give Wilhelm any kind of hope. But it also doesn’t do the opposite. 

“Are you on Instagram?” Simon asks. 

Wilhelm blinks.

“Ah… Yes?”

“Of course, you are,” Simon mutters, wrinkling his nose. “Everyone is. Do you… want to- I mean, can I follow you?”

Why is Wilhelm’s heart hopeful at the idea of being connected to Simon on a social media? It means nothing. Everyone follows everyone on social media.

“Sure.”

Simon grabs his phone and opens up the app. “What’s your username?”

“Ah, it’s- Ah, justawille.”

Simon snaps his head towards him, frowning. “justawille? What kind of username is that?”

“One that I came up with after being denied by Instagram five times?”

Simon laughs and taps in the username. He finds Wilhelm right away and sends him a following request. Wilhelm takes his phone out of his jeans, goes to the app and accepts Simon’s request before following back.

“So, we’re Insta buddies now,” Simon jokes.

“I guess we are.” Wilhelm chuckles.

The bus arrives.

Simon stands up, sends Wilhelm one last smile and glance, saying good night, and hops onto the bus.

Wilhelm watches him go, clutching to his phone like it’s his most valuable item.

Simon asked for his Instagram account.  They are Insta buddies now. They have a connection they didn’t have before because Simon asked for it.

Simon took initiative.

Chapter Text

The first message comes on a rainy Thursday.

Wilhelm is at the library, where he has been for the past three hours with Felice and Madison, slowly losing his mind over the Home Economics exam booked for next week. Felice has tried to help him, but she is so overwhelmed with the joined English presentation she has with Madison and Stella that she can’t stop to tutor him properly. Neither can Madison. And no one else from his class gives a flying damn about the Home Economics exam when they have Math to study for first.

But Wilhelm isn’t worried about Math. He has always been good at it. The tranquility that numbers are always numbers, no matter the twists you give them, no matter the roads you must take in your calculations to reach the answer, appeases Wilhelm’s anxiety. Unlike open-ended questions that he needs to pour all his knowledge into pages and pages of writing, hoping that, along the way, something he says makes sense.

Wilhelm bites the skin around his thumb, rereading the same paragraph for the hundredth time when a notification on his phone distracts him.

He sees the Instagram logo first and then, as he slides his phone closer to him, the name under the logo, which almost makes him lose balance when his elbow slips from the table.

Felice gives him a confused look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Wilhelm opens the phone, clicks on the notification and is directedly connected to a new Instagram chat.

With Simon Eriksson.

simon.eriksson: do you horse ride?

Wilhelm blinks at the question.

From all things he might have daydreamed about to strike up a conversation with Simon online – and he shamedly admits that there were many, many conversation starters that he has fantasized about over the last two weeks while he looked at Simon’s profile -, talking about horses was never one of them.  

Wilhelm clicks on his profile in search of some sort of clarity about Simon’s weird question.

He barely posts pictures since he hates the number of likes and comments that he gets from people who want to get closer to him just because his family is rich, so he quickly comes across a picture from a year ago, from when Felice bought her horse Rosseau and asked him to give her some beginner lessons. In the picture, Wilhelm is helping Felice get on Rosseau. They are both laughing, Felice nervously and Wilhelm amusingly because the funny yelp Felice had let out when Wilhelm first hoisted her up had been hilarious.

He had forgotten he had posted that picture.

Hold on.

Is Simon stalking his Instagram account two weeks after they started following each other?

“What are you gaping at?” Felice asks.

Wilhelm quickly closes his mouth and mutters, “just a meme.”

He leans back, pulling his phone with him and away from any curious eyes, and types a reply.

Justawille: Yes. Why do you ask?

Simon’s reply comes shortly after.

simon.eriksson: my sister loves horses.

Wilhelm watches Simon type, stop, type again and stop again.

simon.eriksson: she made me ask if there was ANY chance that she could meet your horse?

simon.eriksson: i mean, if you actually have one

Wilhelm lets out a laughing exhale that has Felice narrow her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Another meme?” She asks.

“Yes.”

justawille: Well, it’s not my horse. It’s Felice’s.

simon.eriksson: oh.

justawille: But he is here at Hillerska, so…

justawille: Actually, I think Marcus was petting him when we met. Remember?

Simon types and retypes for over a minute.

simon.eriksson: what a small world.

Wilhelm almost imagines Simon’s tone saying that and feels a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

But his smile soon vanishes as a mix of curiosity and worry takes its place and he wonders how things between Marcus and Simon are. Does Simon’s message sound like they are okay or still fighting?

It’s just a message, Wilhelm, he scolds himself.

After all, Marcus looks just fine when Wilhelm passes by him on the school hallways. If he were fighting with his boyfriend, wouldn’t something in his behavior have changed?

You’re a relationship expert now?

Shut up.

Wilhelm’s only relationship happened when he was thirteen and they broke up because she wanted to date a Zayn-look-alike from their school. Wilhelm blamed her back then. Not now, though. The guy did look like Zayn from One Direction.

justawille: I’m sure you guys can come over during the weekend to see him

simon.eriksson: your friend won’t mind?

justawille: Felice? Not at all.

simon.eriksson:  that’d be cool.

simon.eriksson:  my sister needs a distraction right now.

Wilhelm worries at his lower lip.

Simon is planting a small, vague information that has to be followed up by a why-question. He is basically telling Wilhelm that it’s okay to ask for more. To know him better.

So, Wilhelm does just that. He sends a why and nothing more, putting the phone down.

Biting the skin around his thumb, he watches the phone like a hawk. Only when Felice glances at him funnily again does he pretend to study. But his mind is so obviously not there.

When his phone starts lighting up with notifications, he almost jumps in his seat. His hands itch to grab the phone right away, but he makes himself wait two full minutes and one paragraph in his Home Economics’ book before doing it.

simon.eriksson: my sister has autism and ADHD and people are school are assholes about it. a girl in our class made fun of her yesterday and it really brough her down. she didn’t go to school today.  probably won’t go tomorrow.

simon.eriksson: and she is at home watching horse documentaries all day.

simon.eriksson: she has never seen a horse in real life. it would be really nice if she could meet one.

Wilhelm rereads the information twice, feeling for Simon’s sister. People can be mean in this world. Even meaner to people they think are different from them. It must be awful for Simon’s sister to be bullied for simply existing.

And Simon, he must worry about her a lot.

If Marcus was the only problem in my life, I’d be thrilled.

Wilhelm gets it now.

The way Simon holds himself in the presence of strangers, his preconceived ideas about Hillerska rich students, who Marcus has called self-absorbed and arrogant and is, perhaps, Simon’s only source about people in this school, and this, his sister’s situation at school, make it easier to understand why Simon is so distrustful. Why the fact that Marcus acting a bit more differently than what Simon is used to has upset the boy.

Wilhelm would be upset too if someone who he hoped to be a safe place, a comfort spot, showed signs of becoming a problem too.

justawile: I’ll make it happen! Give me a day, okay? 

simon.eriksson: ok

simon.eriksson: thank you Wilhelm

justawille: Wille is fine

simon.eriksson: thank you wille 😊

Wilhelm put his phone down smiling.

 His smile disappears, though, when he locks eyes with a suspicious Felice and remembers that he needs to ask for her permission to introduce her horse to two complete strangers without letting it show how much he needs this to happen so that he can see Simon again.

Simon, with whom he has nothing going on nor does he want to.  

Really, he doesn’t.

Fucking hell, Wilhelm.

***

Wilhelm invites Felice to his dorm room for dinner and to watch a romcom. He orders them pizza and Felice picks the movie. It’s a normal night for them, one that they have lived dozens of times since their earlier teens. Their parents being business partners for most of their lives made it almost impossible for them not to fall into a friendship, whether they didn’t want it at first, in Wilhelm’s case, or used it to be closer to their crush, in Felice’s.

When they first got to Hillerska, people were already assuming they had dated or still were. Perhaps that is why it was so easy to make the stupid mistake of hooking up each other at the beginning of the year.

Again, Wilhelm is thankful that they dismiss that night as a mistake that wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

Still, the problem here is that Felice knows him too well. And what is supposed to be a comfortable, normal night for them isn’t because Wilhelm keeps biting his thumb and Felice keeps throwing glances his way, knowing that something is up.

They are halfway through the movie when, still chewing the remains of her pizza slice, Felice says, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Hum… Nothing?” Wilhelm tries.

She raises an eyebrow.

Wilhelm sighs. “I need a favor.”

“Go on.”

“I have a friend-“

Wait, is Simon his friend?

That doesn’t matter. Even if he isn’t, he can’t just ask Felice to let a stranger’s sister hang out with her horse. It needs to be someone Wilhem knows.

“The sister of a friend of mine is really into horses?” He says, confused with his own choice of words.

Felice frowns. “Okay…?”

“But she has never met one, and he saw that you had a horse. Because of that picture on my Instagram, you know? From when I gave you lessons?” She nods, still confused. “Anyway, he asked if…. They could come here and meet Rosseau.”

Felice blinks at his strange request and looks away, thinking.

“I know it’s weird…” Wilhelm starts to say once the silence becomes too loud.

But Felice interrupts him, “Who is your friend?”

Wilhelm wishes his face wasn’t turning so red at such a simple question.

He also wishes that Felice didn’t know him so well.

“Is it a crush?” She asks.

“What? No! A friend. Only a friend. He has a boyfriend.” Wilhelm doesn’t know why he felt the need to add that last bit, but it’s out there now.

Felice raises her eyebrows to the forehead. “Okay, okay. Still doesn’t tell me who he is.”

Wilhelm bites the inside of his cheek, wishing he could bite his thumb instead.

“His name is Simon.”

“Olsson?”

“Who?”

“Not him then. Is it the British guy Simon? The one who says he knows the Royal Family?”

“What? No! He- He is Marcus’ boyfriend!”

Felice’s eyes widen.

“Which Marcus?”

“The third year?”

She frowns again. “And how do you know Marcus’ boyfriend? He doesn’t go here.”

“He came by last time the third years threw a party. He was looking for Marcus and I helped him find him.”

“And you became friends? Over a night?”

Wilhelm hesitates. “Yes.”

Felice blinks, and blinks so more. She turns her head away from Wilhelm, with a slight frown between her eyebrows, deconstructing the information Wilhelm has just given her.

“Why did he ask you though?” Felice suddenly wonders.

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“I mean, Marcus has been taking care of my horse since the beginning of the year,” she says. “Why didn’t he ask him, his boyfriend?”

The underline message in Felice’s tone is obvious. She isn’t a mean person by nature, and Wilhelm knows that her insinuation isn’t to reprehend nor judge him, but an open door for him to talk. She knows that sometimes he gets too wrapped up in his head and needs a bit of pushing to speak.

But Wilhelm has nothing to say. Because nothing is going on. Nor will be.

“Maybe he doesn’t know that?” Wilhelm shrugs, trying to play it nonchalant. “He asked me and I said I would see what I can do. I didn’t even remember that Marcus takes care of Rosseau.” Which is true.

If Felice wants to push further, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she simply agrees, “Fine. Rosseau is all yours Saturday afternoon.”

****

Wilhelm wasn’t prepared to see Simon again.

Up until Saturday at four pm, the time he agreed to meet Simon and his sister at Hillerska bus stop, he was sure that seeing Simon would be easy, and nothing, nothing at all, would go through his mind or heart.

He had time to prepare himself. Simon wasn’t just going to bump into him like in the last two times they hung out.

He thought he got it.

Until Simon hops off the bus wearing a beautiful yellow sweatshirt that matches the joy of his smile and the twinkle in his brown eyes, and Wilhelm realizes that he is more beautiful than his memories made him to be. So much more.

Wilhelm was not, in fact, ready to see Simon again.

And he hasn’t recovered from it yet.

They are now, along with Simon’s sister, Sara, who seems shy but very forwarded at the same time (if that’s even possible), making their way to the stables, cutting it short through the woods.

“These woods look haunted,” Sara comments.

“Sara.” Simon rolls his eyes fondly.

Wilhelm snorts.

“The only thing haunting these woods are the sounds of me getting stupidly lost out here on my initiation night.”

The two siblings look at him, curious. 

Wilhelm explains, “We have this dumb tradition at Forest Ridge House, an initiation prank to the newcomers.  Usually it happens in group, but, because my cousin is a third year and was in charge of the initiations, he decided to make mine a bit different.”

Wilhelm exhales, exasperated at the memory of August’s asshole grin when he told Wilhelm he has a surprise for him.

“So, they dropped me here, in the middle of nowhere, and told me to find the Palace. That’s the building you saw last time, Simon, remember? Anyway, they dropped me really close to the place, but I went the other way and…. Took me two hours to find it. They all laughed. I didn’t. Great night,” he says the last bit sarcastically.

Simon gives him a pity smile and Sara tilts her head, absorbing the story.

“You should be more upset than you are,” she says. “They were assholes.”

“Sara…” Simon warns.  

“I was at first and yes, they are assholes,” Wilhelm confirms with a chuckle.  “But now I’m like, why should I be the one feeling bad? They won’t care if I’m upset or not, so… better not upset myself. At least I know that I’m not an asshole.”

Wilhelm has already too much anxiety going on over so many aspects in his life to allow himself to add yet another non-solving problem to it.

Sara thinks his words through, nods to herself and then smiles at him over Simon’s head. “You’re cooler than Simon made you sound to be,” she says.

“Sara!”

“Thanks,” Wilhelm smiles at her.

Between them, Simon looks down at his feet, blushing.

They arrive at the stables and, as they step inside, Sara’s face morphs into a pure expression of happiness, from the way her lips curled into a dazed smile to the way her eyes twinkle, taking in the six horses peeking out of their stalls.

“This here,” Wilhelm says as he approaches Felice’s stallion. His hand touches the horse’s muzzle, giving him a familiar, soft pat, “is Rosseau. He is friendly, I promise,” he adds, seeing how Simon worries at his bottom lip as he eyes the horse.

Sara approaches Rosseau without fear. Simon almost steps to pull her back, but Wilhelm gives him a small shake of head, telling him it’s okay with his eyes, and he stops, allowing his sister to move closer to the horse.

“Here.” Wilhelm asks for Sara’s hand, which she gives him, and he slowly places it over Rosseau’s muzzle. “Slowly, yeah?”

But Sara’s a natural. She connects to the horse easily, feels his tension before Wilhelm even points it out, and knows how far she can go before the horse gets uncomfortable and pulls away.

Wilhelm watches her, a small smile playing on his lips, seeing how entranced she is with the horse. It almost feels therapeutical for her.

“Uh, it’s mom,” Simon suddenly says, pointing at his phone lighting up. “One second, okay?” He says, eyes on his sister.

Only when Sara nods at him does he step away and takes the phone call. Wilhelm can’t help but overhear the soft, loving tone on Simon’s voice as he greets his mom in Spanish.

He speaks Spanish.

One more thing he knows about Simon.

Wilhelm fights back a giddy smile.

He feels like a little kid collecting trading cards. Each new information about Simon is a new card. Something he wants to cherish in his secret collection of Simon. Something that fills him with warmth and joy as much as it fills him with guilt.

Guilt over the fact that he feels he is playing with Simon’s good nature and trust every time his body reacts to something Simon does that, if it were anyone else doing it, Wilhelm wouldn’t react the same way.

Guilt over the fact that he is betraying Marcus’ trust.

Wilhelm admits – if only to himself - that he is attracted to Simon. Something about the boy makes Wilhelm want to get closer. To learn more about him.  

It’s a dangerous attraction, though, one that has blinded Wilhelm for the last weeks. But Wilhelm, who has beaten himself up too many times about this already, knows he has to put a stop to it. He can’t allow himself to feel more about Simon. To want more.  Whatever his attraction is, it has to stop.

He knows he has said this before, but now he means it. Because it won’t lead anywhere. Only to heartbreak. And Wilhelm doesn’t want to deal with a broken heart.

Simon comes back, typing on his phone.

“Is mom okay?” Sara asks, still petting Rosseau.

“Mmhmm, she is working double tonight,” he answers. “I’m going to ask Ayub to switch with me at the shop.”

Sara glares at her brother. “You don’t have to, Simon. I can handle myself alone for a couple of hours.”

Simon looks at his sister, ready to protest, but she adds, “I’m going to reheat today’s lunch and watch a documentary on Netflix, Simon. You don’t need to watch me watch TV, do you?”

After struggling for a couple of seconds, Simon closes his mouth, resigned, and goes back to texting, perhaps to undo his previous message to his friend.

When he looks up, his eyes find Wilhelm. His beamish, brown eyes.

It has to stop, Wilhelm reminds himself. So, he gives Simon a nod with a polite smile and turns back to Sara to tell her more facts about Rosseau.

They spend a nice afternoon.

Wilhelm keeps out of Simon’s personal space, only acknowledging the boy politely over conversation and avoiding overreading every little thing that he does. Instead, Wilhelm gives all his attention to Sara. He shows her around the stables, tells her what kind of exercises they do with the horses, their meals, and so on. Anything that Sara asks, he answers on detail. Simon trails behind them and Wilhelm tries to pay as little attention as possible to the boy.

If he notices how Simon frowns sometimes to his phone, he ignores it.

If he sees how Simon smiles softly at his sister whenever she speaks to him, thrilled to be here, he looks the other way.

If his heart skips a beat whenever Simon talks to him, he tells it to chill out.

When the sun is almost setting, he takes them back to the bus stop.

“Thank you for the afternoon, Wille,” Sara says smiling.

He smiles back. “You’re welcome.” He pauses, thinking. “Actually, if you want to, you can visit Rosseau again.”

“Really?!” Sara’s eyes brighten up at the idea of spending more time surrounded by horses.

“Don’t push it, Sara,” Simon whispers, cautious.

“It’s fine,” Wilhelm says, easing Simon’s worry. “Felice never rides Rosseau on the weekends. We can arrange a couple of Saturdays for Sara to come by. I’m sure Rosseau will like the company.”

Simon hesitates, almost like he is unsure if Wilhelm means it or not, and then, upon studying the other boy closely, smiles, thankful. “That would be nice,” he agrees.

Wilhelm’s heart, the bastard, skips yet another beat at the sight of Simon smiling, and he reprehends it again. No is no. 

Polite as he was taught to be, he offers Simon and Sara a nod and says in a very final tone of voice, “Well, let me know when you’re free, okay? It was nice meeting you, Sara,” he adds the last bit to the beaming girl.

“Nice to meet you to, Wille.”

He nods one more time at Sara and then locks eyes with Simon, ready to tell him goodbye as well.  Yet, he is met with Simon’s confused brown eyes, a lingering question behind them, you’re not staying this time?, and he almost gives in and stays.

But no.

No is no.

“Have a nice trip back home. I’ll see you around,” Wilhelm declares, inwardly proud of himself for keeping it together, and turns around, leaving the Eriksson’s siblings on the bus stop.

No, this time Wilhelm won’t stay until the bus arrives. This time he is denying himself more time with Simon.

***

“Hey Wilhelm!”

Wilhelm startles jump at sound of an enthusiastic male voice in his right ear, and turns to find Marcus – again? –  standing behind him on the cafeteria line.

The taller boy gives him a grimly apologetic smile. “I scared you again?”

“No,” Wilhelm lies and moves along the line. 

“Seemed like it.”

“It was surprise,” Wilhelm argues.

Marcus chuckles.

“Anyway,” he starts, “I want to thank you.”

Wilhelm blinks. Is this what a déjà vu feels like?

“For what?” He asks, having the feeling that he has been here before, having this conversation with Marcus, and feeling utterly lost about it.

“For what you did on Saturday.”

The line moves but Wilhelm doesn’t. His body freezes to the ground as he openly stares at Marcus, having no idea what kind of emotions he is broadcasting for the other boy to see.

He knows.

Of course, Marcus knows he hung out with Simon and Sara. Why wouldn’t he? Simon has no reason to keep it a secret from his boyfriend.

And Wilhelm has no reason to feel betrayed about it.

“You have to move,” Marcus tells him when the gap in the line grows too long between Wilhelm and the student in front of him. He closes the gap as Marcus keeps talking, “Anyway, Sara struggles a lot at Marieberg. People can be really mean. It was nice of you to give her an escape like that.”

“Hum, right.”

Wilhelm gets to the checkout counter and orders an Americano coffee and a chocolate cookie. As he waits for his order to be ready, he glances over at Marcus, who is toying around with the chocolates on display.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he says. “It made her happy, that’s what matters.”

Marcus grabs a Twix bar and turns to Wilhelm. “For her, it was a big deal, Wilhelm. Not many people do something Sara, you know? And that school they go to is so toxic. That’s why I applied for a scholarship here. To get rid of how… gossipy and sticking-their-nose-where-it-doesn’t-belong people there can be. I told Simon to do the same.”

Wilhelm’s traitorous heart plays out a sudden scenario: Simon in the Hillerska uniform, going to class with Wilhelm, doing school projects with Wilhelm, hanging out with Wilhelm.

Stop that.

Thank God Marcus doesn’t read minds. He just keeps talking as Wilhelm pays for his coffee and cookie. “Simon tries his best to take care of Sara, but I think it’s too much sometimes, you know? If they got away from that school, if Sara had an easier life at school, Simon wouldn’t get so consumed with taking care of her, you know?”

Wilhelm steps aside to let Marcus pay for his Twix bar.

“And you think them coming here would be better for Sara?”  He inquiries, raised eyebrow, after they both walk away from the counter. “Here, at Hillerska?” He stresses.

He knows what Marcus thinks of most of their classmates and what kind of idea he must have given Simon about them. If he and Sara were to come here, Simon wouldn’t be at pace. No. He would always be worrying that the arrogant rich kids would be doing something to Sara.

Marcus gives it a thought and scrunches his nose, coming to the same realization as Wilhelm. But then he says, “It can’t be worse than there, trust me. At least here she would have the stables and the horses, you know?

“I mean,” Marcus shrugs, “I’ve talked to Simon about it so many times now. He knows Sara loves horses, and coming here would give her an opportunity to always be close to them, and, you know, not only when you, or I, were free to go with her.”

Wilhelm’s brain takes a second to process the information.

“Wait, you’ve offered to go to the stables with Sara?”

Marcus nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve mentioned it to Simon a couple of times. But he always said he was going to see about it and then said nothing more. When he finally took the offer, I was busy.  Had a family thing last Saturday, so,” he pats Wilhelm’s arm a bit too strongly, almost making Wilhelm spill his coffee if he didn’t tighten his grip on the to-go cup, “I’m really glad you were free to go with them. Thank you, Wilhelm. You’re awesome.”

Marcus walks away, leaving Wilhelm standing in a pile of messy thoughts and a heart that is now pulsing at a broken beat.

Marcus had already offered to take Sara to the stables. Marcus was busy last Saturday. Simon tried his boyfriend first, and only when he was rejected, did he try Wilhelm.  

I told you so, Wilhelm has the fleeting strength to remind himself.

He drops on the first available table in the cafeteria and watches his coffee go cold.  The cookie looks drier and beaten now, not lip-smacking like it did when Wilhelm was on the line looking at it.  Sad-looking. That’s what that cookie looks like now.

Just like Wilhelm, now that he has found out that he was Simon’s second choice for Saturday’s plans.

Simon used him as a backup.

Chapter Text

The messages start coming on a Friday afternoon.  

Well, not messages.

Instagram memes.

Wilhelm is trying to take a well-deserved nap after finishing his last exam this morning. He barely slept last night, studying for Biology as if his life depended on it after having ignored the subject for as long as he could, and pulling an all-nighter. He went to the exam only with a Redbull in his stomach, wrote five pages to answer the five questions on the exam, and then came to his room to crash.

His body is still buzzing with some after waves of the Red bull, but his brain is lacking all kind of willingness to do something.

It has been a rough week.

After Marcus’ revelation last Monday, Wilhelm has been living inside a gloomy, white-noised bubble. He doesn’t feel up to anything nor cares enough about his obligations until last minute anxiety kicks in. He knows he shouldn’t feel like this, he swears he does, but it’s not something he can fully control it. His body reacts the way it wants, no matter how much Wilhelm tries to scold it for acting this way.

Felice has noticed how his mood dropped and asked, in her own way, multiple times if he is okay. She has invited him to hang out at her dorm a few times. Asked him if he wants to grab dinner out of school. If he wants to go to the movies. He always says no. He is not ready to talk about it.

In fact, Wilhelm never wants to talk about it. He wants to bury his unresolved attraction for Simon somewhere in Hillerska woods and forget its location. He can’t wait to wake up one day and feel nothing at the fleeting memory of those curls or soft smile.

Wilhelm is almost falling asleep when the first buzz comes. He ignores it, thinking it’s Felice asking if he is going to the party at Palace tonight.

The second buzz comes five minutes later. Ignoring it again, he turns on his side and puts a pillow over his head, thinking that maybe it’s his brother checking in on him.

When the third buzz arrives, ten minutes later, he jolts to a sitting position, throwing his pillow to the other side of bed, and gawks at his phone.

He leaps out of the bed and grabs it.

Three Instagram notifications.

From Simon.

Hesitatingly and fully ignoring the sweaty hands and fast beating heart, he taps on the notification reminder. Three memes wait for him on the other side. The first one is a horse-related meme, which makes Wilhelm snort for its nonsense. The second one says ‘when you can’t find your parents in the supermarket’ and below has a drawing of two children, who Wilhelm assumes are the characters of Hansel and Gretel, looking scared in the middle of a dark forest. The third one is school-related, something about teachers deciding to book all deadlines and exams for the same week like it’s an evil plan.

Wilhelm stares at the memes, scrolls up and down to look at them more than once, as unsettling doubt, fueled with stupid hope that he tries to crash before it grows too big, infests his mind. His fingers twitch before he takes his thumb into his mouth.

What is Simon trying to say with this? Their last interaction was a short message on Instagram from Simon, telling Wilhelm that he and Sara had got home. After that, nothing. Wilhelm didn’t try to reach out nor did Simon.

Until these three memes.

He can pinpoint the horse-meme to their last Saturday together. The Hansel-and-Gretel meme about Wilhelm’s initiation prank.  But the third one about school? The timing of it is perfect, truly, as Wilhelm has just gone through two hell of weeks exam-related. How did Simon know?

Marcus, you idiot.

Of course. Third years have had exams too. Simon knows because his boyfriend has gone through the same two weeks as Wilhelm has. Perhaps harder weeks because the stakes for third years are higher.

A gloom, defeating feeling sets into Wilhelm’s inside. The memes mean nothing. Wilhelm shouldn’t be looking for signs where they don’t exist.

He stops biting his thumb, puts the phone away and goes back to the bed, covering himself up to the head with the sheets.

Not even a minute later, he is up again, angry at himself. He grabs his phone, goes to Simon’s chat and hearts each meme. Then, he stares at the small hearts under each post Simon shared and thinks, I’m only doing this because I wouldn’t like to be left on read either.

He goes back to bed.

***

The memes keep coming.

Someone from his year knocks on his door at seven am, as usual, announcing that breakfast will be served soon.

Wilhelm blinks the haze of sleepiness away, reality slowly taking its place. He stretches out slow and lazily, and turns to grab his phone. He has one notification and one only. From Simon.

He clicks on it. A meme sent a bit after six am. This one is about hating Mondays, with a grumpy baby drinking a coffee. Wilhelm stares at it, not sure on how to proceed.

He needs to wake himself up more.

So, Wilhelm goes through his morning routine, washes his face, changes into a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved grey polo shirt, and saunters to the Forest Ridge dining room.

“Hey Wilhelm,” Henry greets as Wilhelm sits in front of the strawberry blonde boy.

“Hey.”

Eating his breakfast, he tries to appear as nonchalant and peaceful as possible. Inside, he is twitching with a want to grab his phone and stare at his conversation with Simon again. To dissect each message exchanged between them since the first one. To understand what is going on.

His phone inside his jeans’ pocket is a burning rock against his tight as Wilhelm eats his breakfast at what he hopes is a normal rate.

“You didn’t come to the party last Friday,” Henry points out.

“I needed to sleep.”

Henry hums and keeps eating.

After breakfast, Wilhelm beelines to his locker to get the material he needs for today’s classes. Not they are doing much now that the exams are over and school breaks starts in two weeks.

Wilhelm takes his usual seat on the second row of desks, the empty space next to him waiting to be filled by Felice. Before she gets here, he grabs his phone and goes back to Simon’s meme message.

He ponders what he should do. Like the message? Start a conversation? React with an emoji?

Yes. An emoji.  Not as dry as a message like, but not a conversation starter either.

He sends a tear-laughing emoji and puts his phone away just in time for Felice to arrive.

“Hey.” She sits next to him.

“Hey,” he replies, picking up his pencil. “What’s up?”

“How are you feeling?” She asks.

“I slept through the weekend,” he half-jokes. He didn’t leave his room except for meals and spent his time watching movies and taking naps. “And you?”

“Fine. The party on Friday was fun,” Felice observes.

Wilhelm hums back, doodling the corner of his notebook.

 “I met Simon.”

Wilhelm looks up and blinks at her.

“He came to the party with Marcus,” Felice clarifies, watching Wilhelm’s face with attentive eyes. “When Marcus introduced us, Simon thanked me for letting his sister meet my horse.” She pauses. “He asked where you were.”

Wilhelm bites the inside of his cheek and looks down to his doodle. “What did you tell him?” He asks.

Through the corner of his eye, he sees Felice’s eyebrow lifting subtly. Understanding flashes through her eyes, and she says, “That you were probably sleeping the biology exam off. You looked like a mad man in the exam, by the way.”

“I had a Redbull.”

“I figured.”

Neither speak for a moment.

“Would you like to have lunch outside today?” Felice suddenly offers.

“It’s rather cold,” Wilhelm mutters.

“I think we can handle it.”

Wilhelm almost says yes. He knows Felice is giving him an opportunity to come clean, to tell her what has been on his mind and how much of it – which is all - relates to Simon. He could explain to her how he didn’t control any of it, his attraction and want to get to know the other boy better.  That he feels guilty for feeling this way and wishes he didn’t.

But he isn’t ready to talk about it. If he says it out loud, outside of his head, then it becomes realer. And he doesn’t want that.

“Maybe next time, Felice.”

And that settles the topic. For now.

Wilhelm goes on with his day, locks himself in the room afterward, and watches a movie by himself. A bit past nine, his brother videocalls him to catch up.

When Erik asks him if he is okay, Wilhelm blames the exam period and that all he needs is a couple more good nights of sleep. His brother believes him.

It’s almost eleven when Wilhelm falls asleep.

When he wakes up on the following morning with a knock on the door, this time by Alexander, Wilhelm has a new Instagram notification from Simon. A new meme. Shared around six am. This one is of a confused-looking squirrel hanging on a tree and has ‘when you lose your only friend at a party that you didn’t want to go to’ written above it.

Wilhelm stares at the meme, the short video of the squirrel playing on repeat, and his mind is completely blank apart from the usual words of scolding whispering in the back of his head, don’t overthink it. This means nothing.

Wilhelm likes the meme message and nothing else.

On the next morning, a new meme waits for him. And on the following one, and on the one after it.

By Friday, Wilhelm wakes up and his first thought is, Simon’s message. He checks his phone and there it is, a new meme. This one of a dog dancing with the caption TGIF. Sent at six am.

Wilhelm chews on his bottom lip, wondering if, for the first time, he should say something. Until now, he has reacted only with likes or laughing emojis. Maybe this time, he can say something. As a friend. and nothing else.

Nothing else, Wilhelm.

justawille: You wake up at the crack of dawn.

To Wilhelm’s surprise, Simon replies right away.

simon.eriksson: i’m an early bird

Wilhelm rereads the message; nothing much to say after it. He sends a gif of an angry-looking bird.

Simon reacts with three laughing emojis. And that’s it.

For now.

Simon doesn’t send him memes during the weekend, but on Monday, a bit past six am, a new one waits for Wilhelm. This one involves a video of a bird making small, happy jumps in the direction of another bird and the caption is me on my way to annoy my friends.

Wilhelm laughs out loud and his fingers automatically write a reply.

justawille: Is that you sending me memes every morning?

Simon’s reply takes a couple of hours.

simon.eriksson: you think i’m annoying?

justawille: I asked a question, didn’t I?

simon.eriksson: [gif of a child rolling their eyes]

simon.eriksson: you’re mean to my memes

justawille: [gif of a gasping man with his hand over his heart]

Simon hearts his message. They don’t speak for the rest of the day.

On the following morning, there is no meme waiting for Wilhelm.

Panicking, he writes Simon a message.

justawille: Where’s my meme?

Throughout breakfast and morning classes, Wilhelm’s nervous. He keeps checking his phone for a new notification but nothing. Well, nothing from Simon. His brother texts him, letting him know he will be picking Wilhelm up on Friday evening to take him home for the break. Their parents are once again abroad on a business trip and will only be back closer to Christmas eve.

Nils sends him a message too, asking him what he is doing during Christmas break and, when Wilhelm replies that he’ll be at home, the older boy asks if he wants to hang out. Which Wilhelm finds weird but still sends a hesitant ‘sure’.

Then, he checks his chat with Simon and sees that his question is still unread. At least, there is that. Simon has yet opened his message. Maybe he hasn’t seen it.

Or maybe he has seen it and ignored the notification.

His brain is a real bitch sometimes.

“Do you want to come by my dorm today?” Felice asks after their English teaches excuses them for lunch break. “Watch a movie?”

“Hum, sure.”

Felice puts a hand on Wilhelm’s arm before he can skip out of the classroom. She watches him with worried eyes and asks, “Are you okay?”

He nods. “Yes. You?”

Felice frowns. “I’m fine, Wille. I just…” She hesitates on what she wants to say next.

But Wilhelm steps in before she can say anything else. “Don’t worry about me, Felice. I’m fine.” He pats the hand she has on his arm. “But thank you for caring,” he adds with a tiny smile.

It is only after lunch that Wilhelm’s nervous heart is put to rest. Simon replies to his question with a man wiggling his huge eyebrows and, underneath it, he writes missed me?.

justawille: No, But I was Pavlov-ed by you into wanting memes every morning, and now I want them.

simon.eriksson:  i did not do such thing! 😇

simon.eriksson:  but i’ll be cool and send you one

Not even a minute later, Simon shares a meme into their chat. It’s a meme of Michael from The Office yelling ‘where are my PRESENTS?’ and the caption is us on Christmas eve.  But Simon immediately corrects presents to memes, and says it’s Wilhelm.

justawille: ah ah ah

Someone bumps into Wilhelm. He blinks, coming up from his Simon-haze, and realizes he has been standing in the middle of the hallway. The person who bumped into him apologizes and keeps going. Wilhelm decides to get a move too. He has Math next.

Only after he sits down in the classroom does he look at his phone again.

simon.eriksson:  i didn’t wake up at ‘the crack of dawn’ today. apologies for the lack of meme this morning.

Wilhelm bites his bottom lip to fight a smile and writes back.

justawille: I shall forgive you this one time.

simon.eriksson:  thank goodness

Wilhelm likes the message.

Smiling, he looks up, takes a good look around the classroom, his classmates dragging themselves to their seats, and takes a deep, happy breath.

Today, it turns out, is a good day.

***

simon.eriksson:  best Christmas movie?

justawille: Love Actually

simon.eriksson:  what? no. the grinch!

justawille: You’re the grinch.

simon.eriksson:  thanks!

Wilhelm and Simon upgrade their Instagram friendship from one meme per day to random conversations.

They don’t talk all the time, and not every day, but sometimes, and especially during Christmas break, if you looked for Wilhelm, you’d find him on his family’s chaise longue sofa with a movie playing on the TV as background noise, or under his bedsheets at three am ignoring his need to sleep, typing away message after message to Simon, with a smile on his lips.

simon.eriksson:  are you getting a new car for Christmas?

justawille: No. Rich kids don’t get cars all the time.

simon.eriksson:  oh, so you have a car already?

justawille: I might get my brother’s when he decides to buy a new one.

simon.eriksson: a second-handed car?? Outrageous.

simon.eriksson: my sister is asking about Rosseau again

justawille: Tell her he misses her too

simon.eriksson: that’s a lie, wille

justawille: Only if you believe it is. Nothing says that horses can’t miss people.

simon.eriksson: 🙄

justawille: I can’t believe you.

simon.eriksson: it’s true, ben&jerry best flavor is cookie dough.

justawille: That’s because you’ve never tried Netflix&Chill’d!

simon.eriksson: I WILL NEVER BETRAY COOKIE DOUGH.

justawille: ugh

it’s like he is living in a bubble.

A bubble he needs to get out off once in a while, or else.

On Thursday before Christmas, Wilhelm takes up Nils’ invitation for a drink and makes his brother tag along who, in his turn, invites August with them. Wilhelm keeps his disapproval to himself. If his brother hasn’t realized what an asshole August is by now, it’s not going to be Wilhelm that tells him.

They go to a club.

Nils keeps buying them rounds of shots, to which Wilhelm only accepts the first two times, and soon the three older boys are shitfaced, yelling at each other over the loud music and checking girls out. Or, in Nils’ case, boys too.

Wilhelm tucks himself into one of corner of the VIP booth, between the wall and his brother, and goes back to his ongoing conversation with Simon.

simon.eriksson:  my boss is a liar. he said he would put me doing morning shifts during christmas break, but guess who has all closing shifts?

justawille: Really? Can’t you say anything?

simon.eriksson: and  say what? i was hired as a part-timer for the closing shift.

simon.eriksson:  doing the morning shift would be a favor he did for me.

justawille: Still, he broke his promise

simon.eriksson:  people break promises all the time. nothing you can do about it but suck it up.

justawille: Jeez, who hurt you, Simon?

Wilhelm blames the two shots for the message he just sent. It is meant to be a joke, but the way it takes Simon minutes to reply tells him that he might have fucked it up.

simon.eriksson:  you don’t wanna know

Wilhelm’s fingers hover over his phone screen. He knows what he wants to say, that he does want to know everything about Simon, that he is dying to know all there is. But he can’t. He has to be cool about this. He has the beginning of a friendship with Simon now, and he can’t screw it up.  

justawille: I get it. Sorry.

Simon doesn’t reply.

When Nils offers a new round of shots, Wilhelm takes one. And he keeps on taking them until his eyesight is dizzy, his head buzzing and his body warm and cozy with the numbness that comes with being drunk.

Halfway through the night, the body next to his changes. His brother is nowhere to be seen, August is making out with a girl on the other side of the booth, completely oblivious to his surroundings, and Nils is pressing against Wilhelm, talking in his ear.

When Nils’ mouth comes closer to Wilhelm’s, he thinks, why not?. He has never been with a boy before, but knows he can be attracted to them. So, why not give it a go? Why not with Nils?

Maybe this is what he needs. To finally be with a boy so that he can destroy the pedestal he has put Simon on. To realize who else is out there. To broad his options.  

Hadn’t he once told himself that all he needed was a hook-up to get Simon out of his head?

When Nils hovers closer again, Wilhelm closes the gap between them.

For the first time in his life, he kisses a boy.

And he regrets it the next morning.

Wilhelm wakes up with an awful headache and a dry mouth. The sun peaks through the window curtains, which he forgot to close last night. He groans and turns away from the light.

Blindly, he searches for his phone.  Finds it underneath his pillow, takes it out and opens one of his eyes to check his notification.

simon.eriksson shared a post with you.

He jolts to a sitting position and his headache pounds against his eyes. He hisses, closing his eyes, and presses his fingers against them. He takes a couple of deep breaths, then opens his eyes and checks Simon’s message. A meme, sent around ten am, saying ‘when you’re rude but your friend still puts up with you’, showing a video of a calm dog ignoring an angry dog barking in his ear.

Something acid crawls up his throat.

Wilhelm flies out of the bed and into the bathroom. He throws up a green liquid with bits of his dinner in the mix. When he is done, he leans his forehead against the cold toilet and groans loudly.

He is such an idiot.

When he goes back to his bedroom and grabs his phone again, he has a new message from Simon.  He realizes that he had accidently opened their chat and left a read notification on the meme.

simon.eriksson: sorry, i was in a bad mood last night

Wilhelm stares at the message, the urge to vomit coming back again.

Flashes of last night go through his head and he closes his eyes.

Shit. He hooked up with Nils.  In front of August.

Why is he only capable of making bad decisions?

justawille: Don’t worry.

justawille: Just keep sending me memes and we’re cool

Wilhelm goes to the bathroom, this time to take a shower (his hair smells like tobacco) and wash his teeth (his mouth tastes like vomit and his throat is drier than a desert), and picks a pair of black sweatpants and his Hillerska grey sweatshirt to put on.

When his brother sees him coming into the kitchen, looking pale and hungover, he chuckles.

“Your alcohol tolerance is shit, Wille.” Erik looks like he had the best resting night of his life.

“I hate you,” Wilhelm mutters and goes to the fridge to grab cheese. He is craving a grilled sandwich.

He is eating his sandwich, hoped on the kitchen counter, when Simon’s reply buzzes on his phone.

simon.eriksson:  you only want me for my memes, don’t you?

justawille: What gave it away?

Simon sends him a gif of an offended woman, followed by another one of a man saying treason.

“Who do you keep texting?”

Wilhelm lifts his head, startled. He blushes meeting his brother’s curious gaze.

“A friend,” Wilhelm replies.

“Nils perhaps?” Erik smirks.

Wilhelm looks the other way, embarrassed. He can’t believe his brother saw them. Wilhelm is sure that he and Nils were on opposite sides of the booth when Erik came back from wherever he had gone to, but apparently, wherever that place was, it gave Erik a clean sight of what was going on in their booth.  

“I didn’t mean it,” he admits.

Erik lifts an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean… what exactly?”

“To kiss Nils.”

“Why not?”

“I-“

What can Wilhelm say?

That he doesn’t like boys? An image of Simon’s smile goes through his head and he inwardly shakes it away. No, he can’t say that. He is obviously attracted to boys. 

That he didn’t think it through? Erik will scold him for that.

Are there any other viable options?

A hand touches his wrist. He meets his brother’s sympathetic gaze.

“Wille, you do know that I don’t care, right?” Erik asks. Wilhelm keeps staring at him, tears starting to blur his vision. “If you like boys, if you like girls, or both, I’m fine with it. Mom and Dad will be too.”

“Ho-how do you know?” Wilhelm asks, upset that his voice cracked. It’s not like their parents are around much to care about anything their children do.

Erik understands him. He sighs and pulls his younger brother into a tight hug.

“I know they are absent,” Erik says in his ear. “But they care about us. Sometimes it’s hard to see it, but they do.” He pulls away, a hand grazing over Wilhelm’s neck. “Whoever you decide to be with, they will be fine with it. I will be fine with it.”

Wilhelm’s swallows down a trembling bubble coming up his throat. “Tha-thank you.”

His brother hugs him again and Wilhelm almost spills his deepest secret to him. The unresolved feelings he has for Simon. How much he wants to only be friends with the boy, but his heart keeps playing tricks on him every time they talk. How he wakes up every day hoping to have a message from Simon and goes to bed texting the curly-haired boy last.

How he fears the deepness of his true feelings for Simon but keeps ignoring them.

How he will keep ignoring his feelings forever if he has to because, logically, he knows what Simon is for him.

Simon is just an unresolved crush.

Chapter Text

Erik drops Wilhelm off in Hillerska on the first Saturday of the new year.

“Hey,” Erik says right as Wilhelm is leaning to get out of the car.

Wilhelm looks back at his brother.

Erik gives him an encouraging smile and a soft squeeze on the shoulder.

“You’ll be fine, Wille.”

Erik knows how much he has been dreading coming back to school.

Wilhelm only offers him a thankful smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. If his brother notices the forcedness behind it, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he lets go of Wilhelm’s shoulder and lets his brother leave the car. 

On his way to this room, Wilhelm walks by the common room where some of the boys are already hanging out. Alexander and Walter are playing chess, and for the distraught face Walter is pulling, he is most likely being annihilated by Alexander’s master moves. Henry is reading a magazine and two other boys from the second year are hanging by the window bench.

“Hey Wilhelm! How were the holidays?” Henry asks him.

Images of drunk decisions flash through Wilhelm’s mind. For a panicking second, he worries that they know what he did with Nils.

But how could they know? Only August and Nils were there, and they don’t tend to speak to first years in school, let alone during a school break.

One second look at Henry shows that the boy is just being polite, and Wilhelm relaxes.

“They went by fast,” he replies. Which is a lie. He felt this break was never going to end.

Wilhelm spends the evening in his room, first putting his clothes back in the wardrobe and then, when Felice knocks on his door with a box of donuts, watching a movie with her while catching up over what they did during the holiday.

Felice spent her break mostly at home, or shopping, or ignoring her mom who always has less nice comments about Felice’s choices. Whether it is clothes, future career or even dating, Felice’s mom always likes to stick her nose in her business, and usually not for the right reasons. 

Parents’ voices are the hardest to fight, and both Felice and Wilhelm suffer from it even though they are on complete sides of its spectrum. Felice’s mom is overbearing while Wilhelm’s parents spend more time maintaining their business empire than knowing what is going on with their children. Felice’s mom looks out for her thinking she is doing what’s best for Felice. Wilhelm’s parents do it because they think it’s what looks best for the family image.

“Anyway, enough about me,” Felice says, plopping the last bite of her donut into her mouth. “What about you? You were rather quiet during this break.”

Wilhelm sighs.

“It was fine. Dad and mom weren’t home until Christmas Eve. I spent it mostly with Erik,” he summarizes it pretty fast while picking a new donut from the box.

“I saw that you went out with Nils and August,” Felice notes. “August posted about it.”

Wilhelm freezes with the donut in front of his mouth. “Hum, yeah.”

“Was it fun?”

He puts the donut down and licks his lips, still tasting the chocolate sweetness from the previous one he ate.

Felice tilts her head, noticing his hesitance. “What is it?”

“I…”

Fear crawls up his body as he suddenly wonders if Felice will judge him for what he has done. If she will accept a part of him that Wilhelm has yet accepted for himself.

Because he can’t lie to her. He doesn’t want to.

Felice has been his friends for years. They even had a sad hook up and talked it through, making their friendship stronger afterward. He knows her well. Felice wouldn’t dare to end their friendship over the fact that, maybe, just maybe, Wilhelm isn’t totally straight. Right?

“I kissed Nils,” he finally confesses.

Felice blinks. “Oh. You did?”

Wilhelm nods, avoiding her gaze. “I was drunk and-“

No, he can’t admit he was sad. She would ask him why he was sad and he would have to admit the Simon situation. He can’t do that. There’s a line his honesty won’t cross, and this is its limit.

“I regretted it in the morning,” Wilhelm decides to say instead, which is also true. “Now I worry about how things are going to be here. I don’t… I don’t want to do that stupid ‘on the table’ thing.” He groans, hiding his face behind his hands. “Or see him doing it.”

Felice takes a few seconds to digest the information. Then, she pats his knee and says, “Nils sleeps around a lot.”

Wilhelm snaps his head up. “I didn’t sleep with him!”

“I know, I know! What I’m trying to say is that, he has probably hooked up with other people after kissing you. So, don’t worry! He’s a slut, but he doesn’t kiss and tell, as far as I know. I mean, has he texted you or anything since then?”

“Hum, no.”

“Then you’re fine.”

Wilhelm nods, relief spreading over him.  And then he remembers one vital detail that he had not thought at all until now.

“August saw us.”

Felice’s eyes widen. “Oh.” She looks around. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“He might not say anything.”

“Right.” His cousin takes advantage on every little dirty secret he gets his hands on. Surely, he won’t leave this one be just because Wilhelm is his family. It will even be worse because he is his cousin.

Wilhelm glances once more at Felice and, fighting back his anxiety, asks, “So, …you’re okay with it?”

“With you kissing Nils?” Felice scrunches her nose, confused. 

“With me kissing a boy.”

Felice blinks and then laughs warmheartedly. “Oh Wille!” She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug. “I’m fine with what you are fine with!”

She kisses his forehead. “You’re my friend, no matter what,” she promises.

Wilhelm melts into her words and in her arms, feeling loved.  

***

simon.eriksson: [replies to story] how’s Hillerska?

justawille: Still a boarding school for rich assholes.

simon.eriksson: knew it.

 justawille: How’s your school?

simon.eriksson: overflowing with idiots who have the heart of a rich person but the wallet of a poor one

justawille: Sounds wonderful!

simon.eriksson: [gif of a cartoon hanging himself]

“Wilhelm, there you are!”

Wilhelm hides his phone as August drops on the sofa seat next to him. His cousin rests an arm over his shoulders and pats his upper arm. Wilhelm tries to remain poker-faced.

“How are you, little cousin?” He asks.

“Fine,” Wilhelm replies dryly.

August waits for Wilhelm to ask him the same thing back, but he doesn’t. He stares at August deadpanned until his cousin gets the hint.

August clears his throat and sits away from Wilhelm, releasing him from his grip.

“So, listen,” August leans over his knees and tilts his head to look back at Wilhelm, “you don’t need to worry about the thing that happened with Nils over the break, okay?”

Wilhelm recoils at the mention of it.

“I won’t say a word,” his cousin promises with a hand over his heart. “And neither will Nis. In fact, I think he’s hooking up with someone from France now, so he has completely forgotten about you.” August suddenly makes a pained face. “Sorry, was that harsh?”

“No.” It truly isn’t. Wilhelm would rather be one of Nils’ forgotten hookups than be reminded by all school of what’s happened between them. 

August pats his knee and Wilhelm’s leg twitches, almost pulling away.

“Anyway, that’s it! Did my job here, so…” August stands up and stretches his arms over his head. Wilhelm tries hard not to roll his eyes. Everything is cousin does is stupid. “Oh, by the way,” August says, turning to him, “don’t forget there’s a party at the Palace next Friday. Don’t you dare miss this one, Wille!”

“I won’t.”

“Nice.” He turns and leaves the common room.

Wilhelm sighs in relief.

Then, he remembers how annoying his cousin will get if Wilhelm skips the party on Friday and throws his head back, groaning.

Great, now he has to go to the party.

***

justawille: [shares a reel of a grumpy cat being awaken by his owner] Me when you send me memes at that crack of dawn.

simon.eriksson:  that’s not true.

simon.eriksson:  you do not look that adorable.

justawille: Yes, I do!

simon.eriksson:  prove it then

justawille: I haven’t just woken up.

simon.eriksson:  tomorrow then!

justawille: Fine.

Wilhelm stares at the last conversation he had with Simon earlier that day. His glassy, unfocused eyes zoom in on the same sentence for the hundredth time tonight since his drunk mind decided to reread his Instagram chat with Simon as a way to spend time at the Palace party.

You do not look that adorable.

That adorable.

Adorable.

A part of Simon thinks he is adorable. That’s what he gets from the text. Like, Wilhelm isn’t as adorable as a grumpy cat, but he is adorable.  Right?

He’s drunk, sure, after five shots of tequila and a beer, but he is not out of it. He is making sense. 

Maybe he needs a second opinion.

“Hey.” He pulls Felice’s arm gently, turning her away from the group of girls she was talking to. Girls who snicker at them and then whisper in each other’s ears. “Can we catch some air?”

Felice nods, knowing fully well how parties sometimes are too much for Wilhelm. “Of course.”

Little does she know that he isn’t escaping the party, but dragging her into a weird conversation; one he has yet figured out how to have without confessing too much.

They go outside and, a few meters from the Palace entrance, find a nice spot on fallen tree branch.

When Felice shivers because of the cold temperature – after all, it’s almost midnight in wintery January -, Wilhelm wraps an arm around her.

“Watch it or we’ll both end up on the table on Monday’s lunch,” she teases.

Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “Been there, done that, Felice.”

She laughs and teasingly knocks her shoulder against his side. “What’s gotten into you? You haven’t been like this since, well, your initiation party.”

Wilhelm brings a hand to his heart. “Felice, I swear to you that I will not make the same mistake I did at that party. I love you, but not like that.”

She smiles at him. “I love you too, but not like that.”

“I like it when we agree with each other.”

Shaking her head, she laughs at his funny mood.

“But,” his drunk mind starts, “do you think I’m adorable?”

Felice looks at him, confused, with a hint of amusement still. “Where is that coming from?”

“A message.”

She lifts an eyebrow at him. “From whom?”

Lie.

“No one.”

“No one sent you a message saying you were adorable?”

Lie better.

“Yes?”

Idiot.

Felice sighs. “Wille, okay.”

“Okay?” He repeats, dumbfound.

She rests a hand over his knee and looks at him with serious eyes. “You have a crush on someone and you don’t want to talk about them. It’s okay. I’m here for you, whether you want to tell me all about it or just ask for random advice.”

Wilhelm stares at her.

“Can you just,” she tilts her head, pressing her lips in a tight smile, “tell me if it gets too much for you? I am your friend.”

The implication of her request is clear as water to Wilhelm’s drunk mind. Felice’s his friend. He should trust her with this.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Wilhelm quickly says. “I do, Felice. I just…”

He is fighting himself, and doesn’t want to drag Felice down in his fight too. Or worse, he doesn’t want her to look at him judgmentally after finding out that not only is he harboring a crush on Marcus’ boyfriend but he has also befriended him on Instagram.

He swears his friendship with Simon is innocent. He is trying to be friends with him and only that. But he can’t also deny that there haven’t been moments of weakness, when he daydreams about Simon in a way that friends shouldn’t. The guilt that overcomes him after is overbearing.

It’s fucked up. He knows.

He wishes he could stop.

“I don’t want to like them,” Wilhelm confesses. “But it’s hard.”

Felice’s hand squeezes his knee in sympathy and leans her head on his shoulder.

“I know. Crushes suck.”

“They do.”

Wilhelm closes his eyes and take in Felice’s sweet, girly perfume. It’s familiar to him by now, how Felice smells, and it brings him comfort.

He’s lucky they are friends. He isn’t sure what he would do without her company.

“Oh, hey you two!”

Wilhelm’s eyes fly open, and then widen at the sight in front of him.

Because, right there, making their way to them, are Marcus and Simon, both looking at Felice and him with completely different expressions; Marcus has a teasingly smile, one that says he knows their history well, while Simon looks indifferent, no trace of recognition in his eyes. Almost like he is meeting two strangers.

Wilhelm subtly pulls away from Felice.

“Hey!” She smiles at the newcomers, but her eyes stop on Simon. “Simon, right?”

The curly-haired boy nods. His eyes flicker to Wilhelm, then back to her. Wilhelm’s stomach drops at the indifference in Simon’s eyes.

“Felice, right?” Simon asks with a tiny smile.

Felice nods. “Yes. Nice to see you here again. Marcus managed to drag you with him again?”

“I promised him a better party than the last one we came,” Marcus says, wrapping an arm around an uncomfortable Simon.

Wilhelm looks down to his feet, hoping no one talks to him. He wants to open a hole in the floor and bury himself in it.

Simon is acting like he is a stranger. Why? Doesn’t Marcus know they are online friends?

What if they aren’t friends?

What if Wilhelm’s just someone Simon talks to once in a while and means nothing more than that? It could explain why he isn’t acknowledging Wilhelm right now. Because he isn’t important enough for Simon to acknowledge.

“You okay there, Wilhelm?”

Wilhelm raises his head to look at Marcus, who is still embracing Simon.

“Just peachy, Marcus,” Wilhelm says, avoiding to look at the arm the other boy has wrapped around Simon.

He can do that, Wilhelm. They are boyfriends.

Marcus laughs and gives Wilhelm and Felice a nod. “You two want some privacy?”

“No, no!” Felice immediately denies, waving her hands and laughing. “We’re not hooking up!”

“It wouldn’t be a first,” Marcus teases. Under his arm, Simon looks down at his feet. 

“Not happening again, though,” Felice says.

“Never again,” Wilhelm reinforces, and Felice nods in agreement. “We’re buddies.”

“Just buddies,” Felice adds.

“Alright, alright. You have to be careful then,” Marcus warns them, signaling with his head to the Palace. “You leave the party for too long and people will put you on the table during lunch period.”

If Wilhelm were sober, he would never dare to say what he says next. But he isn’t sober, so he says it anyway, fuck the consequences. “Well, I didn’t go on the table for Nils and that actually happened, so I’m not going on the table for an inexistent hookup.”

It takes him two seconds to realize what he has just said. Marcus’ eyes widen open and Felice whispers his name in a warning.  

But his gaze falls on Simon, who is no longer staring at his feet, but watching Wilhelm with a curious expression.

What are thinking, Simon?, Wilhem tries to asks with his eyes. Bu Simon gives nothing away.

“You hooked up with Nils?!” Marcus asks, shocked.

God, does Marcus need to say it so loudly?

“Shhhh,” Wilhelm presses his finger over his mouth, and then drops his head on his hands, shaking it. He can’t believe he babbled about the Nils-thing. In front of Simon.

“Please don’t say anything, Marcus,” Felice asks on his behalf, rubbing Wilhelm’s back. “He doesn’t want people to gossip about it.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it!” Marcus nods, promising. “I’ll keep it a secret.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a moment of silence between the four of them, all avoiding each other’s gaze, all unsure of what to say, until Felice stands up and claps her hands.

“Well, you guys want to go in? Have a drink?” She suggests to the group.

“There’s still booze?” Marcus asks.

“Obviously.”

“Sweet.”

Marcus tries to pull Simon with him, but the smaller boy stops him.

“I don’t,” Simon refuses, making a face. “Want a drink, that’s it.” He glances at Wilhelm. “I can keep Wilhelm company while you guys go ahead. He still needs some air.”

Wilhelm’s heart skips a beat, Simon wants to stay back with him!, before shame punches his insides. He still needs some air, he added. Because Wilhelm is shitfaced and Simon doesn’t like it when people drink.

“You sure?” Marcus asks, concerned.

“Yes.” Simon hesitates, and then adds in a muttered plea, “Please don’t drink too much.”

Marcus touches his boyfriend’s face, caresses it so gently that Wilhelm has to look away in pain, and says, “I won’t. Just one drink, yeah? That’s our deal.”

Simon forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and lets himself be kissed by Marcus.

When the older pulls back, he turns to Felice and offers her his arm. “Let’s go?”

Felice looks over at Wilhelm, who gives her a nod to go ahead, before she accepts Marcus’ arm and says, “Let’s go.”

They go inside, leaving an unsettling quietness hovering over Simon and Wilhelm.

They both glance at each other before looking away, and Wilhelm’s dizzy and racy mind fills him with thoughts he shouldn’t be having. Simon is disappointed. Simon won’t longer be your friend. Simon will never look at you the way you look at him.

Wilhelm closes his eyes and puts his head down on his knees, pressing the thin skin of his eyelids against the rough material of his jeans.

Why can’t he make one good decision? Just one?

A tree twig breaks as muffled steps approach him and suddenly, a body warms his entire left side and a hand finds its way to his back, rubbing it softly.

“Are you going to be sick, Wille?” Simon asks in a gentle tone.

Wilhelm raises his head and blinks at the other boy.

Simon’s so close to him, his face a few centimeters away from his, that it blanks Wilhelm’s mind for a gasping moment. He drowns in whispers of beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, before snapping himself out it.

Only to get hit by Simon’s natural smell. Citrus fruit. It’s even more intoxicating than he remembered.

God, he can’t be here right now.

Wilhelm looks up at the starry sky, Simon following his gaze.

“What is it?” He asks, concerned.

“I’m sorry I’m drunk,” he apologizes, his mind fighting back stupid thoughts to blurt out or images of him and Simon getting even closer.

Simon is silent. Wilhelm looks back at him, at the small frown marking the skin between Simon’s eyebrows, the way he puckers his lips in deep thought, and once again, finds himself thinking, why can’t I have this?

“You don’t need to apologize for drinking, Wille,” Simon eventually says.

“Then why did you ignore me?”

Simon blinks, pulling his hand away from Wilhelm’s back.

No, come back. He misses it already.

“Why would I be ignoring you?” Simon asks.

Wilhelm shrugs. “I don’t know. You didn’t greet me like you knew me.”

“Oh.” Simon frowns, looking ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm apologizes. “Maybe I overstepped.”

“No, you didn’t,” Simon reassures. He sends him a sideways smile. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I…. I thought we were interrupting you guys.”

Wilhelm groans. “Nothing is ever going on between Felice and me.”

“But you have hooked up before,” Simon says, giving Wilhelm a funny look.

“A mistake.”

“Like Nils?”

Wilhelm isn’t expecting that question.

Simon turns his head away from him, embarrassed, as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud. He licks his lips slowly, in an act of nervousness, and Wilhelm’s foggy mind gets distracted.

“I didn’t know you were into guys,” Simon suddenly says.

And again, if Wilhem were sober, or paying less attention to Simon’s lips, he would keep his mouth shut instead of saying stupid things.

But his drunk brain is in charge now, and apparently it wants to stay stupid things that Wilhelm will regret in the morning.

“I wasn’t sure either. Not until recently.”

It’s something he doesn’t control, the way his eyes glue on Simon right as the confession leaves his lips and stay on the other boy’s face, taking it in, as he always does when he has the opportunity to be so close to Simon.

Simon notices his stare. He tilts his head at Wilhelm and blinks a couple of time. They watch each other for a moment, Wilhelm’s confession still hanging in the air.

Not until recently.

Wilhelm feels more than he sees Simon’s body tensing up as the other boy finally realize what Wilhelm is saying between lines.

Simon pulls back, looking away.  

Shit. Shit. Sht.

Simon knows.

He knows that Wilhelm likes him.

Shit.

****

Wilhelm remembers it all.

He wishes he had blackout. Maybe he would feel less shame or guilt over the things he said; the things he basically admitted to Simon.

But no. He remembers last night all too well.

Marcus knows he hooked up with Nils. Not a problem if he keeps his promise of not telling anyone.

Simon knows he likes him. Or, at least, thinks he does. Big problem. Big, big problem for Wilhelm because he doesn’t want their friendship to end.

Felice, poor thing, knows something is terribly wrong after she had to put up with a sick Wilhelm throwing up on her shoes at two am.

Because he kept drinking. After he noticed that Simon realized something, he fled from the boy, leaving him outside the Palace, and went into the party to find comfort in booze. When Felice found him, he was on the verge of throwing up against a wall and did it right on her shoes after she asked him if he was okay or needed water.

Felice then dropped him in his dorm, pulled a blanket over him and left a glass of water on his desk.

And there he stayed until this morning.

Or better saying, early afternoon.

Wilhelm wakes up a bit past one pm with a pounding headache and a sick feeling his stomach. He hisses at the light streaming through his window and turns around, face-landing right on his phone. He picks it up and, with squinted eyes, he texts Felice first to thank her for taking care of him.  

He can’t help but notice he has not Instagram notification from Simon.

Wilhelm drops his phone on his chest and groans into the palms of his hands.

Why did he have to stare at Simon in that moment? Why did his drunk mind think it was smart to admit that right in front of Simon, when it was just the two of them, sitting so close together?

Simon must feel awful right now. Betrayed even. To think he had a new friend when, in fact, he was talking to a loser who had a crush on him.

And what if he thinks he was leading Wilhelm on?

God, he hoped not. If anything, Wilhelm was the one leading himself on.

Wilhelm spends the day in bed, curing his hangover with water and fast food he ordered online to be delivered at Hillerska, and then asked Henry to pick it up at the school entrance for him. He gave Henry the French fries in his burger order as a thank you. He eats bunch of crap, from two burgers to a can of sour cream Pringles and a box of chocolate cookies, and dozes off during the afternoon while binge-watching It’s always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Felice comes by his room with ice cream and two spoons around dinner time, wrapped in a pink robe and wearing rabbit-shaped slippers.

When she sees the state that he is in, she chuckles, “You look great.”

“Have you seen yourself?” He grumbles from his spot under the covers, pointing at the dark circles under Felice’s eyes and the frizzy hair in a messy bun that she clearly refused to take care of today.

She hits him on the shoulder. “Scoot over.”

He does.

They put a movie on Wilhelm’s computer and Felice opens the ice cream box.

“Do you want to talk?” She asks when the movie is halfway through and they have both been silently eating the ice cream for too long.

“About what?” Wilhelm asks, taking a huge spoon of ice cream.

“About… your crush.”

Wilhelm panics for a moment. Does she know? Did he accidently spill some of the truth and doesn’t remember?

“We were interrupted before you talked more about it,” she explains. “Would you like to talk about it now?”

Wilhelm shakes his head and puts the spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

Felice doesn’t push him. Instead, they watch a second movie, cuddling in his bed, and fall asleep together.

When Walter sees her leaving Wilhelm’s room the next morning and opens his mouth to tease them about it, Wilhelm snaps at him, “We’re friends. Grow the fuck up, Walter.”

No one mentions Felice’s sleepover at Forest Ridge House.

When Monday comes, Wilhelm wakes up hoping to find Simon’s usual meme post waiting for him.

But nothing is there. Only their last conversation, which happened on Friday morning, with Wilhelm promising Simon that he would send him a picture of himself in the morning to prove that he could be as adorable as a grumpy cat, is waiting for him in the chat. No meme. No message.

Nothing from Simon.

But hey, maybe he still could do it. Randomly send Simon a picture of him.

No, that’s an awful idea.

What if he sends a meme instead? Or say hi? Act like nothing’s happened?

That’s it.

Wilhelm can pretend it’s all the same because, well, it is.

After all, what does Simon actually know? He’s probably thinking he saw something in Wilhelm’s glance and perhaps is taking a step back to analyze it. If Wilhelm acts differently now, like not asking Simon where his morning meme is, Simon will get the confirmation he needs.

But if Wilhelm acts like his confession wasn’t directly connected to Simon, then maybe, just maybe, there is a chance to save the friendship.

Gathering up his courage, Wilhelm opens his Instagram chat with Simon and types in, where is my meme?

Wilhelm goes on with his day and tries his best not to glance at his phone every five seconds.

No message comes from Simon, but no read notification appears on their chat either.

Monday goes by, and then Tuesday, and by the time Wednesday kicks in, Wilhelm thinks he has gone through the five stages of grief, and is already at the acceptance point.

Wilhelm has to accept that he has ruined his friendship with Simon because of a drunken insinuation. Simon won’t reply to him ever again and he has got to deal with it and move on.

What is he going to do, stalk the boy?  Be weird about it? No. He is going to decent about it. Suffer in silence until he has completely forgotten that he once had the possibility of befriending Simon.

It’s fine.

Totally fine.

A chair scratches on the floor of the silent library.

Wilhelm raises his head from his biology homework to find Marcus sitting in front of him. He immediately straights his back, looking wary at the older boy.

What if Simon told Marcus about what happened? What if Marcus threatens Wilhelm?  Jesus, he can’t take on Marcus. The guy is huge.

Wait, why would he fight you?

Before he can spiral down into a bigger insane line of thoughts, Marcus’ face breaks into a warm grin. “How is it going, Wilhelm?”

Wilhelm blinks.

“Ah, good… You?”

What exactly is going on?

Marcus nods. “Good, good.” He looks down at the table and grabs Wilhelm’s eraser. He plays with it as he says, “So, listen, … has Simon talked to you?”

Okay, maybe it’s going exactly where Wilhelm thinks it is. He braces himself for it.

“Ah,… no? Should he have?”

Marcus sighs and drops the eraser. “I told him to speak to you.”

What? Marcus told Simon to speak to Wilhelm? About… the possible, yet very real (shut up), crush? Why would Marcus want that?

“Anyway,” Marcus keeps going, “if he does talk to you, can you, please, please, just be patient? Sometimes it takes Simon a while to open up to people.”

Is Wilhelm supposed to understand what the hell they are talking about? Where is the script for this conversation and why didn’t Wilhelm get one?

“Can you do that, Wilhelm?” Marcus asks with pleading eyes.

“I guess…?”

Wilhelm should ask for more information, understand better what the hell Marcus is talking about. But before he can, Marcus is standing up, patting his shoulder in a very bro-way, and saying, “You’re the best, Wilhelm.”

I am?

***

Wilhelm can’t take it anymore.

Between Simon ghosting him and Marcus’ weird conversation, he feels like he is slowly losing his mind over this and he can’t reach a rational conclusion about anything that has happened in the last few days.

All he knows is that:

One) He might have hinted at Simon that he liked him.

Two) Simon ghosted him.

Three) Marcus had a weird-ass conversation with Wilhelm about Simon that sounded nothing like an angry or jealous boyfriend who was aware of Wilhelm’s crush on his boyfriend.

He needs to face it: he can’t figure this out on his own.

Wilhelm grabs his phone and room’s keys and leaves the Forest Ridge House dorm, going off in Manor House’s direction.

It’s not like he wants to admit the truth to Felice, but he knows his best friend is going to help him. Or, at least, bring in a new perspective. If not, at least Wilhelm will have spoken about it out loud, for the first time ever, and it surely will bring him some sort of inner peace.

He is about to cross the hallway to Felice’s room when his phone buzzes in his hand. He glances at it and almost bumps against a doorway’s corner as he abruptly halts.

He has a new message. On Instagram.

From Simon.

With shaky fingers, he clicks on the notification.

simon.eriksson: hey… you free tomorrow?

White noise swamps Wilhelm’s head, and it’s like he is out of his body, out of his conscience.

All because Simon texted him.

After days of radio silence.

To ask him if he is free tomorrow.

He needs to say something. Fast.

justawille: Hey! I am. Why?

“Wille?”

Wilhelm lifts his head, plumping his thumb out of his mouth (he hadn’t even realized he was biting the skin around his nail). Felice stands at her doorway, her laptop case in her left hand, and a small brown bag over her right shoulder.

She looks at him, concerned, and asks, “Are you okay?”

His phone buzzes. He looks down.

simon.eriksson: do you want to come to bjarstaal for dinner? i know a cool pizza place.

Well, shit.

Not only is Simon no longer ghosting him, but he also wants to physically hang out with Wilhelm. At a pizza place. For dinner.

Simon wants to have dinner with him. 

Chapter Text

Wilhelm has never taken the bus to Bjarstaal. It’s a completely new experience for him and he is sorry to announce that he didn’t do well.

He forgot to download the app beforehand and made people wait until he managed to do it on the spot and finally paid for his ticket. Some glared at him as he made his way down the bus aisle.

Once seated, he breathed in relief and texted Simon, telling him he is on his way.

The trip lasts over thirty minutes and, through it all, Wilhelm destroys the skin around his left thumb, anxiety consuming every piece of him.

He is not sure what to expect and has been wrecking his brain over it all by himself since yesterday. On one hand, he is thrilled Simon wants to hang out. On the other, he worries why he wants to hang out. And adding that weird talk with Marcus in the library in the mix just shows how completely in the dark Wilhelm is about what is coming.

He hopes for the best while preparing for the worst.

It almost sounds like he is off to war. And somehow, he is. Emotional war is a kind of war too.

The bus driver announces Wilhelm’s stop and he quickly hops off.

He watches the bus go off and is wondering where exactly Simon will be waiting for him when he catches a glimpse of the boy on the other side of the street. He is wearing a purple sweatshirt underneath a dark coat, a dark green beanie hiding his beautiful curls, and he looks… simply beautiful.

Wilhelm’s heart beats fast as Simon finally notices him. The boy waves at him before crossing the street.

As soon as they step into each other’s space, they both say, “Hey.”

They chuckle.

“How are you?” Wilhelm asks tentatively.

He takes in Simon’s posture; the tensed shoulders he never relaxes, the wary glances he sends to the sides, almost as if he is worried someone is following them, and the worry marks crossing his face. It’s like he is carrying the weight on the world on his back and no one is helping him.

Wilhelm wishes he could help.

“I’m good,” Simon answers. “And you? Good week?”

A hell of a week.

“Yup, all good.”

They stand there in awkward silence, their gazes meeting and then looking away.

Finally, Simon puts them out of their misery. He motions with his hands from inside his coat’s pockets and says, “Let’s go. It’s just a ten-minute walk to the restaurant.”

They walk in silence at first, and then Wilhelm talks himself into acting normal and asks, “What have you been up to?”

Simon glances at him.

“That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

Oh.

Nothing can ever go well when someone says they need to talk to you.

When his parents first told him they needed to talk, Wilhelm was forced to enrolled at Hillerska, following his older brother’s steps, when he wanted to stay in Stockholm.

When his older brother told him they needed to talk, it was to tell him that their parents wouldn’t be coming home for Wilhelm’s birthday (almost any birthday since he turned ten) and it would only be the two of them.

When Felice told him they needed to talk, she confessed her crush for him and then disappeared from his life for a year.

And now, Simon wants to talk to him.

He can only assume the worse.

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

The pizza place Simon takes him, Pepe’s Pizza, is overcrowded with teenagers, hanging in and outside the restaurant, sharing slices of pizza among them and talking loudly over each other.

Inside, the place is a throwback to an American diner in the seventies, splashed with red and yellow colors. The picture of its owner, holding a gigantic pizza, hangs right above the checkout.

“Do you have a preference?” Simon asks.

“I’ll have whatever you suggest,” Wilhelm says, forcing a smile.

Simon turns to the cashier and orders a medium-sized pepperoni pizza and two bottles of water to take out.  

“You can never go wrong with pepperoni,” he explains, cracking a small smile. Suddenly, he frowns. “Unless you’re a vegetarian. Are you?”

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“Thank goodness,” Simon sighs.

They have to pay upfront and when Simon fishes for his wallet, Wilhelm has the decency to stop him and get his credit card out.

“Rich Hillerska kid, remember?” Wilhelm jokes.

“But I invited you.”

Wilhelm shrugs. “You can get the next one,” he throws in, hoping that Simon reveals anything.

Simon’s eyes scrutinize him for a moment before he nods.  Wilhelm isn’t sure if it is an honest nod or a polite one.  

Fifteen minutes later, they are walking out of the restaurant with a box of pizza, a bunch of napkins stuffed in their pockets and two bottles of water.

Wilhelm follows Simon blindly.

They end up at an empty football field.

“Are we allowed to be here?” Wilhelm asks.

“It’s a public field, of course we are.”

They climb the bleachers and take two of the high up seats in the Members Only sheltered area.  Wilhelm lifts an eyebrow at Simon, who shrugs. “It’s members only when football matches are happening.”

They each grab a slice of pizza and start eating it.

Wilhelm is yet sure if he should say something or wait for Simon to speak.

He remembers the weird conversation he had with Marcus. Sometimes it takes Simon a while to open up to people, he said. Wilhelm should give Simon some space, letting the boy decide when to speak, and not push him.

So, they eat in silence. Wilhelm only breaks it to praise the pizza and Simon nods, smiling with his mouth around a slice and his nose covered with tomato sauce. Wilhelm almost reaches out to clean Simon’s nose himself, but stops and tells him instead.

“Thanks.” Simon uses a napkin to clean himself up.

They fall into silence again.

Wilhelm doesn’t know how much longer he can take this. A week of anxiety and worriedness, of what have I done? and what can I do now?, has brought him to the edge. He needs some kind of closure about it. Whether a good or a bad one.

He just needs Simon to say something.

Or maybe he should straight up apologize.

And say what? I’m sorry I liked you? What a way to confirm whatever suspicions Simon might have.

No, he needs to wait.

Their pizza is halfway eaten when Simon clears his throat, grabbing Wilhelm’s attention right away.

“So, … I want to apologize for not having said anything this past week.”

“That’s okay,” Wilhelm answers straight away, eager to please.

The corner of Simon’s mouth tugs up, sad. “But it’s not, is it? We’re… friends and I completely ghosted you.”

They are still friends. Good, that’s good.

Simon sighs, curls a piece of used napkin in his left hand and then drops it in one of the pizza box’s corners.

“The thing is, … things haven’t been okay.” He licks his lips, nervous. “My sister is really having a bad time at school. And…” Simon looks down at his hands over his lap. “And I don’t know what else to do but… get her out of there.”

Simon takes a shaky breath and Wilhelm wants so badly to lean over and hold his hand.

“How bad?” He asks instead, concerned.

“Really bad. Like, …  They ambushed her in a coffee shop on Sunday morning, and then stole her clothes after gym last Monday. They have been writing all over her books, and… and… locked her inside her own locker.” Simon squeezes his eyes shut in pain, as if he were living the same things his sister had gone through, feeling the dreading humiliation and panic. His jaw clenches and anger flames in his eyes when he opens them again. “What kind of sick people still do that kind of shit? Just because they think my sister is different from them. She isn’t that different if she feels every bad thing they do to her, is she now?”

Simon’s frustrated eyes find Wilhelm in a lost search for something: for comprehension. Wilhelm nods, agreeing with him because Simon is right. His sister shouldn’t be bullied just because, what?, she experiences things a bit differently than most people? She still experiences them. Still feels, like Simon pointed out. Why should she be hurt for that?

Wilhelm gathers up the courage to lean over the pizza box and touch Simon’s hand. He strokes its back with a gentle thumb. Simon watches their hands. A tear falls down his left eye. 

He carries too much, and so much of it must be on his own. Because Simon takes time to open up to people, like Marcus said, and in that time, he feels everything alone.

He shouldn’t feel it alone.  

Suddenly, Simon pulls Wilhelm’s hand away and uses it to clean his traitorous tear. He glances at him and says sheepish, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Wilhelm replies softly.

Simon looks ahead at the football field.

“Anyway,” he starts in a calmer, pulled together voice,” I’ve been talking to my mom about options. We can’t transfer schools now because it might hurt our grades, but…”

Simon closes his eyes for a second as if he is having an inward battle with himself.

“Marcus suggested Hillerska,” he admits and looks at Wilhelm. “He says that we should try out for next year’s scholarships. Whether as residents or non-residents. Whatever feels safer for my sister, we should go for it. It’s a better school, with more options for our future, and Sara could have a clean start and, you know, she would be happy with the possibility of being around horses… It sounds like the best option, you know? But… but I’m worried. Marcus won’t be there next year and… I… I…”

“You worry your sister won’t be safe there either,” Wilhelm finishes for him.

Simon nods, looking down at his feet.

Wilhelm feels like an asshole. A self-centered, spoiled asshole who has been going crazy for the past week about his own problems, thinking that Simon shut him out because of himself, when in reality Simon was having bigger issues than the fleeing possibility of a boy having a crush on him.

Wilhelm should have sent more messages; should have sought Simon out to see if he was okay. But no, he was wrapped up in his own head, too blind to see that maybe, just maybe, there was a life outside Wilhelm’s crush on Simon.

This needs to end. Whatever Wilhelm feels for Simon needs to go. He wants to be there for Simon, as whatever the boy takes him, and for that to happen, the hope of something more needs to be removed.

And he can make it up for Simon now. He knows how.

“She will be safe, Simon,” Wilhelm promises.

Simon looks at him, doubtful.  

“How do you know?”

“Because…” Wilhelm sighs. “The most stupid people there right now are not going to be there next year. August, Vincent, a bunch of third years, they all leave next year, and the new third years won’t be like them. And we’ll be second years by then, and… whether I like it or not, I’m my brother’s brother.” He shrugs, as if that fact doesn’t bring him down sometimes. As if the necessity to be more like his brother doesn’t consume his sleep. “People know my family, and they know me. I can protect your sister, Simon. I’ll have her back and people will know that and won’t mess with her. I promise you that.”

Simon stares at him wide-eyed. A tinkle of hope spreads over his wary expression, almost like he fears he is dreaming too big and the fall with reality will break him.

So, Wilhelm decides to add, “Also, I’ll be there for you, Simon.” The other boy’s breath catches, but Wilhelm keeps talking. “I know we don’t know each other well enough now, but… I like being your friend and I hope you like it too. So, I can promise you that I’ll be there for you if you get into Hillerska. You won’t be alone, Simon.”

And just like that, a weight has been lifted of Simon.

The boy drops back on the seat, shoulders falling, relaxing for the first time in the evening, and wariness dissipates completely from his face. A small, hopeful smile creeps upon him as he eyes Wilhelm.

“Thank you, Wille,” he says. “Thank you for being my friend.”

A warm, peaceful feeling settles inside Wilhelm as he takes in Simon’s relaxed posture. I did this. I took a weight out of Simon’s back. And I can do it more often. 

“You’re more than welcome, Simon,” he replies, smiling back.

***

On Monday, Wilhelm has a meme waiting for him when he wakes up.  He immediately smiles.

This one is of a cat being awaken by his owner. The cat hisses and runs away. The caption says ‘when Monday gets here’.

Wilhelm chuckles and sends three laughing-emojis. But Simon isn’t satisfied with the emojis.

simon.eriksson: where’s the photo?

simon.eriksson: i was promised a photo last time i checked?

Wilhelm debates for a moment, wondering if he should, before he thinks, why not?, and clicks on the camera icon on the low side of the Instagram chat. It opens up and he turns it to front camera.

It takes him over ten tries to get the selfie he wants: still laying down, head central on his pillow, the morning light streaming through the curtains giving him a golden aura. Wilhelm half-squeezes his eyes and makes an angry face at the camera. He snaps the final photo, the one he is finally happy with, and sends it to Simon.

simon.eriksson: knew it

simon.eriksson: you are not as adorable as a grumpy cat

justawille: Still adorable though

simon.eriksson: don’t fish for compliments, rich boy

Wilhelm goes on with his day, feeling lighter and happier than he felt in days.

When he drops on the seat next to Felice in the classroom, she eyes him up and down and says, “Someone’s in a good mood today. How was that weekend?”

“It was nice, Felice,” he replies with a smile. In his jeans’ pocket his phone buzzes. “How was your weekend?”

“Boring. I missed you on movie night.”

The Manor House had a movie night last Saturday, which Wilhelm skipped to meet up with Simon.

“I prefer our movie nights,” he says, leaning closer to Felice with a boyish smile. “We can have one this week?”

His best friend rolls her eyes at him.

“Only if you buy us burgers.”

“Deal.”

The day goes on uneventful.

By the time Wilhelm sits down at Forest Ridge’s dining room, after a particularly rough rowing practice in which Vincent threatened to put him as a replacement if he didn’t show more commitment to the team, he has a new message from Simon waiting for him.

simon.eriksson: how many cookie packs can one single man buy, you ask? The answer is: fifty-five.

simon.eriksson: when i asked if he was throwing a party, he glared at me, said no and walked out of the store. do you think i’ll get fired?

justawille: For assuming that one man alone can’t eat fifty-five packs of cookies all by himself? Of course.

simon.eriksson: [gif of a woman laughing hysterically]

“Who are you texting?” Henry asks.

Wilhelm looks up from his phone and frowns at his classmate.

“None of your business.”

“Ooh, is it a chick?”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes and hides his phone inside his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

“Shut up, Henry.”

“Oh, it’s Felice, isn’t it?”

“Oh my God,” Wilhelm mutters and ignores the other boy.

His classmates can be children sometimes.

***

Whatever he and Simon had going on during Christmas break is easily picked up after their pizza sharing at a football field in Bjarstaal. 

They go back to Simon sending Wilhelm a meme each morning and texting each other randomly throughout the day. But now, they also share selfies. Instead of reacting with gifs, they sometimes react by sending a selfie, which has the other one to reply with a selfie of his own, and it starts a battle of selfies many, many times.

That’s how Wilhelm has a first glimpse at Simon’s best friends, Ayub and Rosh, and Simon gets a glimpse of Maddison who Wilhelm thought to be a safer choice for his selfie battle. If he were to pick Felice, she would ask. He doesn’t want her to ask.

simon.eriksson: who is that?

justawille: Maddie. She’s one of my classmates. She’s from America.

simon.eriksson: she has a cool hair

justawille: She takes two hours to get ready in the morning.

simon.eriksson: omfg

Sometimes Wilhelm sends pictures of Rosseau too so that Simon can show him to Sara, who immediately wants to know when she can meet the horse again. Wilhelm promises to find a free weekend soon enough so they can come to Hillerska.

justawille: I have a rowing competition in the next two weekends, so it’s hard. Luckly I’ll give it up before then.

simon.eriksson: why would you give it up?

justawille: Because Vincent (the captain) is an asshole

simon.eriksson: yeah, give it up then

justawille: Great. I’ll tell Vincent that you support my decision.

simon.eriksson: ah yes, he’ll let you go once he knows i’m involved

justawille: you’re such an important person

simon.eriksson: the most important. i once had a glimpse of the queen

justawille: [sends gif of a man gasping]

Not even two weeks later, Wilhelm drops out of the rowing team. Nils and August aren’t happy about it. His cousin tries to change his mind, but the moment Wilhelm brings up his brother, all attempts to convince him die. 

Wilhelm only made his decision to quit the rowing team after talking to Erik about it, confessing that he did not enjoy it at all and was only doing it to follow his steps. His brother scolded him.

“Please don’t do anything because I did, Wille. You’ll end up in jail for disorderly conduct at the age of eighteen.”

Wilhelm laughed.  “No one told you to get drunk and try to break into a museum.”

“I was going to steal a painting for the girl I liked.” Erik paused. “Also, don’t do stupid things for crushes.”

“Your advices are golden material.”

So, Wilhelm has more free time to keep his straight A’s and horse riding with Felice in the mornings. He also has more time to text Simon after classes. Which is always a bonus. A good, bone-melting and exhilarating bonus.

justawille: I’m sorry, but we can no longer be friends if you don’t think that The Conjuring is the best horror saga in the world.

simon.eriksson: omg, you dramatic flower.

simon.eriksson: but fine, i’ll give it another go

justawille: [sends a selfie of him giving thumbs-up]

simon.eriksson: [sends a selfie of him giving the middle finger]

justawille: Rude.

Wilhelm’s about to leave the library when he stumbles upon Marcus.

“Hey Wilhelm! Guess this time I didn’t scare you,” he chuckles.

Wilhelm rolls his eyes, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t the last two times,” he lies.

“Right,” Marcus says slowly, as if he doesn’t believe him. “Anyway, where are you off to?”

“Stables. I’m meeting Felice.”

“Cool. Mind if I join you?”

Wilhelm frowns.

“Sure.”

As they make their way to the stables in silence, Wilhelm wonders if he should say something to Marcus. But what exactly?

Hey, so Simon and I talk a lot now. Do you know that?

Hey, so Simon and I share selfies. Is that okay with you?

Hey, so I like Simon but I promise I’m trying to just be his friend

Hey, so-

“I’m relieved that Simon finally talked to you,” Marcus says.

Wilhelm glances at him, raised eyebrow. He and Simon talked weeks ago.

“I think they are really considering enrolling at Hillerska next year,” he keeps going. “Application filing period begins soon.”

Wilhelm lets out a noncommittal noise. He and Simon haven’t spoken about it again, but Wilhelm has done his own research and knows that scholarship applications can only be submitted in May. That’s two months from now.  

“You’re going to help them with it?” Wilhelm asks.

“If Simon asks, yeah. I did it last year, so I know my way around those forms,” Marcus gloats.

“Cool.”

They arrive at the stables. Through the open entrance, Wilhelm can see Felice petting Rosseau, waiting for him.

He is about to say his goodbye when Marcus touches his arm.

“But seriously, thank you, Wilhelm,” he says, grateful.

“For what?” Wilhelm asks, deadpanned.

Seriously, he and Marcus need to stop having this script. How many more things are there for Marcus to thank him for?

Only if he knew the kind of thoughts Wilhelm has had about his boyfriend…

“For having Simon’s back,” Marcus explains. “Next year I won’t be here, so it’s nice to know that, if he is, he will have you as a friend.”

Right.

As a friend.

“No problem,” Wilhelm says between teeth. “I really need to go. Felice’s waiting.”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead. See you later.”

“Bye.”

When he catches up with Felice, she gives him a funny look.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

He helps her take Rosseau out of his stall and into the open field.

Felice takes the first round on Rosseau and mindlessly talks to Wilhelm about something that, unfairly, he is not paying attention to.

Because his head is on what Marcus said.

He will have you as a friend.

They should be harmless words if Wilhelm didn’t feel guilty over them.

It’s hard, isn’t it? To tell yourself to stop feeling in a certain way. To tell yourself to be a better person when your feelings get in the way.

He has told himself a million times before, and he has to tell himself one more time. If he still feels guilty whenever Marcus is around, then he really hasn’t gotten over his feeling for Simon. And he has to.

Everyone deserves to be right about what’s going on.

Marcus thinks Wilhelm is just a friend to Simon. Good, he will be.

Simon thinks Wilhelm is a possible friend. Good, he will be.

Wilhelm’s feelings want more than friendship. Bad, they won’ be.

And truly, being friends doesn’t sound bad. If friends are all they will ever be, Wilhem will take it.

Because, all things considered, Wilhelm hasn’t lost anyone, but won. A new friend.

Simon is going to be his friend.

Chapter Text

simon.eriksson: five minutes!!

justawille: I can’t believe you’ve left me all alone in Bjarstaal. Me, such a delicate flower.

simon.eriksson: for the love of god, wille

“Listen here, you idiot,” Simon greets as he stops in front of Wilhelm at the bus stop, who has been waiting for him for the past fifteen minutes.

“Hello Simon,” Wilhelm chuckles.

Simon pokes a finger on his chest, tilting his head up to look at him. Wilhelm cracks a smile even before he says anything because it’s always hilarious to see Simon trying to reach his height.

“If you can’t handle a joke, you are definitely a delicate flower.”

Wilhelm laughs louder.

“You’re the one who thought I would get lost in Bjarstaal,” he points out. “If you had just given me your home address, I bet I’d be there by now.”

“Bullshit.”

“Do I need to remind you who it was that’s helped you find your way around Hillerska on many occasions?”

“Shut up.” Simon rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that many.”

Wilhelm laughs, and is still doing it when Simon pulls him by his wrist to get them moving.

White, big clouds drift across the clear spring sky. The trees on the path have started to turn green, flourishing, along with flowers at its feet, which have bloomed to welcome the warmer weather of spring.

A lot has happened in the last two months.

Wilhelm and Simon’s friendship has jumped out of an Instagram chat and onto constant hangouts both at Hillerska and in Bjarstaal. They talk every day, whether if by sharing memes or having actual deep, late-night conversations when both should be sleeping but aren’t.

Wilhelm is more open to talk about himself and his troubles (apart, perhaps, from his strained relationship with his parents, because he doesn’t want to come off as a spoiled privileged kid who can’t see the good that he has) than Simon is, but the curly-haired boy has slowly started to open up as well.  About how hard it was to fit in a school when younger. About his dad leaving (Wilhelm still doesn’t know the exact why, though). How he became friends with Ayub and Rosh. His sister’s struggles.

But never about Marcus and their relationship.

Wilhelm’s fine not talking about it. But if Simon needed, he would gladly listen to him and would not, for even a second, hope for the worst in their relationship.

Because Wilhelm’s feelings for Simon are now safely locked away in a hidden compartment inside of him; one that he rarely accesses because the friendship he has developed with Simon means more to him than an unresolved crush.

Things are good. He is happy with how they are. 

Right now, they are making their way to Simon’s house to work on his and Sara’s applications for next year’s Hillerska scholarships.  It’s not the first time Wilhelm has been to Simon’s place, but he is still nervous. Most of the times he has gone there is to play videogames with Simon, and never to engage directly with his mother or sister.

He has met Simon’s mother briefly on a few occasions. The first one was awful, though. He and Simon had been playing games for hours when his mother came home from work and found them with blankets over their heads, surrounded by half-eaten chips bags, two pizza boxes and six empty soda cans. Not the greatest first impression, but Wilhelm thinks she still likes him.

Regarding Sara, they mostly talk when she goes to the stables at Hillerska to see Rosseau, but even there they don’t have many opportunities to engage in long conversations. Whenever the Eriksson siblings go to Hillerska together, Felice joins the three of them at the stables and Sara prefers her over Wilhelm, which he totally accepts since that gets him more time alone with Simon.

Simon opens his house door and Wilhelm is immediately welcomed by the sweet scent of freshy baked cookies and citrus fruit. Simon’s favorite fruit, he knows now, is satsuma. He has a bowl of them as a centerpiece on the dining table and has, on several occasions, brought some to share with Wilhelm whenever they hung out.

Their first Instagram story together happened because of satsumas. They were walking around Bjarstaal when they came across a fruit stall and Simon saw the hugest bag of satsumas ever on sale. Wilhelm, on impulse, bought it, and they took a selfie with it.

It was the first time Wilhelm was on Simon’s Instagram. He had never felt happier.

“Hola? Mama?” Simon called.

“Aquí!” Linda Eriksson’s voice echoes from the kitchen.

Her head pops out of the room before they reach it.  Linda is a medium-sized Latina woman with the kindest eyes that Wilhelm has ever seen. The same eyes that Simon has. The same skin tone. The same hair. All that Simon is he gets it from his mom. Sara, on the other hand, must look more like their dad, but with their mom’s sweet smile.

Like the one that is right now growing on Linda’s face as she looks at her son, full of love, and then it widens as her eyes land on Wilhelm’s nervous face. Like she is as thrilled to see him as she is to see her son.

“Wilhelm!” She greets him with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “How have you been? You haven’t been coming around much.”

“Mom, he has school too, you know?” Simon intervenes before Wilhelm can, rolling his eyes.

“But you can invite him over for dinner on the weekends, can you not, mi hijo? He has never stayed for dinner.”

Simon mumbles something under his breath. Linda turns to Wilhelm, giving him a fondly exasperated look that says this son of mine.

Wilhelm chuckles.

 “It’s always a delight to see you, Linda,” he says.

When Wilhelm tried to address Simon’s mom for the first time, he struggled. He didn’t know what to call her since he knew Simon’s parents were divorced. Had she kept the name? Had she changed to her maiden name? If so, what was it? But Simon’s mom cleared it all up right away, demanding that Wilhelm called her Linda.

It’s still odd, but he tries.

“Oh, you’ve arrived.”

Sara appears from the hallway, holding her old laptop full of colorful stickers on her left hand and a bunch of brochures on the right hand.

“Good. We can start,” she announces, moving to the table and putting her stuff down. “I’ve started answering the questions. Do you think longer answers will be more successful than short ones?”

She looks over at Wilhelm as if he were the expert.

“Hum…. Not sure? Depends on the questions.”

Sara hums, unhappy with the answer, and sits down. She opens the laptop.

“I wrote three pages for question number two.”

“Three pages?!” Simon scoots over to her. “That’s too much, Sara.”

“Not if it gets us in Hillerska.”

 To say that Sara was over-the-moon at the prospect of going to the famous and glamorous boarding school of Hillerska was an understatement. She hasn’t stopped talking about it ever since Linda and Simon sat her down a couple of weeks ago and told her that they were going to apply for scholarships there and leave Marieberg. She has spent her afternoons after school researching all about Hillerska and has, on multiple occasions, texted Felice with dozens of questions about the school and the people in it.

The girls have bonded during the stable’s hangouts. Felice likes the way Sara treats Rosseau and finds her authentic and honest.

“Not many people are like that nowadays,” she told Wilhelm after their first meeting. “She makes me want to be as honest as she is.”

So, not only will Sara and Simon have Wilhelm at Hillerska, they will also have Felice. And Felice, whether she likes it or not, is a queen bee. Too many girls want to be her friend and too many guys want to sleep with her. August once said she is “modern royalty”, which Wilhelm later told her and had both of them laughing and making bad jokes for days.

“Well,” Linda starts, “I’m going to get those cookies now. Please sit, Wilhelm.” She gestures to the chair next to Sara, whom she pets on the head, then touches her son’s shoulder before going back to the kitchen.

When Wilhelm takes a seat to Sara’s right, he expects Simon to sit on the left. But the boy surprises him by sitting next to Wilhelm, putting him between the siblings. Sara tilts the laptop to the right so that they both can have a better look at it.

“They want to know about our skills and future dreams. I think you should write about your singing, Simon. Oh, maybe we can submit a video of you!”

Simons looks uncomfortable at the idea.

When Wilhelm first discovered Simon’s amazing voice, his world stopped for a brief, heavenly moment.

It happened on a weekend that Simon went to Hillerska.  School was quiet because most students went home. Wilhelm stayed behind because his parents were abroad and his brother was busy. So, he invited Simon over.

Wilhelm was showing him around when the curly-haired boy saw the music room and asked to go in. Wilhelm played the school’s anthem for him because it’s the only thing he knows how to fully play on the piano. Simon asked for the lyrics and jokingly sang them. And when he sang them, Wilhelm’s mind exploded and that box of feelings he has locked up and stored away suddenly burst open.

It was one of the rare moments that, after becoming friends, Wilhelm contemplated the idea of having more with Simon. It was Simon’s angelic voice that tore him down. left him complete shaken.

Afterwards, he kept away from Simon for a week, barely answered his texts with the excuse of studying, until he was sure he was okay to be around the other boy again.

So, you see, getting over Simon is still a work in process.  

But Wilhelm swears he is doing better!

Linda brings over a tray of warm cookies, three empty glasses and jar of fresh orange juice. After patting each one of them on the shoulder or head, she walks out again, excusing herself with the laundry.

Wilhelm looks at the three glasses as Simon slides them closer to fill them with juice.

“Isn’t Marcus coming over too?” He asks. After all, he had got a scholarship to Hillerska. If anyone knew how to fill in the scholarship and prepare for the interviews, it would be Marcus.

At the sound of his boyfriend’s name, Simon’s hand trembles and he almost spills juice.

He looks at Wilhelm and is about to open his mouth when Sara intervenes, “I told my brother to invite him over but he didn’t.”

Simon glares at his sister.

“And I told you Marcus was busy,” he remarks.

Sara stares at her brother with no emotion playing on her face, like she is simply trying to analyze Simon, who keeps glaring at her, and then rolls her eyes and goes back to writing on the laptop.

Wilhelm awkwardly grabs one of the glasses of juice and drinks it.

“Taste good,” he comments to fill in the awkward silence between the siblings.

Simon snaps out of his glare and looks at Wilhelm, a small smile curling up on his lips. “I helped mom made it.”

“You squeezed oranges in a machine,” Sara points out.

“Shut up and write, Sara.”

***

They spend the afternoon going over the scholarship forms, Wilhelm advising the Eriksson sibling as best as he could. Which isn’t much because he didn’t have to apply for Hillerska. All his parents had to do was call and a spot was given to him.

Sometimes he is still reminded of how different his and Simon’s lives are and feels guilty over it. Over how much he could give to the Eriksson’s and still had enough to live the rest of his life without having to work. He wishes he could do that.

But he can’t. So, he does the second-best thing possible: make sure they are the best candidates for the Hillerska scholarships.

He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he has contemplated the idea of calling his older brother to chip in a favor. Erik is a dearly Aluminum student at Hillerska. Wilhelm is sure that one call from him would get Simon and Sara in.

But Simon wouldn’t want that. He knows his friend by now. If Wilhelm even tried to suggest it (which he hasn’t), Simon would flip. He wants to get in fairly.

“Are these only non-resident scholarships?” Wilhelm wonders after swallowing the last piece of cookie. Linda’s chocolate cookies are to die for. He is sure he ate most of them, Simon and Sara only picking two each. “Aren’t you guys going to try for the residence scholarships too?”

“Simon doesn’t want,” Sara answers for the two siblings. Simon glares at her. “He has that stupid store job. But I told him he should change for the weekend shifts if necessary.”

“It’s not only about my job, Sara,” Simon replies, glaring. “Mom would be alone.”

“We can visit her whenever we want. And call her,” Sara points out. Wilhelm senses that the Eriksson siblings have had this conversation too many times before. The counterarguments are coming out of them too naturally. “If we stayed at Hillerska, mom wouldn’t need to bother with meals and laundry as often as she does now, Simon.”

Which is, indeed, the winning argument. Simon stares at his sister, jaw clenched, and then stands up and walks out of the dining room.

Wilhelm isn’t sure what to do. Should he go after Simon? Wait here with Sara?

“He’s coming back in two minutes,” Sara says before Wilhelm can decide on anything. “He just needs some air.”

Two minutes later, Simon is back. He takes the seat next to Wilhelm, putting his elbows on the table, and says, “Let’s finish these applications first and then we think of the residence ones.”

The way he says it sounds like it is something he has been saying to his sister often. And the way Sara looks at her brother, all knowing, confirms it.

They don’t submit the applications today. Sara says that she wants Marcus to have a look over them before doing so, to which Wilhelm agrees it’s for the best, and then Simon nods, agreeing too.

It’s closer to dinner time when they stand up from the dining table. Sara is collecting the brochures when, on cue, Linda comes over with a tower of five plates on her hands.

“Wilhelm, you’re staying for dinner, right?” She asks like she knows his answer is a yes.

“Ah…” He looks at his watch, a Christmas gift from his brother last year. “I don’t want to intrude and-“

“You won’t,” Linda interrupts gently. She glares at her son. “Didn’t I tell you an hour ago I wanted him to stay for dinner?”

Simon mumbles something in Spanish. Linda raises an eyebrow at him. He sighs and turns to Wilhelm.

“Sorry, I forgot. Please stay?” Simon asks and pouts a bit.

Wilhelm stares at him. His eyes flicker down to Simon’s bottom lip, which is sticking out more than usual, and suddenly finds himself needing some air.

“Yes, sure. I’ll just… need to use the bathroom, okay?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Simons says relaxed, waving in the hallway’s direction.

Wilhelm locks himself in the bathroom and leans against the door. He closes his eyes and, for a fleeting moment, imagines Simon’s bottom lip again. This time, trapped between his. Kissing, moaning, biting back with passion.

Stop it.

Wilhelm beelines to the sink, opens the faucet and throws water at his face. He rubs his eyes hard, as if that gesture would push away the images that he so stupidly allowed to break into his mind.

This is wrong, he reminds himself. That’s your friend out there. He needs you to be his friend back. Just a friend.

Wilhelm gets lost in his head, scolding himself for what has just happened. A tiny mistake. One that won’t happen again.

He doesn’t know how long he is in the bathroom, but suddenly he hears steps outside the bathroom and that’s when he snaps out of his trance.

Wilhelm dries his face with a soft baby blue tower on a rack next to the sink. He fixes his hair, gives himself on good look, saying you got this, and walks out of the bathroom.

Only to find Marcus in the dining room, talking joyfully to Linda.

“Oh hey Wilhelm,” Marcus greets once he sees him. He smiles. “I heard you’re staying for dinner too.”

Too? So, Marcus comes over for dinner, but couldn’t come earlier to help them with the scholarship forms?

Come on, Wilhelm, people have different plans throughout the day.

“Yeah,” Wilhelm says.

He looks around. The table is set for five. Linda is placing the silverware next to each plate. Marcus is leaning over a chair’s back to talk to her.

Sara comes out of the living-room area, glances at Wilhelm, and walks out of the room, going somewhere into the hallway.

“Where’s Simon?” He asks.

“He went to his room to get something,” Marcus says. “He should be back any minute now. Anyway, Linda, my mom said something about that reading club you guys are in?”

“Oh, yes. I haven’t been able to go in a while.”

“If you want to, she can come over and discuss the latest book with you and…”

Wilhelm sneaks out of the dining room. He passes by the kitchen where he sees Sara in front of the stove and keeps walking.

He reaches Simon’s closed bedroom door and knocks.

It takes Simon a couple of seconds to open. When he does it, he is wary and upset, until his eyes land on Wilhelm and he relaxes.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Wilhelm pauses. “Are you okay?”

Simon blinks, looks away.

“Yes. I just came to feed my fish,” he gestures to the fish tank in the corner of his room, next to his computer and PlayStation. 

“Was Felle hungry again?” Wilhelm jokes.

When he first visited Simon’s room and saw the fish tank, he asked the other boy if the fishes had names. Simon said he hadn’t thought much about it because they were hard to tell apart.

“But you have named them, haven’t you?” He joked back then.

“I thought of a couple of names, but nothing stuck.” He eyed Wilhelm. “Want to name them with me?”

That’s how Simon’s fishes ended up being Felle, Olle and Oski. Felle is Wilhelm’s favorite because he is the most responsive out of the three fishes. Something that, when Wilhelm says, has Simon roll his eyes.

Just like he does now. “I swear you don’t know which one Felle is”

“You take that back!” Wilhelm gasps. He goes straight to the fish tank, squats down and stares at the fish tank. Suddenly, he points at it, when one of the fishes comes swimming in his direction. “There, that’s Felle. He is more orange than the others, Simon. You’re a terrible fish father for not knowing that.”

Simon rolls his eyes, a smiling tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Thank God they have you as their other father then,” he says.

Wilhelm’s finger hits the fish tank glass with a soft thump, his brain recalibrating after what Simon has just said.  

Simon has never named him fish father before. It makes it sound as if they have something that is theirs. Something so personal. So…. Responsible.

It’s just fishes, Wilhelm reminds himself.  

“Hey guys.”

Marcus shows up at Simon’s room’s doorway, grabbing on to each side of the frame and leaning forward, his head the only part of him inside the room.

“Dinner is served,” he announces, smiling at Simon. “Let’s go?”

When Simon nods, Wilhelm stands up from his corner next to the fish tank. Marcus lets them both through and follows them back the dining room.

Linda and Sara are already at the table, sitting next to each other.

Simon hesitates before taking the seat next to his mom. Wilhelm glances over at the seat next to his and the one next to Sara. Before he can make a decision, Marcus sits next to his boyfriend, leaving Wilhelm with the seat to Sara’s left.

Dinner is Bolognese pasta and Linda makes sure everyone has a decent full plate of it before they all dig in.

At first, it’s quiet at the table. Wilhelm thinks it’s almost awkward, but keeps his head down to his plate. He tries to come up with conversation topics that don’t sound forced, but nothing comes to mind.

Thankfully, Marcus saves the day.

“So, how are the applications going?”

“Good,” Sara replies. “We haven’t submitted them yet. You can have a look at them after dinner.”

“If you don’t mind,” Simon adds, sending his sister’s a look.

“Of course not.” Marcus smiles at his boyfriend, and then his gaze falls on Wilhelm. “I’m sure Wilhelm did a hell of a job already, though.”

Wilhelm stares at Marcus, mouth full of food, and tries to give him a smile without showing any teeth. Which must come off as a funny expression because Simons fights back a laugh and looks down at his plate.

“They spend all afternoon on them,” Linda intervenes, grabbing her glass of water. “So, it must be almost ready.”

“Simon needs to finish one of the questions,” Sara says, receiving yet another look from her brother; this one telling her to shut up.

But Wilhelm knows exactly which question she is talking about. Question number five: Tells us a moment that has changed your life and how it has impacted, positive or negatively, your view on the world.

It’s a ridiculous question to be on a scholarship form and Simon is struggling to find an answer for it because he doesn’t want to write it down. During the afternoon, when Sara suggested their father, Simon said no. He will never use that man as an example, even if it is a negative example.

“I just need a bit more time,” Simon says. “I’ll write it tomorrow and then we can submit it.”

“Do you need help?” Marcus offers.

“No, I’m good.” Simon’s tone raspy and dismissive. He stabs his pasta, twirls it around the fork and brings it to his mouth.

Marcus’ concerned eyes find Wilhelm. They try to tell him, never accepting help, this one, right?. Wilhelm forces a smile back and goes back to his food.

When they are done, Marcus and Wilhelm try to stand up to help clean up, but Linda refuses and sends Simon and Sara into the kitchen.

Wilhelm looks at his watch.

“I think I need to get going,” he says sheepishly. “I have a bus in twenty.”

“I can take you,” Marcus offers. “Mom lent me her car today.”

“Oh, that’s nice, Marcus!” Linda smiles at him fondly.

Wilhelm’s not sure how to react.

He needs to confess that, as his friendship with Simon grows stronger, his with Marcus has weakened, and he now worries what a twenty-minute ride to Hillerska with Marcus alone might bring up. Because Wilhelm feels overprotective of his friendship with Simon and doesn’t like talking about it with others, especially with Marcus.

Which, overall, makes him feel guilty. It isn’t Marcus’ fault that, when Wilhelm first saw Simon, he felt attracted to the boy.

And a small car ride with Marcus shouldn’t make Wilhelm feel nervous. After all, his feelings for Simon have been thoroughly buried. Very, very buried.

(Let’s pretend the five-minute meltdown in the bathroom didn’t happen, shall we?)

Wilhelm pulls himself together.

When Marcus looks over at him with a question in his eyes, Wilhelm forces a polite, as honest as he can, smile and says, “Thanks, Marcus. That would be awesome.”

Because it would. And because Marcus is nice enough to offer him a ride to school.

That’s how he finds himself in Marcus’ car for the first time ever, and alone with the other boy, for the first time in months.

Marcus turns on the radio when the silence becomes a bit too loud.

Wilhelm makes himself say, “Nice song.”

“It is,” Marcus says out of politeness.

They drive in silence for most of the ride. Wilhelm looks out of the window, biting the skin around his left thumb. His phone buzzes on his lap and he turns it around to find a message from Simon.

Simon

let me know when you arrive, please

Wilhelm

Will do!

They are almost at Hillerska when Marcus turns the radio’s volume down, diverting Wilhelm’s attention from the window.

The older boy hesitates, licking his bottom lip nervously, and Wilhelm worries what will come next. His mind goes straight to, he knows you once had feelings for Simon. He’s going to call you out on that.

“Did I do something wrong?” Marcus asks.

Wilhelm blinks.

“Huh?”

Marcus glances at him, nervous.

“I feel like… we’ve drifted apart. I don’t know why. Is it something I did?”

Wilhelm shakes his head.

Marcus seems to relax a bit.

“I know you and Simon are closer now,” the older boy points out, making Wilhelm tense up. “And I know how… time consuming Simon sometimes can be –“ What is he talking about? Simon barely consumes Wilhelm’s time. In fact, Wilhelm thinks it’s the other way around. – “But… that doesn’t have to affect our friendship, right?”

“Of course not,” Wilhelm promptly says. “And Simon hasn’t been consuming my time,” he adds, defensive.

Marcus senses something in his tone and justifies, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” He forces a chuckle. “I know how… endearing Simon is, okay? Everyone who gets closer to him gets mesmerized at first. It’s… it’s a gift that my boyfriend has.”

“Right.” Wilhelm’s not sure where they are headed with this, but he wants to divert from Simon. “I’m sorry if you feel I have pulled away. I swear everything’s okay with you and me, and it has nothing to do with my friendship with Simon.”

“Right,” Marcus says, almost as an echo of Wilhelm’s response from before.

The older boy pauses to think and Wilhelm recoils into the seat, hoping that they soon stop at Hillerska so that he can get out of the car.

Then, Marcus chuckles, completely relaxed.

“After all,” he says, “I was here first, right?”

He looks at Wilhelm with a teasing sparkle in his eyes. A joke, that’s what he is trying to make. But Wilhelm, suddenly drowning in guilt from inside, doesn’t feel it as a joke, but as a reminder. A reminder that Marcus was Simon’s boyfriend first and he was also Wilhelm’s school friend first. It’s not fair to him that he feels left out because Simon and Wilhelm now get along.

It makes Wilhelm realize how deep into his friendship with Simon he has been. Always texting, always thinking of Simon first when he wants to share news, always prioritizing him on his free time.

Wilhelm’s guilt stabs him deeper as he now wonders if not only Marcus feels this way, but also Felice.

They talk almost every day and still have dinner and movie nights at each other’s dorms, but not as often as before. And they rarely see each other on the weekends, but that’s because that’s the only time of the week he has to see Simon while he gets to see Felice every day in class.

But does she feel left out too? God, Wilhelm hopes not. He didn’t mean to pull her away. She is his best friend.

Wilhelm snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the car stop. He looks over at Marcus, who is still waiting on an answer to his question.

“Of course,” Wilhelm says at last. “You were my pal first, Marcus,” he adds as way to comfort the other boy.

But Wilhelm’s still drowning in guilt.

***

“What’s this?”

Felice eyes him with suspicion from the other side of her room’s now opened door.

She was painting her nails, the strong smell of nail polisher emanating from the room giving it away, when Wilhelm showed up at her doorstep unannounced. That, and the fact that her nails are now red when they weren’t this afternoon.

“I come bearing food,” he says, showing her the takeaway bag from a burger place that he knows Felice loves. “Movie?” He suggests.

Felice seizes him up and down as if he were a riddle that she needs to crack, and then opens her room’s door wider.

Wilhelm smiles and walks into the room. “Maddie’s not here today?”

“Hooking up with a Yara.”

“Which Yara?”

“The second year.”

“No idea.”

Felice rolls her eyes, but Wilhelm knows she does it fondly. “I don’t know why you bother to ask then.”

“Politeness,” Wilhelm says with a smile.

Felice takes the takeaway bag from him and plumps down on her bed.

“Get my computer,” she orders. “We’re watching Mamma Mia.”

“One, right?”

“Two.”

“Why do you do this to me?” Wilhelm asks dramatically. He fetches her computer from her messy desk and brings it over with a chair.

“Because you come in looking weirdly guilty over God knows what and I need to make you pay for it,” Felice replies, unwrapping one of the burgers.

Wilhelm, squatted down in front of the computer, turns to look at her over his shoulder.

“You think I look weirdly guilty?”

She nods.

“So,… you think I shouldn’t look guilty?”

She gives him a confused look, taking out the bag of French fries from the paper bag, but nods again.

“Then why make me pay for it?”

Felice shrugs. “It’s fun.”

Wilhelm blinks, and then laughs. She smiles at him.

He puts on Mamma Mia 2 and sits next to Felice, who immediately hands him the still wrapped burger, her mouth full of fries.

“Save some for me,” he jokes.

She makes a face and he laughs, stealing as many fries as he can before Felice gets control over the bag.

Felice sings along to the songs of the movie, doing it dramatically at Wilhelm’s face. He laughs at her and tries to playfully push her away.

When they finish their burgers and fries, Wilhelm collects the used wrapping papers and puts them inside the takeout bag, which he places on the floor, out of their way on the bed.

Getting back on the bed, he leans back on the wall and Felice drops her head on his shoulder, now quietly watching the movie as it shows a serious, heartbreaking scene.

Wilhelm reaches out for her hand and gives it a squeeze. An I’m-sorry squeeze.

He spent the rest of his weekend replaying his talk with Marcus, only to realize that the older boy might have a point. Wilhelm might have become a bit too immersed in his developing friendship with Simon that he might have overlooked some of his older friendships. Such as Felice.

Felice has never said anything to him nor hinted that she felt Wilhelm pulling away. She might not have felt it as much as Marcus did, being a completely different person whose social life at Hillerska sometimes keeps her far too busy, but that doesn’t mean that Wilhelm didn’t in fact pull away and that he might be at fault here.

He just hopes Felice gets that he didn’t mean to replace her or pull away from her. 

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Felice suddenly asks.

Wilhelm hums, distracted.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Felice demands to know, raising her head from his shoulder.  “You’re very suspicious today, Wille. Spill it out.”

Wilhelm’s anxiety hammers him in the back of his head as he chews on his bottom lip nervously.

Why is it always so hard to apologize out loud?

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I think… I have been a bit distant lately, and I hope you don’t think that I am doing it on purpose. I’m not, and I… I’m not replacing you or anything. I swear.”

Wilhelm looks at Felice, worried. In turn, the girl looks at him with a frown.

“Replace me? With whom?”

“With… Simon?” Wilhelm says, almost like a question, because he isn’t sure how to deal with Felice’s possible reaction.

Suddenly, the girl bursts into a laugh.

Throwing herself forward, her head almost hitting Wilhelm’s lap, and then coming back up, she looks at him again, sees his mouth-hanging, weirdly guilty-looking figure, and laughs.

“I’m serious, Felice!”

She laughs more.

“Why are you laughing?”

Felice tries to swallow her laughter. She waves her hands in front of her teary eyes, as if the wind produced by them could dry her tears.

Eventually, she calms down.

“Wilhelm,” she now says seriously, “I never felt you were replacing me with Simon. Where did you get that idea?”

“Hum… Marcus?” Wilhelm answers, confused.

Felice tilts her head at him.

“Marcus said you were replacing me with Simon?”

“No… He said… He made it sound like Simon and I were spending too much time together and I think he felt left out… And then I worried that you felt the same way too, you know? I didn’t want you to feel that way.”

“I… don’t?” Felice seems to struggle to find the right words.

As she seeks them out, she slides down her bed and leans forward to put the movie on pause. Then, she turns to Wilhelm.

“Do you think Marcus is right?”

“I… I don’t know, honestly. I thought I wasn’t spending that much time with Simon. I only saw it when he pointed it out.”

“Hum.”

“What? You think he is right?”

Felice shakes her head.

“I don’t think this is a matter of right or wrong, but of perspectives. If Marcus feels that way, it’s as valid as you not seeing your time hanging out with Simon as ‘too much’.”

“But I haven’t hung out with him in forever,” he mentions.

Felice rolls her eyes.

“You barely hung out with Marcus before, Wilhelm! Only when you go horse riding, which you still do, and at parties, which you haven’t been going because yes, you have other plans now, but also, because you’ve always hated parties,” Felice reasons with the serenity of someone who knows exactly they are talking about. “Let’s be honest here: this isn’t about you, Wille, but about Simon. And if Marcus is feeling left out by his boyfriend, then that’s something he and Simon need to talk about. I mean, … If you ask Simon to hang out and each time he says yes, then it’s him who doesn’t know how to make time for everyone, not you.”

“But I could be more considerate,” Wilhelm argues.

Felice rolls her eyes.

“Wilhelm, when people ask each other to hang out, they assume the other person will say yes because they want to. You’re not in control of Simon’s decisions. Nor is Marcus. But if Marcus feels that way, again, he needs to talk to Simon, and not make you feel shitty about it.”

Wilhelm considers what Felice just said and balances it out with his conversation with Marcus the other night.

Then, he goes over the last few months, thinking of the number of times he and Simon hung out; how many he asked first and how many Simon did, and realized what he already knows: his friendship with Simon is balanced. He’s not the only one pushing for them to hang out, Simon is too. He’s not overly invested in the friendship because Felice doesn’t feel left out, and, as far as he knows, Simon’s friends or sister haven’t mentioned anything about it. Sara would in fact be the first person to point out if he and Simon became too much.

Their friendship has felt natural because it is.

And Felice is right: he and Marcus never hung out much. Wilhelm has not pulled the boy away; he simply has kept him where he has always been. So, if Marcus feels left out, it’s not because of Wilhelm….

If he and Simon have issues, they need to solve it.

Marcus doesn’t have to guilt trip Wilhelm.

***

Wilhelm finds Marcus at the lockers’ hallway, putting away some books. He walks up to the older boy and stands behind him.

Marcus closes his locker and makes a turn. Only to jump startled at the sudden shadow of Wilhelm behind him.

“Jesus, Wilhelm!”

“Follow me,” Wilhelm orders and walks away.

“What’s going on?” Marcus says, confused, after they both walk into an empty classroom and Wilhelm closes the door behind them.

“Are you jealous of my friendship with Simon?” Wilhelm goes straight to the point. “Because if you are, you don’t have to be, okay? And I’m sorry if I’m spending time with him and maybe taking some of his time with you away from you, but that doesn’t mean you have to guilt trip me into-“

“Guilt trip you?” Marcus asks, confused.

“The other day, in the car! That talk we had and … you made me think I was being a shitty friend to you, to Felice and-“

“Felice?” Marcus repeats, even more confused. “I never mentioned Felice, Wilhelm.”

Wilhelm’s mouth closes.

Marcus sits back on one of the desks and crosses his arms, eyeing Wilhelm with a deep frown.

“I was only talking about us, Wilhelm. And yes, about you and Simon too. I’m happy you two are friends, truly, but….” Marcus struggles. “But it’s a bit hard sometimes to try to make plans with my boyfriend only to hear him say that he is hanging out with his new friend again. Or to try to help him and he says that he already got you to help him with the scholarship forms! So yes, I might be a bit jealous, Wilhelm, that you’re spending so much of my boyfriend’s free time with him when I barely get to see him!”

“And what, you want me to stop hanging out with him?” Wilhelm asks, defensive. He won’t step away from his friendship with Simon. He likes it too much to give it up.

“No!” Marcus stands up. “All I want is to spend time with my boyfriend, Wilhelm. But I can’t do that if you’re the one he prioritizes. You guys can hang out as much as you want to, just… let me have some time with him too, okay? Can I ask that of you? To have time with my boyfriend?”

Marcus lets out a deep, angry breath as he stares at Wilhelm with pleading eyes.

When Wilhelm goes to open his mouth, Marcus steps back, shakes his head and says, “Never mind.” He walks out of the room.

Wilhelm drops on the desk behind him, his brain trying to reconcile everything that was just dumped on him.

He gets it; Marcus’ frustration on wanting to spend time with Simon only to be rejected, time after time, because Simon has plans with Wilhelm. It’s unfair to him. And Wilhelm knows he is right.

But, as he remains inside an empty, quiet classroom, Wilhelm’s heart beats loud and fast not because of the remaining adrenaline over the anger he felt for Marcus during their fight and neither because of guilt over the reality check that Marcus gave him, but because of something else the other boy said.

But I can’t do that if you’re the one he prioritizes

You’re the one he prioritizes.

The one he prioritizes.

Until this point, Wilhelm thought he was the only one too deep into his new founded friendship with Simon. He knew the other boy liked him back just fine, but… He didn’t know how important he had become to Simon.

Simon who has refused dates with his boyfriend because of Wilhelm.

Simon who spends most of his free time with Wilhelm and not his boyfriend.

Simon who comes to him first for help and not his boyfriend.

Simon who prioritizes him.

Simon puts him first.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm refuses Simon’s attempts to hang out.

He says he is busy studying or that he already has plans with Felice or one of the guys in Forest Ridge House, so no, he can’t go to Bjarstaal nor can Simon come to Hillerska. Raincheck, please?, he keeps saying and hating every time he writes those words.

Wilhelm feels guilty over the fight he had with Marcus. Well, not really a fight if Marcus just dumped his frustration on him (and with reason), but Wilhelm, instead of apologizing and feeling like shit for not seeing Marcus’ perspective sooner, felt stupidly happy over the fact that Simon has made their friendship a priority for the past months. A priority over his own boyfriend.

It was like a shot of dopamine followed a cold shower of reality when he realized what kind of an asshole he has been.

And so, he tries to give some of Simon’s free time back to Marcus by not hanging out with his friend for the next two weekends.  He swears to himself that he’ll make it up for Simon, either by buying pizza next time he goes to Bjarstaal or have Sara come to the stables to see Rosseau.

He just wants to make things right for all of them.

But before he can do any of that, before he can dwell any longer on his guilt for Marcus and missing Simon so much that he almost does meet up with him on the spur of the moment, he has a surprise.

He is in his room, going over some of the links his brother sent him with options for their summer vacation (his parents have promised to take two full weeks off work to be with their sons as long as Wilhelm and Erik are the ones who organize the vacation, only sending them the bill at the end), when two sharp knocks hit the hard glass of his window.

At first, he thinks he is hallucinating it. No one could possibly be knocking on his window at this time of the night. But then, two more knocks come and he finds himself standing up from his bed and walking up to the window. He opens the curtains.  

Wilhelm’s mouth drops open, a seed of panic spurting inside of him. 

Because, on the other side of the window, stands a frowning, jaw slacked Simon, wearing a yellow sweatshirt underneath a dark orange jacket, looking like if he could murder Wilhelm through his glare, he would. (Or, at least, you know, hurt him really badly.)

“Open up,” Simon demands.

Wilhelm unlocks the window and pulls it up. He steps back to allow Simon to climb into his room.

“What-“ He starts.

“What’s going on?” Simon snaps at him. “You’ve been avoiding me, Wilhelm.”

“I haven’t.”

“Are you fucking lying to me right now?” Simon’s anger flames out at the obvious lie.

Wilhelm, worried that one of his classmates can hear them, looks at the walls of his room, and then at the opened window, an open canal for anyone to eavesdrop.

He moves forward and Simon, in his anger, steps aside to avoid him. Wilhelm shuts the window and closes the curtains (as if those are soundproof), and then turns to Simon, who is now standing in the middle of his room, glaring at him with red, wet eyes.

He’s about to cry, Wilhelm realizes, and it breaks him inside.

“I was just trying to give you space,” Wilhelm admits, defeated.

Simon’s faces recoils into a mask of confusion, his watery eyes narrowing as he tries to understand Wilhelm’s point. Against his will, one tear runs down from his left eye. He feels it leaving a wet trail on his cheek and promptly cleans it up, his face hiding behind a wall of anger again.

“When did I tell you I wanted space?” Simon spits out.

“You-“

He didn’t, did he now?

Wilhelm’s just making bad decision after bad decision. And why? Because Marcus is frustrated that his boyfriend isn’t spending time with him, but with Wilhelm instead? Because Wilhelm hates how he can’t feel one thing right; can’t feel properly bad for Marcus without feeling joyful over the fact that Simon likes being his friend?

And all of this because-

No, he can’t go there.

Don’t open the box, Wilhelm. Don’t.

Because if he doesn’t open the box, then it’s not real. His deep-down buried feelings for Simon are a memory of the past and not a reality. And if they are a memory, they aren’t the reason why he feels so shitty. Why he jumped at the first bad decision (to avoid Simon) after knowing how badly Marcus is feeling left out by his boyfriend.

He wouldn’t feel guilty for his friendship with Simon if he didn’t have anything to hide, would he now?

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anything to hide. He can’t.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” he says, having no idea what else to say. “I just… Maybe I thought I was overcrowding your time when you have other people in your life who want to spend time with you too.”

Simon stares at him, emotionless. He blinks slowly, taking in what Wilhelm has said, coming up with his own conclusions. Suddenly, clarity appears in his eyes. Shortly followed by anger.

“It was Marcus, wasn’t it?”

Wilhelm blinks.

And it’s enough for Simon to have his answer.

“Jesus!”

The curly-haired boy throws his hands up and then drops on the empty bed across from Wilhelm’s. He hides his face behind his hands and shakes it angrily.  

“Simon…” Wilhelm calls, concerned. He takes one step closer, unsure if he should or not.

Simon looks up from behind his hands. “I can’t believe him! I’ve told him he has nothing to worry about, and he still goes and bothers you?!”

“He didn’t bother me,” Wilhelm shakes his head. “He just… talked to me about it. And, Simon,… I don’t think he thinks he has something to worry about.”

Simon blinks at him, his eyes giving nothing to what he is thinking.

“I think,” Wilhelm says, taking another tentative step closer to Simon, “he just wants to spend more time with you.” He reaches Simon and sits next to him on the bed. They share a look. Wilhelm shrugs. “It’s only fair, you know?”

“Fair?”

“He’s your boyfriend and wants time with you. If I’m taking that time away, then-“

“But you’re not,” Simon interrupts him. “I mean, yeah, we haven’t been able to hang out that much, but… it’s not because I’m with you. Sometimes I’m with my mom, who I barely see because she is working two jobs. Or with my sister so she isn’t alone. I have people in my life I want and need to be with, not only Marcus. He knew that when we started dating. I told him back then, my family is always going to be my priority. Always.”

Wilhelm wishes he knew what to say.

Simon is shaking his head, still fuming with anger, when suddenly he takes his phone out of his pocket. Wilhelm knows exactly what he is about do.

“No.”

He puts a hand over Simon’s phone. The smaller boy glares at him with a lifted eyebrow.

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“Don’t tell him, please. He… Simon, he’s just… It’s how he feels, okay? Even if it doesn’t make sense to you, or… to me, it makes sense to him. How would you feel if he came up to you and dismissed your feelings?”

Something crosses Simon’s eyes. Something weak, vulnerable, before it changes back into anger.

“What, so you’re taking his side?”

“Simon,” Wilhelm sighs. “It’s not about sides.”

It shouldn’t also be about Wilhelm trying to make up for his inner guilt, but he’s not going to bring that up.

Simon pushes away from Wilhelm, sitting now at the end of the bed.  He looks away, his face a mask of anger mixed with pain, tears bottling up in the corner of his eyes, slowly breaking.

Wilhelm wants to reach out but fears the other boy will push him away.

“It’s not fair,” Simon suddenly says in the weakest voice. “It’s like I can’t make one right decision.”

“Simon, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is!” His watery eyes snap at Wilhelm. “Every time I decide on something, someone comes along to tell me it’s wrong. When I tried to give my dad a second chance, mom said I would regret it. But I said that every human has a right to a second chance, so I gave him one. And what did he do with it? Tried to extort money from me!”

 “When I stood up to Sara’s bullies, Sara came after me. Said I put a bigger target on her back. And what happened? They went after her so hard that she refused to go to school for weeks!” Simon keeps going, angry at himself now. Disgusted even. “And when Marcus first started to notice me, I was not going to give him a chance. And then my friends said he deserved one; that maybe he was what I was looking for. So, I gave him a chance. And here we are now, with him coming after one of my closest friends –“ he motions with an angry finger to Wilhelm – “because, apparently, I don’t spend time with him.”

Simon’s tears escape their prison. And, as he stops talking, he realizes the wetness on his cheeks and uses both coat’s sleeves to clean them, adverting his gaze from Wilhelm in shame.

But he has nothing to be ashamed of.

Simon keeps so much to himself; always doubts himself and hides it from everyone all the time. To take on so much alone, without opening up to anyone, without letting others see when you are weak, must be exhausting.

At some point, he’d have to break. And he does it in front of Wilhelm.

Wilhelm, who he only knows for months and has already asked for his help.

Wilhelm with whom he talks more over message than face to face but still allows himself to break down in front of him when clearly Simon doesn’t cry in front of anyone.

It’s a privilege to see Simon in a such a vulnerable state. Wilhelm must make sure the boy knows how safe he can be with him.

So, Wilhelm cuts the space between them. He pulls Simon into a crushing hug, trapping the boy against his chest. Simon lets out a surprised sound, but doesn’t pull away.

One of Wilhelm’s hands finds Simon’s hair and, for a fleeting moment, he allows himself to bask in the softness that are Simon’s curls. He always knew how soft they would be, now he can confirm it. He plays gently with the curls and his other hand rubs Simon’s back, soothing the boy.

Slowly, he feels Simon’s body relax under his, and then all the tension and anger melt away. Simon’s arms come around Wilhelm’s torso, and the boy lets out a relieved sigh. Wilhelm squeezes him further into the hug.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other, but finally, almost like they don’t want to, they pull apart. Wilhelm feels Simon’s hands twitch against his back, almost as if he were to stop him from pulling back, and that does something to Wilhelm’s traitorous heart. He ignores it and looks a t his friend.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Simon refuses to meet his eyes and nods, embarrassed.

“Simon,” Wilhelm calls softly, but the boy still refuses to look his way. He decides to keep talking, “I know that I said there were no sides, -“That has Simon look at him, confused – “but, if there were sides, and when there are, please know that I’ll take yours, no matter what.”

Simon keeps staring at him, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes still watery from the remaining tears he now holds back strongly.

“I’ll always give you my honest opinion,” Wilhelm promises, “so you know that I won’t side with you blindly. Bu I will make sure you don’t feel wrong.  Or judged. Or alone. Ever.”

And because he is weak, his traitorous heart grabs control of the situation and he finds himself saying, “And whoever makes you feel that you owe them any part of you doesn’t deserve you.”

Marcus doesn’t deserve you.

But do you, Wilhelm? Do you deserve him?

Let’s not go there now.

A smile creeps upon Simon’s face as if he can’t help it, the unshed tears squeezed in the wrinkles of content peace around his eyes.

Wilhelm finds himself smiling back.

“Thank you,” Simons says, “for being my friend, Wille.”

Wilhelm shakes his head. “No need to thank me. I’m glad I am.”

They stare at each other, beaming.

Then, the sound of something crashing startles them. They jump away from each other as laughter echoes from outside Wilhelm’s room.

“Jesus, Walter, are you okay?” Henry’s amused voice travels from the other side of the wall.

“Who the fuck left their shoes out in the hallway?” Walter complains loudly.

People yell from within their rooms.

“I’m going to burn them!” Walter shouts back.

A door slam opens and someone shouts back, “Fuck off, Walter. Just watch where you’re going!”

Simon looks at Wilhelm, a spark of amusement dancing in his still watery, red eyes, and raises an eyebrow.

Wilhelm shrugs.

“That’s Forest Ridge House for you.”

“This is where I’m supposed to live next year?”

Wilhelm laughs.

“Only if you apply.”

Which Wilhelm knows he hasn’t.

Simon rolls his eyes. “I’m thinking about it. Sara is always on my case about it.”

Wilhelm lifts his hands. “Hey, I’ll support you,” he says, mostly as a joke, but also meaning it.

Simon, finding the timing of his words ironic, snorts.

“So I’ve heard,” he jokes back. He stands up. “Well, I guess I’m… overstaying my welcome here.”

Wilhelm stands up immediately.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, watching Simon wander to the middle of the room. “If you want, you can hang around.”

Simon leans against the desk, thinking. His eyes scatter the room, taking in Wilhelm’s place. Something he didn’t do when he first barged in demanding answers from Wilhelm.

The room is messy on the left side since that’s where Wilhelm stays. Clothes peek from under the bed and the shelf on the wall is filled with knickknacks and the red fluorescent lights he brought with him at the beginning of the school year. His bed isn’t made and, in its middle, rests his laptop, which is still charging, open and on.

“What’s that?” Simon asks, noticing the laptop’s screen. He looks at Wilhelm with a lifted eyebrow. “You’re planning a trip?”

Wilhelm comes closer to the laptop, looks at the hotel website he left on (in Italy), and closes it.

“Yeah, my brother and I are in charge to plan the family holiday,” he says with a forced chuckle. “Two weeks out of the country.”

Simon seems impressed for a second, then his expression glooms and goes blank.

 Wilhelm frowns, wondering where Simon’s mind has disappeared into.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Simon blinks, snapping out of his thoughts. He smiles at Wilhelm. “Yeah, yeah. I just… forgot that you’re not from around here. I guess we will only see each in September, right?”

“We still have a month and half ahead of us, Simon. You’re not getting rid of me so soon,” he reminds the other boy, who chuckles. “And, even if we can’t hang out during summer, we can still talk. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Simon repeats, smiling. He then looks back at the closed window. “Well, I guess I should go.”

Wilhelm watches as he turns to the window, amused.

“You know you can use the door, right?”

Simon looks at him over his shoulder, a hand freeze mid-air.

“I can?”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes.

“Of course.” He looks around for his phone, finding it between his bed sheets. He grabs it and stuffs it in his back pocket. “Let’s go.”

The hallway is empty now, no shoes left on the floor for anyone to trip over. Wilhelm and Simon walk out of it without being detected.

They make it out of the dorm house and to the backyard of Hillerska, making their way to the bus stop. 

“I think I can find my way to the bus stop by now, you know?” Simon says.

Wilhelm rolls his eyes.

“First, he barges in my room demanding to know why I’m not spending time with him. Now that he has time with me, he is sending me way. I can’t understand what you want, Eriksson.”

Simon shoves him playfully.

Wilhelm tries to shove him back, laughing, but Simon is quick to avoid his push and runs down the cemented path, trying to run away from him. Wilhelm, accepting the challenge, follows him.

Each time he is close to grab Simon, the boy manages to flee away. Wilhelm curses him. They both laugh.  

And laugh is what they do all the way down to the bus stop.

***

“Why does Marcus look like he wants to kill you?” Felice asks him, after looping her arm under Wilhelm’s, catching up with him on their way to English class.

Wilhelm looks over his shoulder, but finds no trace of the older boy who, Wilhelm knows, is currently haunting the school’s hallways with a gloomy expression.

The reason for it is in Wilhelm’s phone. Last night, after grabbing dinner with some of the boys from Forest Ridge, he got to his room, grabbed his phone and found a message from Simon.

simon.eriksson: marcus and i are on a break

Wilhelm’s traitorous heart beamed with hope for a second before he crashed it down.

justawille: What’s happened?

simon.eriksson: 🙄 you know what’s happened. i talked to him and told him i needed some time for myself and clearly he needs it too

justawille: How are you feeling?

simon.eriksson: shitty because i hurt him, but… i needed this break. does it make me a bad person?

justawille: Not at all!!

simon.eriksson: really?

justawille: Would I lie to you?

simon.eriksson: no…?

justawille: 🙄 🙄 🙄

simon.eriksson: 💜 💜 💜

Wilhelm snaps back to reality as he feels Felice pull his arm. He looks down at her, sees her lifted eyebrow still waiting for an answer, and sighs.

“He and Simon are on a break.”

“Okay?”

“He thinks it’s my fault.”

Felice’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Then, something clicks in her head, realization filling her expression.

“Does this have something to do with… you know?”

“What? When you forced me to watch Mamma Mia 2 because I looked weirdly guilty?” He asks sarcastically as they walk into the classroom.

Felice snorts.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, it does.” They sit down on the second row of desks. “I kind of… confronted him after you and I talked, and then felt bad for him and avoided Simon, thinking, you know, that way they could spend more time together.”

Felice looks at him like he is not making any sense.

“It was stupid of me, okay?” Wilhelm accepts. “Anyway, Simon confronted me afterwards, and… well, he realized that Marcus had said something to me, so… I guess they talked and are on a break now.”

“Because of you,” Felice concludes.

“Wait, what?” Wilhelm drops his pencil on the floor. He leans down to grab it. “No, not me. They have… their issues.”

Felice can’t go around saying stuff like that. Wilhelm’s stupid heart will get pointless hopeful when it shouldn’t. His box of feelings has already needed a reinforcement of three more locks on it since Simon’s text last night.

“Well, but if they are on a break, they can still fix it,” Felice suddenly says, and Wilhelm’s heart looks at her as if she were a traitor. “Marcus doesn’t need to look so gloomy. Or want to kill you. They haven’t broken up for real.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Simon isn’t single. He is working things out with his boyfriend, just with a bit more space between them. A break means nothing.

Did you hear that? Wilhelm says to his heart. They haven’t broken up for real. So shut it.

Of course, his heart doesn’t buy it. Nor does Marcus who, during lunch break, sends daggers in Wilhelm’s way. Even Henry asks what he has done to the third year. Henry! He never notices these things.

But it’s when they meet at the stables, Marcus rolling his eyes at the mere presence of Wilhelm, that has him snap.

“Wait here,” he asks Felice, leaving her with Rosseau.

He walks up to Marcus, who is brushing Stella’s horse.

“Hey,” he greets.

Marcus looks at him over his shoulder, frowns at the sight of him and opens his mouth to say something.

But Wilhelm cuts him sharply, “So listen, I’m sorry you and Simon are on a break, okay? I didn’t make it happen, though, so can you stop glaring at me?”

Marcus steps away from the horse and closer to Wilhelm. Out of panic, Wilhelm steps away.

Marcus frowns at him.

“I’m not going to hit you, Wilhelm.”

“I know that,” Wilhelm says weakly.

Marcus sizes him up and down. He sighs, drops the brush on the floor and walks over to one of the wooden walls in the stables, leaning against it. He crosses his arms.

“I’m just hurt,” he says and glances at Wilhelm. “I just wanted to spend more time with Simon, and suddenly he tells me he wants a break. And it’s frustrating.” He waves a hand in despair. “Simon and I have been together for over a year and yet, sometimes I feel like I don’t even know him. Like, I’m constantly making the wrong choice with him. It’s so hard to understand him.”

But it’s not. Not really.

Simon’s so easy to understand. If Wilhelm thinks that, having met the boy for only months, how can Marcus, his boyfriend of a year, not see it?

Out of nowhere, a memory blooms in his mind.

His mother had just informed him that he would be attending Hillerska. He fought back, saying he wanted to stay in Stockholm. But “what is done is done”, she said, meaning that they had already called the school and enrolled him. Against his will.

Erik tried to be there for him. Said he would like the school.

“It was good for me,” Erik said. “I liked it.”

“Well,” Wilhelm threw back in his despair, “what is good for you isn’t for me, Erik. We’re different people. Mom can’t see that sometimes.”

And that’s it, isn’t?

Marcus and Wilhelm are different people. What’s easy for Wilhelm isn’t for Marcus, and what’s easy for Marcus isn’t for Wilhelm because they think and want different things.

The same applies to Simon.

Wilhelm looks at Marcus, who is playing footsie with a small rock on the ground, a melancholy aura surrounding him.

“Can I ask you something?” He dares.

Marcus raises his head, frowns a bit, and nods.

“Why do you like Simon?”

Marcus blinks, surprised.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

Wilhelm sighs and makes his way to Marcus, leaning against the wall next to him.

“I mean, Marcus, … and please don’t take this the wrong way, okay?, but you and Simon and different people. What he wants and needs is different from what you want and need. And, if you guys have been dating for over a year now, you should… understand each other better by now. And if you don’t,” he adds cautiously, “perhaps this break is exactly what you need.”

To break up, his stupid heart wishes.

To work things out, his reasonable mind fights back.

Marcus thinks what Wilhelm just said through and, slowly raising his head at the other boy, nods in a small gesture of agreement.

“You’re right.”

He stands up straight and Wilhelm follows his lead. Marcus manages to smile and pats Wilhelm’s arm.

“You’re a good guy, Wilhelm. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.”

Wilhelm shakes his head, dismissing the apology as if it were all good.

“No worries.”

They part ways. Wilhem watches Marcus going back to brushing Stella’s horse and then makes his way to Felice, who is now feeding Rosseau small carrots.

“All good?” She asks.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile and nods.

Let it be known that Wilhelm did his best to never screw up Marcus and Simons’ relationship. Not matter how badly his stupid heart asked him to destroy it.

***

It smells like summer now. 

Days have become longer and warmer as June welcomes the last days of school and the beginning of summer holiday.

Wilhelm and Erik have set up a holiday with their parents. Two weeks in July in Sicily, Italy. They leave on the first day of July and come back right after Erik’s birthday.

He has his room mostly packed by now and Erik is going to come pick him up tomorrow morning. Then, it’s three months away from Hillerska. And from Simon.

Which is why he is trying to make the best of their time together.

Right now, they are the stables. Sara is riding Rosseau with Felice to back her up. They have drifted away to the other side of the open field while Wilhelm and Simon sit over the fence, balancing themselves on the wooden branch.

From here, they can’t see the joyful expression on Sara’s face, but they both know it’s there.

They were watching the girls in silence. Wilhelm likes how comfortable quietness can be between them. They don’t need to fill in the silence with forced conversation because they are fine just enjoying each other’s company.

Things with Marcus have become better at school and, from what Wilhelm knows, he and Simon have slowly started talking again. Going out a couple of times. To see if they still make sense.

Simon talks more openly about the relationship with Wilhelm now, which, on one hand, he is fine with and happy to advise his friend, but on the other, he wishes he could open his chest, take out his stupid heart and yell at it to stop feeling things.

“Do you think we should do it?” Simon suddenly asks him, his gaze still on his sister.

“Hum?” Wilhelm blinks, coming up from his haze.

“Apply for residence here?”

Wilhelm knows they have submitted the non-residential forms, but have until late June to apply for residence if that’s what they want. A time that Simon is taking advantage of to think things through. It’s really tough for him to leave his mom all by herself during the week. Also, Wilhelm knows now, Simon also fears that he won’t fit among the boys.

Wilhelm assures him that he will. And if someone dares to make him feel like an outcast, they will have Wilhelm to listen to.

“Do you want my unbiased or biased opinion?” Wilhelm asks him.

Simon cracks a smile at him. “Unbiased.”

“Well, I think you should. I remember your sister’s arguments from when we went over your applications, and she did have a point, you know? You are not going to stay away from your mom for long. I know we all here do, but that’s because we’re not from nearby. But you can visit your mom every day of the week if you want to. And, if you can’t, because you need to study or something, you have where to stay,” Wilhelm reasons. “Also, you wouldn’t have to commute to Hillerska every day. That means sleeping until later before classes, not having to worry about keeping up a schedule, having more freedom.

“Also, you kind of know some of the people here now,” he adds. “Henry and Walter are idiots, but they are cool. Felice loves Sara and, trust me, when Madison meets her, she will love her too. You’ll both fit in, I promise. It’s … a win-win situation, Simon.”

Simon remains quiet.

“And,” Wilhelm decides to add, just as an appeasing thought, “applying doesn’t mean getting in. So, Sara would get what she wants, which is to have a chance at it, but it doesn’t mean it’s definitely going to happen, so you don’t have to worry about it much… Unless you really, really don’t want to apply.”

“I do,” Simon sighs. “I mean, objectively speaking, it’s better to reside there during the week and come home during the weekend. Mom would be fine; she has said it herself. I just…”

“Worry she is saying it to appease you two and not being honestly?” Wilhelm finishes.

Simon glances at him, a small smile curling up his lips. “Yeah, exactly that.”

Wilhelm smiles back, pride swirling inside of him whenever he gets Simon.

“What about your unbiased opinion?” Simon asks with a teasing sparkle.

“Ah,” Wilhelm chuckles. “Well, I think you should apply to live here –“Simon snorts, making him chuckle again – “because, well, I’m here? And it would be cool to share a dorm with you.”

“What if I don’t end up at Forest Ridge House?” Simon teases.

Wilhelm scowls at that. “I’m sorry, Simon, but if you do get accepted to reside at Hillerska, then I’ll pull some strings to get you into Forest Ridge House. I don’t care what you say. If you get to live here, you’ll live in the same dorm as I do.”

Simon laughs.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Wilhelm pretends to be offended. Simon laughs harder, knocking his shoulder with Wilhelm’s.

“I’m kidding,” he says.

“You better be or I’ll ignore your memes for a week.”

Simon gasps dramatically. “Not that!”

“Yes that!”

Simon gasps again. Wilhelm copies him.

And then they are both laughing together, bodies trembling with laughter, knocking against one another. Simon almost falls off the fence, as he leans forward with laughter, and it’s Wilhelm’s hand on his wrist that prevents him for falling face down on the floor.

They’re still fighting their laughter when the girls approach them. Sara gives them a funny look while Felice smiles warmly at them.

“Enjoying yourselves?” She asks.

“Those two?” Sara says before either boy can reply. “It’s like they’re always in their bubble or something.”

***

simon.eriksson: [replies to your story] TAKE ME THERE

justawille: You could have said sooner and I’d buy you a ticket.

simon.eriksson: wille… i’m kidding

justawille: so you don’t want to come to Sicily?

simon.eriksson: of course i do, look at those beaches.

simon.eriksson: but some of us are humbler and prefer to stay home for the summer…

justawille: I’ll bring you souvenir, Simon.

simon.eriksson: you are my sunshine💜

“Who are you texting?”

Erik tries to take a peek at his phone over Wilhelm’s shoulder, but the younger boy is quick to hide his screen.

Erik chuckles and leans back on his pool chaise lounge chair, bringing his sunglasses back to his eyes. “Is it a crush?”

“Shut up, Erik.”

“It is.”

“It is not.”

“Then why hide the screen from me?” Erik asks, relaxing under the warm Italian sunlight. They have been at the hotel pool all morning while their parents chose to do a couple massage together.

“Because I have rights, and one of them is privacy.”

Erik snorts.

“Not from your older brother.”

“Especially from my older brother.”

Erik tilts his head in his direction, the sun now hitting him on the left side of his face. One week in Italy and Erik’s already as tanned as most locals. Wilhelm’s only red. Red and itchy. That’s why he is hiding under a sunshade.

“No, seriously,” Erik says, “one year at Hillerska and no one caught your attention? I dated at least three girls in my first year there.”

“That’s because you have mommy issues, Erik,” Wilhelm deadpans.

Erik laughs.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. We both have.”

Erik pauses, takes it into consideration and shrugs, accepting.

“Well, but I’m working on them. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“With that crush of yours?”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “Shut it, Erik.”

His phone buzzes again and he immediately picks it up.

simon.eriksson: i compliment you once and you ghost me? rude

justawille: My brother is being annoying!

simon.eriksson: older siblings tend to be like that

simon.eriksson: tell him I said hi

Wilhelm will do no such thing. If Erik already thinks he is talking to a crush, imagine if Wilhelm drops Simon’s name on him.

justawille: No, because he doesn’t deserve your hi.

simon.eriksson: HAHAHAHAH idiot

Their parents show up just in time for lunch, and take them to the hotel restaurant where they order seafood and two bottles of the most expensive wine. Wilhelm settles for water and a plate of mushroom risotto.

“You can have a glass of wine if you want to,” his mother suggests.

“No, I’m good.”

“Sharing a glass of wine with someone can open many doors, Wilhelm,” his mother points out as she scans the surroundings with an unimpressed expression.

Wilhelm grits his teeth together. His brother knocks his elbow against his in a reassuring way.

They avoid talking about business for twenty minutes, and then their mom’s phone rings and she excuses herself. Her father looks wary watching her step away from the table.

“What’s going on?” Erik asks.

“Just a deal we’re trying to close.”

“We’re on vacation,” Wilhelm points out. “You promised no business during vacation time.”

“Wille,” their father sighs.

“He’s right,” Erik points out, and of course, their father listens more carefully. “It’s just two more weeks. The business won’t fall if you and mom don’t pick up your phones for once.”

When their mom gets back, no one utters a word. Wilhelm hopes their father talks to her later, when it’s just the two of them. Kristina tends to listen to her husband when they are alone, but not in front of their kids.

For the afternoon, they go for a historical trip downtown. If it were up for Wilhelm, they would walk. Erik too. But their parents prefer to call for two tuk-tuks, which has Wilhelm discreetly rolling his eyes. His brother notices and snorts.

They share a ride together as their parents take the other vehicle.

“We could have walked,” Wilhelm finally says out loud.

“We could,” his brother agrees.

The afternoon is slow. Wilhelm wishes he could see the place on his own terms and time, but with his parents, they need to follow a schedule. It’s like they are always in a rush to get somewhere and do something else instead of just enjoying the vacation.

At least, he gets to buy a couple of souvenirs. A silver bracelet for Felice, a small wooden horse for Sara and a sun-shaped key-ring for Simon.

“Who’s that for?” His brother asks, pointing at the wooden horse.

“Sara. She’s a friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, just a friend.”

His brother believes him.

“Erik, Wilhelm,” their mother calls from three stores ahead of them. She points at her watch. “Let’s go.”

Wilhelm sighs.

“Honestly, Wilhelm, you could put on a smile,” his mother complains when he is close enough for her to say something.

Wilhelm just stares at her.

“It’s like you’re not happy to be here.”

No, you’re the one that doesn’t want to be here, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He bites his tongue and lets his mother take them to the next stop.

By the time he reaches his hotel room (the good part of him and Erik planning the entire trip is that they chose a room for each, and not sharing it), Wilhelm is exhausted. Not because he did much walking, but because his mother drained the life energy out of him.

The cherry on top of the cake was during dinner, when she pointed out how important was for Wilhelm to start thinking university choices. He still has two years of high school to go through! Does she forget that?

Wilhelm throws him onto the queen-sized bed and takes his phone out of his shorts’ pocket.  He has three memes and two messages from Simon, two messages from Felice and a story reaction from Maddison, Henry and Walter.

He clicks on Felice’s messages first. She is on vacation with her parents too and it’s going great (not). He replies to her messages, sharing the feeling with her.

Then he opens Simon’s messages. He checks the memes, which make him laugh, likes all of them and then reads his messages.

simon.eriksson: mom got a couple of days off work so we’re going to the beach for the weekend!

simon.eriksson: AYUB AND ROSH ARE COMING WITH US.

Wilhelm chuckles, feeling Simon’s excitement through the messages, and writes a simple reply back.

Not even a minute later, he has an answer.

simon.eriksson: are you okay?

justawille: long day.

 simon.eriksson: you want to talk about it?

justawille: I don’t want to bother you with it.

A phone call comes through. Simon’s name blinks on the screen.

“Hey,” Wilhelm picks up.

“First of all, you’re always bothering me,” Simon greets. Wilhelm laughs at that. “Second of all, clearly, I don’t mind it because we’re still friends, so talk. I mean, if you want to.”

Wilhelm chuckles again.

“How are you, Simon?”

“Nu-uh,” the other boy says, and Wilhelm can’t help but smile wider. The sound of paper being wrinkled can be heard on the background, and when Simon speaks again, his mouth is full with something. “This isn’t about me. Talk.”

“What are you eating?” Wilhelm asks, curious.

“Ugh, Wille, it’s chips.”

“Which flavor?”

“Do I have to go to Sicily and kick your ass?” Simon asks, stuffing his hand inside the chips package again. “Can you just, like, tell me what’s up? I worry about you.”

Wilhelm’s heart skips a beat. He tells it to chill.

He doesn’t speak, which has Simon whining his name again.

“I…don’t want you to think I’m a spoiled brat,” he finally confesses in a whispered tone.

“Wille,” he can hear Simon’s frown on the other side of the line, “why would I think that?  Wait, are you upset that your parents didn’t buy you a new car?!”

“No, no!”

“Thank goodness,” Simon says with a relieved sigh, making Wilhelm chuckle weakly. When Simon speaks again, Wilhelm is sure he does with it with a smile. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to see you as a spoiled brat, Wille. You know that, right? I think I know you too well by now.”

Wilhelm’s heart makes a new appearance. He tells it to fuck off.

“So, whatever you need to get off your chest, I’m here to listen, not judge,” Simon promises.

Maybe it’s Simon’s tone of voice, soothing and friendly, or maybe it’s the Wilhelm’s own need to show Simon more of him, the one part he had yet shared with him out of fear that the other boy would see him as a spoiled privileged kid, but whatever it is, it opens a faucet in Wilhelm and he finds himself pouring out his frustrations.

“Mom and Dad are always working,” he says. “Always worrying about family business, about increasing our wealth, networking…  And sure, part of why they do it is for Erik and me, but… they don’t see us, see me for who I am. Every time mom talks to me, it’s to boss me around or to criticize something about me. ‘Cut your hair, Wilhelm’, or ‘Study more, you need to be top of your class’, or ‘why are you quitting rowing? Erik was captain of the team’.”

Wilhelm’s breathing shakes, and he touches his chest, rubbing the heaviness in it.

“Sure, I have everything I ask for,” he acknowledges. “But… all they give me is material stuff, and, sometimes, I want non-material things, you know? Like… A nice, relaxing family holiday without my parents thinking they are on a strict schedule or taking phone calls because they are afraid to lose deals. I want them to ask me about school and not about grades and extracurricular activities. I want them to know who I am, not to criticize me, but… just to love me, you know?”

Wilhelm exhales a shaky breath, rubbing harder his chest.

On the other side of the line, Simon’s breathing sounds erratic too.

“I’m sorry,” Simon says in a brokenhearted tone.

Wilhelm lets out a humorless laugh. “Why are you sorry, Simon?”

“I’m sorry for them,” he explains. “They should show you more love, Wille. You deserve to be more loved.”

Those words break and heal Wilhelm’s heart at the same time. It breaks him to have someone else acknowledging his biggest fear – that his parents should show him more love -, but it also heals him to hear those words from Simon. Simon thinks he is worthy of more love. Of being showed more love.

A tear flees his right eye and he quickly wipes it away.

“Thank you,” he whispers with a broken voice.

“And I don’t think you’re spoiled,” Simon adds. “You’re a kid, Wille, like I am. All we want is love, really.”

A broken, melancholy smile creeps up Wilhelm’s face. He feels heard and understood. That’s all he wants.

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Simon,” he confesses. Even if his stupid heart wishes they were more sometimes, wishes that Simon would one day wake up and admit to like Wilhelm as more than a friend, Wilhelm’s still glad he has this. He has Simon.

“I’m glad you’re my friend too, Wille,” Simons replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The joy that he has to have Wilhelm as his friend.  “Do you… do you want to watch something with me? There’s a movie I want to check out on Netflix. Do you… do want to keep me company?”

“On the phone?”

“We can videocall each other,” Simon suggests shyly.

Wilhelm smiles.

“That’d be great.”

***

simon.eriksson: guess what

justawille: How many guesses do I have?

simon.eriksson: one

justawille: [gif of a scandalized person] How am I supposed to get it at first?

simon.eriksson: don’t you know me by now?!

justawille: ASFJSDAIKASDL

justawille: Just tell me!

simon.eriksson: [sends photo of an opened letter]

justawille: Is that… DID YOU GET IN?

simon.eriksson: YEEEES.

justawille: [gif of people partying]

justawille: Wait, residency too?

simon.eriksson: waiting list… 😔

“Erik, Erik, Erik!” Wilhelm knocks on his brother’s door nonstop. “Erik, Erik-“

“Jesus!” Erik exclaims, swinging open his door. He looks at his younger brother as if he were a crazy man. “What’s the matter with you today? Did you drink a Redbull?”

Truly, it looks like Wilhelm is on some kind of energy drink, from the way his eyes are blown open and his feet can’t stop moving.  But it’s not an energy booster that’s making him so vibrant, it’s happiness. Doses and doses of endorphin produced by his body.

Because Simon is going to attend Hillerska next year. He will see Simon for five full days per week. Five. Days.

“I need a favor!”

Erik lifts an eyebrow. “Is it to take you to the ER to drain your stomach from whatever evil energizer you drank?”

“No!” Wilhelm makes himself stop fidgeting. “I didn’t drink a Redbull.”

“Did you take drugs?” Erik’s eyebrows raise up to this forehead.

“No!” Wilhelm puffs, annoyed. “No drugs, no energy drink, nothing! I- I need a favor.”

Erik seizes his younger brother up and down, frowning, until he accepts that all is good with Wilhelm. He steps aside to let his brother in his room. 

Wilhelm immediately takes a seat on the made bed while Erik leans against his desk, where he had been sitting in front of his laptop until his younger brother tried to knock down his door with excitement.

“So, what’s up?” He asks.

“So,” Wilhelm starts, now feeling more nervous, “I have a friend.”

Erik looks curious.

“Just a friend!” Wilhelm clarifies, but Erik’s expression doesn’t change. He sighs and decides to go for it anyway. “He and his sister applied for Hillerska scholarships. They got in, but only as non-residents for now. They are on waiting list for residency.”

Wilhelm goes quiet and flickers his edgy gaze at his brother.

“And… you want me to… do what?” Erik asks.

“Pull… a few strings?” Wilhelm asks, making a pained expression.

Erik raises an eyebrow, surprised.

“It will make their life easier,” Wilhelm jumps to explain. “They live in the town nearby, and their mom works two jobs, and if they stayed at Hillerska during the week it would be easier for all of them, and his sister… she really needs a change of air and-“

“Wille, chill,” his brother interrupts.

Erik studies him for a moment and then takes a seat on the bed.

“I’m just surprised,” Erik confesses. “You’ve never asked for this kind of favors before.” He pauses and watches how his younger brother avoids his face. “This friend of yours, they mean a lot to you, don’t they?”

Wilhelm finally looks at his brother. He sees no kind of judgment or suspicion -that perhaps Wilhelm is doing this for someone who is more than a friend - in Erik’s’ eyes, only understanding and compassion. He nods, confirming.

Erik nods too, making up his mind.

“Very well then. I’ll call the principal today.”

***

simon.eriksson: wilhelm?

justawille: Simon?

A videocall request comes through. Wilhelm accepts and immediately smiles as Simon’s tanned face and wild curls appear on the screen.

“Hey you!”

But his friend is looking a bit suspicious as he stares at Wilhelm through the phone screen.

“Is everything okay?” Wilhelm asks, concerned.

“Mom just got a phone call,” Simon says. “From Hillerska principal.”

Wilhelm realizes where this is headed. He fidgets with his left hand, inwardly panicking.

“And?”

“Sara and I got the residency scholarships,” Simon announces, still frowning.

“Congrats?” Wilhelm says unsure.

Simon watches him.

“Wilhelm?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you make this happen?”

Wilhelm freezes.

“And,” Simon keeps going, “don’t you dare to lie.”

“I… might have asked my brother for a favor?” Wilhelm confesses, still afraid.

Simon’s face is voided of any kind of emotion. He looks away from the screen and, in the background, Wilhelm can see yellow lights from Simon’s fish tank.

When Simon looks back at the camera, his eyes are full of guardedness. Not a good sign.

“You didn’t have to,” he says.  “What if we took those spots from someone who needed them?”

“Like who, Simon?” Wilhelm asks. “Rich kids who can afford their spots?”

“People who need the scholarships.”

“You need it.”

“Yes, but-“ Simon cuts himself off, shaking his head. “It’s feels unfair.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm says, meaning it. “I… I just really wanted you there. With me.”

Simon watches him, and Wilhelm can’t tell what emotion is playing behind his eyes. What is going on in his mind?

Finally, Simon sighs.

“Sara is so happy,” he admits.

Hope peeks through Wilhelm’s fear.

“Yeah?”

Simon gives him a small smile.

“She is already packing,” he says with a fond roll of eyes. “Like, we don’t leave for three weeks.”

Wilhelm lets out a hesitant chuckle.

“She’s already dreaming of it,” Simon goes on. He pauses, glances at Wilhelm and confesses, “Me too, if I’m honest.”

Wilhelm’s heart reacts to the blushing cheeks on Simon’s face.

“You are?”

Simon looks around, as if to convince himself that it is okay to feel happy about the situation, a small smile escaping his lips.

“I mean, yeah. Sara’s happy. Moms’ relieved and…” He looks at Wilhelm through the screen, his expression suddenly serious. “And… I can’t wait to see you every day, Wille.”

Wilhelm’s sure his heart just did a triple jump in his chest. He can’t help the huge smile that spreads across his face. Simon sees the smile and cracks up, still blushing. Still so beautiful.

In Wilhelm’s head, a countdown begins. Three weeks.

In three weeks, he will see Simon every day. He will go to classes with Simon, have meals with Simon, study at workies with him and share a dorm with him. Movie nights. Study nights. All of it. For five days a week, he will have Simon within a hand’s reach.

He could combust with happiness.

Simon will be a physical presence in his life.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm takes in the familiar scent of Hillerska outskirts with a deep, down-to-his-gut inhale, and thinks, this is going to be a good year.

As he makes his way to the old stone structure at the far end of the school’s property, the woodsy fragrance of the Hillerska forest blends with the strong perfumes of the teenagers gathering around the outside of the church.

The quietness of summer, the lingering memory of a huge mansion and two brothers enjoying each other’s company, has now dissipated into the loud, excited voices of his classmates. The new first years glance around nervously. The new second years greet their classmates with relaxed handshakes and hugs, and the new third years look down at the rest, conspiring between them, thankfully, with no real malice in their eyes.

Wilhelm finds Felice in the crowd, among the choir members. She waves at him.

Coming to Hillerska, this time around, has been a blessing. Knowing that idiots like August, who is now enrolled at a German university taking a management course, or Vincent, who is on a gap year in America, are no longer at school gives him a deep sense of relief and hope. Hope that this year is going to be a good year.

As far as he knows, no one from the previous third year stuck around as a repentant. Nils, with whom Wilhelm recently went out for a coffee as friends, is volunteering in Africa for the next six months, and Marcus, he found out through an Instagram post, is taking a veterinary course at Stockholm university.

Another good thing about this year is that Wilhelm won’t be rejoining the rowing team. Even if that was on the table for a total of five seconds, when his parents brought it up over dinner a couple nights ago, it was completely wiped away when Erik said, “Wilhelm will do whatever he wants to. It’s his high school experience.”

But the best part of this year, the one that truly, deeply makes him want to scream at the top of his lungs this is going to be the best year, is, without a doubt, Simon.

Simon is a Hillerska student now. He has a red uniform just like Wilhelm. He has the same schedule just like Wilhelm. And, not only is he in in the same dorm as Wilhelm, but he is also his roommate.

No, Wilhelm didn’t make that happen. Simon made sure to double check once the boys got their Forest Ridge informative letters and called each other to share their room information.

“This one was the universe,” Wilhelm joked and Simon laughed.

So yes, it’s going to be a good year.

“Hey you,” Simon greets, coming up from behind him, in a beautiful red uniform. It looks so much better on him that it does on Wilhelm.  

Simon tries to put an arm around Wilhelm’s shoulders, but due to Wilhelm’s growth spurt during the summer, he can’t reach them. His arm ends up around Wilhelm’s upper arms.

Simon makes an unpleased face. “You’re forbidden to grow next summer.”

“I’ll try my best,” Wilhelm laughs.

They walk into the small church, where the welcoming ceremony is scheduled to begin soon. The choir will sing the school’s anthem followed by the principal’s welcoming speech.

Simon, who is thinking of joining the choir, is shaking with excitement at the prospect of seeing them perform today. He could have already signed in, which is something Wilhelm has pointed out for him, but Simon wants to start classes first to see if he can keep up with the curriculum here before signing up for any extracurricular activity. He has also given up his part-time job at the store now that he is residential student at Hillerska. He saved up during the summer so that he could pay for small things during the year and maybe, just maybe, next summer, he will ask for his job again.  If he doesn’t get it, he’ll ask around town.

Someone will give him a job, right?

Simon, it turns out, can be an overthinker just like Wilhelm.  But unlike Wilhelm, when Simon overthinks, he needs to deconstruct his process of thinking out loud, which Wilhelm found out recently as he became the person Simon calls to rant about stuff.

No complaints on his part, though. He loves to hear Simon rant.

They find Sara on the second row on the left side of the church. She waves at them, having saved two seats for them.

“Here we have a good view to the choir,” she says as they sit. “Felice showed me earlier.”

Felice and Sara are not roommates, but do share a wall between them. Felice’s still rooming with Madison and Sara shares a room with a girl named Claire, if Wilhelm remembers correctly. She says that the girl praised her horse stuffed animal when she saw it, so she is cool.

The choir comes in and Wilhelm can’t help but notice Simon’s eyes twinkling at the sight of them. And when they begin to sing, Simon’s body trembles in enthusiasm, making the taller boy smile to himself.

This year is going to be amazing.

He and Simon had their first night together as roommates last night. They already made the rooms theirs, dividing the wardrobe fairly and putting posters on the walls. The posters were Simon’s idea. He brought a couple of them for Wilhelm after he asked if he had any of his own. When Wilhelm said no, Simon took the matter into his own hands. He printed three memes in poster paper and surprised Wilhelm with them.  They now hang above Wilhelm’s bed, and it’s one of the first sights Wilhelm has when he wakes up in the morning.

His favorite sight, thought, is Simon’s messy curls as he rises from the bed, still half-sleeping, eyes barely open, and letting out a grunting noise instead of a perceptible good morning. Wilhelm loves it. 

They’ve also promised to sit next to each other in all classes. Take breaks together. Go for runs together.

“You’ll be sick of me by the end of the year,” Simon joked last night, stretched out on his bed.

Wilhelm smiled at him and said, “Never.”

The principal gives her speech. She is a tiny lady with gentle eyes and a warm smile, and the words she proclaims are of welcoming and appreciation. The freedom she gives students at Hillerska isn’t found in many places, and all she asks in return is that they stay good and study hard.

“She’s nice,” Simon suddenly whispers in his left ear.

The hairs on Wilhelm’s skin rise up under the warm heat of Simon’s breath, and his body jitters.

“Yes,” he agrees, clearing his throat. He scratches the left side of his neck.

“She’s the one your brother talked to?” Simon asks, a bit further away from his neck now.

Wilhelm glances at him, finding an amusement grin on Simon’s face. His lips stretch out in an unwanted smile.

“Yes, she is,” he confirms.

“I need to thank her then.”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes at the teasing tone on Simon’s voice.

“You need to thank my brother,” he whispers back.

“Can you get me his number?” Simon teases. “I bet he’s more adorable than you in the morning.”

Wilhelm narrows his eyes at Simon, who swallows a satisfied laugh and looks at his feet, shoulders shaking in humor. Sara sends them both a glare.

Wilhelm leans closer, with a devilish plan swirling in the back of his mind, and whispers on Simon’s ear, “I’ll show you adorableness, Eriksson.”

Simon’s body unexpectedly freezes. His dark brown eyes, set on something ahead of him, widen just slightly, his mouth falling open with a reply that doesn’t leave his tongue.

Wilhelm straightens his back, suddenly worried he has said something wrong.

He opens his mouth to ask if Simon is okay when the rumbling of people standing up resonances on the church’s walls.

Simon jumps out of his seat.

“Let’s go? I’m starving.”

Wilhelm frowns, looks him up and down, and nods. “Sure, let’s go.”

Felice joins them a bit later at the school’s cafeteria and drops a bunch of papers in front of Simon before taking a seat between Wilhelm and Sara.

Simon sends her a questioning look.

“The chords for the school’s anthem. You should practice. Tryouts are in two days,” Felice explains as she notices a plastic blue box with cookies laying on the table and snatches one.

“Hey!” Wilhelm complains, bringing the Tupperware container closer to him. “Those are mine!”

Felice raises an eyebrow, chewing slowly.

“Since when do you bake?” She asks.

“I don’t,” he says embarrassed.

“Your mom did?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “Felice, don’t be naïve.”

“It was our mom,” Sara intervenes, not raising her head from the horse magazine she has been reading since they sat down. “She made them for Wille,” she adds the information nonchalantly.

Felice’s gaze turns back to Wilhelm, firing a silent question at him.

“They are my favorite,” he mumbles, keeping the container close to his chest.

Simon chuckles and pats his arm.

“How come I don’t get cookies?” Felice turns back to Sara.

“Why would I ask my mom to bake cookies for you, Felice?” Sara frowns.

“She baked for Wille!” Felice points to the container.

“Because Simon asked,” Sara remarks.

Felice turns to Simon, who lifts his hands in surrender even before the fight begins, and presses her lips together.

“Hum, I should have befriended Simon instead.” She eyes Sara through the corner of her eyes. “He brings his friends cookies.”

Sara rolls her eyes.

“He only does it for Wille.”

Felice’s curious gaze falls on Wilhelm now, an eyebrow raised, and he has the decency to blush and look down at the beautiful chocolate cookies that his friend had brought him last night. If his heart swooned at the sight of homemade cookies baked especially for him by Simon’s mom, at the request of Simon, no one needs to know.

Before the silence stretches out for too long, Sara exhales exasperated. “Fine.” She stands up and offers a hand to Felice. “I’ll buy you a chocolate.”

Felice smiles, surprised, and accepts her hand, standing.

“You don’t need to buy it, though,” she says as the girls walk away. “I’ll get it for us.”

Wilhelm watches them go and then turns to Simon, who he finds typing on his phone with a small wrinkle between his eyebrows and pink cheeks.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Huh?” Simon looks up and blinks. The remains of his blush completely disappear as he clears his throat. “Yes, just texting Ayub and Rosh.”

For some reason, Wilhelm senses that Simon didn’t tell him the whole truth.

***

Life at Hillerska as a second year is so much better than as a first year.

And all because Wilhelm now has Simon by his side.

At the beginning of the year, the boys at Forest Ridge House tried to pull an initiation prank on Simon, but Wilhelm stopped them, knowing very well that Simon wouldn’t be happy with it. They still hosted a party at the Palace in which a blindfolded Simon was forced to touch his classmates’ faces and figured out who they were.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he only got Wilhelm right.

“They have stupid ideas,” Simon pointed out as he and a tipsy Wilhelm, who only agreed to drink three shots with Felice that night, made their way back to the dorms at two am. “I only know you. How was I supposed to get the rest of them right?”

Wilhelm shrugged. “I never told you they were smart, only that they were rich.”

Simon chuckled and playfully shoved Wilhelm.

Simon tried out for the choir and got in (as if that wasn’t obvious). When he came back from the tryouts, he looked like a little kid who was just told he was going to an amusement park. Wilhelm’s heart took one look at those excited, blown brown eyes of Simon, at the large, over-the-moon smile playing on his lips, and almost jumped out of Wilhelm’s chest to ambush Simon into a squeezing embrace.

Wilhelm made himself take a five-minute break in the bathroom.

Simon now has rehearsals every Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and so Wilhelm takes on horse riding with Sara at the same time.

Wilhelm finds himself getting closer to Sara as the time they spend together helps him understanding better how she thinks and expresses herself. Sometimes he thinks he can read her silence too.

“She’s comfortable with you,” Simon says one night as they watch The Office together. They began season one on the first week of classes and, one month later, are halfway through season three. “And with Felice. She’s also getting along with her roommate, Claire. Have you met Claire?”

Wilhelm shakes his head, distracted by Michael’s antics on the screen. “I don’t think so. She’s a first year, right?”

“Yeah. She’s in the choir too. She has a nice voice.”

“Bet it’s not nicer than yours. No voice is nicer than yours,” Wilhelm comments, and then snorts at the scene happening on the episode.

When Wilhelm realizes Simon hasn’t spoken again, he glances at his friend. He finds Simon smiling to himself, barely paying attention to the episode.

“What’s up?” Wilhelm asks, confused.

Simon glances at him, shy. “You think I’ve got the nicest voice?”

Wilhelm frowns slightly at Simon’s shyness, and then rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “Of course, I do, Simon.”

Simon tries to act tough on the outside, but Wilhelm knows him too well by now, and knows how much the boy sometimes enjoys flattery. It boosts his confidence, which Simon should have tons of because, come on, have you seen Simon? Wilhelm’s stupid heart hasn’t got over him for a reason.  

It doesn’t take long for people to realize that Simon and Wilhelm are a package deal. They study together, eat meals together, are paired up for projects together. Wherever you see one, you see the other. Wilhelm swears he has never been happier.

Wilhelm’s friends (if he could call them that), like Henry and Walter, slowly become Simon’s too. Or at least, they make sure the boy doesn’t feel excluded in any conversation. At first Walter tried to take a teasing approach on Simon, see if he finally got rid of the position of the one who is always tormented, but he was quickly cut off by the boy himself. When Wilhelm backed him up, Walter understood that Simon was not to be messed with.

On the weekends, Simon and Sara always make sure to go home. It’s the only time he and Wilhelm are apart.

Wilhelm saves the Fridays nights for Felice. They order takeout and watch romcoms. Sometimes Madison joins them.  On Saturdays, he goes for a run with Henry in the mornings, plays chess with Alexander in the afternoon and videocalls Erik at night.

“How’s school?” Erik asks him on a Saturday midway through October.

“Fine. Got a bunch of exams and presentations coming up.”

“I assume there’s a party happening any day now,” Erik jokes.

“Yeah, I think the third years are planning something…”

Wilhelm drifts off, realizing something.

It’s been a year since he first saw Simon.

A year since he took one look at those soft curls, at that alluring smile and lively brown eyes and thought, that’s the most beautiful boy I ever seen.

A year of having Simon in his life, of battling to have Simon as a friend and not a stranger. A friend he holds so dearly in his heart. Because Simon has become someone he can count on. A rock in his life, just like Felice and Erik are.

Never mind the immediate attraction he felt, Wilhelm’s glad of what he has with Simon. He wouldn’t change it for anything in this world.

Unless, you know, it was more than a friend-

Shut up.

“Wille?” His brother sing-calls.

Wilhelm blinks, snapping out of his thoughts.

Erik chuckles.

“Where did you go?”

“Just… thought of something.”

“That crush of yours?” Erik teases. Because he has gotten into his head that his younger brother has a crush on someone and won’t let it go until he cracks him.

Wilhelm blushes at the same time he refutes, for the hundredth time, “There’s no crush, Erik!”

His older brother rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Just keep pretending there’s no crush then. But hey,” Erik gives him a pointed look, “I will be here when you want to talk about it.”

“Whatever,” Wilhelm mutters.

“I mean,” Erik decides to keep going and Wilhelm groans, “even if it is a boy, you know it’s fine, right? Nils was fine, and whoever you like now is fine too. And you don’t need to keep it on the low now that August isn’t there.”

Wilhelm frowns.

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, I know he used to bother you a lot, Wille. That’s why you were so embarrassed about what happened with Nils last year, right?” Erik asks.

“August never bothered me about that,” Wilhelm says. Although it was odd how quickly August had dismissed the situation. Even promised not to talk about it.

Now that Wilhelm thinks about it, August had said something odd. Something along the lines my job here is done; almost as if someone had made him do it.

Wilhelm stares at his brother through the phone screen. Erik blinks at him, confused.

“Did you… did you talk to August back then?” Wilhelm asks.

“Yeah,” Erik confirms. “I thought you knew that?”

“If I did, wouldn’t I have said something about it earlier, Erik?” Wilhelm answers, rolling his eyes. “Why did you do it?”

Erik frowns. “To… protect you? You clearly weren’t ready for people to know, Wille.”

His brother is right. And, deep down, it warms Wilhelm’s chest to know that his brother cares so deeply about him. Not that he needed any evidence. Erik has been the one there for him all his life.

“Thank you,” Wilhelm says.

“I didn’t do it for a thank you, Wille,” Erik dismisses it with a soft brotherly smile. “I did it because you wanted privacy. And I understand if you still do, okay? All I’m saying is that, you know, I’m here for you. Whether you like a girl, a boy, or… a doll?”

“A doll?!”

“I saw something on TLC yesterday and let me tell you, there are… weird people out there in this world.”

Wilhelm laughs. “Oh my God, Erik. You’re an idiot.”

“At least I’m not in love with a doll,” he points out, cracking Wilhelm up again.  “No, seriously, watch it.”

When Simon comes back from his weekend, he finds Wilhelm entranced by a TLC show about strange addictions, having gone down on a spiral of TLC shows from the entire Sunday.

Simon stumbles upon him covered from head to toes in a blanket and the remains of takeout food and empty soda cans scattered around the bed.  

“Did you leave your bed at all?” Simon asks with a snort.

“Yes. I had to pee.”

“Thank God you didn’t use the bed for that.”

Wilhelm throws him a ball of aluminum where his burger had come wrapped in, which Simon deflects from, laughing. He puts his bag on his made bed and goes to open the room’s window.

“It smells like a really fun Sunday in here,” he jokes.

“I needed a me-day, Simon.”

“I’m not judging,” his friend says, taking a closer step to Wilhelm’s bed. He moves some of the trash around and takes a seat next to Wilhelm. He leans closer and sniffs him. “All I’m saying is that you need a bath.”

Wilhelm flickers an unhated glare.

Simon pouts. “Please? For me?”

“After this episode.”

“As you wish, milord.”

“Shut up.”

***

Miss Ramirez announces a group presentation for Spanish class and the classes groans in unison. Except for Simon and Sara, who have been speaking Spanish since they were little, and Wilhelm, who turns to Simon with an expectant glint in his eyes.

“Yes, you can be in my group, Wille,” Simon snorts.

They also take in Alexander as the third member.

After Spanish, they have a break and Simon says he’s going back to the dorm to pick a warmer sweatshirt.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Wilhelm suggests. It wouldn’t be the first time Simon wore one of his sweatshirts or t-shirts. In fact, the one that Simon is currently wearing to sleep in belongs to Wilhelm.

Simon, distracted by his phone, says, “Hum, no. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in five.”  

He throws a quick smile at Wilhelm before walking, glued to his phone and not watching where he is headed. He almost bumps against a couple of first years and apologizes immediately.

One of them, a blonde curly-haired girl, says something to him and pats his arm, as if they are old acquaintances. Wilhelm frowns. He’s sure he hasn’t seen her around, and he is pretty much always with Simon. How come she knows him and he doesn’t?

The two first years come Wilhelm’s way. He does a double check on the blonde one. The girl notices him, a hint of recognition tinkles in her eyes, and smiles shyly at him.

Wilhelm unconsciously smiles back and the girl passes by him. He blinks, confused.

“Hey you,” Felice greets, showing up on his left. “What’s up?”

Wilhelm looks behind his shoulder, trying to find the girls that have just walked by, and, upon finding them, now talking to a third girl, he nods at them.

“Who’s the blonde one?” He asks.

Felice looks the way he motions.

“That’s Claire, Sara’s roommate. Why?”

Wilhelm shrugs. “It looked like she recognized me. I don’t remember her.”

Felice snorts and grabs his arm, pulling him away. “Seriously? You talked to her on Simon’s initiation party.”

“I talked to a lot of people that night, Felice.”

Felice rolls her eyes.

“Where’re you ahead?” She asks him.

“I got get my English notebook. Then, a walk outside.” He glances at her. “Wanna join me?”

Felice smiles. “Sure.”

They stop by Wilhelm’s locker. He puts away his Spanish book and gets the English one out. Then, linking arms with Felice again, they leave the lockers’ hallway.

“Do you have any suggestions for tomorrow’s movie?” Felice asks as they step outside.

“Hum, didn’t I pick last week? It’s your tun this week.”

“But I’m out of ideas,” she whines.

“That’s not my problem,” Wilhelm teases.

 Felice makes a pleading face. “Please help your dear friend, Wille. Please, please.”

“If not,” an evil sparkle suddenly lights up her eyes, “I’ll choose Mamma Mia 2 again.”

“Not Mamma Mia 2!” Wilhelm groans.

“I don’t know what you have against that movie,” Felice laughs.

“It shouldn’t exist!” Wilhelm complains. “Mamma Mia 1 was perfect on its own. Meryl Streep did a hell of a job in it, and what happens to her in the second movie is rude and-“

Wilhelm’s rant is cut short as something catches his attention. From the other side of the counter yard, Simon flees out of the Forest Ridge House, pulling on his black winter coat, a dark green beanie covering his curls, and marches away from the building with a pissed face. One that Wilhelm’s not sure he has yet seen on Simon.

Simon has different pissed-off faces. When someone he doesn’t like says something he disagrees. When someone he likes says something that upsets him but he tries not to show it. When he sees something that he doesn’t approve of but knows can’t interfere. When he pretends to be pissed. So many different faces. Wilhelm was sure he knew them all, but this one… So serious, so wary at the same time, is new.

“Where’s Simon going?” Felice wonders, worried.

“I-“ Wilhelm has no idea. He glances at Felice. “Can you-“ He pushes his book onto her hands. “Please. I’ll-“

“Go, go,” Felice encourages, taking his book.

“Thank you,” he says, grateful.

Wilhelm runs after Simon, who is now halfway down the Hillerska gardens, and clearly making his way to the cemented path that takes him out of the school’s perimeters.

Wilhelm calls out for him, but the boy doesn’t turn around. Wilhelm curses and speeds up.

He manages to catch up with Simon as the boy makes it out of the iron gates of Hillerska.

“Hey, hey.” Wilhelm grabs Simon’s arms to stop him. Simon halts and glares at him. “What’s wrong?” He asks, worried.

“Nothing,” Simon retorts, shoving Wilhelm’s hand out of the way and walking away.

Wilhelm follows him.

“Simon, come on. Something’s up.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Simon-“

“It’s none of your business!” Simon shouts, turning around unexpectedly.

Wilhelm halts.

“Simon,” he says, hurt.

Simon looks away. His jaw tick as he tries to push away the anger and the embarrassment of having shouted at Wilhelm.

Wilhelm says nothing, just waits.

Simon finally looks at him, this time sorrowful.

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he says. His hands jerk in a nervous tick. He hides them in his jacket’s pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on, Simon?” Wilhelm asks, worried. “I just want to help.”

Simon closes his eyes, in pain, and shakes his head.  

“I need to get to my mom, Wille,” Simon finally says, distressed. He opens his eyes. “My… my dad visited her today at work. If he is daring to get closer to her again, I- It means he’s desperate.”

Wilhelm’s first reaction is to blink, confused. He knows Simon’s dad is not in the picture, left a long time ago, but Simon never told him why. Never told him how bad things with his dad went.

Wilhelm takes a step closer to Simon, tries to reach out for his arm, to give him any kind of comfort, but his hand flatters down, worried it’s too much.

Simon looks away as he continues to speak.

“He’s a drug addict and alcoholic,” he says, the shame in his voice palpable. “It was really hard to live with him, but mom couldn’t just walk away or we would lose everything. He was… angry a lot, especially when he was going through withdrawal.”

Simon lets out a scared breath, almost as if he is reliving his childhood again. And the fear of reliving it, of having to go through with it again, scares him still. Wilhelm’s hand aches to comfort him.

“Did he…” Wilhelm’s voice falters halfway through the question, already upset about what the answer will be. “…ever hit you?”

Simon hesitates, stuck on a memory, and nods. Wilhelm’s heart breaks.

“Once,” Simon says. “He was pushing Sara too hard, saying she could be normal if she wanted to.” He shakes his head. “He was completely high, out of him. Sara was crying and I stepped in. He hit me.”

Simon’s eyes dart to the floor, in shame. But he has nothing to be shamed for. It isn’t his fault, it never was.

 “Mom left him the next day,” he tells. “He… he was so embarrassed, I guess, that he allowed her to take us, full custody, and have the house. He stepped back. Never bothered mom again.”

“But now,” Simon goes on, finally allowing Wilhelm to see the unshed tears bottling in his eyes, “he is. He visited mom at work. That can only mean he is desperate for money. He must have known Sara and I are no longer at home. He… he thinks mom is alone and- It’s our fault. We’re here and she’s alone and he dared to go visit her and-“

“Simon, Simon,” Wilhelm finally steps in, reaching to touch the other boy’s arms. He squeezes his arms in a reassurance. “Breathe.”

Simon takes a shaky exhale. Wilhelm encourages him to keep going.

It is only when Simon’s breathing slows down and his body relaxes under his hand that Wilhelm dares to speak again.

“I’m coming with you.”

Simon opens his mouth to fight back, but Wilhelm interrupts, “Please.”

 He eyes Simon with desperation. He needs to be there for him; needs to be his rock as much as Simon is his.

“I mean, if you really don’t want me to go, I won’t,” he says. “But… Simon, I really want to be there for you. If you let me.”

It takes Simon a couple of seconds to nod, agreeing.

Wilhelm, in desperate need to comfort Simon, to show him he is not alone, allows his hand to travel south on Simon’s arm until it reaches his hand. He grabs it and pulls the other boy.

“Come,” he says softly. “Let’s grab the bus.”

They take the seats in the back of the bus, away from the few other commuters already in it. Simon sits by the window and immediately leans his forehead against the cold glass, looking outside.  

Wilhelm sees (and is sure he feels it too, emanating from Simon’s body) how low on energy Simon is right now. Not tired as if he needs to sleep, not exhausted as if he has just worked out to his limits, but more like defeated; like life has vanished from his body, and he slumps back on the seat, trying to gather as much strength as he physically can after the burst of panic energy he just dealt with.

Wilhelm glances down at Simon’s hands. The boy’s gripping his own fingers, twisting them absently; surely hurting himself by doing it.

Wilhelm dares to reach out to him. Touch his hand again, making him stop.

 Feeling something tugging his fingers has Simon raising his head at Wilhelm, his eyes voided of any kind of feeling.   

“You can rest on me if you need to,” Wilhelm offers.

Simon hesitates, eyes flickering to Wilhelm’s shoulder, and then slowly, almost as if he is struggling to move, rests his head on Wilhelm, pressing their legs together.

When Wilhelm presses back, he lets out a relieved sigh. Wilhelm feels himself relaxing too.

Simon’s hand, which Wilhelm is still holding with a loose grip, turns around. Palm against palm, Simon’s fingers intertwined with Wilhelm, whose selfish heart beats fast, hopeful for something when it’s so obvious that all Simon needs right now is a friendly shoulder.

They don’t move for the rest of the ride.

They get to the Eriksson’s household a bit past five.  When they walk in, Simon goes straight to the living-room, from where TV sounds echo from.  His mom is on the sofa, holding a cup of warm tea in her hands, as she watches the news.

Linda’s eyes lift from the TV as her son enters the room, Wilhelm following behind as a ghost.

“Simon,” Linda says with a warm smile.

Simon flees to his mom’s side and hugs her.

Linda pats his curls and kisses his head. “I’m okay, cariño. You shouldn’t have come. He didn’t do anything.”

“What did he do?!” Simon asks, pulling back to look at his mom’s face.

“Nothing. He… He just wanted some money-“

“I knew it.”

“Simon,” his mom sighs. “It’s fine. I told him no and he went away.”

“What if he comes back?”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?” Simon asks, his voice angrier.

“Simon,” his mom says, more exasperated now. She touches his curls, patting his head again. “I’ll call the police if he dares to show up again. I promise. But all is fine. Your dad knows not to come near us.”

“But-“

“I’m fine, cariño. Please tell me you didn’t worry your sister.”

Simon shakes his head. Linda sighs, relieved.

“But she has to know,” Simon pushes. “What if he bothers her?”

“Your father knows not to go near you two, ever.” Linda’s voice is the firmest Wilhelm has ever heard. “I will not hesitate on calling the police if he does.”

For a fleeting moment, Wilhelm sees a resemblance between Linda’s protective posture and his mother’s rigid posture.  They would do everything to protect their families, but Linda is actually concerned for her children’s safety while his mother is worried about public image.

Still, there’s something there. And it makes Wilhelm almost wonder how further his own mother would go to protect Erik and him.

Linda’s eyes finally fall on Wilhelm’s frozen figure by the door. She gives him a kind smile.

“How are you, Wille?”

“I’m good, Linda, and you?” He asks politely.

She nods, smiling.

“Are you boys staying for dinner?”

Wilhelm looks at Simon, who in turn looks at his mom before nodding.

“And overnight too,” Simon adds. “In case he shows up.”

Linda rolls her eyes fondly, pats her son’s shoulder and stands up, saying, “Vale, vale. Does empanadas sound good for both of you?”

Wilhelm nods without being sure what he is agreeing to.

Simon looks at him over his shoulder and almost smiles, seeing his overpolite face.

“You’ve no idea what empanadas are, do you?” He asks, a line of playfulness incorporated in this voice.

“I have…some idea. Never tried one before.”

“You’ll like them.”

“I believe you.”

Simon seizes Wilhelm up and down, making the other boy feel self-conscious. He then stands up and comes towards him.

“You don’t mind, do you? To stay overnight?” Simon confirms, worried.

Wilhelm shakes his head. Simon’s shoulders relax.

“You just… need to lend me some stuff, if that’s okay?” Wilhelm asks.

Simon chuckles. “Yes, of course.”

They help Linda with dinner and then eat it in front of the TV while watching a game show. Wilhelm can’t help but notice the glances Simon sends his mom’s way, almost as if he worries that she’ll disappear if he doesn’t check every minute.  Not knowing how else to help, Wilhelm playfully kicks Simon’s Achille’s heel before wrapping his ankle around Simon’s, pressing their feet together.

Simon relaxes against him.

Afterward the boys clean up together, Simon shooing his mom away from the kitchen. He doesn’t shoo Wilhelm away because the boy stands his ground, saying, “Shut up, I’m helping you.”

They clean in silence, Wilhelm washing the dishes while Simon dries them up. They work well together, in sync, and when their eyes meet, as Wilhelm offers a clean plate or silverware for Simon to dry, they share a knowing smile. Sometimes, Simon knocks against his side and Wilhelm knocks back, telling him he’s there for him; for good or for worse.

He hopes Simon gets it.

“You boys want my help to set up the mattress on the floor?” Linda asks, when they are almost done cleaning, from the kitchen’s doorway.

“No, we’re good, mama.” Simon puts down the plate he is cleaning and walks up to his mom to kiss her goodnight. “Wille and I have it under control. Right, Wille?” He says from over his shoulder.

“Right, Simon!”

Linda smiles dearly at them, wishes them goodnight and goes to lie down.

Once they finish in the kitchen, they move to Simon’s bedroom.

“I can get you some pajamas, a toothbrush and… Anything else?” Simon asks, opening one of his drawers.

“Pajamas and toothbrush sound good,” Wilhelm replies, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Where do you have the mattress? I can start setting it up.”

“Oh, I’ll get it. Don’t worry. Here,” Simon gives him a pair of dark blue pajamas. “Toothbrushes are under the sink. You can pick one from the box.”

“Thanks.”

Wilhelm uses the time alone in the bathroom to take deep breaths, counting down from ten slowly. He is fine, honestly. He is just… bursting with anticipation.

They are roommates at Hillerska, sure, but the room there is as much Wilhelm’s as it is Simon’s. Here it isn’t. Here Wilhelm has been invited by Simon into his private space. And not to play videogames or watch movies like they have done before, but to sleep (even if it is on separate beds). He doesn’t know why the prospect of spending the night in Simon’s room is giving him such nervous jitters, but here they are.

When Wilhelm returns to the room, after calming himself down, he stumbles upon a single inflatable mattress on the floor and no Simon.

He places his folded clothes on the gaming chair’s seat and sits at the end of Simon’s bed, the perfect spot to reach the fish tank. He presses a finger on the clean glass, watching the three little fishes swim around. The most orange one, Felle, swims towards him and almost touches the tip of Wilhelm’s finger through the glass. He smiles.

“It’s like he knows.”

Wilhelm almost jumps at the sound of someone’s voice.  

Simon, who’s already in his pajamas, cracks a small laugh as he comes into the room, holding a set of fresh sheets and dark orange cover.  

“Who knows?” Wilhelm asks and stands up to help Simon make the bed on the floor.

“Felle,” Simon answers. “That’s the most orange one, right?”

Wilhelm smiles proudly.

“Yes. That’s my boy.”

Simon rolls his eyes, but a smile still escapes his lips.

They fix Wilhelm’s bed together.

While Simon goes to the bathroom, Wilhelm gets himself comfortable on the inflatable mattress, checking the pending messages on his phone. One from his brother, asking if they are going to videocall tomorrow night, and two from Felice, asking if Simon’s okay and then saying she is worried because Sara doesn’t know what’s going on either. Wilhelm replies to his brother with a yes and tells Felice that Simon’s fine and they’ll talk tomorrow.

“Are you going to tell Sara?” Wilhelm asks once Simon is back in the room.

Simon lingers by the door, taking in the question, and nods. He closes the door behind him and moves to the bed.

“Tomorrow. I know mom doesn’t want to, but I have to tell Sara. She’ll be mad at me if I don’t,” he says after getting under the sheets. He lies on his side to face Wilhelm on the floor.

“How are you feeling?” Wilhelm asks, turning to his side to face Simon back.

Simon worries at his bottom lip.

“I’m better now,” he answers. “But still upset.”

Wilhelm nods, understanding.

“He…”  Simon hesitates, lips trembling. “He could have hurt mama.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, Simon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, his body shuddering along with it, as if he is trying to expel the fear those words provoked out of him. 

Wilhelm’s hand acts on impulse, grabbing onto the edge of Simon’s bed, closer to where the boy’s hands are tightly wrapped around the sheet. An offer if Simon wishes to take.

“Simon, she’s fine,” he whispers.

Simon opens his eyes, first zooming in on Wilhelm’s face, and then on the hand on his bed.  One of his hands lets go of the sheet and reaches out, the tips of his fingers a feather touch on the back of Wilhelm’s hand. 

Wilhelm catches his breath, the softness of Simon’s touch erupting something inside of him he wishes it didn’t.  

Simon’s fingers move more bravely, slide down the back of Wilhelm’s hand and onto his stretched-out fingers. He opens them up, caresses them gently, almost religiously, while Wilhelm watches it all in dead silence, his heart beating fast.

Slowly, Simon intertwines their fingers together. Then he says, in the quietest voice possible, “Could you come up here?”

Wilhelm’s brain takes a second to process the question.

When it does, he almost asks Simon if he is sure. They have never shared a bed before.

But he stops himself from talking, afraid that if he does it, if he asks Simon to double check what he has just asked of him, that Simon will pull away and Wilhelm will lose an opportunity to be closer to the boy.

So, Wilhelm nods.

As he sits up, Simon opens space on his bed by sliding back until he almost touches the wall behind him.

With sweaty hands and a euphoric heart, Wilhelm crawls into bed with Simon.

They move around, pulling the sheets over them, trying to fit together without being awkward, until they finally settle in. They end up sharing the same pillow, lying face to face.

Wilhelm watches Simon as Simon watches him in a silence so quiet that Wilhelm is sure that it is possible to hear how fast his heart is beating.

Simon’s hand moves toward Wilhelm, then halts, and lies on the bed between them.

 “I’m sorry,” the boy mutters, his eyes never leaving Wilhelm.

“For what?” Wilhelm asks softly.

“I wish you didn’t have to know about this,” Simon confesses.

“No family is perfect, Simon.”

Simon’s glassy eyes flicker away for a second before coming back to him. Only him.  He has been on the receiving end of Simon’s beautiful brown eyes many times before, but not this close, not this intimately.

“When was the last time your parents talked to you?” Simon asks in a whisper.

“A few days before I came back to Hillerska,” Wilhelm confesses, and then shakes his head. “But this isn’t about me, Simon. I-“

Simon’s hand reaches out and grips the front of Wilhelm’s t-shirt, making him freeze mid-sentence.  

“Please,” he begs.

And Wilhelm understands what Simon wants; what he needs from him. He needs Wilhelm to take his mind off his own problems. Off his own vulnerability.

So, Wilhelm, who could never deny Simon, starts talking.

He tells Simon about the extravagant birthday parties that his parents threw him when he was a kid as an excuse to have unofficial business meetings with his friends’ parents. The social events he was forced to attend with his brother to network for his parents. The desire to not be involved in the family business, but when he first brought it up, his mother grounded him, and then enrolled him at Hillerska.

He tells him about his parents and Felice’s mom trying to set them up. About Felice’s crush on him and how they drifted apart from a year after she came clean about it. How lonely eh felt then. How lonely he sometimes feels, only having his brother to fully understand him.

Then comes the guilt. The guilt he sinks into when he thanks the universe for having Erik come first. Erik who is much stronger than him.

He tells Simon how his parents demand much more from Erik than they do from him, and how he feels relieved for not having that kind of attention and pressure from than and his brother does.  Because Wilhelm knows his brother can take it. He couldn’t. He’s too weak.

“You’re stronger than you think, Wille,” Simon says, gentle fingers rubbing Wilhelm’s chest over the thin t-shirt.

Wilhelm glances down at the movement. Simon halts, realizing Wilhelm is looking at his hand. But Wilhelm doesn’t want him to stop. He wants to do the same on Simon. And so, he reaches out with his right hand and tentatively touches Simon’s pajamas, right above his heart. He pulls it, gripping it in a soft fist.

Simon looks down at the hand and then at him, mouth slightly open.

You’re just friends, Wilhelm reminds himself.

“You are too, Simon,” he whispers back, squeezing Simon’s t-shirt. “You’re so, so strong.”

Simon’s lips curl into a smile, Wilhelm copies him.

Together, they fall asleep, lying face to face, hands grabbing onto each other’s t-shirts. Their breaths in sync. Their sleep peaceful.

Wilhelm’s sure he has never slept better.  

***

Wilhelm is not sure how they ended up here.

Well, he knows.

And it kills him almost as it makes him levitate up to a cloud of excited goosebumps, fast heartbeats and sweaty palms.

Because ever since sleeping over at Simon’s house that fateful night, ever since falling asleep holding onto each other, that Wilhelm and Simon’s friendship has reached a new level of intimacy. A level in which they seek each other for physical comfort.

No one else seems to notice the change, but Wilhelm does. Oh, how he has noticed it. How much he now craves the simple touches that are becoming so familiar between Simon and him.

When they are at workies and Simons is stressed with math, Wilhelm wraps his ankle around his foot, pulling it into a safe embrace between his two feet.

When they are in class and Wilhelm is nervous about speaking, Simon’s arm rests next to his, their pinkies meeting and he strokes Wilhelm’s finger to calm him down.

When they are in P.E. and Simon hates how tall some of the other boys are, Wilhelm sticks next to him to him, puts an arm around his shoulders as the teacher explains the exercises, so that Simon feels safer.

When they are in the dorm, watching a new episode of The Office, Simon rests his head on Wilhelm’s shoulder. Other times, it’s Wilhelm, if he has had a really anxious day, who lays his head on Simon’s lap and lets him stroke his hair.

It’s a lot at first. Wilhelm isn’t sure if he can take all the small touches that he and Simon share, but he slowly grows comfortable, leans on them for support.

He makes sure to add five new locks to his box of feelings for Simon.

“Can you help me?” Simon asks, raising his head from his math problem for the first time in almost fifteen minutes.

“Sure,” Wilhelm says, leaning towards Simon as the boy brings the math notebook closer to him. “Which one do you need?”

“This,” Simon says, pointing at exercise two at the same time his foot finds the spot between Wilhelm’s ankles under the table. Wilhelm’s body reacts automatically, closing the gap between his feet, enclosing Simon’s foot.

Wilhelm studies the exercise for a second, and then sees Simon’s attempt at an answer. He grabs his pencil and draws arrows out of the equation, making small notes on the side. Simon prefers he does it like this instead of simply telling him what to do. If he has a visual idea of what to do, he can memorize it better.

As Wilhelm writes down his notes, Simon leans further into his personal space, tracking his movements on paper.

“What did you write here?” He asks out of the blue and his right arm goes under Wilhelm’s left arm and points at one of the notes.

“Ah…”

Wilhelm blinks, his heart reacting to the proximity between them, to the arm that is now coming up from under his own in such an intimate gesture that it sidetracks him. 

He gives himself a small shake to snap out of it and focus on the note Simon’s pointing at.

“You forgot to do one small calculation, you see?”

“Ah, yeah.” Simon nods and drops his hand on Wilhelm’s left wrist. He does it so naturally that, for a second, Wilhelm thinks he is the crazy one for not seeing how normal it is for them to be so close.

Felice shows up a couple minutes later. She takes one look at them, raises an eyebrow at Wilhelm, and takes the seat in front of them.

“You guys studying math?” She asks.

“Yes,” Simon sighs. “I swear the teacher hates me.”

“He hates everyone who doesn’t pay him for extra classes.”

“Jerk,” Simon puffs. Finally, he leans away from Wilhelm, taking his notebook back. “Thanks, Wille.”

Wilhelm only nods in reply. His eyes cross with Felice’s once more before he dives back into his biology homework.

He’s not sure what to make of their friendship.

Sure, sometimes he seeks physical touch from Felice too, but they have been friends for years. And not once did he want her as more than a friend.

Meaning: he didn’t have to overanalyze everything they did.

But with Simon, he does overanalyze. Even when he shouldn’t.

And there’s one question, above all, that haunts him every time he and Simon share a more intimate physical touch.

What about Marcus?

Simon hasn’t mentioned him in a while, but he knows they still speak. He catches Marcus’ name on Simon’s phone sometimes. Marcus reacts to the stories Wilhelm posts with Simon in them.

But are they together?

What are they?

Wilhelm dares to ask Simon about it on the last night before Christmas break.

Since Erik is picking him up tomorrow morning, Wilhelm uses the few hours before going to bed to pack his bag. That’s when he throws out the question, pretending that it has just popped out of his head and he did not overthink it for the last few weeks, “How’s Marcus doing?”

Simon, who is on the other side of the room also packing his bag, pauses, a yellow sweatshirt in his hands, and glances over at Wilhelm.

“He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

Wilhelm shrugs, trying to playing it cool.

“You haven’t mentioned him in a while. You guys are still together, right?”  Wilhelm asks, his heart stressing out.

“It’s complicated,” Simon confesses and finally puts away his yellow sweatshirt. “Let’s see how Christmas break goes.”

“I hope it goes well then,” he wishes with as much honesty as he can gather.

“You do?” Simon asks.

Wilhelm nods.

“If he makes you happy, right?”

Because that’s all Wilhelm wants for Simon. For him to be happy. With whoever he chooses to be with. If he chooses anyone at all.

Simon doesn’t answer right away. Wilhelm zips his bag, now fully packed, and throws it on the floor.

Only then does he hear Simon’s quiet voice, “Right.”

Simon doesn’t mention Marcus once in their texts during Christmas break, nor does he post anything with the other boy. But he does post a lot of stories with his mom and sister, and some with Ayub and Rosh. Every day he and Wilhelm text each other and tell what they have been up to. Marcus is nowhere in sight.

And so, Wilhelm overthinks it.

Maybe they talked and decided to end things for good.

If so, why didn’t he tell you?

Okay, maybe they are still working things out.

Or maybe not.

He tries to make himself stop, but it doesn’t work.

And then New Year’s Eve happens.

Wilhelm is checking random stories on Instagram, bored out of his mind at a party his parents made him and Erik tag along to. Erik has been forced to mingle with people from his parents’ inner circle while Wilhelm sits in a corner, keeping his distance from the messy crowd, an empty champagne flute in his hand.

He refreshes his Instagram page and sees a new story from Ayub.

Hoping to see Simon, he clicks on it. Fireworks burst inside the screen, the sound of people cheering and clapping to the new year loudly blasting through the phone’s speaker, Wilhelm turns the volume down. Rosh appears, throwing confetti in the air and, in the back - Wilhelm pauses the video to make sure he is seeing it right – there is Simon. But he is not alone.  Next to him, at barely an arm-distance, stands Marcus, leaning his head down to whisper in Simon’s ear. And Simon smiles ups at him.

The story ends. Wilhelm’s heart seizes to beat.

They’re together.

Simon and Marcus started the new year together while Wilhelm is stuck at a stupid party with his parents.

They haven’t broken up, after all.

And Simon hasn’t told Wilhelm anything. Kept him in the dark.

Wilhelm bites the inside of his bottom lip so hard it breaks the skin. A metallic taste reaches his tongue.

He brings a hand to touch his lip and pulls it away to find a tiny drop of blood on his fingertip.

He beelines to the bathroom.  

Wilhelm washes his mouth, watching himself on the mirror. A flash of Simon smiling up at Marcus crosses his mind and suddenly his suit feels too tight on his body.

Simon didn’t warn him. Didn’t even bother to tell him he and Marcus were back together.

Why?

He doesn’t owe you anything, a small reasonable side of him whispers in his head.

But it only fills him up with anxiety-fueled anger.

Sure, Simon doesn’t owe him anything. After all, no one owes no one. But, after everything they have been through, the good moments, the vulnerable moments, the laughter, the breakdowns, shouldn’t Simon be more open with Wilhelm? Shouldn’t Wilhelm have the minimum right to know what’s going on with his friend’s life? 

You’re not thinking of him as a friend, though.

Wilhelm’s tie is suffocating him. He tries to unknot it, but can’t and groans, frustrated.

He goes back to the phone, to that stupid story and watches it again. He watches Simon smiling at Marcus. He watches a part of him burn to the ground as a voice screams in his head, told you so, told you so, told you so.

You were supposed to have moved on.

I have!

You idiot.

“Wille?”

Wilhelm looks up from his phone, clutching it in his hands. Erik stands by the bathroom door, looking at him with a speechless worried expression.

Wilhelm just stares at him, squeezing his phone so hard in his hands he’s not sure he didn’t break something.

Erik looks over his shoulder, walks into the bathroom and locks the door.

“What’s the matter?” He asks as he approaches his younger sibling.

Wilhelm glances at the mirror and sees the unshed tears in his eyes. The redness in his face, the frenetic look.

Look at him. Completely broken.  On the verge of a panic attack. And for what? For whom?

His head drops on his brother’s chest. Erik’s hands immediately grab his arms, pulling him into a hug. He breathes in a tremble inhale. Erik squeezes him in the embrace and Wilhelm exhales.

“What’s the matter?” His brother asks again, worried.

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“Wille,” his brother sighs. “Please let me help you.”

No one can help him, though. Only Wilhelm can help himself.

***

Wilhelm makes sure to arrive at Hillerska before Simon does. He unpacks his stuff, takes a long shower in the communal showers, and, when he gets a message from Simon saying he is arriving, he hides in Henry and Walter’s room with the pretext of playing a cards game.

When Simon asks him where he is, he says he’s busy. Will come back late, he writes. Simon doesn’t say anything else.

When he in fact gets back to the room, Simon is already bed, half-asleep, watching something on his laptop.

“Where were you?” Simon asks in a sleepy voice, scratching his eyes.

“With Henry and Walter,” Wilhelm replies.  “Playing cards.”

Simon blinks and stares at him with tired, confused eyes. He watches as Wilhelm removes his slippers, plugs in his cell phone to the charger, and gets in bed.

Wilhelm lies on his back, pulling the sheets up to cover his shoulders.

They say nothing.

And then he hears Simon move and the light from his computer goes out.

Simon says nothing and neither does Wilhelm. He turns his back to Simon’s side of the room and closes his eyes.

He is not mad at Simon, nor is he trying to make him feel like shit.

Wilhelm’s actually mad at himself. He hates feeling this way. He hates that he spent the last days of Christmas break running from his brother’s concern and pestering questions. He knows Erik means well, but he does not want to talk about it.

Only if hell breaks loose will he talk about it.

Wilhelm is once again wishing that he did not have a box of feelings buried inside of him. He wishes Simon was only Simon, his friend, his roommate, someone he cherishes, and that’s it. Nothing more.

Jesus, Wilhelm, how many times are we going to go through this?

He doesn’t know.

The next morning Wilhelm wakes up to the sound of Simon’s alarm, and then to the boy getting out of bed and moving around the room.

Wilhelm takes his time waking up, coming up from unconsciousness to the familiar sounds of Simon getting ready, way earlier than anyone else because that’s who he is, an early bird. He blinks his sleepiness away, eyes slowly adjusting to the light streaming through the curtains.

Simon walks out of the room, most likely on his way to communal showers, and Wilhelm pulls the sheets away from his body and sits up to reach his phone, which is now fully charged.  He unplugs it and lies back down.

He is scrolling through his Instagram feed when the room’s door opens again and Simon, with his hair wet, a used towel in his left hand and half-dressed in the school uniform, walks in. He freezes once he notices Wilhelm is awake.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Simon slowly closes the door behind him and moves to his side of the room. The tension in the air is so thick that not even a knife could cut it right on a first try.

Wilhelm knows it’s up to him to make things normal again. Simon is just following his vibe.

"You’re ready for today?” Wilhelm asks, his voice coming out sleepy and raspy. He clears his throat.

There’s a small ceremony to welcome the students back to a second semester at Hillerska. The choir will be performing as usual, but it’s only Simon’s second time performing with the group. Last time, Wilhelm found him hyperventilating in one of the boys’ bathrooms. Simon loves to sing, but to sing in front of an audience as big as their entire school, is a first to him.

“I think so,” Simon answers, sitting on the edge of his bed. He leans down to grab his shoes from under the bed. “I think I won’t freak out this time.”

Wilhelm chuckles.

“I’ll be there if you need to freak out,” he promises, trying to give his voice a hint of teasing and normalcy.

Simon doesn’t reply. He puts on his shoes, tying the laces slowly, and stands up to fetch his uniform jacket from the wardrobe.

Wilhelm realizes he needs to do better.

But not now. Not yet.

He gets out of bed, grabs his own uniform and a towel and leaves for the communal showers. He showers at the same time that Henry and Walter do. The other two boys serenate to each other from different stalls, and their voices are so awful that Wilhelm is sure he left partially deaf.

When he gets back to the room, Simon’s no longer there.

Wilhelm gets ready and goes to the Forest Ridge dining room to grab a quick breakfast.  He grabs a bunch of satsumas from the fruit bowl and an extra bowl from the clean plates’ table.

As he eats breakfast, he unpeels the satsumas and segments them, dropping the small pieces of them in the extra bowl. Alexander notices what he is doing and asks him about it.

“It’s a gift,” Wilhelm replies.

Alexander doesn’t push him for more, only smiles. Wilhelm smiles back. He likes how quiet and understanding Alexander can be, so different from all the boys at Forest Ridge House.

When Wilhelm finishes eating, he grabs the bowl with peeled satsumas and beelines out of the dining room and in the direction of the small church at the edge of the school’s buildings.

He knows the choir is rehearsing there by now.

As he approaches the main door, he hears voices talking. He glimpses inside, noticing how the teacher is advising some of the students in a smaller circle as others are talking to each other on the side.

He finds Felice, who raises an eyebrow at him. He mouths Simon’s name. She nods, pursed lips, and leaves the group she is in, disappearing to the back of the church.

A couple minutes later, she comes out dragging a confused Simon with her.  When she points at the entrance, where Wilhelm is still lurking, Simon freezes.

Wilhelm waves awkwardly at his friend.

Simon frowns but walks up to him.

“Hey,” Wilhelm greets, nervous, and shoves the bowl into Simon’s direction. “For you.”

Simon slowly grabs the bowl and looks at it, his frown relaxing between his eyebrows. He realizes what Wilhelm has brought to him and looks at the boy, mouth hanging open in confusion.

Wilhelm shrugs. “It’s for good luck,” he says, kind of lying. It’s also an apology, but he can’t bring himself to say it. If he said he was sorry, he would have to explain why. And how can he explain why to Simon without almost touching the truth?

Different emotions cross Simon’s faces, from wariness to confusion, until it settles on a sort of amusement. Simon lets out a snort, grabs a piece of satsuma and eats it.

He looks up to meet Wilhelm’s hopeful gaze and his mouth gives into a smile.

“You’re going to be in the first row?” Simon asks, not hint of detachment in his voice.

“Promise,” Wilhelm answers with a joyful, small smile.

Simon eats another piece of satsuma.

“Cool. I’ll be watching you,” he says and, still holding the bowl of segmented satsumas, walks back to the church.

The welcoming ceremony goes smoothly. Wilhelm sits in the first row, with the perfect view for Simon, who stands in the middle of the choir. Their gazes meet as Simon sings the school anthem and they share a knowing smile.

The principal welcomes them back with a long speech, and then they are dismissed.

Wilhelm sends Simon a message, saying he is waiting outside. When he looks up, he finds Sara coming up his way, alongside a blonde curly-haired girl. One he has seen before.

Claire, he quickly realizes, just as the two girls stop in front of him.

“Hey Wille, how was the break?” Sara asks.

“It was…”

Flashes of overthinking about Simon, if he was back with Marcus or not, and of him crying into his brother’s chest as he found out they were in fact together, cross his mind.

Clearly, he’s not going to bring that up.

“…boring,” Wilhelm ends up saying, forcing a polite smile. “And you?”

“Bjarstaal is always Bjarstaal,” Sara says. “Simon went out more than I did. It was either that or having Ayub and Rosh all day at our place.”

Wilhelm chuckles.

“And you, Claire?” He asks, turning to Sara’s roommate. He makes himself acknowledge Claire to make the girl feel welcomed.

Claire blushes under his attention, flickers her green eyes at Sara, and says, “Oh, boring too. I binge-watched three Netflix shows and took care of my younger sister.”

“Cool,” Wilhelm says with a reassuring nod. He’s not sure what else to say.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to because Felice and Simon walk out of the church at that moment, Simon fleeing to Wilhelm’s side.

“There,” he says with a laugh, pushing an empty bowl into Wilhelm’s hand. “It’s your dirty dish to take care of. Also, Miss Anna asked where the bowl came from, and I totally pinned it on you.”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes, accepting the empty bowl.

“You’re a menace, Simon.”

***

Things fall back to normalcy.

Simon and Wilhelm go back to being inseparable, adjusting their schedules so that their extracurricular activities fall on the same days, at the same time.

Simon and Sara go back home for the weekend, as they did last semester, and Wilhelm keeps his movie nights with Felice on Friday evenings. More than often, Felice goes to his dorm instead of him going to Manor House since Madison kindly asked for more privacy with Yara. Apparently, Yara’s roommate has grown tired of being kicked out.

On a Friday afternoon, Felice approaches him at his locker, after they are done with classes, with Frederika and Stella hovering behind her.

The two girls barely talk to anyone outside each other, Felice and Madison being the two only people who can actually get to hang out with them sometimes. Wilhelm used to think it was weird. But when he pointed it out to Felice once, she snorted and said, “Yeah, like you and Simon aren’t wrapped up in your own bubble too?”, and that shut Wilhelm up.

“Hey, so we’re still on for movie night tonight, right?” Felice asks. Behind her, he catches a glimpse of Stella playing with Frederika’s hair.

“Hum, yeah? At my room, right?” He confirms.

“Well, if Simon doesn’t mind, yes.”

Wilhelm frowns.

“Simon’s going home today.”

Felice gives him a funny, confused look.

“No, he isn’t. Sara has already left, and she said he was going to stay back.”

Wilhelm blinks. Simon hadn’t mentioned staying at Hillerska for the weekend.

“Oh, I… didn’t know.”

Felice looks surprised.

“Maybe you forgot?”

“Maybe,” Wilhelm agrees just to be polite. Wilhelm’s sure he would never forget such information.  

“Anywaaaay,” Felice drags out the word, “do you want to check with him first and then text me? I’ll ask Madison to go to Yara’s if necessary.”

“Yes, of course,” Wilhelm answers, but he does it mostly on automatic mode. He is still wondering why Simon hasn’t told him he was staying for the weekend.

Doesn’t he want to hang out with Wilhelm?

It’s fine if he doesn’t. It’s just…weird that he didn’t at least tell Wilhelm he would be staying.

It is weird, right?

God, please don’t let me overthink this.

When Wilhelm gets to his room, he finds Simon on his bed, laptop in front of him, and a plate of satsumas’ peels next to him.

“Hey,” Wilhelm says, nodding as a greeting.

Simon smiles at him, flickering his eyes up for a quick second, before diving right into whatever he is writing on his laptop.

Wilhelm grabs a book from the desk, one that he has to read for English class, and slumps down on his bed.

They are in silence for a while.

Wilhelm tries to focus on his book, but Simon’s presence, Simon typing on his computer nonstop, is distracting him. Because…

Why is he here? And why hasn’t he told Wilhelm about it?

He doesn’t have to tell you everything.

Right. That’s right.

“Hey,” Wilhelm starts, and Simon looks up from his computer, “so, you want to join me and Felice for movie night tonight?”

“Huh, what?” Simon asks, blinking.

Wilhelm raises his eyes from his book.

“Sara said you were staying at Hillerska tonight. I usually hang out with Felice and we see a movie. Do you want to join us?” He offers.

“Ah…” Simon looks down at his computer. He chews on his bottom lip, hesitant. “Actually, I have plans.”

“Oh.”

“And,” he adds, nervous, “if you wouldn’t mind to go to Felice’s room, it would be cool… Like, only if you want to.”

Wilhelm looks back at him, dropping his book on his chest. It’s weird seeing Simon so tongue-tied.

“It’s fine… But you’re staying in?”

Simon, avoiding Wilhelm’s stare and choosing instead to look at his computer screen, nods.

“Marcus and I are going to, hum, videocall each other,” Simon confesses, embarrassed.

Wilhelm blinks again. And again. His brain stops processing information.

“Is that… okay?” Simon asks. “I don’t want to kick you out and-“

“It’s fine,” Wilhelm interrupts, his voice coming out raspier than he wanted. His brain has caught up with what Simon is hinting at what he and Marcus are going to be doing. It leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth and an angry feeling in his stomach. He clears his throat. “I just… I wasn’t aware that you guys… were together again?”

After all, Simon never told him how the Christmas break went.

Simon sits up straight, defensive. “We never broke up.”

“But… you were taking some time,” Wilhem points out. “Before the break, you were.”

“And then we decided to give it a go again.”

So, Wilhelm wishes him good luck before the break and Simon doesn’t feel the need to catch him up about Marcus and him? Great.

Wilhelm doesn’t say anything. Instead, he hums and turns back to his book.

“What?” Simon asks, wary.

Wilhelm looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow at Simon.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” He asks.

“You clearly have something to say to me.”

Wilhelm sighs.

“I’m not going to give you my opinion if you don’t ask for it.”

“I just did.”

“No, you just said ‘what’.”

Simon’s getting pissed, and so is he.

“Tell me your opinion then, Wilhelm.”

Wilhelm puts down his book and stares straight at Simon.

Simon who has decided not to keep him on the loop about his dating life.

Simon who he wished good luck about said dating life.

Simon for whom he has so fiercely fought back his feelings and tries so hard to be a great friend to, only to be put aside by him so effortlessly.

“I just don’t get you two,” he confesses, almost venomously. Simon stares at me, jaw tense. “I mean…. It wasn’t working out when you two were in the same city, what makes you think it will work out now?”  And, because Wilhelm’s heart has a thing for speaking out of order, he adds, spitting anger out of his mouth., “It just seems like you can’t accept that, maybe, just maybe, you’re trying too hard to make an unworkable relationship work.”

And it’s those words, that small comment at the end of Wilhelm’s speech, that trigger his best friend.

“Fuck you, Wilhelm!” Simon spits. “Fuck you so very much!”

Fuming, Simon leaps off his bed, tossing his laptop mindlessly on the sheets, and throws an accusatory finger in Wilhelm’s direction.

“You don’t get to judge me,” he snaps.

“I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were! You are!”

Simon’s poisonous voice riles Wilhelm up, who sits up straight, throwing his book away.

“Fine, maybe I am! I am judging you, Simon, because you deserve it!” He admits, his voice louder than usual.

Simon seems taken back with Wilhelm’s confession, at his harsh words. Words he didn’t mean to say.

But it’s too late now. Simon’s brown eyes turn watery, his lips tremble, and the anger vanishes from his face, giving hurt its place.

Wilhelm recoils, immediately regretting what he has said.

“Simon-“

But Simon doesn’t want to hear him anymore.

“Fuck off, Wilhelm.”

Simon grabs his phone and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

What has Wilhelm done?

They have never fought like this before.

Simon never walked out on him. Never told him to fuck off.

Wilhelm bites his thumb, anxiety kicking in. He doesn’t know what to do. Go after Simon? Call him? Text?

Reaching out in any kind way makes him freeze on the spot. What if he goes after Simon and ends up making things worse? Maybe Simon wants space.

But how much space? For how long?

 It starts getting hard to breathe, Wilhelm’s lungs not cooperating as they usually do, and his chest feels heavier.

He can’t believe he let his wild mouth run lose. Why did he let his heart win and make that snappy comment?  Why did he get angry at Simon?

It was that comment, he realizes. When Simon got all defensive and said he and Marcus had never broken up, that triggered Wilhelm.

Wilhelm tries to take a deep breath, but can’t. His hand reaches his chest to rub it. His fingers dig in almost painfully and the hardness to breath remains. The chest’s still heavy.

His brain’s getting dizzy now. It’s like he is underwater and can’t reach the surface, no matter how hard he swims.

Oh God, what has he done?

Simon hates him now, doesn’t he?

Oh God.

Simon hates him.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm ends up at Felice’s door.

He felt he was on the verge of a panic attack and knew he couldn’t be alone. The person he wanted to reach out to was the person who would not pick up his phone if Wilhelm dared to call, so he ended up crossing the yard between Forest Ridge House and Manor House to find Felice.

He knocks insistingly, rubbing his chest, air fighting to pass through in his throat, dizzy eyesight, until, finally, finally, Felice opens the door.

Felice’s upset face, from someone who was tired of hearing the insistent knocking, melts into worriedness as she takes in Wilhelm.

“Come in,” she says immediately.

Wilhelm walks into the room to find Madison doing her foot nails on her bed. She looks up from her pedicure, opens her mouth to say something, but then shuts it as her eyes meet Felice’s.

“I’ll… go check on Yara,” she announces and quickly makes herself scarce.

“Come,” Felice says, tugging Wilhelm’s elbow, and pulls him to her bed. “Sit. I’ll get water.”

She’s gone for two minutes.

 When she is back, she makes sure to lock the door behind her and beelines to the bed.

“Here.” She offers the open bottle of water to Wilhelm. “Take a sip.”

He tries, barely getting any water in his throat, and gives the bottle back.

“Wille…”

He shakes his head repeatedly, and covers his face with his hands, leaning forward. He tries to breathe again. Manages to do it a little better.

With Felice’s hand rubbing his back, it’s easier to breath.

“What’s happened?” Felice asks, concerned.

“Simon,” Wilhelm says into his hands.  “We had a fight.”

“About what?” She asks, concerned, and puts an arm around him, pulling him closer.

“I told him… I told him it didn’t make sense that he and Marcus were still trying. You know, to date.” He closes his eyes, feeling guilty. God, why does he feel guilty for having spoken the truth? “Because they were having problems when they were close, so… trying a long-distance relationship is harder. Isn’t it?” He lifts his head to look at her, looking for reasoning. “Did I not make any sense?”

Felice purses her lips together, not showing any kind of emotion.  Wilhelm’s worry rises, as he now thinks that maybe Simon was right to tell him to fuck off. Wilhelm was out of line.

“It’s their relationship, Wille,” Felice ends up saying. “But… I get where you’re coming from. Long-distance doesn’t help relationships, let alone ones that were weak from the start.”

“Right?” Wilhelm sits up straight, feeling impulsive now that he sees Felice is thinking like him. “I mean, I’m not crazy to think like that and-“

“Hold on, Wilhelm,” Felice lets out a weak chuckle. “I said I get where you’re coming from, but… I also said that it’s still their relationship. Neither of us know how they feel towards each other or what they have gone through together. Maybe it’s not crazy for them.”

“They were never fine,” Wilhelm points out, desperate. “Ever since I met Simon that I never saw them truly happy together. I mean, you’ve met Simon shortly after I did. Did you ever see them together and happy?”

“Wille, each relationship is different,” she tells him.

Felice presses her lips together, moves them side to side, like she is thinking something that is afraid to say. But one look at Wilhelm must crack something in her because she sighs and ends up saying, “Wilhelm, you’re also not the best person to talk about Simon and Marcus, are you?”

Wilhelm pulls away from her, frowning.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” she hesitates, eyeing him wary, “maybe you’re not the most impartial person when it comes to Simon and his love life.”

He looks at her, confused. She places a hand over his and, somehow, as her eyes find his again, Wilhelm knows. He knows what she is about to say.

“You…” Felice struggles to find the right words.  “I know you never wanted to talk about it, but… I know, okay? I can- I could always see how you looked at Simon.”

Wilhelm pulls his hand away and shakes his head repeatedly.

“It’s okay, Wille,” Felice says. “It’s okay if you like hi-“

“No, I don’t.”

Felice sighs.

“It’s just us, Wille.”

Wilhelm touches his chest, feeling it heavier again. 

“Wille,” Felice calls gently. He glances at her, his vision glassy and wet. Wet with tears he refuses to shed. “It’s okay,” she says again, full of sympathy and friendship.

Felice’s eyes are kind, hurting, feeling for him.

She’s not judging him, Wilhelm realizes. She’s trying to give him a shoulder to cry on. A shoulder he could have had months ago if he hadn’t refused all her attempts to talk about this.

But now he can.

Now he can be honest.

Wilhelm breaks.

“I didn’t mean to,” he cries, voice cracking, tears flooding down his face, gasps of air jammed in his throat. “I swear, Felice, I-I tried-  I tried so hard to let him go, I swear I- Felice, I didn’t-“

Soft, familiar arms pull into a warmth embrace. Tears keep falling down his face, suffocating sobs come out of his mouth between the desperate pleas to have Felice understand. She needs to understand how badly he fought back his feelings.

“I can’t stop- The feelings, they don’t go away, Felice. I tried so-“ He hits his own chest. Felice’s hand grabs it, prevents him from hitting himself again. “They don’t go away. Why can’t I stop feeling this way?”

He raises his head. “I swear, Felice,” he sobs, “I never did them harm. I never- I never once- “He lets out a hiccup. “I never tried to break them up, I swear. All I want –“another hiccup –“ is for Simon to be happy, I swear.”

“I know, I know,” Felice comforts.

She grabs his face, rubs his cheeks, trying to clean the trail of tears on his skin, and hushes him like he is a baby that won’t calm down.

“It’s okay,” she says again.

Wilhelm sobs, no tears fall this time, his vision perturbed by the unshed water gathering in his eyes.

An empty sound of despair comes out of his mouth when Felice leans her head against his. Her hand finds his chest, rubbing it soothingly.

“Breathe,” she asks gently. “Just breathe, Wille.”

Slowly, pulling all his life strength with him, Wilhelm inhales deeply, and then exhales. Felice asks him to do it again, and again, until his breathing is calm and his chest is less heavy.

When he finally feels his body loosen up, not in a relaxing way, but more like giving up, the anxious energy leaves him into a puddle of nothing and tiredness.

He slumps back on the bed, closes his eyes and takes a long, defeating breath.

“Are you okay?” Felice asks.

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“What do you need?” His friend asks, concerned.

Wilhelm opens his eyes, looks at her, and asks, with raw honesty in his voice, “To be held.”

Felice nods. “Okay, let’s get in bed.”

They move slowly.

They take off their shoes first, and then Wilhelm pulls the sheets from Felice’s bed out and lies underneath them. He waits for her to go to the bathroom and, when she comes back, he opens some space for her.

As they lie in bed, Wilhelm turns around and Felice wraps an arm around him, tugging him closer. He reaches for her hand and holds it close to his heart. He just needs to feel a warm body next to him. He needs to be with someone he trusts.

“Felice,” he calls into the darkness of the room.

“Yes?” She says softly.

Wilhelm lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m in love with Simon,” he says, for the first time ever, out loud.

Felice squeezes his hand.

“I know,” she says with a comforting voice. “And it’s okay, Wille.”

***

Simon doesn’t come back to the dorm the entire weekend nor does he go to classes on Monday.

Wilhelm’s anxiety takes a new peak when he wakes up Monday morning and doesn’t see the other boy in the room nor signs that he had sneaked in while Wilhelm slept.

He isn’t in the dining room nor in class when Wilhelm gets there. One quick, worried look shared with Felice has her sending him a message under the table.

Felice

Sara told me he’s still at Bjarstaal

He didn’t feel like coming in today

Wilhelm

Did she say anything else?

Felice

No

But I also don’t think she knows anything relevant

At least, she didn’t look like she knew

Wilhelm doesn’t know if that’s good or not. If Sara doesn’t know what’s up with her younger brother, who knows? Simon doesn’t open up easily, especially when he is in distraught. And, last time Wilhelm saw him…

The memory of Simon telling him to fuck himself comes back and he squeezes his eyes shut.  

God, Wilhelm hopes Simon is at least talking to Ayub and Rosh.

Like Wilhelm did with Felice.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off him.

After spending the night at Manor House, Felice went back to his dorm with him. She made him tea and, as the good friend she has always been, sat down to hear him out.

Wilhelm had a lot to say. Months of feelings, insecurity and guilt piled up inside of him.

 It was weird to say it all. To say those words out loud, to express those feelings for the first time in over a year to another person, left Wilhelm in a terrible vulnerable state. He couldn’t believe he was finally saying it out loud.

He likes Simon.

No.

Not only likes.

Wilhelm is sure he has fallen in love with Simon and there is nothing he has done, nothing he has tried to do, that can make him feel differently.

Wilhelm hesitated so many times throughout his venting, overexplained himself so many times, that he still doesn’t know how Felice put up with him.

That, and the fact that he kept swearing to her that he did not, under any circumstances, try to ruin Simon and Marcus’ relationship. He did not want to come between the two of them; he simply wanted to be closer to Simon, to be his friend, to be whatever the other boy allowed him to be. Felice had to believe me!

“Wille,” Felice sighed, reaching out to touch his hand, “I know you, okay? I know that you never messed with their relationship.”

It felt so good to hear Felice say that. To have someone, from an outside perspective, telling him that they didn’t see him as a relationship-wrecker loosened up a tight ball of guilt that had carved itself to Wilhelm’s chest many, many months ago.

“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing her hand.

When Felice left him alone for the first time all day, having to go back to her dorm, Wilhelm finally let himself take his room in. It felt awfully empty without Simon in it.

The computer Simon had thrown on the bed before walking out on Wilhelm was still there. The book that Wilhelm had been reading laid on the floor, faced down, and neither he or Felice had seen it to pick it up.  

Wilhelm leaned down to pick the book up and put it on the desk. The desk he shared so many times with Simon, that had so many of his things entangled with Simon’s. He looked at the books sprawled over the desk, at the schoolbags hanging on the chair, at the sweatshirts left on the floor, one dark grey and the other green. One Wilhelm’s, the other Simon’s.

So theirs. All that room was exactly that. It was theirs.

It felt overwhelming to be in the room alone that he went into Henry and Walter’s room, asking the boys if they were up for a movie night. He fell asleep on their floor.

On Sunday, he went out to the stables. Felice joined him. Then, in the afternoon, he hung out with Madison and Yara.  Then, he went back to the dorm and played chess with Alexander. When Alexander got tired, he bugged Walter and Henry again, who clearly didn’t mind his company.

He stayed with them until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Only then did he allow himself to go back to his room, Simon-less still, and fell asleep right away.

But he knows he can’t avoid the loneliness forever.

When classes end on Monday, Wilhelm refuses Felice’s invitation to go back to her dorm, saying he needs to catch up with some homework.

“You sure?” She asks, worried.

He nods.

After a weekend of avoiding being alone, he now knows he needs to do it.

Because if he isn’t alone with his thoughts, with truly feeling how deep his feelings for Simon run without distractions, he will be just lying to himself. Putting himself temporarily out of misery without facing the truth.

No, he needs to be in that room. Alone. To work things out with himself. To come up with a new plan for himself and his feelings.

Wilhelm isn’t going to act on them. Not now, not ever. He cherishes the friendship he has with Simon too much to do it.

But he knows he can’t also push the feelings away again. He can’t bury that love inside of him again.

So, he needs to think it through. To see what he is going to do.

“Hey Wille,” Henry calls from the end of the hallway, “you want to join us in the common room for a game?”

Wilhelm, who is five steps away from his room, shakes his head.

“No, thanks.”

Henry shrugs, dismissing Wilhelm’s refusal without hard feelings.

“Alright. Say hi to Simon for me.”

Wilhelm blinks.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“Say hit… to Simon?” Henry repeats slowly, also confused.

“Yeah, I heard you,” Wilhelm replies. “He isn’t here.”

Henry lifts an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to Walter, who shows up coming from the hallway to the right, probably from the communal showers.

“I thought you saw him coming in,” he says to Walter.

Walter looks at Henry and then at Wilhelm.

“I did. Like… fifteen minutes-“

Wilhelm turns around and closes the gap between him and his room’s door. He opens the door swiftly and stumbles inside.

And there he is.

Simon, in his purple sweatshirt, his hoodie over his head, sits on his bed, back against one of the posters he hung on the wall at the beginning of the school year, twirling his phone in his hands with a blank, tired expression. He looks up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes find Wilhelm’s gaping figure and the corner of his lips tugs up slightly, but the feeling doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” Simon says weakly.

“He-hey,” Wilhelm stutters back. He remembers to close the door behind him. “You’re back,” he points out.

Simon manages a weak smile and nods.

Wilhelm looks around the room, then at Simon who glances down at his phone and makes a grimace expression, and wonders what he should do.

He should apologize.

That’s what he needs to do. Because he yelled at his friend.

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm blurts out. Simon lifts his head and blinks at him. “I… overstepped last Friday. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Simon almost lets out a humorless exhale and looks away again.

Wilhelm, not being able to stand still any longer, moves to their desk. He removes his jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair. Then he fishes his phone out, gives it a quick glance and puts it down on his nightstand.

When he is about to move to his bed, a voice comes from the other side of the room.

“We broke up,” Simon announces.

Wilhelm freezes and then, slowly, turns on the spot. Simon gives him a humorless smile, his red eyes watering again, and looks away.

“How are you?” Wilhelm dumbly asks. “Sorry, stupid question.”

Simon almost laughs.

“Actually,” he starts, “I’m finer than I look. I mean, -” he makes a pained expression – “I’m feeling like shit, but… not for the reason you might be thinking.”

Wilhelm stares at him, hitting a blank wall of possible replies.

Simon glances at him, and then pats the bed next to him, in a silent request.

Wilhelm shouldn’t. He can’t be so close to Simon right now. But his body moves against his will and he finds himself sitting next to Simon on the boy’s bed, their legs pressing against each other.

It’s quiet for some time. Wilhelm doesn’t dare to break the silence first. He’s not even sure if he should.

“You never asked me,” Simon suddenly says, “why I kept trying with Marcus even if it didn’t look like it was working.”

Wilhelm shrugs. “It wasn’t my place.”

After all, it wasn’t his relationship to meddle with.

“You know, you’re the only one who noticed it.” Simon almost smiles at that. “That Marcus and I weren’t working out.”

Wilhelm chews on his bottom lip, feeling guilty. Simon doesn’t know that one of the main reasons why he noticed it was because he wanted Simon for himself. That’s why he was looking for flaws in the relationship more closely than the rest of the people.

“I don’t know what to say,” Wilhelm admits, coming as close to the truth as he could. “But I am sorry for yelling last Friday, Simon. It was out of line.”

Simon shakes his head. “It’s fine. I had it coming.”

Wilhelm opens his mouth to retaliate, but Simon shakes his head, stopping him. Then, he starts talking. About the one subject he never talked to Wilhelm before. About how he and Marcus came to be.

“Sometimes I think I started dating Marcus because he was the only boy that paid attention to me,” Simon confesses, his face winching at the delicacy of his words. “It all happened so fast. I knew of him, from school, and knew he was one of the few queer boys who was out in school. He was older than me, cooler than me, and, honestly, I never really paid him much attention because I thought, what are the odds of him looking at me?”

Simon lets a self-deprecating smile escape from his lips, and Wilhelm wants so badly to interrupt him and say, everyone looks at you, Simon. You’re beautiful. So beautiful.

But he bites his tongue and lets Simon continue.

 “I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly Marcus was talking to me,” Simon says, bewildered by the memory of years ago. “He was going to the shop where I worked to buy stuff, always sticking around to make conversation with me. Then, he got my number from someone in school, and Ayub and Rosh convinced me to give him a chance.”

“I know my friends didn’t mean any harm,” Simon makes sure to emphasize it. “Marcus was nice, was into me and wanted to get to know me. Why not take the opportunity, you know? So I did. We started texting each other and-“ Simon squeezes his eyes shut, scrunching his nose in disgust – “I liked the attention. I liked being liked.”

Simon leans his head against the wall, refusing to meet Wilhelm’s gaze as he goes on, “We started dating and it was fine at first, but then… I realize that we didn’t know each other all that well. I talked myself into believing it was normal. Some people you meet to become friends with, others to date, you know? That’s what I told myself. That Marcus and I still had time to know each other better.”

“And suddenly, everyone knew. We had barely started dating, and… it was all so fast. My mom, his mom, my classmates, friends, everyone in Bjarstaal knew of us. Not many gay couples in town, you know? We were like celebrities or something. But no one was rude. Well, some people were but there are always idiots.” Simon snorts, a hint of indignancy in it. How ridiculous and phobic can people be to be jackasses to a couple of teenagers?

“Anyway, most people welcomed our relationship with open arms and…, well, they always said how well we fitted together. So,” Simon shakes his head at himself, “I thought, maybe they see something I don’t yet. Maybe, with time, I’ll see what they see. With time I…. I’ll love him.”

At that moment, Simon looks up at the ceiling, tears in his eyes. Wilhelm’s heart breaks for him.  

“I felt so shitty, Wille. So, so shitty. Because I couldn’t. I didn’t understand why, but I couldn’t fall in love with him or… or worse: if that was what love felt like, then we’re all being scammed.” He shakes his head, a tear trails down his cheek. Wilhelm itches to clean it.

Simon looks at him, lets more tears fall freely for Wilhelm to see.

“I know now that I didn’t love him,” Simon admits, eyes still on Wilhelm. “Still, I tried because… I got scared. I know it’s stupid, but I kept thinking, what if he is my only chance at finding love? What if, after Marcus, no one else would look my way? Because he was the perfect guy for me, and if I rejected the perfect guy, then who would I want? Who would want me? So, I kept pushing. I kept trying…”

He cleans some of his tears and tilts down his head in shame.

“Was it selfish of me?” He asks, almost shyly, playing with his own fingers. “To not let him go because I was scared no one else would want me?”

Wilhelm hesitates, and then nods. Long time ago, he promised Simon honesty, that he would side with him but never blindly, never without telling him his honest opinion, and that’s what he is doing right now.

Simon lets out a shaky breath, guilt overcoming him, and drops his head on Wilhelm’s shoulder.

“I’m an awful person.”

Wilhelm lets his head fall against Simon’s soft curls.

“You’re not.”

“I am. He… He told me he loved me, Wilhelm, and I didn’t say it back. And still, he stuck around. He told me I had time to fall in love with him, he would wait. But I didn’t want him to wait. And yet, -“Simon’s body shudders, as if the discomfort of speaking it out loud leaves him physically distraught –“I never did anything to stop it. To stop us. Not until he crossed a line.”

And Wilhelm knows what that line was; when Marcus guilt-tripped Wilhelm, making him pull away from Simon.  

“And all I did was ask for a break,” Simon continues, almost as if he were mad at himself. He lifts his head. Wilhelm looks at the side of his face and, this time, when a tear escape Simon’s eye, Wilhelm reaches out to clean it. “And then I tried again, stupid of me, because he talked to me and seemed so… understanding, you know? We talked during the summer, before he went away for college, and… it seemed different? It seemed like it could work out. And now I know why.” Simon’s eyes land on Wilhelm again. “It was you.”

Wilhelm blinks. “Me?”

Simon gives him a tight smile. “You talked to him before summer, Wille. You made him see me differently, to try out a different approach, and… I liked that approach. I liked that Marcus had thought it. And this weekend, when I called him to talk about us, about what we were doing together, it came up; the fact that he had talked to you; that the second chance I gave him happened because of something you said to him.”

“So, you were right in telling me off,” Simon nods along his words. “Marcus and I didn’t work when we lived close by, why would long-distance work out? It was foolish of me to try it. It was foolish of me to hide behind my cowardness.”

Simon finishes talking, and they fall into a heavy, emotional silence.

Wilhelm frowns, letting Simon’s confession sink in, looking at things now from his perspective instead of an outside one.

Simon was never sure of his relationship with Marcus, but Marcus was more than sure they were right for each other. Simon thought he was a coward for letting Marcus keep trying, but… Marcus kept asking Simon to try back.

“It’s not your fault,” Wilhelm says. “Not fully,” he corrects.

Simon looks at him, confused.

“If you weren’t comfortable in the relationship, Marcus should have seen it too. I mean, … I saw it, Simon, and I barely knew you two. He should have said something to you instead of keep pushing you.”

Simon looks away, thinking.

“Did you ever talk about this?” Wilhelm asks. “With anyone?”

Simon shakes his head.

“Not even Ayub and Rosh?”

“I… I tried once, but… Ayub and Rosh really liked Marcus. I don’t blame them. Nothing’s wrong with Marcus, honestly.”

“You and he were wrong, though. Together,” Wilhelm dares to say.

And it’s the right thing to say because some of the tension leaves Simon’s shoulders. He nods, agreeing.

“So, you’re not a bad person,” Wilhelm concludes. Simon lifts an eyebrow at him. “I mean, you say there’s nothing wrong with Marcus alone, and the problem were you two together. So, you alone, you’re not bad. And yes, you tried to keep a relationship working when it clearly wasn’t. But so did he. For different reasons, but he did.”

“What matters now,” Wilhelm keeps going, “is that you and he realize this. That you two are better off alone. And Simon? Even if you are alone for the rest of your life, even if no one ever loves you again, which I find very hard to believe, what matters is that you do, and are, what makes you the happiest.”

Wilhelm just wants to put Simon’s mind to a rest. He wants the boy to feel better about his mistakes, but to also realize that not everything is his fault. Like it’s not Marcus’ fault either that he tried so hard for something that wasn’t supposed to work out.

Like it’s not Wilhelm’s fault for falling in love with Simon.

Life, he has come to realize, is never going to be black and white. People are not good nor bad; they are all morally grey. They are all perspectives of each other’s.

Wilhelm can now admit, after being so open about his feeling for Simon with Felice, how much of his opinion of Simon was influenced by his attraction towards the boy. He can now better tell apart Simon, the person he is, from Simon, the boy Wilhelm has feelings for. He has found out that he likes them both. The Simon he idealized in his head is nice because it’s a fantasy, and we all like fantasies, but the Simon in real life, the one he knows, the one that makes mistakes and that can also be selfish (because we all are), is a Simon that Wilhelm adores. Because he is real and flawed, just like Wilhelm is, and he accepts him for who he is.

Wilhelm snaps out of his thoughts when he feels something warm touching his hand. He looks down and finds Simon’s hesitant fingers tracing down his fingers, opening them up so that he can intertwine them together.

Wilhelm then looks up to meet Simon’s gaze. The curly-haired boy smiles, a small sparkle of joy coming back to his sweet brown eyes.

“Thank you,” Simon says and squeezes Wilhelm’s hand.

“For what?” Wilhelm asks.

“For seeing me.  For understanding me. For… liking me even when I fuck up.”

Wilhelm chuckles at Simon’s choice of words.

“I could say the same, Simon.”

Simon shakes his head. “No, you… you don’t fuck up, Wille. Not like I do.”

Oh, if only he knew.

“I’m flawed too, Simon,” Wilhelm argues, because he needs Simon to see it. He needs Simon not to put him on a pedestal.

Simon rolls his eyes. He scoots over, his leg coming to rest over Wilhelm’s, and brings their intertwined hands over their intertwined legs.

“I know that, you delicate flower,” he teases, with a hint of honesty. “But you’re kind of perfect in your own flawed way. It’s like,” Simon shrugs, freely, carelessly, as if the compliment he is giving Wilhelm isn’t making his heart beat faster, “whatever you do, I’m okay with it. I can understand why you do it. Just like you now understood me. And it’s nice. It’s really nice to have someone like that in your life, you know?”

Wilhelm knows. Wilhelm knows so well, and wishes that Simon knew him even better. That Simon understood how deeply Wilhelm’s feeling ran for him, but how much the boy has had to fight to keep them at bay whenever making decisions about Simon and their friendship.

He hopes one day he has the balls to tell him the whole truth.

Maybe when he finally, truly, completely gets over his feelings for Simon.

When he stops loving Simon, Wilhelm will tell him all about how loving him was like.

One day, Simon will know.

Simon will know how much he means to him.

Chapter Text

“Do you know what you need, Simon?” Henry asks during lunch break, on a rainy Wednesday right before Valentine’s Day.

Simon, who sits next to Wilhelm and opposite to Henry, gives him a deadpanned look that has Wilhelm chuckle under his breath.

“What, Henry?” Simon’s already tired of whatever Henry is about to say because he knows the ginger-haired boy has the worst ideas and suggestions.

“A rebound,” Henry suggests.

Case in point.

Simon rolls his eyes.

Simon’s recent relationship status came up a couple days ago, when someone asked him how Marcus was doing and he said he didn’t know because they broke up. Since then, most people they hang out with have been on Simon’s case.

“I’m fine being single,” he answers Henry, cutting his roasted potatoes in half. “In fact, what I need right now is to be alone.”

Henry seems flabbergasted by the idea.

“What? No flings?”

“No.”

“One night-stands?”

“God no.”

“Hooks up at a party?”

“Please no.”

“How-“

“Henry,” Wilhelm intervenes, feeling Simon tensing up next to him. “For the love of God, stop bothering Simon. If he says he doesn’t want a rebound, it means he doesn’t want a rebound.”

“Thank you, Wille,” Simon gives him a thankful smile.

Wilhelm smiles back.

“Eh, maybe you can use Wilhelm as a rebound,” Walter suddenly suggests.

Walter is even worse than Henry.

“Why?” Wilhelm frowns, partially offended. He is not rebound material. “Why would you even suggest that?”

“You guys are close already,” Walter shrugs, reaching for his glass. “I actually thought you were dating.”

Wilhelm has the decency to look down as his face heats up, Walter’s words getting too close to Wilhelm’s true desires.

Next to him, Simon lifts an eyebrow at Walter and an amused smile stretches on his face.

“Funny,” he starts,vacting as if he were surprised by a strange coincidence, just as Henry is grabbing his glass of water, “I thought the same of you and Henry.”

Both Henry and Walter spill their drinks at the same time and Wilhelm can’t hold it any longer and cracks up laughing.

Thankfully, the subject dies there, and Henry and Walter do not dare to give further stupid suggestions.

But of course, they aren’t the only two with bad ideas.

The fact that Simon is single after two years seems to shock their classmates and friends, and all of them have idiotic suggestions to make. Even Alexander – and it’s quiet, sweet Alexander - butts in to tell Simon about all kind of dating apps he could use.

“Do I look desperate?” Simon suddenly asks, one late afternoon, as he and Wilhelm clean up their room. They made a vow to clean up their room every Tuesday after choir and horse-riding. It tends to get a bit chaotic with Wilhelm’s lonely weekends, which he is truly sorry about, but still can’t help. Simon swears he is fine with it.

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Wilhelm frowns from where he is making his bed with fresh sheets. “Do you think you look desperate?” He asks, confused.

“Well, no. But everyone seems to be giving me unsolicited advice about dating again, so…” He shrugs. “I thought I was giving off weird vibes, like… please date me?” He makes a whiney voice at the end.

“Please date me?” Wilhelm laughs.

“I don’t know!” Simon throws a sock at Wilhelm’s face. “Stop laughing!”

Wilhelm laughs even more.

Simon stares at him with an unheated glare, and then crosses the room to throw him on the bed.

Wilhelm yelps and then falls into a fit of giggling as Simon tickles his sides.

“Stop laughing at me,” Simon demands.

“I’m-I’m-“ Wilhelm’s breathes out another giggle, trying to get Simon’s hands off him. “Simooon!”

“Willee!”

Wilhelm laughs more. He gets tickled more.

They are so off in their little world that they don’t hear the knocks on the door nor it being opened.

“What kind of weird sex-thing is this?”

Simon immediately jumps off Wilhelm, who sits up straighter, trying to come up for air, still feeling ghostly tickles on his sides.

Under the room’s door threshold stands a confused Sara, shadowed by an amused Madison, who asked the question and still has not answer.  

“Please tell me this is not some kind of foreplay,” Madison decides to add when no one speaks. “It’s a bit… weird.”

“Oh my God, Maddie!” Sara is the one who loses it. “Please don’t talk about sex and my brother in the same sentence.”

“I didn’t.”

“You implied it.” Sara turns to the boys. “Anyway, Simon, mom called me because you weren’t picking up. She wants to know if we’re going home for the weekend.”

At the mention of his mom, Simon leaps out of Wilhelm’s bed and searches for his phone on his side of the room. He finds it underneath the bed.

“Shit.” He types something on the phone, and then looks at his sister. “Yeah, we’re going home.” He then looks over at Wilhelm, who is fixing his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Simon bites his bottom lip hesitantly before suggesting, “Do you want to come with us?”

Wilhelm blinks, almost as if it were shocking that Simon is suggesting that he spends the weekend with the Eriksson family, as if that hasn’t happened before.

“Su-sure.”

“Cool,” Simon beams.

They leave for Bjarstaal on the seven o’clock bus, right on time to get home for dinner.

As they step inside the Eriksson’s household, the aroma of homemade lasagna, natural orange juice and freshly baked cookies welcomes them. Wilhelm immediately beelines towards the plate of chocolate cookies on the kitchen’s counter, eyeing them with a twinkle in his gaze.

Linda, who stands by the oven, laughs warmheartedly at him.

“These are for you, Wilhelm,” she says.

Wilhelm almost hugs her for it.

“Thank you so much,” he says, trying to convey how much he appreciates the gesture through his voice, and takes one of the cookies. “These are truly my favorite, Linda.”

Linda beams at his words.

“You spoil him more than you spoil us,” Simon jokes, giving his mom a kiss on the cheek.  

Linda rolls her eyes at her son.

“Wilhelm deserves to be spoiled too.”

Wilhelm feels a pang on his heart at Linda’s affirmation.

He wishes so badly for his mom to say the same; to feel the same. Not to call him on a random week day to ask him about college options or email him links to the best colleges in Sweden with no hello after realizing he doesn’t have any viable options in mind.

Simon immediately notices how his eyes almost tear up and nudges Wilhelm out of the kitchen before he breaks down in front of Linda.

“Your mom is amazing,” Wilhelm whispers, mesmerized, as Simon pulls him to the couch.

Simon, whose eyes have melted at Wilhelm’s barely concealed vulnerability, raises a hand to run through the dirty blonde boy’s hair.

The box of feelings locked away inside of Wilhelm shakes.

“Mom can see how amazing you are,” Simon praises. His hand settles on the back of Wilhelm’s neck, who almost shivers. Goosebumps arise right underneath Simon’s soft fingers.

“Shut up,” Wilhelm mutters, embarrassed and vividly ignoring how aware he is of Simon’s warm hand on his skin.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Can’t even compliment my best friend, jeez.”

He removes his hand, which Wilhelm should automatically miss if his head didn’t get sidetracked by the words that came out of Simon’s mouth.  

Simon had never called him his best friend before.

Is that what they are now?

What they have been, perhaps, for some time now?

“What’s with that face?” Simon asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He is looking at Wilhelm with an amused look, cracking a smile unconsciously.   

Wilhelm decides to admit the truth. “You called me your best friend.”

Simon blinks, taking in what Wilhelm has just said, and then rolls his eyes, even more amused.

“Because you are one of my best friends, Wille. I mean-” He suddenly narrows his eyes at Wilhelm. “Aren’t I one of yours?”

“Of course!”

Simon’s face breaks into a beaming smile, making Wilhelm freeze on the beauty that he is, all soft and cute, looking at him like he is the reason he is so happy. Which he is. Right now, it’s Wilhelm that makes Simon smile.

Wilhelm’s not sure how he can handle this.

And then, to make it all worse (better, so much better), Simon grabs the remote control from somewhere on the couch and makes himself cozy against Wilhelm’s side, laying his head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to watch something before dinner?”

“Huh…”

Wilhelm can’t focus. The thumbing of his heart has become so loud he can hear it in his ears. Can’t Simon hear it too?

“I’ll put on the news,” Simon decides for them.

They watch the boring news in silence. Well, Simon perhaps is watching it. Wilhelm isn’t. He is too intoxicated with Simon’s sweet smell of citrus fruits, mixed with a hint of woodsy scent that is so common in Hillerska’s hallways and that has now become common on Simon too, that he can’t focus on anything else.

He also allows himself to feel the softness of Simons’ curls against his cheek, rubbing lightly against them, sure that the other boy can’t feel him doing it.

 They’re so soft. That was one of his first thoughts about Simon, wasn’t it? And he was right.

Everything about Simon is soft. And it kills Wilhelm as much as it gives him life.

Linda finally calls them for dinner.

Sara shows up from her bedroom, takes one look at the two boys as they sit down and asks, “Do we need to lower the temperature? You’re looking a bit hot, Wilhelm.”

Good Lord, is it that obvious?

“Simon too.”

Wilhelm’s eyes immediately fall on Simon, who glares at his sister as he fills his glass.

“We’re fine, Sara. Also, it’s your tun,” he says as a matter-of-fact, grabbing his plate and waving it in front of his sister.

Sara rolls her eyes and takes his plate.

“I did it last time,” she complains to herself. 

Simon still hears it and says, “Yeah, but then you asked me for a favor on Monday, so you owe me one.”

Sara mutters under her breath and cuts the lasagna.

She pours food on everyone’s plates and Simon serves the drinks. Wilhelm feels awfully useless, sharing a look with Linda from across the table.

“Do you kids mind going with me shopping tomorrow morning?” Linda asks halfway through the meal.

“I can’t,” Sara says. “I have a hairdresser appointment, remember?”

“Ah yes.”

“We can go,” Simon offers. He looks at Wilhelm for confirmation. “Right?”

Wilhelm nods, sipping his orange juice. He clears his throat and says to Linda, “Of course.”

And that’s how he finds himself in Bjarstaal local supermarket, driving the shopping cart with Simon by his side while Linda guides them towards the aisles she needs. They don’t do much besides making sure that they are close by for whenever Simon’s mom needs to put something in the cart.

“You know what we should buy?” Wilhelm suggests, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

Simon watches him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“Ben&Jerry’s –“Simon’s eyes sparkle at the idea. Wilhelm’s smirk grows wider –“The Netflix&Chill’d edition.”

Simon’s eyes lose the excited spark, deadpanning at Wilhelm instead.

“I will never betray Cookie Dough,” he argues with conviction.  

“But you should try new flavors, Simon! Be bolder!”

Simon rolls his eyes at him and punches his arm playfully.

Linda calls them over from the end of the aisle. Wilhelm pushes the cart.

“Fine,” Simon says as they approach his mom. “How about we get both?”

Wilhelm beams at the idea.

Simon, once again, rolls his eyes at his friend, pretending to be exasperated. But a smile escapes him, giving away his fondness.

Wilhelm leans towards him, singing, “I changed your mind, I changed your min-“

The cart suddenly stops. Wilhelm swallows his singing and panics, thinking he has hit Linda by accident.

But no. Simon’s hand is on the side of the cart, keeping it in place. Wilhelm looks at his friend, confused, and sees his gaze is somewhere ahead of them.

Wilhelm follows Simon’s line of sight to find Linda talking politely to a woman right at the corner of the aisle. The woman is small, dark-haired, with big eyes that she glares at both Simon and Wilhelm with.

Wilhelm frowns.

“Lottie, hope you are well,” he overhears Linda say politely.

Lottie raises an eyebrow at Linda.

“Could be better,” she says nastily, and then her eyes fall on Simon again. “Nice to see your son has moved on so quickly,” she adds bitterly.

Clarity falls upon Wilhelm as he takes one second look at the woman, now understanding who she is: Marcus’ mother.

After all, why else would she be so offended by Simon “moving on”?

“This is my friend,” Simon intervenes, upset. “Not that it is any of your concern.”

“Simon,” his mother reprehends, and then turns to the other woman. “Lottie, they are kids,” she tries to reason.

But Lottie is either a cruel woman or feels too much on her son’s behalf because she says, “Kids who know exactly what they were doing and your son-“ she jabs an accusatory finger to Simon –“broke my son’s heart. After everything Marcus did for him.”

Wilhelm wishes he could intervene. He wants to stand up for Simon, to tell that woman how at fault Marcus was too. But Simon’s hand reaches his elbow behind the cart, almost as if sensing that Wilhelm was about to snap, and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“Lottie, come on,” Simon’s mom pleas, still trying to be the sensible one.

Lottie is done with them, though. She looks Linda up and down, puts her chin up in the air, and sending one last glare at Simon, turns around, leaving them.

 None of them speaks, and then Linda lets out an exhausted exhale and looks at her son.

“I’m sorry, mi hijo. Lottie can be… emotional. We knew that already.”

Simon shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he mutters. He glances over at Wilhelm, who keeps watching him concerned, and raises his chin, toughing up. “Let’s keep shopping. Wille and I need to get to the ice cream section.”

***

“Hey, you’re awake?”

Wilhelm’s whisper disrupts the silence of the room, one that has blended so naturally with the soft buzzing of the lights in the fish tank that neither of the boys notices it by now.

Wilhelm doesn’t get an answer straightaway. First, he hears muffled movement from the bed above him, and then Simon’s curls peek from over it, sleepy, yet sad eyes glimpsing over the edge of the bed.

“I am,” the boy whispers back and hen offers a sleepy smile, which Wilhelm returns promptly.

“Can I ask you something?” Wilhelm dares, turning on his side to face Simon.

“Is it about Marcus’ mom?” Simon looks apprehensive.

Wilhelm shakes his head slightly.

“But it is about Marcus,” he confesses with a sheepish expression.

Simon nods, telling him to go on.

“How did Marcus react when you broke up with him?”

Simon pauses to think, pursing his lips.

“He didn’t want to accept it at first… Which I saw coming, of course. Most times we fought was over me trying to pull away and him trying to pull me back in,” Simon admits. His fingers play absently with the edge of his bed, nails scrapping the soft sheet. “But then, I reasoned with him and he understood. He backed off. Only tried to text me a couple of times after, but got over it fast.”

Simon raises his gaze. Wilhelm’s sure he sees some hurt behind Simon’s sweet brown eyes; hurt and guilt for everything he and Marcus went through when they shouldn’t have.

“Marcus’ mom… She was really happy for us, and always treated me really well,” Simon tells him. “But I kind of always knew that she was overinvested in her son’s life. In everything Marcus did, really. That’s why he got a studio out of his parents’ house as soon as he could. So, you know, her reaction today in the supermarket… I was expecting it. I’m just sorry that she brought you into it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Wilhelm shakes his head. “Not your fault.”

Simon cracks a sad smile, and Wilhelm thinks, screw this. He reaches out with his hand to touch Simon’s hand.

Simon’s breath catches, his eyes fixed on Wilhelm’s daring gesture.

And Wilhelm dares to be even bolder and asks, “Do you honestly think you’ll never be loved again, Simon?”

Simon blinks at him, dazed.

“When you told me about you and Marcus… you said you stuck with him because you were scared of not being loved again; of not finding love…. Do you really believe in that?”

Simon retrieves his hand from under Wilhelm’s, recoiling into the safety of his bed. Wilhelm raises up to his elbow to follow Simon, who now lies on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Sometimes I do,” Simon admits. “I mean… besides Marcus, no one ever showed real interest in me.”

That’s bollocks.

Complete bollocks.

“That’s not true, Simon,” Wilhelm says and sits up straighter, leaning forward to rest on the edge of Simon’s bed. Simon follows his movement through the corner of his eye, and then tilts his head to truly face Wilhelm. That’s when Wilhelm decides to add, “I’m sure there are dozens of people in school who look at you and think, I wish I had the guts to ask him out.”

I wish I had the guts, Wilhelm thinks.

Simon suddenly turns, and it catches Wilhelm by surprise, how close he and Simon’s faces hover over each other, almost breathing the same air.

“You think so?” Simon asks, his voice showing such vulnerability that Wilhelm’s insides soften immediately.

“Yes, Simon,” he whispers, resting his head so that he and Simon are even closer facing each other. “I think anyone would be lucky to love you, Simon.”

I am lucky to love you, he doesn’t say.

Even if you don’t want me.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Simon’s face, and he looks so beautiful under the soft yellow lights of the fish tank, under his covers, looking at Wilhelm like he is the only person in the world that matters; like they are in a bubble of their own and no one can burst it.

Tell him.

No.

Tell. Him.

“Simon…”

Say it.

 Show him that someone loves him.

“I-“

Suddenly, Simon turns away from Wilhelm, sighing frustrated.

“But I need to be alone,” Simon announces with conviction. Wilhelm stares at him, his courage flying right out of the window. “I spent two years in a relationship I wasn’t totally invested in. I can’t… I can’t let myself fall into that again. I need to learn how to be alone first, and then… then we’ll see. Right?” His wary eyes look at Wilhelm for validation.

And of course, Wilhelm gives him what he wants.

“Yes, maybe it’s better,” he agrees, swallowing down the confession he was about to make. Locking his feelings back in their little pandora box, adding five new locks to it.

Simon needs a friend right now, not a new boyfriend.

***

“It has to be the last weekend of May then,” Erik’s voice says on Wilhelm’s earbud. 

“Last weekend of May?” Wilhelm repeats, offended. “That’s almost in a month, Erik! Besides, that’s right in the middle of my second semester exams. I can’t take a weekend off then.”

“First of all,” Erik starts assertively, clearly rolling his eyes at his younger brother, “It’s in fifteen days, not almost a month. Also, it’s a Saturday. You can’t have a Saturday off from studying?”

“In the middle of exams?” Wilhelm angry-whispers as he walks into the library. He promptly searches for Simon’s curls and finds him by a window, sitting along with Sara, her roommate Claire, and Felice. There’s a vacant seat right between Simon and Claire, which Wilhelm knows it’s for him.

“One Saturday, Wille,” Erik reminds him. “One Saturday with your dear brother before he has to go abroad for the entire month of June, remember?”

“I’m hating your new job.”

“Well, it was either that or have mom make me CEO of the latest spinoff when I clearly don’t deserve the job,” Erik argues.

Wilhelm sighs, now approaching the table, and mutters, “I know. I still think it’s unfair you have to go abroad.”

He puts his stuff down on the table after Simon, who had seen him coming, clears up room for him. Wilhelm flashes him a smile before going to back to his talk with Erik.

“It’s only for a month. I need the training and then I’ll be back,” Erik says into his ear. “You can last… what, three weeks without me? When does school end?”

“First week of June,” Wilhelm whispers, even quieter now, not to upset his desk mates.  Simon offers him a funny look. “Who’s picking me up?” He asks his brother.

“Probably one of mom or dad’s bodyguards.”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “Great. I’ll look like a jackass.”

Simon snorts next to him. Felice offers him a confused look, along with Sara and Claire.

“Hold on,” Wilhelm suddenly says and turns to Felice. “Can you take me back to Stockholm when classes are done?”

“Sure, but I’m only leaving after the end of year party,” Felice warns him.

Wilhelm groans.

“What is it?” Erik says in his ear at the same time Simon offers next to him, “I’ll keep you company at the party.”

Wilhelm first reacts to Simon, smiling. “Thanks, Simon.”

“Simon?” His brother echoes in his ear. “Is that the best friend you don’t tell me anything about?”

“Shut up, Erik. I’m hanging up.”

“Hold on-“

“I’ll see you on the last Saturday of May, byeeee.”

Wilhelm takes off his earbud, hanging up on his brother. His stupid brother who is going to be busy all summer, meaning that Wilhelm will have to go alone with his parents on the family vacation.

He wants to hang himself.

“What’s up?” Simon asks the second Wilhelm’s free, shoving himself into his friend’s personal space, an ankle around Wilhelm’s and his right arm over his stuff.

Wilhelm sighs, dropping a hand on Simon’s wrist, touching the soft material of his purple hoodie. One of Wilhelm’s favorite hoodies on Simon.

“My brother is going abroad for a month in June. We were trying to book something together before he goes, and apparently the last Saturday of May is the only time he has got available.”

“That’s right before our Home Economics’ exam,” Felice points out with a sorrowful expression.

“It is?!” Wilhelm opens his phone calendar, where he has noted down all essays and exams for the upcoming month. “Fuck,” he lets out, checking that the Home Economics’ exam falls right on the first Monday of June. Right after it, they have Biology and two days later, Math.

“It will be fine,” Simon says and pats Wilhelm’s hand.  “You’ll nail it.”

“I hate Home Economics,” Wilhelm mutters.

“Me too,” Claire remarks.

They share an understanding smile between them, and then Wilhelm’s eyes fall on Claire’s laptop, seeing the stickers on its back.

“Oh, you like The Office too?” He says excitedly, leaning forward to point at the biggest sticker, one of Michael Scott, the main character of the show, making one of his famously funny face expressions. “Michael’s my favorite.”

“Mine too!” Claire beams. “He’s so funny, even in the first season.”

Wilhelm’s eyes widen up in excitement. “He is, isn’t he?! Not everyone gets his humor but it was brilliant!”

“I know! But so cringe, though,” Claire says, dramatizing a horrified expression. 

“That’s what makes it so good,” Wilhelm replies, excited. Something pulls at his ankle, but he dismisses it. He leans closer to her so they don’t talk too loudly. “What’s your favorite episode?”

“Oh, it has to be the one with the dinner.”

“Oh God, the dinner!”

“I know!”

They laugh together.

For the first time since they met, Wilhelm allows himself to take a good look at Claire. The blonde curly hair, the caramel eyes, the freckles covering most of her cheekbones give her an aura of sweetness and innocence that almost make her look like a doll. A trustworthy doll that must turn a lot of heads in the hallways.

She’s cute, he finds himself thinking as Claire bows her head, a self-conscious smile on her lips. How had he not noticed it before?

An elbow knocks on Wilhelm’s side, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turns his head to Simon, who elbowed him for attention, giving him a questioning look.

“Can you help me, please?” Simon asks and shoves his notebook between them before he pushes himself closer to Wilhelm’s left side, the ankle around Wilhelm’s giving it a squeeze.

Wilhelm smiles at him. “Of course.”

He turns his entire body towards Simon, resting an arm on the chair behind Simon so that he gets into a more comfortable position, and then looks at where his friend is pointing.

“I can’t understand how to get to this result,” he mutters with a soured tone, as if he were upset about not being able to do the exercise on his own.

“Let me see.”

Wilhelm leans closer to read the exercise. As he reads the headline, he feels Simon’s soft curls brushing against the side of his face, the smell of citrus fruit immediately surrounding his nose, and he breaths it in because he can’t help it.

He loves Simon’s smell.

“Okay,” he starts, clearing his throat. “Here’s what you need to do.”

He goes on explaining the exercise to Simon, who hums and nods along, and then they try to do the exercise together.

On the other side of the table, Felice and Sara are immersed in their own studies, whispering to each other whenever the other has a doubt, and Claire is typing away on her computer. Wilhelm’s eyes catch Claire’s once, and they share another smile.

Claire looks away, blushing.

“Hey,” Simon calls, grabbing his attention again. “Do you want to take a break? Go to the cafeteria?”

Wilhelm nods.

They motion to stand up.

“Do you guys need anything?” Wilhelm asks, looking at the girls. If his gaze lingers on Claire for longer, no one needs to know.

“Bring me a chocolate,” Felice asks.

“A coffee,” Sara requests.

“I’m good, thank you.” Claire smiles at him.

“You sure?” He double checks.

She nods, beaming.

“Alright. Be back in ten, guys,” he says, Simon following him.

They are halfway down the corridor when Wilhelm asks, “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?” Simon asks with narrowed eyes, a bit more rigid than usual.

Wilhelm gives him an odd look. “Tomorrow’s Friday. Aren’t you going to see your mom?”

“Ah, yes.” Simon’s posture changes. He opens the door to the cafeteria, letting Wilhelm walk in first. “We might go right after classes end. Mom has a day off tomorrow.”

They get to the end of the line.

“What are you going to do?” Simon asks, eying him.

“Movie night with Felice,” Wilhelm replies, checking the chocolate bars on display. “As usual.”

“Only with Felice?” Simon asks.

Wilhelm gives him a funny look.

“Obviously. It’s our tradition.”

Simon hums back. They move along the line.

“Are you okay?” Wilhelm asks him, noticing how Simon keeps drifting off at nowhere.

“Huh?” Simon blinks. “Ah, yeah. I… I guess I have a headache.”

“Do you need something?” Wilhelm frowns, worried.

They step closer to the cashier, Simon dragging his feet.

“Hum, maybe I’ll just go back to the room.”

“I’ll go with you,” Wilhelm offers immediately.

Simon eyes him, apprehensive.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Simon’s wariness vanishes. He nods, a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

“Thank you.”

Wilhelm makes a dismissive hand-waving gesture.

When they return to the library, Wilhelm sets the girls’ orders on the table and the two boys start packing up.

“You’re leaving already?” Claire asks, looking at Wilhelm.

“Yes,” Simon replies for the two of them. “We’re done for the day.”

“Oh,” Claire lets out, looks away for a moment, and then smiles at them. Well, at Wilhelm. “See you later then.”

“See you,” Wilhelm smiles back.

He remembers to wave at Sara and Felice, saying his goodbye, before Simon grabs his wrist and pulls him along.

“You want to watch something?” Simon suggests as they fall into step side by side. His hand still grabbing Wilhelm’s wrist.

“Your head is up for it?” Wilhelm asks, concerned.

Simon nods, smiling.

“Okay then,” Wilhelm smiles back. “A horror movie then.”

“Not the Conjuring.”

“Yes, the Conjuring.”

“Ugh, fine.”

***

“This pizza is really good.”

“I told you so.”

Erik rolls his eyes at his young brother and reaches out across the table to slap him playfully on the arm, but Wilhem flees his hand.

They are having dinner at Pepe’s Pizza, having scored a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant that, like always, is bursting with loud teenagers and large tables of families who decided to have their Saturday dinner out.

“Anyway, how are the exams coming along?” Erik asks, munching on a piece of Margarita pizza because he is, and quoting, “a classic man”.

“Killing me. Can’t you tell?” Wilhelm deadpans, pointing at the black circles under his eyes. He has slept a total of, what, twelve hours in the last week. And most of his sleep were afternoon naps he took with Simon.

Erik makes a winching face.

“I don’t miss high school.”

“Ah, that makes two of us.”

Erik snorts and throws a used napkin at his brother.

“It will be over soon, right? You have a party next Friday, isn’t it?”

Wilhelm shivers at the thought of having to go the last of year party. He is so not in the mood for it. Perhaps, when the time comes, he will go and enjoy himself. But right now, just imagining spending yet another sleepless night, and this time on purpose, makes him want to lie on the floor and cry. That’s how exhausted he is from these exams.

He does not want to know how next year’s exams will be like.

“I’m only going because Felice begged me to go,” Wilhelm says, grabbing another piece of pizza.

“You’re only going because of Felice?”

Wilhelm nods.

“Only Felice’”

Wilhelm narrows his eyes at his brother, chewing on the pizza slice

“What’s your point?” He asks, mouth full of cheese.

Erik shrugs, acting nonchalant, and leans back on his seat.

“I’m just having a hard time believing that you’ll go to a party you don’t want to go because of Felice. I mean, Felice is great, but… great enough to be the only reason you’re going?”

Erik is fishing for something now. Wilhelm knows exactly where he is trying to go.

“Most people of my year are going too.”

“Any of them special enough that make you want to go to the party?”

“Erik-“

Wilhelm’s phone, resting on the table between them, buzzes twice. Two notifications pop up.

Erik, being the sly fox that he is, snatches the phone before Wilhelm can get it.

“Hey!”

“Hum, interesting,” Erik comments, eying the notifications.

“That’s invasion of privacy, Erik!” Wilhelm reaches across the table to take his phone away from his brother, who lets him do it coolly.

“Who is Claire?” Erik asks.

Wilhelm grits his teeth, checking his notifications. One Instastory reaction and one message from Claire. Shit, what a timing she had.

“A friend,” he mutters.

Yes, he and Claire have started texting each other over the last few weeks. Nothing serious, nothing nonstop. Sometimes he sends her a message, others time she does. More often than not, they just share The Office memes with each other.

Also, when the bump into each other in the hallways, their way of greeting one another is to quote the show. It’s funny, something only theirs. Wilhelm gets excited whenever he catches a glimpse of her at the end of the corridor. He knows they’ll share a funny moment.

Is she cute? Yes.

Does Wilhelm like talking to her? Yeah, he does.

Will he ask her out? Still to be seen.

“Only a friend?” Erik questions.

“Only a friend,” Wilhelm assures him. For now, at least, that’s what she is.

“Hum, you’re boring.”

Wilhelm throws the used napkin back at his brother.

“Do you need me to drive you back to school?” Erik asks when they are on the dessert, sharing a chocolate ice-cream cup.

“No,” Wilhelm licks his spoon. “I’m staying at Simon’s.”

Erik’s ears perk up at the mention of Wilhelm’s famous, yet mysterious friend.

Yes, Wilhelm tends not to speak of Simon with Erik. Or anyone really. He is, and has always been, overprotective of their friendship.

(If he were to admit it, it’s because he is scared that if he talks about Simon, he knows he won’t stop babbling about him until others realize how much in love he is with the other boy.)

“Will I meet him?”

“No.”

“Aw, why not?”

“I don’t want him to know I share genes with a nincompoop.”

Erik throws the napkin back at him, hitting his face.

After dinner, Wilhelm walks Erik up to his car. A red convertible that Wilhelm thinks it’s too obnoxious and makes sure to say it to his brother’s face.

His neck ends up in an armlock, him tapping his brother’s arm to let him go.

“You know your way around?” Erik asks, pulling on his seatbelt.

“Yes, Erik. Don’t worry,” Wilhelm rolls his eyes.

“Hey,” Erik complains, poking his brother’s bellybutton through his sweatshirt, “don’t give me the young brother voice.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“You did it again!”

“Bye Erik,” Wilhelm says, dragging his brother’s name, and starts walking backwards, away from the car. “Text me when you get home!”

“Will do, little brother!”

Wilhelm watches his brother drive away and then picks his phone out of his pocket, texting Simon.

Wilhelm

On my way to your house now

He clicks on Claire’s Instagram message, smiles at her heart-reaction at his story with his brother, and then writes her back, continuing their conversation about the summer break. Claire’s going to spend some weeks in Sicily with her friends and asked Wilhelm for some pointers.

As he sends his message to Claire, a new notification pops up.

Simon

ok

Wilhelm makes it to the Eriksson’s house in less than fifteen minutes, texting back and forward with Claire, chuckling at the funny gifs she sends as reactions to the things he says.

He knocks on the door and is surprised to find Linda opening it for him.

“Wilhelm,” she greets jolly, giving him a hug and a pat on the cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. And you, Linda?”

“I’m alright, sweetheart. Come on in,” she says, letting him step inside the house.

“Where’s Simon?” Wilhelm asks as they cross the living-room’s threshold.

“Oh, he’s in his room,” Linda says.

“He’s in a mood,” Sara intervenes, from her comfortable spot on the couch where she is watching a movie and eating ice-cream.

“Sara,” Linda warns her daughter.

Wilhelm blinks, confused. “Did something happen?”

“He’s being an idiot,” Sara replies, nonchalant.

“Sara!”

“It’s true,” Sara shrugs and eats a spoon full of ice-cream.

Linda gives Wilhelm a frustrated look, as if she can’t deal with her children’s behavior anymore today, her lips curling into a close-fitting smile.

“I’ll… just go?” Wilhelm says, pointing his way to Simon’s room. Linda nods.

Wilhelm finds Simon on his bed with his keyboard in front of him, playing a slow, but angry melody, hitting long grave notes that fill the room with an upsetting sound.

Wilhelm drops the small backpack he brought with him to spend the night in on the floor next to the gaming chair.

“Hey,” he greets hesitantly.

Simon stops playing and looks up. Furrowed brows, pinched mouth, and empty brown eyes tell Wilhelm what kind of mood his best friend is in: pissed.

“What’s happened?” He asks tentatively, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Simon turns back to the piano, playing another long grave note.

“I saw Marcus,” he reveals after the sound dies off.

Wilhelm raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“He’s got a boyfriend,” Simon continues.

Wilhelm keeps quiet, his brain firing up different kinds of cruel reactions. So what? sounds bad, but Why do you care? You weren’t even in love with him, is worse, and Wilhelm shuts himself up before the words escape his mouth.

Simon hits another grave note, lets out an exasperated exhale and pushes the piano away.

“They met a couple months ago, right after we broke up. Hit it off right away, apparently.” Simon chuckles dryly, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“And why is that upsetting you?” Wilhelm dares to ask.

“Because…” Simon struggles to find the right words, avoiding Wilhelm’s gaze. He sighs, defeated. “It’s unfair.”

Wilhelm’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead.

“Unfair?” He repeats the word, and as he does it, a sour taste fills his mouth. In the bottom of his stomach an unsettling, venomous bubble breaks, spreading all over him as if it were a contagious virus. “Why unfair?”

Simon, whose gloomy, angry mood fits right in with Wilhelm’s sudden burst of anger, snaps his angry glare at Wilhelm like it’s his fault.

“Because,” he spits, “he got to move on first.”

Wilhem frowns and says nothing.

“And I-“ Simon suddenly squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back so sudden that it hits the wall.

Wilhelm almost flinches, as if it had hurt him too.

“Are you okay?” He asks, still upset, but not enough that he doesn’t want to check on Simon’s wellbeing.

Simon nods, eyes still shut, jaw clenched.

Wilhelm can’t understand Simon’s mood.

 So what Marcus moved on first?

He got to move on first, those were Simon’s words.

Why? Simon wants to be the first one to find someone new? But isn’t he better alone, as he has said time after time in the past months?

“I don’t get it,” Wilhem says. Simon snaps his eyes open. “Who cares, Simon?”

Simon’s lisp twitch involuntary, as if he doesn’t like the fact Wilhelm’s not getting him.

Btu how can Wilhelm get him if Simon doesn’t explain himself?

“I do! I care!” Simon snaps.

Simon’s harsh tone makes Wilhelm snap back, “Why?”

“Because!”

“Because what?” Wilhelm demands, that venomous anger acting for him.

“Because I- Ugh!”

Simon suddenly pulls his legs closer to his body, grabs his curls with both hands and lets out a frustrated groan, hiding his face behind his palms.

Wilhelm waits, glaring.

“I can’t,” Simon mutters against his hands, his voice faltering.

“You can’t… what?” Wilhelm’s voice breaks, half in anger, half in defeat. As if seeing Simon slowly coming down from his rage high calms him down too.

Simon shakes his head, defeated, still hiding his face from Wilhelm; still refusing to explain himself.

Suddenly, Wilhelm’s out of anger. He only feels confusion; sadness.

“I… don’t understand,” Wilhelm admits.

Simon peeks from behind his hands, watches Wilhelm for the longest time in an unsettling quietness, some kind of emotion playing in his eyes that Wilhelm can’t identify, can’t figure out what it means.

“Me neither,” Simon finally admits in the quietest voice possible.

He drops his hands and pushes his legs down, crossing them in front of him. He falls in silence again, playing with his own fingers, pulling on them in a way that Wilhelm knows is hurting him.

Wilhelm aches to get closer and comfort Simon, but he is frozen to the spot. Never mind that the anger is gone, a lingering sour feeling stayed behind and it has Wilhelm glued to his seat.

Because, whenever he thinks he knows Simon like the palm of his hand, the boy surprises him with a new layer. A new, incomprehensible layer.

“Do you,” Wilhelm tries, still trying to read Simon’s mind, “want to be alone?”

Simon’s shoulders tense up, hesitating, and then he nods.

Wilhelm nods, understanding.

“But,” Simon replies, his eyes begging him in the fleetest flicker of eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

It leaves Wilhelm feeling even more confused.

But still, he is weak for Simon, and so he stays.

***

“What if we skip it?” Wilhelm suggests, plastered on his bed, half-dressed, with his hair still wet from the shower he has just taken.

Simon exhales a weak snort as he fixes his hair in front of the small sink behind Wilhelm’s bed.

“You promised Felice you’d go,” he reminds Wilhelm, his voice softer and lower than usual.

Simon has been distant this last week.  He is there but he isn’t, not really. He keeps away from Wilhelm, barely talks to their friends and always avoids the ‘how are you?’-question from the people around him.  

Wilhelm wishes he could get inside his friend’s mind and find out what has been upsetting him so badly because, by now, he has overthought himself into believing that it can’t only be Marcus that is making Simon weird. Marcus and his new happy boyfriend, who Wilhelm has also seen on Instagram, can’t be depressing Simon this much.

There has to be something else. But Simon doesn’t talk to him. To anyone.

Wilhelm knows he needs to give Simon his space and time; knows that, when the time comes, if Simon needs to deconstruct his overthinking, he will ask for help.

Until then, Wilhelm tries to act as normal as possible. Tries to show Simon that he is still here if he needs him; and if what he needs of him right now is for Wilhelm to act normal, he will.

“Ugh, why did I do that?” He whines, dramatic.

“Because she is one of your best friends and you’d do anything for your best friends,” Simon replies, the words coming out of him natural and honest.

Wilhelm tells himself not to dwell on those words and instead acts his part as annoyed. “Ugh, I’m so nice.”

Simon snorts again, still fighting one of his curls at the top of his head.

Wilhelm notices the displeased pinch in Simon’s lips and lifts himself from the bed, going to stand behind his friend. He slaps Simon’s hands away from his own hair and tries himself to fix his curls.

“We could just stay in and watch a movie,” Wilhelm suggests.

“But you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want to go to a party and put up with drunk people either.”

“Wille,” Simon rolls his eyes, the dark circles under them emphasized by the sink’s mirror strong light, “You can just join the drunk people in their drunkenness.”

“But you don’t like it very much.”

“I’m fine with it,” Simon says, with as much conviction as he has been weakly trying to show he has. “I met you when you were drunk, remember?”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Wilhelm pouts.

“You were kind of drunk,” Simon argues, a hint of smile pulling the corner of his lips.

Wilhelm finally gets Simon’s curls right and drops his hands. He stares at the boy through the mirror.

“I was tipsy, at most.”

“That’s what you thought.”

Wilhelm lets out an exasperated exhale and goes to drop on his bed again.

“Also,” Simon keeps going, sitting next to him on the bed, “I’m really fine with you drinking, Wille.”

But you didn’t like it when Marcus drunk, Wilhelm wants to say. But he can’t. Marcus used to be Simon’s boyfriend. Wilhelm’s just his friend.

Maybe Simon just doesn’t like it when his boyfriends drink.

He also doesn’t like it when they move on before him, apparently.

“Alright,” Wilhelm jumps out of his bed and into a standing position, ready to ignore his thoughts.  Clearly, staying in won’t do him any good either. “Let’s go party then.”

The party is blowing up by the time Wilhelm and Simon get there.

The Palace is full of drunk teenagers, on their way to make bad mistakes or probably making them already. A lousy DJ booth stands in one of its corners with Madison in front of it, yelling over the music at the DJ to let her choose the next songs. Stella and Frederika in a sofa are making-out (apparently, they do that when they are drunk), and Walter and Henry are trying to hook up with two third years and failing miserably.

“Wille, come!” Felice shouts drunk and immediately drags him with her towards the counter. Simon sticks behind to talk to his sister, who is wearing a funny looking hat and drinking from a huge pink glass with a curly straw.  “Shots!”

Wilhelm groans. Nothing ever goes right when he drinks shots.

“Felice, come-“

Six shots line up in front of them. His eyes widen as he looks back at Felice.

“Who are these shots for?!”

“Us!”

“We’re two, Felice!”

“Three for each!”

Wilhelm groans again.

But he takes the shots because one, it’s Felice, and he can never say no to her, and, two, he needs to relax his brain.

Simon being on edge has left him on edge too. Receiving worrying looks from Felice, being asked by the other boys what’s up with Simon because they fear to ask him, trying to ignore the snarky comments from Sara, who is the only person who has been able to get under Simon’s skin for the past week, and balancing it all with Claire’s funny texts, the one thing that actually makes him smile in the mist of worry that he has been living in because of Simon, has been, to put it bluntly simple, overwhelming and weird.

It has been a weird week.

And Wilhelm needs to loosen up. 

“Felice, let’s do more shots,” he suggests.

Felice’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead in surprise before she throws her arms in the air, celebrating, and orders four more shots.

By the time Wilhelm goes back to Simon, he is no longer sober. His thoughts are foggy and his eyesight dizzy.

Dizzy until he spots Simon and immediately focus. He beelines towards his best friend, surprising him from the left.

“Simon,” he whines, pulling on the smaller boy’s sweatshirt sleeve. “Felice made me drink.” He pouts.

Felice gasps dramatically as she drunkenly drops on the vacant sofa spot next to Sara. “Bitch, you asked for more!”

Simon snickers and glances at Wilhelm.

“I won’t drink more,” Wilhelm promises, his brain halfway to drunkenness already, losing its filter, losing its ability to overthink.

Simon rolls his eyes at him, looking away. “Just do whatever you want,” he says.

I want you to talk to me!

Wilhelm’s filters still manage to keep that one thought in.

“I thought you needed to blackout,” Sara suddenly says, playing with her curly straw, “because of that holiday you have with your parents.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Wilhelm groans. He can’t believe he has to go on a two-week vacation to Greece with his parents alone. Erik and his stupid new job are going to kill Wilhelm. Well, if his parents don’t kill him first. “I need two more shots just because of that.”

“Yes!” Felice exclaims, jumping out of her seat.

“Shouldn’t you take it a bit easier?” Simon suggests, worry crossing his face.

Wilhelm sobers up at the solemn expression on Simon’s face and drops an arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“For you, yes.”

“Oh!” Felice pouts and crosses her arms, dropping back on her seat.

Wilhelm snickers at her sad, childish pose. He tilts forward to tease her when, from the other side of Simon, he catches sight of a familiar blonde curly hair in a soft pink dress.

He immediately turns his attention away from his group of friends, his drunk mind zooming in on Claire, a few meters away from them, talking to a group of girls from her year. She has a tiara over her hair, soft make-up, and a winter pink dress that looks good on her. Too good.

“Excuse me,” Wilhelm says, pushing away from the group and going in Claire’s direction.

“Hey,” he greets happily.

“Wilhelm!” Claire greets, throwing her arms up and then over him, clearly drunk.  Sober Claire would never dare to hug Wilhelm. “You’re finally here!”

“I am! How are you?”

“I’m having a blast,” she says, gesturing with her hand. “I hated the last parties, but this one…” She nods, taking a sip of her drink. One of her arms is still around Wilhelm’s torso. “This one is a good party. After all, you’re here!”

Wilhelm laughs.

“I am!”

Unconsciously, they start drifting away from her group of friends and into a corner, looking for privacy.

They talk for a while, completely immersed in each other, quoting The Office in the middle of the conversation and making each other laugh, until a song that apparently Claire adores (thanks, Madison, for taking over as DJ) has the girl dragging Wilhelm to the dance floor.

He’s not a dancer, but neither is she, and they both crack up at their silly moves. They settle into an easy dance step, Claire’s chin always tilted up to look closely at Wilhelm, to smile at him.

For a moment, he thinks of kissing her; she’s clearly hinting that she wouldn’t mind (he thinks). He almost does lean in, almost closes the gap between them, but then he is vividly reminded, when Henry and Walter crash into him and chant his name, shaking him wildly, that the two of them are surrounded by snoopy classmates who will not let them forget if they kiss in the middle of a party. If Wilhelm acts as if he and Claire are just a drunk hook-up.

So he doesn’t lean in. They dance, they whisper in each other’s ears, but neither of them make a move.

Wilhelm manages to lose himself in the moment.

He doesn’t know for how long they have been on the dance floor when Claire suddenly leans closer, grabbing his arm, to inform him that she is going to the bathroom. He nods, not fully taking in her words, and watches her snaking her way through the dancing crowd and out of his view.

Suddenly, Wilhelm is alone, without a distraction, in the middle of wild loud drunk teenagers who keep invading his personal space, bumping into him, their sloppy touches making him uncomfortable. Too aware of where he is and who he isn’t with. 

Simon.

Where’s Simon?

Wilhelm searches the party for him, only to find Felice and Sara in one of the Palace’s corridors, kneeling on the floor and throwing up together.

“Are you guys okay?” Wilhelm asks, scrunching his nose at the smell coming from them. “Have you seen Simon?”

Sara looks up from her vomit and points to the open window behind them.

“He went outside. A while ago.”

Wilhelm frowns.

“Is he okay?”

Sara’s answer is to throw up. Felice follows her.

Jesus, how much did they drink?

Wilhelm climbs through the window, avoiding stepping on broken glass, and keeps looking for Simon.

He goes around the Palace, ignoring the five guys peeing together in a line on one of the sides, and drifts away, seeking Simon somewhere further from the building.

He finds him, sitting behind a tree branch, and stops to watch him. Simon’s head is tilted back and he has his eyes closed, hurt written all over his face.

How long has he been outside all alone, hurting?

“Simon.”

Simon’s eyes snap open.

Wilhelm falls on his knees next to him.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned.  “Sara said you left and… I couldn’t find you.”

“You were a bit busy tonight,” Simon replies coldly.

“Not for you,” Wilhelm frowns. “If you told me you weren’t okay, I’d left with you. You know that.”

Simon tilts his head away, avoiding Wilhelm’s gaze.

“Is this about Marcus?” Wilhelm’s drunk mind assumes.

Simon gives him an are-you-serious?-look.

“Why would it be about Marcus?”

“Because he… is dating someone and…”

“And I’m not?” Simon snaps. He feels the hardness of his own voice and shakes his head, looking away. “I’m fine with it. I’m happy he is dating someone and has moved on. We all deserve to find what or who makes us happy, right?”

Wilhelm opens his mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He gives Simon one more look before maneuvering himself into reaching his jeans’ front pocket.

He takes the phone out and sees Clara’s name on the screen.

Shit, he forgot about her.

“It’s Claire,” he announces.

Simon gives him a cold look.

Wilhelm accepts the call.

“Hey.”

“Where are you? I can’t find you,” Claire yells, her voice drowning in the loud music from inside the Palace.

“I’m with Simon outside. I’ll… I’ll meet you later, okay?” He replies, raising his voice to make sure she hears him.

“Promise?” She says with a hopeful voice.

“Promise.”

“I’ll hold you onto to it, Wilheeelm!” She sings his name.

He chuckles. “Bye Claire.”

“Byeee.”

He hangs up.

“Sorry,” he mutters to Simon, shoving his phone in his coat’s pocket.

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, one that they haven’t had ever since they were strangers in those first few times they hung out.

Wilhelm doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like not feeling comfortable to reach out to Simon, to talk mindlessly, without worrying that he will say something weird that will make the void between them grow larger.

“So, you and Claire,” Simon suddenly starts, wary.

“There’s nothing going on,” Wilhelm immediately states.

“But you want to,” Simon says knowingly.

“I-“

What can Wilhelm say? Assure Simon that he doesn’t feel something for Claire? And for what? Simon is his friend. Wilhelm’s feelings can battle with him as much as they want to, but he needs to be reasonable.

This is something Wilhelm has been struggling with for a long time now; his sensible side and his feelings are in a constant fight every day.

Every day he wakes up to Simon’s messy curls on the other side of the room, the grunt he gives instead of good-morning that always brightens up Wilhelm’s day at its start, that makes him think, god, I could get used to this for the rest of my life, only to then be reminded that he can’t have more than what he has now. That Simon who, for some unknown and weird reason, still has unresolved issues (feelings, maybe) for Marcus. That Simon isn’t his to love. Not in the way Wilhelm wants.

And then, there is Claire. Funny, easy-going Claire who likes the same shows he does, who jokes with Wilhelm throughout the day, popping in and out to amuse him, and that could, should be more. 

Wilhelm needs to give other people an opportunity.

He needs to give himself an opportunity too.

“I do,” Wilhelm confesses.

Simon doesn’t say anything for a while. He watches Wilhelm, his dark eyes giving nothing, and then nods, looking away from him.

“Is it serious?” Simon asks, his hand lowering to the piece of grass between on them. He starts picking on it.

Wilhelm bites his bottom lip, watching Simon’s antics with the grass.

It’s not serious for now, but it could be, right?

If Wilhelm invested enough time, if he dared to ask Claire out, to give her a shot, it could become serious.

Maybe, just maybe, he could fall out of love with Simon and in love with Claire.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a shrug.

Simon lets out a weak snort, still avoiding his gaze.

“You either know or don’t, Wilhelm. Do you want to ask her out? To be your girlfriend?”

And that’s the thing is: Wilhelm can’t picture Claire as his girlfriend. At least, not yet.

“Well, it’s not that serious,” he answers as a matter-of-fact.

Simon finally raises his gaze to meet his.

“I mean, we’re just talking,” Wilhelm shrugs. “I don’t know her well enough to decide that.”

“You want to know her well enough, though?” Simon wonders.

Wilhelm sighs, starting to get a bit exasperated.

“Why are you asking me these things, Simon?”

Simon shrugs, trying to come off nonchalant, but his fingers pick on the grass violently.

“Shouldn’t I know if one of my best friends has a crush?” He asks.

Well, shouldn’t I know what’s going on with you?, Wilhelm almost snaps.

But he gets himself under control.

This isn’t the time nor is it about Simon.

“If I’m going to date someone, then yes, I want to know them well, Simon,” he retorts, annoyance dripping from his voice.

“Hum…”

“But until then, anything can happen, right?” He shrugs again, gesturing with his left hand to say who knows?. “It’s not like she and I are meant to be or anything like that. I mean, yeah, maybe now I want to date her. But who knows what tomorrow will bring? Maybe someone can come into my life and make me fall in love with them.”

“Or maybe –“and this is Wilhelm’s traitorous heart busting in, wanting to have his say in the rant too – “there’s someone else who likes me too but hasn’t had the guts to tell me. And, maybe, just maybe, if they did I would- “

It happens so fast Wilhelm barely has time to take it in.

On one second, he is answering Simon, blabbing about his future romantic possibilities, of falling in love with Claire or someone else, as if the person he has been deeply in love for years isn’t sitting right in front him, and on the next one, Simon’s hand is grabbing his jaw and pulling his head towards him.

Suddenly, with barely any time to catch his breath, to savor the moment, the leaning in, the softness of Simon’s nose bumping against his, the smell of Simon invading his personal space, their breathes sharing the same air, it happens. One of Wilhelm’s biggest dreams comes true.

Simon’s lips are on his.

Simon is kissing him.

Simon is kissing him.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm has asked for a lot of things in his life.

When he was younger, he asked for toys and videogames. He always got what he asked for and thought he was happy like that.

As he grew older, though, he put aside material things and asked for his parents’ attention, which was the turning point for him because he barely got the attention he wanted unless it was to shrink him into a bad comparison to his older brother. His parents, to avoid showering him with love, kept giving him stuff. Stuff and stuff that he didn’t want, and never the love he wanted.

He dwelled on it.

On asking and not getting what he truly wanted.

On wanting his parents’ approval and never getting it.

On wanting a friend and having Felice skip on him for a year due to an unrequited crush.

On wanting to stay in Stockholm, closer to his brother, and being sent to Hillerska instead.

He learned to accept it. To accept that the things he would always want the most would never be his.

And this, right now, with Simon’s soft lips on his, his hand on Wilhelm’s jaw to keep him close, to keep kissing him – kissing him – is the one thing he asked for the most and that he made himself believe he would never have. 

But here they are.

It’s like a dream come true.  One he has had so many times. One he has scolded himself for having. One he thought he would never have.

Simon is kissing him. Simon and his beautiful lips, his soft curls, his sweet citrus fruit smell, wrap Wilhelm in a delicious effervescing high that he doesn’t want to come down from. His heart beats at the sound of them. Them and only them.

Simon’s soft, plump lips coarse Wilhelm to open up more, pulling his upper lip between his teeth, and his hand cards through Wilhelm’s hair, pulling him closer. Wilhelm breathes him in, kissing back, hands on Simon’s back, dragging their torsos against each other, moaning.

They are kissing.

After all this time, after so much hopelessness, crushing and pining, Wilhelm finally has Simon’s mouth on him.  Finally knows how Simon tastes.

And it’s such a sweet, addicting taste.

Simon’s hand, the one that isn’t pulling Wilhelm’s hair in such an overwhelming grip, slides down his back, finding the hem of Wilhelm’s shirt, and sneaks inside.

The cold hand of Simon against his warm back has Wilhelm gasping into the other boy’s mouth.

“Wille,” Simon murmurs against his lips, entranced. His fingers dig roughly Wilhelm’s back.

Wilhelm sucks on Simon’s bottom lip, the one he has seen pouting so many times, the one that rattled his box of feelings way too much. He sucks and pulls, Simon gasping.

And suddenly Wilhelm has a lap full of Simon, his knees pressing on the outside of Wilhelm’s tights, and Wilhelm’s hands can’t stay still. They need to feel everything about Simon.

And it’s so much, so sudden, so life-changing that Wilhelm believes he is dreaming.

It can only be a dream.

Simon wouldn’t kiss him in real life.

Simon’s mouth wouldn’t trail down his neck with sloppy kisses.

Simon-

Because he got to move on first.

Wilhelm snaps his eyes open, reality hitting him with a full blow.

Simon and his gloomy mood the past week. Simon and his weird reaction to Marcus getting a boyfriend.

Because he got to move on first.

This isn’t real.

Simon’s lips on Wilhelm’s lips, Simon’s hand on Wilhelm’s skin, Simon’s sighs of pleasure on Wilhelm’s face, they aren’t real. Because Simon isn’t thinking clearly right now. This is not what Simon wants; who he wants. They are friends.

This past week has taken a toll on him; Marcus moving on first, Marcus finding love before he did; it did something to Simon. It triggered Simon into a spiral of rushed, bad decisions. Of pulling people away, of drowning himself into a pit of self-loathing that Wilhelm has yet broken through to understand him. to help him.

But this isn’t right.

This is Simon searching for some kind of control; to get ahead of Marcus maybe; to make himself feel something with someone else; to not feel alone.

Rebounding, maybe.

With Wilhelm.

Against his deepest desires and his heart’s desperate pleas no, let me have this, just one minute, just one more kiss, Wilhelm’s hands find Simon’s shoulders, the boy leaning against his touch so naturally that it almost makes Wilhelm’s falter.

“Simon,” Wilhelm manages to call, lips against Simon’s; lips demanding to stay on Simon’s.

But no.

With a detestable, second-guessing strength, Wilhelm pulls Simon away from him.

“Simon,” he says again, more assertively.

Simon stares at him with dazed eyes. His red, swollen lips, lips that were just now kissing Wilhelm’s mouth, that were on his neck just a few seconds ago, marking him up, are hanging slightly open.

“Simon,” and it pains him to say his name this time, “we can’t.”

Simon blinks.

The words hang between them as a heavy verdict.

“What?” Simon asks, voice breaking.

Simon’s body leans away, his hands fall from where they were holding Wilhelm’s face and back. He sits back, crawling out of Wilhelm’s lap, and Wilhelm’s hand almost reaches out to pull him back. But he can’t. He can’t do this.

Wilhelm takes a deep breath, already feeling his chest heavier.

“We can’t,” he repeats.

Simon blinks. It’s the only thing he can do. Blink and blink.

“We’re friends,” Wilhelm reminds him.

And if they can only be friends, Wilhelm can be okay with it. But he cannot have a taste of something more, only to get his heart broken after; only to be used.

He understands why Simon would give kiss him; would lean into the familiarity that Wilhelm always offers him; that their friendship has. And if it weren’t for Wilhelm’s true feelings, the one he keeps locked away so desperately, he would be fine with this.

Just like what happened with Felice, he would let it happen with Simon. And their friendship, if it was only a friendship, would handle it. Because it’s strong and too important enough for the two of them.

But not when the reality isn’t that.

Not when Wilhelm’s heart wants more.

Realization dawns upon Simon, perhaps of what he just tried to do, perhaps of what Wilhelm has just said. His beautiful brown eyes, who had just looked at Wilhelm captivated, pupil-dilated in a haze of desire, turn cold.

His face pinches, eyebrows coming together in a deep frown, and suddenly Simon’s on his foot and running. Running from Wilhelm.

From the kiss they shared.

Wilhelm watches him go.  His mouth half opens in a distraught call that never comes out. Simon’s name hanging on his tongue, unsaid, as his body freezes. And Simon’s figure disappears into the woods.  

***

Wilhelm goes back to the party.

His head is drowning in thoughts, the sounds of the party coming to him as if he were underwater, barely hearing the loud music and the excited voices screaming as he goes through them. He barely registers the feeling of drunk people stumbling against him, not seeing him clearly. His heart is somewhere buried in Hillerska woods, trying to dig its way back to the surface to demand things from Wilhelm that he won’t give it.

Wilhelm has one goal, and one goal only right now: to seek comfort.

He spots Claire with her friends. Halts for a moment, thinking if he should.

His feet drag him to Felice instead.

His friend takes one look at him and knows something’s wrong. Deeply wrong. She sobers up almost immediately, standing up from her seat between Sara and Frederika and reaches Wilhelm.

“What’s happened?” She asks.

Wilhelm opens his mouth to speak, but can’t. He shakes his head and drops it on her shoulder, engulfing her in an embrace. She hugs him back.

“Wille,” she whispers in his ear, her voice so quiet in contrast to the loud music and drunk teenagers around them.

“I need to get out of here,” Wilhelm asks.

He feels her nodding against his head.

Felice drags him out of the party, leads them through the Hillerska woods, and, when Wilhelm realizes she is moving towards Forest Ridge House, and not her own dorm, he tugs on her hand, making her look back.

He shakes his head, unshed tears almost breaking free.

Felice gets it and takes him to her room instead.

“What’s happened?” She asks once they are both sitting on her bed, her arms wrapped around Wilhelm’s shoulders to pull him into a hug.

Wilhelm closes his eyes. He relives the moment, the sweet burst of happiness of having felt Simon’s lips on his, of having been engulfed in everything that Simon is, and then the cold, harsh reality hits him again.

He opens his eyes.

“Simon kissed me,” he says it out loud painfully.

Who would have thought it would pain him to say those words?

Felice’s embrace falters. She leans back just enough to look at him.

“Isn’t… that good?” She asks.

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“Why?” She frowns, hand rubbing Wilhelm’s neck.

“Marcus has a boyfriend,” Wilhelm tells her. “Simon found out last week.”

“Oh,” she lets out. “Is… that why he has been in a mood?”

Wilhelm nods. “I think so.”

Felice doesn’t say anything. She pulls Wilhelm’s head against her chest, stroking his hair.

Wilhelm lets himself fall against her, sighing.

“It hurts,” he admits, voice cracking. “And I wish I could be a better friend for him.”

“Wille…”

“If I had been a better friend, I…”

“What would you have done differently?” Felice asks, her fingers going through Wilhelm’s hair in a gentle motion. “Wille, all things considered, you have been the most amazing friend for Simon.”

“But I love him in an un-friend way,” he reminds her. Reminds them both.

“And that made you want him to be happy.”

Wilhelm pulls away. He dares to flicker his gaze at Felice for one brief moment before sitting against the wall. He plays nervously with his hands.

“What if hooking up with me was what he needed?” He wonders out loud.

Felice makes a sour expression of someone who disagrees but doesn’t want to come off rude in such a delicate moment.

“Wille,” she starts, “hooking up with one of your best friends is not the solution. We both know that.”

Wilhelm hums in reply and says nothing more. Felice keeps it to herself too, just watching him with those worried brown eyes of a friend who wishes they could take the pain and or give the right solution that would fix all Wilhelm’s problems. But she can’t do either.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Felice offers after the silence becomes to overbearing.

He nods.

“Please,” he remembers to ask.

He spends last night as a second year at Hillerska in Felice’s room, sharing a bed with her, as they have done in the past, with her cuddling him from behind, giving him comfort while his heart tries to mend itself again.

This is not how he imagined his last night. He thought it would be in his room, with Simon, sharing one last night with him before summer came between them and all they had was a phone to connect them.

He needs to talk to Simon before they leave. They can put this night behind them and be friends again. Wilhelm can’t lose him.

He barely sleeps, overthinking all that could happen on the next day when he goes back to his room.

When Felice’s alarm goes off, around nine am, they pull apart from each other, Felice slowly gaining conscious of her surroundings while Wilhelm turns on his back, staring at her ceiling with a blank expression. Like he has done for the past five hours.

“Meet me by the gate in an hour?” Felice asks, giving him a worried look.

Wilhelm nods.

He goes back to his dorm.

Each step he takes brings him closer to a nervous meltdown. His hands curl and uncurl, trying to expel the edgy energy filling his body, as he crosses the school’s garden. When Forest Ridge House comes into view, his chest feels heavier, his head wrapped in a long, overthought monologue for Simon.

Wilhelm halts at his room’s door, hesitant. He looks at the doorknob, takes two long deep breaths and opens the door.

To find nothing.

Wilhelm blinks, stares at the empty room. The beds are unmade, sheets throwing on the floor for the cleaning service to pick it up later. The walls are empty, no sign of any posters hanging on them. The right side of the room has no books, no clothes on the ground, no bags. Only Wilhelm’s bags remain.

Wilhelm tries to inhale but can’t.

Simon has already left.

Simon left and now they have a whole summer ahead of them.

He left without them talking.

Shit.

Wilhelm steps into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He moves to Simon’s side of the room first, absorbing its emptiness.  Nothing to remind him of Simon’s presence in the room except…

Except for the lingering smell of citrus fruit in the air.

He is able to inhale now, consuming that sweet scent as if it were the last time that he would smell it.

He then turns to his side of the room, to the bags on the floor. He takes it in before looking back at Simon’s side one last time, at the emptiness of it; where Simon’s things used to be, where Simon used to be, as his friend, as someone he only dreamt of kissing and thought he would never get to know the taste of his lips. It stings his heart. Breaks it.

But what can he do now?

Three months of summer.

Wilhelm moves on pilot mode. He needs a shower and a change of clothes, so he does that first. He lets himself linger in the shower stall for longer than necessary, the hot water burning his skin.

Only when he hears voices entering the communal showers does he leave.

He leaves the used towel on the floor along with the used sheets and grabs last night’s clothes to put them in one of his bags.

That’s when he notices the white paper.

He stops, staring at the piece of paper on top of his black backpack.

Time stops, his heart doesn’t beat, air doesn’t circulate, and then it all crashes and he moves forward to grab the paper.

There’s nothing else apart from three little words.

I’m sorry.

Wilhelm stares at the message and knows it’s from Simon. The handwriting, the apology, the lack of names. It’s so obvious it’s Simon’s.  

He brings the paper closer, smells it. A hint of citrus fruit.

A tear breaks from his eye as he pulls the paper away. He looks at those words again, traces the handwriting with his finger, and understands.  He understands what he needs to do now.

And it’s nothing.

He pockets the note in his jacket and goes on with finishing packing his last bag.

He makes sure everything’s in order and, stepping out of the room, turns to take one final look at the room, the place he shared so many nights with Simon, watched so many shows, studied, laughed, and even fought.

He exhales and closes the door.

“You’re ready to go?” Felice asks, meeting up with him at the front gate.

Surrounded by his three bags, Wilhelm nods. The note burns in his pocket.  He pats it as if he telling it to calm down. That he is following Simon’s wishes.

Because he knows his best friend by now. He knows Simon needs time, needs to work out things on his own before he talks to someone. The fact that had left a note means that he already stepped out of his comfort zone to assure Wilhelm that he knows. He knows what happened between them wasn’t right but he also doesn’t want to lose what they have. He just needs time.

So Wilhelm will give him time.

As long as it means not losing Simon, he will give him time.

He can do that.

***

Wilhelm is losing his mind.

Stuck in a vacation in Greece with his parents, without his brother, without Simon’s constant texting, is driving him insane.

He can’t escape his mom’s comments, about college, about dating, about social networking (he’s seventeen, for the love of God!) nor his father’s bad attempts at conversation with him, only to realize he knows barely nothing about his youngest son. Wilhelm just wants this two-week vacation to end but time is not on his side.

Time, which he has given Simon and has received nothing in return. Nothing at all.

Sure, Wilhelm hasn’t sent him a message either, but that’s because he’s assumed Simon would want to do it on his own terms. Whenever he feels ready.

But it has been three weeks and Simon is radio silence.

Three weeks of itching to talk to Simon but controlling himself, thinking Simon isn’t ready.

Three weeks of taking that note out of his wallet and staring at it. The piece of paper has dirtied to yellow by now, its corners wrinkled, torn from folded up in Wilhelm’s wallet days after days when it should be thrown away. Wilhelm refuses to do it.  

The only good part that he can see (or better, hear) right now, as he finally steps inside his home in Stockholm, is his brother’s voice coming from the living-room.

He races to the room.

Erik is standing by one of the bookshelves, distractedly tilting different books from the shelf as he talks on the phone with whom Wilhelm can only assume one of his colleagues from work.

Wilhelm, completely ignoring the fact that his brother is clearly on a business call, runs to him and jumps to an embrace.

Erik yelps, almost losing hold on his phone.

“Wille!” He complains, and then remembers the call. He puts the phone back on his ear “Sorry, Johansson, my brother has just arrived. Do you mind if I call you back later?”

The guy on the other side must have agreed to it because Erik says his goodbye and hangs up. He glances down at Wilhelm, who’s still holding onto his body’s left side like his life depends on it.

“Did you miss me that much?” Erik asks with a smirk, putting an arm around him.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Tell anyone about it and I’ll block you on social media,” Wilhelm threatens at the same time he pulls his brother closer.

Erik laughs and pats his back.

“Wanna tell me all about the vacation?” He asks.

Before Wilhelm can open his mouth to say how awful it was to be stuck with his parents for two whole weeks, having to follow mom’s strict schedule like it was a business trip and putting up with dad’s bad conversation starters, a voice comes from the living-room’s threshold, “Wilhelm, please act like a seventeen-year-old.”

Wilhelm immediately pulls away from his brother. He faces his mother’s stone-cold expression, who silently judges his needy actions.

“Mom,” Erik greets, keeping his arm around Wilhelm for comfort. “How was the trip?”

Kristina glares at the embrace between her two children, but says nothing more about it.

“Fine. Next year you’re coming,” she says in a final voice and leaves.

“Not a good trip?” Erik asks, turning to his brother.

“One of her deals broke off,” Wilhelm informs. Erik makes a pained expression, knowing exactly what kind of mood their mother must have been in after hearing that particular type of bad news. “You can imagine how great the last three days went,” he adds sarcastically.

Erik pats Wilhelm back again.

“At least you’re home now.”

“Thank goodness,” Wilhelm murmurs to himself, but Erik still hears him and chuckles fondly.

Wilhelm spends the afternoon with his brother, listening to him talk about his new job and how nice it is to be in a company where people don’t fear him because they fear their CEO.  Of course, people still react to their last name as if it is something to watch out for, but Erik makes sure to put his coworkers at ease. He wants people to see him as his own person and a reliable member for the company, not as their parents’ son.

By dinnertime, they are hiding in Erik’s bedroom, watching a movie and sharing a pizza between the two.

That’s when Wilhelm’s phone buzzes. Which sets out a new peak of anxiety in Wilhelm’s chest, as it has been happening for the past weeks.

He takes it out, stupid hope sweating his palms, and finds a new Instagram notification. From Claire.

claireolsson51: hey, you’re back in Stockholm?

justawille: Yes.

claireolsson51: cool, me too.

Wilhelm watches how Claire types and retypes. In the end, she doesn’t say anything else, and he knows what she is trying to do.

With a smile, he replies: want to meet for coffee?

Her answer is an instant yes.

Wilhelm finds himself smiling down at the messages, at Claire’s excitement to meet up with him.

They haven’t talked much in the last weeks as Claire was off with her friends on vacation in Italy. But now they are both in the same city, just an hour away from each other, who’s stopping them for meeting up?

Who’s stopping Wilhelm from going out and distracting himself from the lack of news from Simon?

At the thought of Simon, Wilhelm’s finger automatically goes to the boy’s profile. The red circle around Simon’s profile picture, entailing a new story from the other boy, has Wilhelm click on it.

A small video of a football field, the same one he and Simon went a long time ago to share their first meal together, plays on the screen. It’s a sunny day in Bjarstaal and Rosh’s playing. Ayub and Simon’s voices chant her name outside the video’s image.

The video ends. Wilhelm plays it one more time, now on mute not to disturb his brother.

Then he plays it a third time, and that’s when he finally gets the guts to send Simon a message.

justawille: Is she winning?

Wilhelm bites the skin around his thumb nail, waiting for an instant reply. It doesn’t come.

Time passes by and Simon doesn’t even acknowledge his message. Which is fine. Really. If he is out with Ayub and Rosh, he might not check his phone.

(But before, he did. Before, he always replied to Wilhelm right away, no matter where he was.)

“You’re going to lose your thumb one of these days,” Erik suddenly says.

Wilhelm snaps out of his anxiety-driven thoughts and looks up at his brother. Then, he looks at his thumb, the broken skin around his nail bleeding. Shit.

“I’ll get you a Band-Aid,” Erik offers and leaves the room.

Right as Erik steps out of the room, Wilhelm’s phone buzzes.

simon.eriksson15: she did (:

Wilhelm almost grabs his thumb again, but stops as soon as he feels the metallic taste of blood on his lips.

He rereads Simon’s message, wonders what else to say to keep the conversation going, ignoring the awful feeling in his gut that they shouldn’t be here again; they shouldn’t be acting like strangers again.

In a moment of desperation, he types out a message.

justawille: are we okay?

Simon immediately reads his message and replies.

simon.eriksson15: yes (:

justawille: Are you only going to reply with yes?

simon.eriksson15: what else do you want me to say?

justawille: I want us to be friends

simon.eriksson15: we are

Well, it doesn’t fucking look like it.

In a moment of despair and anger, Wilhelm throws his phone across the room. It hits the wall and crashes on the floor with a loud thump.

The panic he should feel for having broken an expensive, almost new phone is nowhere to be found as anger takes hold of Wilhelm’s body.

He can’t figure Simon out anymore. His aloofness, his pretend that everything’s fine when clearly it isn’t, is destroying Wilhelm from the inside. Why can’t they fix this? Why can’t they go back to what they were before the kiss?

God that terrible kiss.

Erik comes back, takes one look at Wilhelm’s rigid figure, who is once again wrecking his thumb, and raises an eyebrow in a silent inquiry. He rounds the bed, Band-Aid in his left hand, and that’s when his eyes fall on the broken phone on the floor. He snaps his gaze back at Wilhelm, concerned.

“What’s going on?”

Wilhelm can’t take it anymore and blurts out, “It’s Simon.”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Wilhelm keeps going, “He kissed me at the end-of-year party, and I stopped him because he clearly just needed a rebound and I don’t want to be just a rebound, and then he ran from me and ignored me all these weeks, only leaving a fucking note saying he is sorry, and now, now I texted him and he’s just being weirdly vague and pretending we’re fine when we’re not and-“

“Wilhelm, breathe,” his brother asks gently.

Wilhelm tries to exhale, realizing he hasn’t done it since start talking. He exhales deeply and inhales, his brother watching him carefully.

“Good,” Erik says once Wilhelm’s breathing is regular again. “Now,” he tilts his head, curious, “let’s take it one step at the time. Simon, your mysterious best friend from Bjarstaal, kissed you?”

Wilhelm nods.

“And you said he wanted to rebound… Why?”

Wilhelm takes a deep breath. “He found out his ex has a new boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

“And, although they were never really good together, Simon, I don’t know why, just didn’t take it well,” Wilhelm explains.

“I see.” Erik frowns, thinking. “And what did you mean by not wanting to be a just rebound?”

Wilhelm’s face pales up.

“I didn’t say that.”

Erik chuckles softly. “You did. I remember.”

“I…”

Fuck.

“You like him, don’t you?” Erik asks.

Wilhelm looks away and says nothing, which, in its silence, says everything.

Erik nods, understanding, and rubs Wilhelm’s arm.

“It’s okay, Wille.”

“It’s not.” Wilhelm snaps his eyes at his brother, upset. “I’ve liked him ever since I met him, Erik, and I’ve done everything I could to be a great friend and only a friend, and now he doesn’t even face me to talk about what he did.”

“Maybe he’s embarrassed.”

“But we could talk it through,” Wilhelm argues. “Felice and I, we talked it through too! We made a mistake, we kissed, but we solved it.”

“Yeah, but you and Felice didn’t have feelings for each other.”

“But I’m the one with feelings and I want to talk!”

Erik just stares at Wilhelm, slightly amused at his brother’s naivety.

“You really believe that?”

“I-“

What’s Erik trying to say? That Simon likes him back?

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“Don’t.”

Erik raises an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to make it sound like Simon might like me back, Erik. He doesn’t, okay? He sees me as a friend, that’s it. Please,” Wilhelm’s voice is on the verge of begging. He can’t deal with another hope outburst, he can’t.  “Don’t try reading into what’s not there.”

Wilhelm’s not sure what Erik is seeing on his face, but his older brother’s distraught look turns into understanding, and he nods.

“Okay,” Erik says. “He only likes you as a friend and he kissed you because he wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Yes.”

“And… he apologized?”

“With a note.”

Erik seems surprised, and bit confused, to be honest, by the existence of a physical note, but doesn’t get into it. Instead, he says, “Alright. So, he apologized with a note, and not face to face…”

“Yes, and then didn’t talk to me for three weeks.”

“And you didn’t talk to him?”

Wilhelm shakes his head.

“Not even to tell him you got his note?”

“I…”

Erik sighs upon seeing Wilhelm’s blank expression.

“Wille, Simon is obviously embarrassed by what he has done,” Erik points out as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, and how could Wilhelm not have seen it? “I mean, the boy left you a note apologizing. Who does that?”

Wilhelm frowns. “What’s your point?”

“The point is,” Erik gestures with his hands, “he is so embarrassed that he doesn’t want to talk about it face to face, maybe not even in texting. He just wants you, as his friend, to be cool about it. And what did you do? Nothing. You didn’t reach out.”

“But Simon doesn’t like it when people push him into talking.”

“He left you a note,” Erik emphasizes. “That was his way of talking. And you didn’t reply.”

When Erik puts it like, Wilhelm feels like an asshole.

He should have seen it right away; how Simon wanted him to reach out by leaving the note. Simon, who is probably worried that he had ruined their friendship and Wilhelm, who only saw things in his very biased point of view, made it look like he did.

This is why he hates having that stupid box of feelings locked inside of him. It makes him feel too biased on everything Simon-related, and he is always jumping to the worst conclusions because he can’t see past his own feelings. He wishes he knew how to throw the box away for good. Having no feelings whatsoever for Simon would help him see things much clearly.

Wilhelm groans, bringing his head to his hands.

He hears Erik chuckling at his realization.

Wilhelm can now see what he has done. Or better yet, what he has not done.

And yet…

Something tugs inside his chest.

A small thread of something that isn’t quite guilt or his lingering feelings for Simon makes its way into Wilhelm’s brain, bringing a quite different feeling with it.

One that is made of defeat and exhaustion.

Because it has been almost two years since he first laid eyes on Simon. Two years of joy, but also heartbreak. Two years of riding highs as much as crashing into awful lows and broken hope.

It was supposed to feel good, this feeling, this love.

But it doesn’t anymore.

Wilhelm straights up, looking now at his brother with a different expression on his face, one that his brother can’t quite understand and has him asking him, “What’s on your head?”

Wilhelm takes a long, deep breath and admits, “I’m tired.”

Erik nods, as if he understands, but then asks, “Of what?”

“Of feeling like this,” Wilhelm explains, a weight coming off his shoulders, off his chest and guts, as he speaks. “Of feeling… that liking Simon is burdening me instead of making me happy. I really, really want to be his friend and nothing else, Erik.”

“Why only that?” Erik asks, confused. Because he doesn’t know the entire story, he doesn’t know how much Wilhelm has been fighting his feelings.

How much Wilhelm is used to not getting what he wants.

“Because he is an amazing person and friend, Erik, and I want to be that for him too.”

Wilhelm decides, on that moment, upon finally telling his brother the truth, that he knows it’s time to let it go.

He has always known that he and Simon were never bound to happen; they were born out of a gleaming dream of Wilhelm’s traitorous heart; the same heart that never listened to him when he told it to stop loving Simon.

He just pushed himself into Simon’s life, gave himself hope and crashed multiple times for an unachievable dream, only to now be ruined by a silly moment. Something that he doesn’t blame Simon for, but himself; himself for not having being a better, more unbiased friend. One that didn’t push away when Simon made a small mistake.

Because that kiss, that doorway of hope, was a mistake, right?  And Wilhelm, instead of assuring Simon that all is fine, all is good, didn’t do anything.

All because of that stupid, awful box of feelings inside him; that fucking box that has now over dozens of locks in it and still stirs whenever Simon smiles; whenever Simon does something.

But not anymore.

Honestly. That’s it.

It’s time to let Simon go. He has to. Look at he has done to them.

Wilhelm makes up his mind. He will not call nor text. He will spend the summer detoxing from Simon and maybe, just maybe, when they get back to Hillerska, Wilhelm will be able to approach Simon with no hidden feelings. With no hidden love.

This is it.

Wilhelm is ready to stop loving Simon.

***

Wilhelm goes out with Claire almost every day.

They meet up for coffee, go to the movies and discover each corner of the biggest museums in Stockholm. They also make plans to go to the beach together, but after two hangouts where they both get sunburnt instead of tanned, they realized they were not made for it.

Wilhelm is happy. Happy whenever Claire laughs. Happy whenever Claire talks to him and asks to meet up again. Happy when they text, whether if it is about something serious or something silly.

He likes how they can still quote The Office to each other and find it funny. Claire’s a nice girl. Funny. She loves her younger sister and cares about her friends as Wilhelm loves Erik and cares about his friends.

They have lots in common.

And so, in a hot night of August, a month away from going back to Hillerska, Wilhelm kisses Claire and asks her to be his girlfriend.

She says yes and kisses him again.

“I have a girlfriend,” Wilhelm tells Erik that night while they eat poke bowls and watch an action movie. Their parents are out at a business dinner.

Erik doesn’t say anything at first. He chews his food, still watching the movie, and then asks, “That Claire girl?”

“Yeah.”

Erik finally looks at him.

“You’re happy?”

Wilhelm shrugs.

“Yes.”

Erik stares at him for so long that Wilhelm has the need to ask, “What?”

“Nothing,” his brother mutters and turns back to the movie. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Wilhelm spends the rest of the summer holiday with Claire. Sometimes he checks in on Felice, who decided to spend the last weeks of summer in New York with Madison, and exchanges a couples of texts with Henry and Walter, who are making plans to arrive at Hillerska a couple days earlier along other third years (God, he can’t believe he’s a third year now) to discuss the first party of the year. Wilhelm’s not interested in organizing any party.

One week before school starts Claire texts him telling him her parents and sister are out for the night and if he wants to comer over. He knows what he means and still says yes. It doesn’t matter if, for a fleeting second, the image of dark curls and tanned skin crosses his mind. It doesn’t matter.

“I slept with Claire,” Wilhelm tells Erik a couple nights after as they make tea at two am. “I think it went awful.”

Erik, dropping in and out his tea bag from the mug, asks, “Did you feel comfortable with her?”

Wilhelm shrugs. “I guess.”

Erik looks at him, pauses, considering him for a moment, and then says, “Just do it when you feel comfortable, Wille. Don’t push it. On yourself or her.”

“I…I won’t.”

“Good.” Erik looks at his mug again, dark circles under his eyes as he is having insomnias again. Work is killing him, but he’d still rather be there than at their parents’ company. “And if you need any kind of tips, let me know.”

Wilhelm makes a face. “Tips?”

Erik chuckles, tired. “No one is born a master, Wille.”

“Got it,” Wilhelm replies uncomfortable. “Let’s stop now.”

Erik drives him back to Hillerska on Saturday evening.

Wilhelm grabs his bags, assuring his brother he can take them all by himself, and makes his way to Forest Ridge House. Part of him feels anxious. He doesn’t know if Simon’s still going to be his roommate; if they have paired him up with someone else. He’s not sure what to feel on both situations and tries to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. He’ll face it when he comes face to face with his new roommate, whether it is Simon or not, in a few minutes.

He passes by the common room where a bunch of guys from his year are already hanging out in. They all greet him happily, make small conversation, until Wilhelm excuses himself, dragging his bags along with him.

He is three doors away from his new room, on the second floor of the dorm house, when a door to his left opens and dark curls, a purple hoodie and plump pinched lips come out of the room.

Wilhelm stops, facing Simon in person for the first time in almost three months.

Simon, who he avoided to think of for the last month, who he avoided checking their old photos, his Instagram, anything that could remind him of their friendship.

Wilhelm’s feelings, deep buried inside of him, under layers of layers of distractions and pleas of moving on, stir.

Simon halts, hand on the room’s doorknob, staring at Wilhelm wide-eyed, as if not expecting to find him in the hallway to the dorm they share.

“Hi,” Wilhelm finds himself saying.

“Hi,” Simon says back, eyes jumping around the hallway except to face Wilhelm. “I’m-“ He hesitates, pointing to the door behind him. “I’m with Alexander this year.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Wilhelm lets out. Awkwardly, he motions to the door at the end of the hallway. “Mine is that one.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Simon flickers his gaze at him one last time and walks away, avoiding him on his way out.

It hurts more than Wilhelm expected.

It hurts more because he doesn’t have anything to distract him right now.

Wilhelm grabs his bags tightly and marches up to his room, waiting to see who could possibly be on the other side.

The room, though, is empty. No signs of a potential roommate anywhere.

Wilhelm drops his bags on the left side of the room and sits on the freshly made bed, the smell of cleaning products still strong in the air.

He stares at the empty bed in front of him. The one that, last year, belonged to Simon.

The one that won’t belong to Simon this year. The desk won’t be overloaded with things belonging to the two of them. The floor won’t be drowning in used clothes they drop on it by the end of an exhausting day. The walls won’t be filled with posters Simon brought them.

Nothing of Simon.

And it hurts so badly.

Wilhelm fetches his phone and immediately texts Claire, asking if she’s at Hillerska already. Her confirmation comes seconds later.

He leaves the room and marches up to Manor House.

“Where’s your roommate?” He asks, seeing half of her room naked of any personal belongings.

“Not here yet,” Claire says with a shrug.

“Cool.”

Wilhelm spends the night with her.

***

“We need to talk.”

From all things Wilhelm could have expected from his first day back at Hillerska, being ambushed by a pissed Felice after the welcoming ceremony isn’t one of them.

(Although he really should have seen it coming.)

They have just been inside the church where the choir sang and the principal gave her usual welcoming speech. Wilhelm made sure to keep his gaze on Claire when the choir came in. She stood by one of the sides, waving at him shyly after finding him on the second row right behind Frederika and Stella. He waved back.

He was forcing himself to ignore Simon, who stood in the middle of the choir, but it turned out to be impossible. The choir’s welcoming song was a solo. Sung by Simon.

Wilhelm wavered for a second. A fleeting, helpless second. His eyes flickered to Simon’s curls as the boy’s voice raised above everyone else’s before he pulled himself together as humanly fast as possible. He kept his gaze on Claire, ignoring Simon’s sweet voice resonating through the church’s walls, the emotion in his tone, the way he gave himself into the song as if it were his own.

By the end of the ceremony, Wilhelm was one of the first people out of the church, beelining to a spot far from the people stopping immediately by the church’s entrance. He leaned against a tree and released his first deep breath in a long time.

That’s where Felice found him, a couple minutes after, before anyone else could approach him.

“Follow me,” Felice demands now, grabbing Wilhelm’s arm to pull him with her.

“What’s going on?” He asks halfway through Hillerska backyard.

Felice, perhaps noticing that they are basically alone, the few groups of teenagers scattered rather away from them, stops, drops his arm and turns to face him with a frowning expression.

“You’re dating Claire.”

Wilhelm halts.

“And,” she continues, crossing her arms, “you didn’t tell me.”

Wilhelm’s face turns pale. He keeps silent.

“I had to find out in front of everyone in the choir, Wille!” Felice barks.

Wilhelm recoils, ashamed, and looks down to his feet.

“Why?” Felice demands to know. She gives him a small shrug, uncrossing her arms. She looks at him with a hurt expression; with betrayal.  

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, chin down, embarrassed.

“You’re sorry?” She throws her hands up. “Why do you keep me out of your life, Wille?”

“I don’t!” He raises his eyes, alarmed.

“You do!” She stabs her indicator on his chest. “You didn’t tell me about Simon, you don’t tell me about Claire. I mean, what else-“

“I don’t want you to judge me,” Wilhelm interrupts her, his face burning in embarrassment. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but the fear of having Felice mad at him, of losing her as friend, speaks louder than any shame. “I…. I’m a bad friend, I’m sorry.”

Felice’s anger vanishes, her posture softening. She looks away, frowning, and they both stand in front of each other in silence.

“You’re not a bad friend,” she eventually says. “You’re bad at yourself. When you think you’re doing something wrong, you keep it to yourself in fear of what others will say.  But you don’t need to do that with me, Wille.”

Wilhelm wishes he could open his mouth to deny it, but Felice’s right.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

Felice sighs and steps closer to him. One of her hands comes to rest on his arm, rubbing it.

“Why are you dating Claire?” She asks, with no hint of judgement or anger in her voice.

The fact that Felice is being Felice, that she is still on his side even when he is shitty, has Wilhelm slump in defeat and admit, “I like her.”

“But…?”

He shakes his head. “No buts.”

“Wille…”

“I still like Simon, okay?” he admits. “But… I’m tired of it. I want to move on and Claire is helping me.”

“And does she know that she’s helping you forget Simon?”

He doesn’t say anything; just looks down at his feet again.

Felice sighs.

“Wille, she really likes you. She has had a crush on you ever since Simon’s initiation party last year. You can’t… you can’t use her like that.”

“But I’m not hurting her,” Wilhelm says. “I make her happy and she makes me happy.”

“Wille…”

“Sometimes people can’t move on by themselves, Felice,” Wilhelm replies, urgency and plea clear in his tone. “Sometimes we need to put ourselves out there, meet someone new, give someone new a shot, and then move on. Why is that wrong?”

“It’s not,” Felice agrees. “I’m just… worried. For you and Claire.”

He closes the gap between then and grabs Felice’s hand, squeezing it between their bodies.

“Felice, I swear,” he says with conviction, “I’m doing my best with Claire. I’m treating her fine.”

Felice watches him with a wariness, not believing him at first. The, she nods with a sigh, accepting his honesty.

“Okay. As long as you know what you’re doing...”

“I know, trust me.”

“And,” she slaps his arm out of the blue and he gives her a bewildered look, “never keep in the dark again, Wilhelm, or I swear I’ll kill you and make your death look like an accident. Got it?””

“Promise, promise!”

He offers her his pinky.  Felice eyes it with suspicion before she links her pinky with his. They shake on it.

“Honestly Wille,” she says, now linking her arm with his. They start making their way to the school, “you’re going to give me grey hairs.”

***

It’s easier to avoid Simon than he thought it would be.

They don’t share a room anymore nor sit together in classes nor study at the library at the same time.  Simon has choir practice every Tuesday and Thursday and Wilhelm takes up horse riding on the other days to avoid running into each other.

The only times they have to be close to each other is during meals, and Simon sits three people away from Wilhelm, on the other side of the table. Sometimes their gazes meet, but Wilhelm makes sure to look away first.

Everyone in school knows by now that he and Claire date. When someone tries to have him on the table for it, he refuses.

Claire, on the other hand, isn’t as lucky and ends up on the girls’ table. She tells Wilhelm all about it, feeling embarrassed.

“I swear I didn’t give them any details,” she promises as they walk down the gardens, making their way to his dorm to have some time alone. It hasn’t taken long – one weekend, if we want to be precise – for Wilhelm to find out that Forest Ridge House has an odd number of residents this year, and he is the lucky one who has got a room all to himself. Something he doesn’t take advantage of as often as the other boys think he does.

“What kind of details did they want?” Wilhelm asks, mildly amused. 

“Madison wanted to know your dick size.”

Wilhelm has a coughing fit that only goes away after he drinks water directly from his room’s sink.

Felice was right when she said Wilhelm would give her grey hairs, but he is also sure he’ll get his fair share of greyness thanks to his classmates’ antics.

By the time Autumn arrives, Wilhelm makes himself believe that things are good. He is sure he has got the handle of having a good relationship with Claire, of keeping Felice more on the loop of what’s going on in his head, and of forgetting Simon. He thinks less and less about the boy, dreams less about him too, and makes sure to be polite to him in any social circumstance without breaking down.

He has also learned to ignore Sara’s intense stares. She stares not in a glaring or judging way, to be honest, just… intensely.

He’s not sure what to make of it, but when he asked Felice about it, his friend said, “Sara’s much wiser than all of us together”, which left him knowing exactly the same as before.

He keeps his movie nights with Felice on Fridays, but now uses Saturday nights to go out with Claire. They don’t spend all their time together. Being on different years has them only meeting up for a couple of minutes between breaks or after classes are done, and so they arrange to hang out on Saturdays.

They usually stay in Hillerska. Until Claire decides she wants to try something new.

“Let’s go to Bjarstaal,” she suggests between Wilhelm’s English and Biology classes on a Friday morning as he swaps his books in his locker.

Wilhelm almost drops his biology book and scrambles to grab it before it hits his own feet.

“Are you okay?” Claire asks, worried.

He stands up straight. “Yup, good. You want to go to Bjarstaal? Where in Bjarstaal?”

“Hum, Pepe’s Pizza? I heard it’s good.”

Wilhelm’s brain freezes.

Snapshots of sweet temptation made of dark curls, contagious laugh and sparkling eyes break into his mind. Memories of a hard conversation between two strangers, their lingering gazes, their desire to do better, to know each other more, come to the front of his head.

Suddenly, Wilhelm isn’t here, with Claire, in front of his opened locker, but in the football field, talking to Simon, promising him to be his friend. To be there for him.

I can promise you that I’ll be there for you if you get into Hillerska. You won’t be alone, Simon.

That was Wilhelm’s promise to him a long time ago.

And here they are now.

“Wille?”

Wilhelm snaps out of his thoughts and finds Claire gazing him with concern.

“Are you okay?” She asks.  

He gulps and forces himself to nod.

He closes the locker door and turns to leave, Claire following him.

“Pepe’s Pizza then?” She tries again, more unsure.

“Actually,” he starts with a pained expression, “let’s try some other place. If that’s alright with you?”

“Hum, sure.” She grabs her phone. “I’ll look into another restaurant.”

On Saturday evening, they find themselves sitting across from one another in a small, family-owned restaurant in Bjarstaal downtown. The place isn’t big, only has seven small tables, and a couple of costumers besides them. Claire finds it comfy and Wilhelm runs with it. He keeps expecting Simon to pop up out of nowhere.

But that’s silly. Just because he’s in Bjarstaal doesn’t mean he’ll run into anyone he knows.

“Have you picked yet?” She asks, taking off her pink scarf and laying it on its back. “I think I’ll try the lasagna.”

“Same,” Wilhelm says, putting down the menu.  He can’t really focus on the small letters in the menu when, in the back of his head, he keeps hearing the words, look behind you, looking behind you, as if he does it, he’ll find Simon.

He shouldn’t want to find Simon.

“So,” Claire starts, leaning with her elbows on the table, a small smile playing on her lips, “Miss Anna announced that she is looking for a new song for the choir, and whoever hands in the best song can have its solo on Valentine’s Day party.”

Simon will win.

“You have a song?” Wilhelm asks politely, giving Claire his best genuine smile possible.

Claire nods, excited.

“You wrote a song?” He sounds surprised.

“What? No.” Claire rolls her eyes, laughing at him. Her hand crosses the table to pat his hand in a silly-boy gesture. “I’m thinking of doing a cover of Taylor Swift’s song, Love Story.”

Wilhelm frowns. “Isn’t it… a bit romantic?”

“It’s for the Valentine’s Day party, Wille,” she retorts.

The waiter, a teenage boy around their age, pops up and asks them if they are ready to order. They both get a lasagna, Claire asking for a lemon juice and Wilhelm for water along with it, and the waiter leaves.

“Anyway,” Claire continues, folding her napkin in a different shape, “I don’t think I’ll actually get it, but I want to have a good tryout so that Miss Anna considers me next year.”

“But if you’re good enough, you might get it,” Wilhelm say, trying to be supportive. It doesn’t matter that, in the back of his head, he’s thinking the same.  Claire’s great, has a lovely voice, but she needs to practice more to uphold a solo position for the choir. He heard Simon ranting about Miss Anna’s rigorous demand on her students’ performances for a year to know how it works. The solo will most likely go to a third year.

Claire shakes her head, giving him a knowing smile.

“No,” she says, already defeated, and stops playing with her napkin. “Simon will definitely win.”

Thankfully, the waiter comes back with their drinks, allowing Wilhelm’s abrupt silence to be his fault, and not Wilhelm’s brain fault for enveloping him in yet another memory of Simon, this time of him singing.

Of him practicing inside their room, filling the space with his beautiful voice, drowning Wilhelm in it. Wilhelm loved to hear him practice for the choir. Loved that Simon had chosen him as his audience guinea-pig.

“I think he’s writing his own song,” Claire adds, taking a sip of her lemon juice.

“Cool,” Wilhelm says, hoping Claire drops the subject.

Claire, thankfully, notices his tone and goes on about something else that has happened in one of her classes. 

She knows he and Simon had a fallout, but doesn’t know what’s happened. Sure, she has told Wilhelm once or twice to talk to Simon, to make amends with him, but Wilhelm dismiss her attempts, telling her that some things are just not meant to happen. He and Simon were friends for a while, not anymore.

Not anymore.

It still stings.

The waiter brings their lasagnas, cutting Claire’s story halfway through.

They eat in silence, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable, which Wilhelm hates and knows it shouldn’t be this way. It should feel natural, and so he decides to make the effort to talk. He finds a safe subject on TV shows and movies and Claire goes with it.

They skip dessert and Wilhelm asks for the bill. It’s not even nine pm when they stand up to leave.

“Do you want to walk around for a while?” Claire asks as Wilhelm opens the restaurant door for her.

“Ah…”

Not really, no. He wants to go home and hide under his sheets for an entire day while binge-watching TLC shows.

“Oh shoot!” Claire suddenly says, a hand around her neck. “My scarf. Wait here.”

She runs inside the restaurant again, leaving Wilhelm on the sidewalk by himself, watching the door close behind her.

A cold shiver runs down Wilhelm’s spine and he trembles. October has arrived and brought the cold weather with it.

Wilhelm is warming his hands against each other when a voice that he hasn’t heard in over a year rumble through the cold night. “Wilhelm!”

Wilhelm jumps startled, a hand on his chest, and turns around to find the source of that voice. He stops, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Marcus,” he greets as the older boy approaches him with a polite smile.

Marcus halts a few steps away from him, lazily sliding his hand inside his dark jacket, and chuckles at Wilhelm’s flabbergasted expression. It has been so long since he last saw the other boy that he takes a second to take him in. Marcus is the same, yet he isn’t. There’s… something different. He looks like a lighter, hassle-free version of the Marcus he once went to Hillerska with.

Like someone who’s got his shit together.

“Did I scare you?” Marcus asks with a hint of tease in his voice.

Wilhelm feels he is living a Deja-vu, and is suddenly reminded of the dozens of times that Marcus approached him when he least expected to have a weird-ass conversation.

Funny. It almost makes him feel nostalgic.

And maybe it’s that small nostalgia that has Wilhelm smiling back at Marcus and confessing, “A bit.”

Marcus chuckles, tilting his head down amused, his brown eyes nothing but kindness and politeness.

Wilhelm’s not sure how to feel, seeing Marcus for the first time in over a year, seeing him so relaxed with him. After all, the last time they talked was after Simon asked Marcus for a break.

“How have you been?” Marcus asks.

“I’m good, and you? How’s college?”

“Meh. It makes me miss high school,” Marcus admits with a shrug, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I bet,” Wilhelm chuckles.

There’s a moment of silence between the two boys, and Wilhelm’s not sure how to continue the conversation. He wonders where Claire is. She couldn’t be taken so long to grab the scarf.

He is about to glimpse at the restaurant when Marcus wonders, “How’s Simon?”

Wilhelm freezes, looking at Marcus through the corner of his eye.

“Huh…” is the only thing coming out of his mouth.

Marcus looks at him, curious, the polite smile not wavering from his face, and adds, “I haven’t seen him in ages. Is he okay? Still liking Hillerska?”

Wilhelm doesn’t know why but ends up admitting, “I don’t know.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

Wilhelm gives him a sheepish smile. “Yeah.”

Marcus frowns, looking away for a moment, thinking.

“That’s weird,” he remarks.

“It is?” Wilhelm asks, staggered by Marcus’ choice of word.

“Yeah. I mean,” Marcus shrugs, “you guys seemed like a perfect match, you know? It sounds weird to hear you’re… not talking?”

A perfect match?

What is Marcus going on about?

“But I hope you guys can make it work,” Marcus wishes, making Wilhelm frown. Why, but why can’t he and Marcus have a normal conversation? Wilhelm swears he’ll scream at the person writing his life story for never giving him his lines for any of the interactions he has with Marcus. “I mean, you know Simon, right?” The other boy adds, chuckling.

Wilhelm opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

Marcus, upon seeing Wilhelm’s speechless expression, keeps going, “There are people Simon can breathe without just fine, and others that he just… can’t.”

Wilhelm blinks, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, and in the corner of his eye, he senses movement at the restaurant doorway.

Marcus shrugs, as if he isn’t just babbling on nonsense.

“Simon is a very independent person, isn’t he? He doesn’t need a lot of people in his life, but he clearly has always needed you. He more than needs you, I think.”

Marcus pauses his speech when he sees Claire, now with her pink scarf around her neck, slowly approaching them, eyeing them both curious. She stops next to Wilhelm, giving him a confused look before turning to Marcus, who offers her a polite smile.

Marcus then turns to Wilhelm again and keeps talking, “I think that, sometimes, we get too wrapped up in our heads to see what’s right in front of us, you know? I’m glad that, in the end, I was able to see that I was trying to make an unworkable thing work.”

To make an unworkable thing work. Wilhelm has a sense of familiarity hearing those words, but he can’t pinpoint them to a specific memory.

Before he can track down the origin of those words, Marcus says, “Going off to college helped me see a lot of things more clearly; made me understand others better. My boyfriend helps too,” he confesses with a coy grin. “He and I aren’t much alike, but we… just click. Sometimes people just click, right? And we should listen to that click.”

Silence falls upon the three teenagers, who eye each other with different emotions; Marcus with an easiness he didn’t use to have, Claire with the baffled face of someone who has dropped in mid-conversation and doesn’t understand what’s going on, and Wilhelm, completely lost in his head now, going over Marcus’ words.

“Anyway,” Marcus suddenly says with a definitive nod at both Wilhelm and Claire, “it was nice seeing you again, Wilhelm. Maybe we can go out for a coffee one of these days?” He suggests genuinely.

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, sounds good,” Wilhelm agrees absently.

Marcus waves them goodbye and turns to leave.

“What was that about?” Claire asks, linking her arm with Wilhelm. “Who was that?”

“Marcus.”

Claire doesn’t seem to connect the name to anything, and Wilhelm realizes she had never met Marcus. She came into their lives after Marcus went off to college and he and Simon were no longer in a steady relationship.

“He used to go to Hillerska,” Wilhelm explains.

He more than used to go to Hillerska. He was the guy dating Simon while Wilhelm fell desperately in love with him.

But Claire doesn’t need to know that.

“Let’s go back to the dorms?” Wilhelm suggests.

“Ah, sure.”

Wilhelm calls for an Uber.

They don’t speak during the trip, Claire scrolling down on Instagram while Wilhelm stares off the car window, his head a tornado of messy thoughts and questions.

He drops Claire on her dorm, kisses her cheek and says good night.

When he finally steps into his room, he shuts the door behind him distractedly and drops on his bed, first sitting and then on his back.

There are people Simon can breathe without just fine, and others that he just can’t.

Wilhelm’s not sure what to make of Marcus’ words; of Marcus’ posture in general, to be honest. He seemed like a different Marcus, one that could see things more clearly. It even looks like he can understand things better than Wilhelm himself can

He doesn’t need a lot of people in his life, but he clearly has always needed you, Wilhelm.

What can Marcus see that Wilhelm can’t?

And why did he say those things to Wilhelm? The hundred locks on Wilhelm’s box cracked the moment he said it. Simon more than needs him? Then why hasn’t he spoken to Wilhelm? Why did he dismiss him during the summer?

You dismissed him first, a voice says in his head.

But I tried to make it work! I went after him in the end.

Did you though? Did he?

Wilhelm groans, throwing his hands to his head, gripping his hair in tight fists. Why did he run into Marcus?

He was doing better; he is doing better.

Wilhelm suddenly laughs out loud, the palms of his hands pressing on his eyes.

He’s not doing better if he is struggling again. If his stupid heart is trying to take control again of the situation, trying to make him remember Simon again.

Simon, who needs him.

Simon, who-

Wilhelm suddenly sits up. He looks around the room, feeling out of breath. He stands up, removing the many layers of clothes off his body until he is down to his underwear and a t-shirt.

It’s still hot in the room, so he opens the window and shoves his head outside, leaning over the windowsill.

He breathes in and out, in and out. He tilts his head to the sky, eyes closed, and then opens them. The moon’s bright tonight, the sky is clean, and Wilhelm’s heart is grabbing that stupid box of feelings he has tried so badly to bury inside of him and unlocking each one of the locks.

With each lock open, a memory floods Wilhelm’s head.

The first time he saw Simon and how he thought he was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. How he still thinks he is.

The first conversation he had with Simon, on their way to find drunk Marcus in the stables, and how entranced he had been with the other boy.

The first messages they shared on Instagram. The memes. The deep conversations and the funny ones.

The first moment he saw Simon at Hillerska wearing the school’s uniform, and how his heart tugged at the sight.

The year they shared as roommates; the bubble they lived in. Wilhelm was the happiest next to Simon, even if they were only friends and his heart wanted more.

His stupid heart keeps unlocking the box, and he lets it.

He lets it do it until the memory of the last party at the end of last year comes to him. When he found Simon. Their conversation. The possibility of Wilhelm dating someone, and then… The kiss.

The ghost of Simon’s lips on Wilhelm cracks the last lock. A tear falls down Wilhelm’s cheek at the same time his lips curl into a baffled smile. One he can’t help as he starts laughing to himself, at the cold night, at the memories in his head and at the fast-beating heart in his chest.

Sometimes people just click, right? And we should listen to that click.

Marcus is right.

Wilhelm should listen to the click. Should accept the truth instead of trying to covering it up inside a box or under a rug of distractions. 

Simon is a part of his life. They have gone through so much together that they are part of one another. Wilhelm’s feelings won’t go away. His love for Simon will never go away.

And nothing, nothing, could ever change that.

Simon is and will always be a part of him.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm breaks up with Claire on an unusual warm October night.

He worries that he’ll break her heart, that she’ll hate him for wasting her time when it has never been his intention to mislead her. Yet, he knows his heart isn’t hers to take and no matter how much he tries, how much he forces it, it will never be. It belongs, and has always belonged, to Simon.

He asks Claire to meet him in his room so they have more privacy; so that he can do this without worrying someone will interrupt them or eavesdrop on them.  He doesn’t want people to see either of them break apart.

To his surprise, Claire takes it well.

He apologizes, over and over, complimenting her and trying to explain that it’s his heart that is at fault here, that it’s not because of her they didn’t click, until Claire tugs his hand and says, as honest and bravely as she can, “Wilhelm, it’s fine. I’d rather lose you as a boyfriend and keep you as a friend than turn you, and have you turn me into a resentment.”

Wilhelm’s so overwhelmed with relief that he pulls her into a hug.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, pulling back. “Maybe too soon?”

“We’re fine, Wille. I promise,” Claire assures him. Yet, her glaze flickers away, a strike of hurt flashing in her eyes.

Wilhelm, coward as he is, keeps it quiet.

“Just,” Claire starts, looking back at him, “give me some time?”

“Of course,” Wilhelm agrees immediately.

He takes Claire back to her dorm. They share one last smile, not as a goodbye, but as a see you soon, friend, and Wilhelm, still too overwhelmed with all that has just gone down, goes to Felice’s room next, thankful to find the girl alone.

“Hey,” Felice greets from her seat on her desk, her left hand splattered on the table as she carefully paints her nails red. “What’s up?”

Wilhelm closes the door behind him and beelines to Felice’s bed, throwing himself on it. He pulls a pillow under his head and announces, “I broke up with Claire.”

Felice lifts her head from her manicure and gives him a pained look, as if she is ready to hurt with him.

Wilhelm gives her a small smile and shakes his head. “We ended things well. She… just needs time, and so do I.”

“Why did you end things?” Felice asks.

“I wasn’t moving on,” Wilhelm admits. “I… was distracting myself.”

Felice, bless her soul, doesn’t tell him told you so or scolds him for doing something that could have jeopardize Claire’s feelings too. Instead, she offers, “Want to watch a movie?”

He nods, giving her a pressed-lips smile.

“Order food?” She adds.

He nods again.

“I’ll get it this time,” she says, grabbing her phone.

He enjoys one last night of peace before the news about his break up spread around the school.

On Monday morning, during breakfast, the boys from Forest Ridge House immediately offer to help Wilhelm rebound, whether by partying or setting him up with someone else. Wilhelm is so fed up with their suggestions that he has to say, “I don’t need any of that, guys. I’m fine. I… I want to be alone.”

If his eyes meet Simon’s, who sits across from him three people away, no one needs to know. No one needs to remember how, not even a year ago, it was Simon sitting at this table saying the same thing that Wilhelm is now saying.

Wilhelm doesn’t approach Simon just because he is now fully embracing his feelings for the other boy and single. He keeps things as they were, simply accepting this is how it is and, if something’s bond to happen, maybe he and Simon will fall into each other’s lives again.

Btu he doesn’t push it. He doesn’t go after Simon. He keeps it to himself.

His Friday nights are for Felice and the weekends are to hang out with the boys in Forest Ridge. He weirdly finds himself getting closer to Henry and Walter, enjoying the company of the two boys now more than he did for the past two years and half. He sees them in a different light too; how their easiness and playfulness have always been a constant in Wilhelm’s life and how much he appreciates them for it.

He also keeps horse riding and dares to do it on the same afternoons that Sara is there as well. At first, they share a smile between them, a simple acknowledgement that they see the other. Slowly, they start having small talks. Nothing deep, nothing Simon-related, just bonding over horses and school-stuff.

He would be lying if he didn’t admit that sometimes he thought of asking Sara about Simon. But he always stops himself from doing it. If he wants to know how Simon is doing, he could always approach the boy himself.

Gazes between them become more common. When they are in class and one of their classmates says something funny, Wilhelm’s eyes find Simon as they both laugh. When they are eating dinner and Henry or Walter make a bad joke, Simon smiles first at Wilhelm, who finds himself smiling back. When the girls ask them to study together in the library and they find themselves sharing a table, their eyes meet first whenever someone talks.

It’s small things but Wilhelm embraces them and keeps them inside his now open box of feelings, the one his heart nurtures every day happily since Wilhelm allowed it to take charge.

It still hurts sometimes to love Simon, just a bit, but it’s not hidden away and that makes it easier.

One night, right before Christmas break, Felice asks him, “Have you considered telling him how you feel?”

Wilhelm shakes his head, chewing the last pieces of his ramen. After he swallows the food down, he says, “I don’t want him to think our friendship was based on unrequited feelings.”

Felice looks at him.

“What?” He asks.

“Has it – I don’t know – ever crossed your mind that he might…”

“What, like me back?” Wilhelm finishes for her. He lets out a weak, defeated snort that clearly says as if that would ever happen, picking at his ramen with his chopsticks. He looks at his brown soup of noodles, filled with chicken bits and cooked vegetables, and something occurs to him. He raises his gaze back at Felice. “Do you think he might like me back?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Felice answers. “Sometimes I think he did.”

Wilhelm’s heart jumps at those words, a thread of hope blooming inside of him.

“But?” He dares to ask, pushing that hope away.

“But I don’t… want to assume he does just because of how close you two were together,” Felice says. She pauses to think it through. “I mean, I didn’t like it when people assumed we were into each other just because we were close, you know? I don’t want to do the same for Simon. But,” she continues, giving Wilhelm a knowing smile, “if I were you, I’d tell him the truth.”

The idea of telling Simon the truth takes away Wilhelm’s ability to breath, and fear claws its way up his throat. He shakes his head trying to swallow it down.

“I’m not going to do that,” he says. “I can’t. I can’t put that weight on him.”

Felice seems like she has more to say but doesn’t. They don’t talk about it again.

 On the last day of school, Erik shows up earlier to pick Wilhelm up, catching the school’s choir performing their Christmas song for the student council.

He sits next to Wilhelm on the fourth row and leans to whisper, “That’s Simon, right?”, pointing indiscreetly at the curly-haired boy in the mid-spot of the choir line-up.

Wilhelm, feeling his cheekbones burn in embarrassment, pushes Erik’s hand down. “Don’t do that!”

Erik chuckles and leans away.

They listen to the choir, Simon once again having a leading role. His beautiful voice resonates on the church’s walls, going straight to Wilhelm’s chest that shimmers with warmth and pride.

Wilhelm can’t help the smile growing on his face. This time, unlike at the beginning of the year, he doesn’t look away from Simon. He watches him fondly, not wanting to catch his attention, just wanting to appreciate him.

Simon’s eyes, though, cross with his. A hint of a smile curls on the left side of Simon’s lips, and Wilhelm’s smile stretches out unconsciously. Like it knows Simon’s watching. His heart does a double flip in his chest.

“He’s a good singer,” Erik whispers in his ear, somehow teasing, somehow honest.

“Shut up,” Wilhelm whispers back, and Erik chuckles.

It is only when they are on their way back to Stockholm that Wilhelm realizes that Erik didn’t ask about Claire. He knows they have broken up, but his brother had never met her; only saw a couple of Instagram stories that Wilhelm reposted from her while they were dating.

But he pointed Simon out.

Wilhelm glances at his brother, relaxed on the driver seat, humming the song on the radio, his fingers tapping on the wheel according to the melody.

“You didn’t ask about Claire,” Wilhelm states.

Erik stops humming and glances at his younger brother with a raised eyebrow.  “Should I have asked?”

“She was my girlfriend until recently.”

“Like a month ago,” Erik points out.

“Yeah, and Simon was my friend until months ago, and you asked about him,” Wilhelm compares, his heart beating faster as he dares to touch such a vulnerable subject.

Erik glances at him again and inhales a snort, shaking his head.

“Wille, Wille… You know that when you’re not ready to face something you deflect it and make it sound like others are the illogical ones?”

Wilhelm blinks, confused.

His brother goes back to humming the song, moving his head sightly to the beat of it, eyes on the road.

Eventually, Wilhelm says, “You’re mad”

Erik snorts. “My point precisely.”

***

His parents keep bugging him about college.

He puts up with their questions and comments all winter break until he finally snaps on New Year’s Eve and shouts, “Maybe I’ll go wild and take a gap year!”

“Wilhelm!” His mother sounds scandalized, like the idea of a gap year is the worst thing that he could possibly do. “Members of this family do not take gap years to figure themselves out.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Know what you want-“ He puffs at his mother’s words – “and fight for it.”

“For fuck’s sakes!”

“Wilhelm!” His mother shouts.

His father’s mouth hangs open at the profanity that has jut left his younger son’s mouth, as if he were unaware that teenagers could curse like grown-ups, and his brother laughs.

The fight leads Wilhelm to go back earlier to Hillerska, having his brother dropping him off on Saturday morning instead of Sunday as first agreed.

“Don’t let them get to you,” his brother advices as a farewell.

“Erik, I love you, but please, shut up.”

Erik rolls his eyes fondly at his brother, pats his head and turns back to his red convertible.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

Wilhelm grabs his two small bags and walks up to Forest Ridge House.

He is expecting to find it empty still, needing it to be empty because his mind is clogged with his mother’s scornful demands and his father’s baffled expressions, and he can’t understand why they can’t allow him to do what he wants, why he, unlike his brother, can’t stand up for himself and not be brought down by his parents’ expectations.

So, he really needs to find the dorm empty.

However, as he crosses the threshold to his room’s hallway, a door to his left opens, making him halt.

His heart tries to jump out of his chest at the sight in front of him; Simon coming out of the room, wearing his favorite purple hoodie, with a bunch of papers under his left arm.

Simon closes the door at the same time he notices Wilhelm and freezes, both staring at each other awkwardly.

“He-hey,” Wilhelm dares to say first.

Simon blinks, looks down at the bags in Wilhelm’s hands, and back at the boy.

“Hi. You’re here already,” he states.

Wilhelm nods.

“Yeah. You… too?” He points.

Simon nods, adverting his gaze.

“Choir stuff,” he says, taking the papers from under his arm. “I’m… going to practice now.”

“Oh, okay. Hum, good practice.”

Simon’s sweet eyes stop on him again, making him freeze on the spot. They watch Wilhelm attentively for a second, a spark of concern crossing the brown of Simon’s irises.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” Wilhelm lies.

Simon knows he is lying, but still nods, letting him have this lie.

Simon starts walking away but halts at the last second, right before he makes a turn to the right, and looks back at Wilhelm, who is watching him quietly.

“A me-day is always important, right?” he remembers, a ghost of a smile crossing his features.

Wilhelm opens his mouth but Simon leaves before he can answer. Wilhelm stops his heart for trying to go after him.

God, he misses Simon. The easiness of their friendship, the shoulder to lean on, the comfort of being himself around someone who didn’t judge, who didn’t care how he was and accepted him for his true nature.

He misses Simon so fucking much.

Wilhelm wishes he could fix it. Fix them.

Know what you want and fight for it.

His mom’s words come back to him. Words that he took harshly, that were supposed to bring him down and dismiss his lack of commitment to his future self, he now sees in a different light.

He knows his feelings for Simon aren’t going anywhere, but he still wishes that he had more of Simon than this; this awful politeness that bears an unspoken past of confidence and comfort and of a deep-rooted lived so vividly, so lovingly friendship, that neither dare to bring up now. A friendship that, despite all, was fantastic.

Maybe Wilhelm can fix it.  Fight for it.

Maybe he can find a way to be closer to Simon but still respecting his own and the other boy’s feelings.

Maybe this doesn’t have to end like this.

***

“They’re throwing a masquerade Valentine’s Day party this year,” Felice tells him excitedly as she sits down in front of him in the library. “A masquerade party, Wille!”

“Oh God,” Wilhelm mutters under his breath.

Felice still hears him and slaps his arm.

“It’s fun! They’re making us dress as old timers,” she says.

“How is that fun?!”

Felice pauses to give him an unamused glare. “Sometimes you’re boring.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“I’ll take it as one.”

It’s not only Felice that is buzzing with the news about the Valentine Day’s party. The entire school is talking about it and Wilhelm feels like he’s the only one not bothered with the party. The only thing he is happy about regarding the party is the choir performance because he knows that he will hear Simon’s beautiful voice once again.

He has slowly tried to approach Simon again. Say hi first, greet him more warmly, ask him how he has been instead of shutting down at the mere presence of the other boy.

At first, Simon finds it odd but still goes along with it. Now, well, now they are at a strange stand where Simon will smile at him in the hallways but still won’t dare to speak first if Wilhelm doesn’t do it.

Wilhelm’s fine with it. He’ll take whatever he can.

When the day of Valentine’s Day party arrives, everyone is so excited about it that the teachers have zero control over them during classes. Some even let the students leave class earlier than expected because they can’t possibly get their attention on the subject material.  

School provides them with an outfit for the party. Wilhelm takes one look at awful white-haired wig someone handed him and gives it back, saying there’s a line he won’t cross, and that wig is the line.  

Most guys don’t wear the wigs. The girls do their hairs excessively. The school staff is already regretting throwing the students a party.  No alcohol is allowed, btu have you met teenagers? Especially teenagers in old-timers’ clothing. The girls’ skirts can hide dozens of things and no one would dare to ask them to show them what’s under their skirts without coming off as inappropriate.

Wilhelm arrives late to the party and keeps mostly to himself. Felice tries to pull him to the dance floor, but he excuses himself with a piece of a cake.

Sara walks by him while he is sitting in a sole chair, away from the crowd, does a double-check and stops to look at him. Wilhelm’s hand freezes mid-air, a spoon full of uneaten cake hovering close to his mouth.

“You’re going to stick around?” Sara asks.

He nods.

Sara smiles. “Cool. The choir is performing in fifteen minutes.”

“I- Okay.”

Wilhelm almost goes down an overthinking spiral about Sara’s comment, only to be abruptly interrupted by Henry and Walter who need him as a judge on their dance-off.

Then, he judges Frederika and Stella’s dance off, and he is not sure why he is being asked to simply stare at them as they stupidly dance against one another, but it makes him laugh and it’s fun.

The music fades out after a while, the teacher in charge of the choir coming up behind the DJ booth to announce the choir’s performance. They’ll be debuting a new song, one written by one of their own, and Wilhelm is suddenly reminded of what Claire told him a long time ago; on the night he bumped into Marcus. The teacher had sent out a challenge to the choir members to write a song for the choir. Claire, back then, knew she wouldn’t win.

After all, there was one clear winner.

Everyone gets moving, opening up space for the choir to walk in and take their spot.

Wilhelm, suddenly feeling warm and nervous, hides behind his classmates, watching the choir lining up for their performance. Simon positions himself right at the middle and Wilhelm knows, without anyone saying, that it was his song that won.

Of course. It’s what makes sense.

Wilhelm takes a deep breath preparing himself.

There is a moment of silence, and the choir takes what almost feels like a deep breath together before their voices harmonize together to the melody of a song.

It’s a gentle soothing song. Wilhelm knows Simon’s voice will be perfect for it even before he opens his mouth.

When he does, Wilhelm’s heart cannot take it.

I’ll do it a thousand times to call you home

I would never lie about this, ain’t no joke

You’re cutting through the silence with a perfect tongue

If you break, then I break, we’re not made of stone

Wilhelm’s breath catches as he takes in the lyrics. The passion in Simon’s voice is so evident, so raw, that it’s so clear that he wrote the lyrics; that he felt the lyrics as emotions before putting it down in words.

The choir harmonizes around Simon’s strong, emotional voice and Wilhelm’s sure he hasn’t moved, blinked even, since the song began.

Then comes the chorus, and it completely ruins Wilhelm.

I can’t breathe, breathe, breathe

Breathe, baby, on my own

The choir harmonizes around the chorus’s words as Simon repeats the same words over again, and all Wilhelm can do is stare, amazed, the words sinking into him, bringing back a memory for not long ago.

There are people Simon can breathe without just fine, and others he can’t.

Marcus told me him that; understood Simon in a way that Wilhelm had yet not understood, but here is the evidence that he was right. Simon wrote a song using the same words Marcus threw at Wilhelm’s face that night at Bjarstaal.

Simon can be overly independent, but there are people he can’t breathe without.

How is this possible?, Wilhelm asks himself, his heart aching at the beautiful sight of Simon pouring all his emotions into a song he wrote. How could this be the reality they live in, where Marcus – Marcus, the boy who never understood his own boyfriend, who never saw things clear – could understand Simon better than Wilhelm does? Could see something about Simon that Wilhelm fails to see?

It hurts. Wilhelm wishes it didn’t, but it does.

It feels like he has failed. Failed to understand Simon. Failed to his love for Simon.

Because there he is, the most beautiful boy he has ever seen, the boy who holds his heart forever, singing about how he can’t breathe without someone, and Wilhelm… Wilhelm can’t understand him, not in the way he thought he did.

He can’t understand what he is not seeing.

The song is about to end and as Simon sings the last verses of it, his gaze swipes the crowd, looking for something. For someone.

They land on Wilhelm and stay there.

And Wilhelm…

Wilhelm turns around and leaves the room.

***

He’s not sure where he is ahead. He just knows he needs some fresh air and to clear his head.

Words from the past come back to haunt him, tangling him further into a fucked-up wire of hope with confusion, and desire to understand. To see things clearly.

To stop hurting.

Sometimes, we get too wrapped up in our heads to see what’s right in front of us, Marcus told him.

Those two? It’s like they’re always in their bubble or something. Sara once described him and Simon.

You’re kind of perfect in your own flawed way. It’s like whatever you do, I’m okay with it. I can understand why you do it. Just like you now understood me. And it’s nice. Simon once described him in a way no one had ever done it before.

You know that when you’re not ready to face something you deflect it and make it sound like others are the illogical ones? His brother’s words come back too.

And all of them make up for something, but he doesn’t know what.

All he knows is that he wishes he could fix this. Fix him and Simon.

But how?

Steps echo behind him on the stone staircase.

“Wille?”

Wilhelm snaps out of his messy thoughts and looks over his shoulder, coming down the last steps of the cemented stairs in the garden.

An apparition is making its way to him.  But it can’t be.

“Wille!” Simon’s voice calls again.

Wilhelm keeps walking, down the stairs and into the garden, hiding himself behind a wall. A tree towers over him as he leans against the cold surface, tilting his head up.

That’s where Simon finds him.

The boy climbs down the last steps of the stone staircase, looking beautiful in the red school uniform, a determined stance carrying him to Wilhelm.

“Why did you leave?” He demands to know, gesturing to the school, to where he had just been singing his solo.

Wilhelm takes a deep breath, finding Simon’s distraught gaze.

And he decides to go for honesty.

“Because it hurts, Simon,” he says, “to look at you.”

Simon’s eyes widen for a flickering second followed by a furrowed frown, and it’s that small expression that throws Wilhelm into a small rant.

“We were friends, Simon. Close friends. We were there for each other and suddenly, we are barely speaking to each other and…. and I want to fix this, fix us, but I don’t know how.”

Simon wavers.

“Please, Simon,” Wilhelm begs, walking over to the boy. His mother’s words hanging over his head, know what you want and fight for it. “Let’s fix this.”

Simon looks away, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking.  Finally, he sighs, defeated, and steps away from Wilhelm, plopping down on the cemented stairs. He hides his face behind his hands. “I can’t, Wille,” his voice comes out strained.

Wilhelm’s heart breaks.

“So,… that’s it? We’re not friends anymore? Never again?”

Simon squeezes his eyes shut, as if it pains him physically to hear those words.

“You… you don’t understand.”

“You don’t talk to me. How can I understand?”

“Wille…”

“Simon,” Wilhelm begs. “Tell me how to fix this!”

Let me fight for us. For whatever ‘us’ means.

“You can’t, okay?!” Simon snaps, jolting to a standing position “You can’t fix this, Wilhelm, because it’s not you who’s the problem here, it’s me.”

Wilhelm’s momentarily blindsided by Simons’ words, and then snaps, “Don’t give me a made-up sentence, Simon!”

“It’s the truth!”

“How?” Wilhelm almost shouts, irritated.

After all these years pining, of pushing away his feelings, of making himself be only Simon’s friend, how can Simon say he’s the problem? If anyone were to the problem, it would be Wilhelm and his stupid feelings. But he is doing all he can to fix this. To save them.

Why won’t Simon try too?

 “Please don’t make me say it,” Simon begs, quiet tears crowding the corner of his eyes.

Wilhelm frowns, a shot of anger hitting him right on his chest.

“Say it,” he spits, coming closer to the other boy.

“Wille-“

“Say. It,” Wilhelm demands, almost to Simon’s face.

“Wille-“

“Simon!”

“I’m in love with you, you asshole!”

Everything stops.

Wilhelm’s anger dissipates into thin air. White noise swamps his brain. There’s nothing and no one else on the planet right. No wind caressing their faces. No cold icing the tips of their noses. Nothing.

Only Simon. Simon and his words.

Simon realizes what has just come out of his mouth and recoils. Looks away, in panic, brings a hand to his curls and squeezes them.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “Shit, shit,” he keeps saying.

“Simon,” Wilhelm whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Simon says.

I’m in love with you, you asshole.

Wilhelm steps closer. Simon watches him through the corner of his eye, wary, and Wilhelm’s heart keeps pulling him closer.

Another step, and another, and the short gap between their bodies is closed.

Wilhelm’s hand touches Simon’s elbow, and the smaller boy looks up at him, teary.

Fear strikes Simon’s eyes as he meets Wilhelm’s, and then the feeling goes away, something else takes its place. Simon lifts his jaw, his brown eyes now determined, courageous. As if he is ready to get his heart broken.

“Actually, I’m not sorry,” Simon corrects himself. “I’m in love with you. I’m not going to hide it anymore, okay? Even if you dismiss me again, even if it ends our friendship for good, I can’t. Not anymore, Wilhelm.” He leans his chin upper, trying to convey a confident stand even though his lips tremble as he speaks. “I’ve been in love for you for over two years now, Wilhelm, and I can’t pretend anymore, okay? I struggled with the feelings at first, but I’ve accepted them now. And it’s time you know about them.”

Simon looks away for a second, unshed tears gathering in his eyes.

“You see now why you can’t fix us?” He asks, voice breaking. “I’d rather not have us speaking at all, Wille, than spend the rest of school year, rest of our lives, pretending I’m happy we’re friends; just friends. But I can apologize for the hurting you, with these feelings, with pulling you away because I couldn’t deal with them, with being a shifty friend when I kissed-”

Wilhelm grips Simon’s elbow tightly, desperately, finally snapping Simon out of his rant.

Simon’s eyes fix on his face, frowning slightly, as he tries to understand what Wilhelm is saying without words.

But Wilhelm should use his words.

God, there are so many words he wants to tell Simon. So many feelings bottled up for months and months.

Wilhelm leans forward, his chest inches away from Simon. And Simon… Simon tils his head up, tracking Wilhelm’s movements like a hawk.

Hope blooms behind Simon’s scared eyes, and Wilhelm knows by now, because he knows the boy too well by now, how much Simon is trying to keep it realistic. How much Simon is fighting that hope. The same hope that Wilhelm has had crashed so many times before.

How many times did it crash for Simon too?

How many times did Simon pull away because the feelings were overbearing?

How many times did they miss each other?

Wilhelm tilts his head, his nose barely touching Simon’s. Their breathes catch at the same time. Wilhelm’s finger twitch around Simon’s elbow as he feels the other boy leaning closer, the small gap between their bodies completely gone now.

“Simon,” Wilhelm whispers again.

Their eyes meet. Wilhelm swallows down his anxious thoughts, his fear of being rejected, of months of not talking about it, not admitting his true feelings, and just takes in how beautiful Simon looks, his mouth slightly open, his eyes blown wide, ready for whatever is coming; ready for Wilhelm to do something.

And so, Wilhelm finally says it out loud, to the person he always wanted to say it to, “Simon,” he repeats the name as holy, “I’m in love with you too.”

Simon’s breath hisses.

“I’ve always been in love with you,” Wilhelm emphasizes.

Simon takes in Wilhelm’s words, wariness dissipating from his eyes, melting into relief, a spark of his usual joy, of his Simon-ness, coming back. Simon grabs the front of Wilhelm’s outfit and pulls him forward. Their lips hover over each other, and Wilhelm doesn’t know what’s keeping him from closing the gap.

“Say it again,” Simon whispers, lips barely brushing Wilhelm’s.

Wilhelm sends him a mildly confused, still dazed look, barely flickering his eyes from Simon’s lips to look at him.

Simon’s hand makes its way up from Wilhelm’s arm to his shoulder, his jaw, sliding past his ear and cradling into his hair, his fingers curling into a fist, grabbing Wilhelm’s hair with it.  Wilhelm’s eyes fluster shut for a second.

“Say it again,” Simon repeats, his tongue coming out between his lips to lick them, almost touching Wilhelm’s mouth.

Wilhelm finally understands what he wants.

He nuzzles his nose against Simon’s and whispers, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Simon.”

Simon’s body trembles underneath his hands, and finally, finally, closes the gap between their mouths, crashing them into a passionate kiss.

Wilhelm grips Simon’s sides, moaning, giving as much passion into the kiss as Simon is.

Simon’s tongue licks Wilhelm’s upper lip, traces down to his bottom lip, opening them up. Wilhelm lets him in.

Finally, Wilhelm’s heart sighs. This is how it was supposed to go the first time.

This is how Wilhelm was supposed to have felt.

True bliss, shots of happiness bursting inside his stomach as fireworks, excited goosebumps trailing down his limbs, giving him sweet, melting shivers.

And when Simon moans his name against his lips, Wilhelm’s brain stops, recalibrates, and he pushes the boy against the closest surface, the wall behind them.

He feels the twigs of the tree above brushing his head and ignores it. Simon tugs at the back of his hair, licking the inside of his mouth, and that’s all that matters.

The loud, high pitched laughs of teenagers break them apart.

Wilhelm pulls away, suddenly fully aware of their surroundings. Simon’s pants are hot against his neck as he peeks over the wall to see a bunch of teenagers coming down the yard’s stairs.

He lowers his head to look at Simon. Simon’s face is red, his plump, soft lips are swollen and his pupils are completely dilated. He looks simply delicious.

“Do you,” Wilhelm starts, leaning forward to kiss him halfway through the question, “want to go to my room?”

Simon nods, his nose hitting Wilhelm in the process.

The two boys stare at each other, and then break into a smile.

They are in love.

***

“When we met,” Simon starts to confess, his fingers tracing invisible lines on Wilhelm’s naked chest, “when I talked to you that night when I first came to Hillerska, I felt something.  I… felt what I had never been able to feel with Marcus.”

Simon’s gaze finds Wilhelm’s dazed, satisfied eyes, and they smile each other, eyes wrinkling at their edges.

“Meeting you, becoming your friend, it made me realized that I wasn’t being scammed for believing that love could be more than what I had with Marcus. You… made me realize how much I could feel for someone else.”

“But,” Simon tils his head up and Wilhelm follows his movement, leaning closer so their noses touch. Simon smiles as he keeps talking, his fingers now moving to the joint between Wilhelm’s shoulder and neck where he had left a bruise earlier that night, “back then, I felt like a jerk for feeling that way, and didn’t think you’d like me back. So, I kept dating Marcus. And then, when Marcus was out of the picture, you had become one of my best friends and I didn’t want to lose you. I’d… I told myself that I’d rather have you as a friend than lose you as an ex. Until, you know, being just a friend wasn’t enough. It would never be enough for me.”

Wilhelm’s heart almost jumps out of his chest with the way it’s beating so fast.

They told each other they would be completely honest with one another tonight. They needed both to know how deep their feelings ran for each other; how many missed opportunities they have had; all to know how to go from now on.

So now, Wilhelm knows how much miscommunication ran between them; how much it was him being stuck in his head, telling himself he could never have Simon, while Simon tried to give himself to Wilhelm the best way he knew, always falling short or doubting himself, thinking no one could love him again.

When he kissed Wilhelm for the first time at the party, he wanted Wilhelm to know he loved him. Wilhelm got it all wrong. Messed it up for them.

Stupid Wille.

Not anymore though.

 Wilhelm’s mouth trembles as he opens it to say something, but words get caught in his throat.

“When I saw you for the first time,” he starts, a hand carding through Simon’s soft curls. Simon closes his eyes and leans into the touch, smiling, “I thought you were the most beautiful boy I had ever seen.”

Simon’s eyes fluster open and the intensity of feeling behind his eyes, the love he is now openly showing Wilhelm that is there, almost makes Wilhelm stop breathing.

“And every day since then,” Wilhelm keeps going, gulping, “you’ve just proved to me how damn right I was.” His nose nuzzles Simon’s, making the other boy laugh softly. “You don’t know how hard some days were, Simon. To fight falling in love with you because I believed you would never love me back.”

“It was hard for me too,” Simon nods, his eyes flickering to Wilhelm’s lips. “To tell myself to stop loving you.”

“Not anymore,” Wilhelm whispers, eyes tracking Simon’s lips too.

Simon smiles. Wilhelm licks his lips, and as he leans forward to grab Simon’s lips into another kiss, because he can now, he finally can, Simon whispers back, “Not anymore.”

His body, so easily learning the dance between him and Simon, pulls the other boy down the bed, hovering over him, just like they have done once already tonight.

His hand travels from Simon’s curls to the side of his torso, goosebumps breaking out on both of their skins, everywhere they touch, everywhere they feel the warmness of the other.

Simon moans against his lips, whimpers his name, as Wilhelm’s hand finds its destination. They have done this once; they are doing it again.

And again.

And again.

They’ll fall asleep around five am, entangled in each other’s arms, Wilhelm breathing in Simon’s sweet, citrus-fragrance in a deep inhale, the other boy sleepily mocking him for doing it and then kissing him softly, one last time (one last time tonight), before they both crash. 

When the morning comes, the whispers of sleepy, hangover teenagers flow from outside the room and when someone bumps into Wilhelm’s door and yells at his company for tripping him, Wilhelm and Simon wake up startled, still entangled in each other’s arms.

“Morning,” Simon says raspy, rubbing his cheek against Wilhelm’s pillow before turning and hiding his face on Wilhelm’s neck. “It’s early.”

“Sleep,” Wilhelm whispers, pressing his arms around Simon’s torso. “We have time.”

They have all the time in the word.

It’s past ten am when they leave the room, the breakfast hour at Forest Ridge House is almost over.

Simon has a permanent blush on his cheeks, awkward in the clothes he borrowed from Wilhelm, too huge on him, too obviously not his, as they walk down the hallway.

They walk side by side, arms bumping to each other.

They are about to cross the threshold of Forest Ridge House’s main door when Alexander opens the door first, almost hitting them.

“Sorry guys! Hey, Simon, you’re alive!” The boy jokes lightly. “You didn’t sleep in the room last… night,” his voice drifts off as he notices the grey Hillerska sweatshirt Simon’s wearing, the sleeves too long for his arms, and then the blush on Simon’s cheeks matching Wilhelm’s. “You… Did you two…”

“What’s going on here?” Henry’s loud voice joins the party, dropping an arm around Alexander. “You’re holding the line,” he jokes, motioning to Walter who is right behind him, also trying to get into the dorm.

“Hey!” Walter suddenly points. “That’s not yours, Simon!”

“Isn’t that Wille’s?” Henry questions with a raised eyebrow, and Wilhelm asks himself how the fuck Henry can tell. “I mean, it has that awful spot on the right arm as yours does, Wille,” Henry answers his unspoken question.

Simon looks down at the right sleeve, the bleach spot contrasting with the grey of the sweatshirt, and then up at Wilhelm with a panicky expression.

They didn’t talk about this. About what they were to the world; only what they were to each other.

Fuck, Wilhelm doesn’t want to step out of line now and assume for the two of them.

What if Simon wants to take it slow? Keep it to themselves for a while before telling his friends?

What if-

“Are you guys a thing now?” Alexander asks, curious, and Henry and Walter’s eyes widen in shock, a teasing grin already stretching on their lips.

Wilhelm’s mouth hangs open and he asks himself, what’s the best option? What do I do? What do I say?

He is at loss of words, panicking to say the wrong thing and screw this up, when Simon clears his throat, hand finding Wilhelm’s sweaty fingers, and announces, “We’re boyfriends, yeah.”

Simon’s eyes find his, a silent question being made. Right?

Wilhelm’s lips spread into a contagious smile. He squeezes Simon’s hand and turns to the other boys, nodding. “Yeah, we’re boyfriends.”

The word boyfriends tastes like his favorite food in his mouth.

“Fucking finally!” Henry cheers and pats both guys on their arms before pulling them into a bear-crushing hug. “It was getting annoying watching you two moping for each other.”

“We were-“ Wilhelm clears his throat, annoyed how weak it was coming off –“We were not moping.”

Henry pulls back and gives him a deadpanned look. “Sure thing, buddy. You keep telling yourself that.” He pats them one more time before stepping aside.

“We’re happy for you guys!” Alexander grins.

“Thanks,” Simon mutters, blushing. Wilhelm gives his hand another squeeze and his now boyfriend flashes him a dazed smile.

They leave for the dining room, hand in hand.

“So,” Wilhelm starts, clearing his throat.

“So,” Simon repeats with a small teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We’re boyfriends?” Wilhelm says, sounding more like a question.

Simon stops walking, pulling him into a halt too. “Is that a question?”

“I hope not?” Wilhelm answers, his intonation still making it sound like he’s not sure.

Simon cracks a smile before it completely vanishes, a serious expression taking place. “After last night,… you still doubt?”

“I-“ Wilhelm blinks. “I don’t want to doubt,” he confesses with a shrug. “I’m just… used to not having you, Simon.”

Simon’s serious expression melts away, his eyes glittering with understanding and flickering sorrow. He steps closer to Wilhelm and raises a hand to touch his cheek.

“Well, get used to it, Wille. I’m not going anywhere.”

Wilhelm’s mouth breaks into a large smile, and Simon’s own smile grows before he leans in to kiss him.

They get lost into each other’s touch, smell, and Wilhelm keeps smiling against Simon’s lips as he brings his hand up to card through Simon’s beautiful curls. When he tugs at them, Simon shivers.

“You’re dangerous,” his boyfriend whispers against his lips before pulling away, tilting his head with pleased eyes and a lazy smile. “But I think I’ll keep you.”

 Wilhelm’s about to reply, his smile so large that it almost pains the edges of his mouth, when someone says from behind them, “Oh my God! Finally!”

Madison stares agape at them, bearing the largest grin ever, while Frederika and Stella stand by her, both nodding with proud looks.

“Nice one, guys,” Stella says, reaching out to hold Frederika’s hand. 

“You guys are cute. I always said you were cute. Didn’t I?” Frederika says excitedly, eyes jumping from Madison to Stella, who grins at her and says, “You sure did, babe.”

“Wait,” Wilhelm frowns, pointing at Stella and Frederika, “you guys a thing?”

The three girls give him a deadpanned look while Simon cracks up laughing under his breath, hiding his face on Wilhelm’s chest.

“Since December, Wilhelm. Oh my God.” Frederika places her hand on her chest. “Hurtful of you not to notice.”

“I-“ Wilhelm blinks. “Sorry?”

Frederika’s offended expression cracks into a smile. “We’re teasing you. Not even Madison or Felice noticed.”

“You acted the same!” Madison argues and then, for some reason, jabs a hand in Wilhelm and Simon’s direction. “And if I hadn’t caught them red-handed all over each other, I wouldn’t have noticed it either!”

“We haven’t talked in months,” Simon points out and his hand tugs Wilhelm’s hand slightly, as if they memory of the time they spent apart hurt him. Wilhelm squeezes his hand back, letting him know he is here.

“Yeah, but if you started hanging out again, I’d just think you made up but were still dumbasses who didn’t realize they were into each other. Honestly, men.” Madison sighs, exasperated, as if the entire situation really went down like she described.

“Weird,” Wilhelm mutters under his breath. Simon hears and sends him a quick reassuring smile.

“The point is,” Madison starts, “we’re happy for you.”

“Yup,” Stella adds.

“Truly,” Frederika agrees.

“Thanks guys,” Wilhelm says sheepishly.

“Yeah, thanks,” Simon agrees, a shy smile matching Wilhelm’s.

The girls leave, off to their little walk in the Hillerska backyards, and Simon and Wilhelm share yet another look, smiles glued to their faces.

“Is everyone going to be weird like they?” Wilhelm wonders.

“God, I hope not,” Simon replies.

“I feel like crying,” Felice says dramatically when she bumps into them in the lockers’ hallway, seeing them holding hands.  “You’ve finally come to your senses and told Simon how you feel, Wille! I’m so proud!”

“Ah…”

“Actually,” Simon starts, a little frown between his eyebrows, looking between his boyfriend and Felice, “I confessed.”

Felice’s emotional expression slides into a deadpanned one and she slaps Wilhelm’s arm.

“Hey!” Wilhelm yelps and pouts, rubbing his arm. “That hurt.”

“You couldn’t take the first step?!” Felice complains.

“Why does it matter?” Wilhelm whines. “We’re together now!”

“Still doubted about it for five seconds this morning, though,” Simon teased.

“Ugh, you overthinker!” Felice groans, shaking Wilhelm’s arms playfully. But then she steps back and her face beams, giving them an honest, joyful smile. “But I’m really happy for you two. I’m glad you’ve worked it out. It always made sense that you two ended up together, you know?”

Wilhelm and Simon glance at each other, their eyes first meeting shyly, Felice’s words bringing up a swirl of exciting and vulnerable feelings inside of them. Wilhelm’s sure Simon’s feeling the same thing he is, from the way his boyfriend’s skin is burning red and a pleased smile is tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We too,” Wilhelm says, smiling at Simon. Simon with his perfect curls, hiss beautiful smile and dazzling eyes, his warm hand holding Wilhelm’s. Simon who is the most beautiful boy he has ever seen and-

“Oh God,” Felice mutters. “You’re going to be insufferable for the next months, aren’t you?”

Wilhelm’s face turns red as Simon wickedly says, “Well, we have to make up for the lost time, don’t we?”

***

They are totally making up for lost time.

Being together after two exhausting and dumb years of pining is a dream come true to both of them. Wilhelm and Simon fall into a relationship that, in so many aspects, looks so much like the friendship they once had. They sit together in classes, they study together, they arrange their extracurricular activities to fall on the same schedule, they hang out after school, during the weekend, binge-watch series together.

Most importantly, though, they are vulnerable with each other, call out when the other is acting up, and are there for each other.

In so many, many ways their relationship is like their friendship.

Except for one crucial, very physical part.

Which is the one they are making up for lost time.

Like now, that Wilhelm has Simon half-bent on their once shared desk, his back almost touching the cold, wooden surface if it weren’t for Wilhelm’s arms keeping him up. Wilhelm is hopped on the chair with his right knee, keeping them balanced as he pushes into Simon instinctively.

And Simon… Simon that in so many aspects is the quiet one of the two of them, in this particular aspect of their relationship isn’t. And Wilhelm, completely immersed in the ecstasy of being inside of Simon, needs to be the clear-headed one, reminding his boyfriend through needy pants, “we need to be quiet, babe. We need to be qui-“

Simon moans again and only then does he register Wilhelm’s words.

“I can’t,” he gasps against Wilhelm’s face.

Wilhelm groans.

Their classmates are going to murder them.

They are exhausted of them by now. Ever since they started dating Wilhelm and Simon take advantage of Wilhelm’s solo room (Alexander thanks them for not kicking him out constantly), and they have pretty much christened the entire place by now.

Today it was the desk’s turn. But they have done it – more than once, obviously – on Wilhelm’s bed, on the other ownerless bed, on the chair, against the room’s walls and door, and on the carpeted floor (this one was particularly bad for Simon’s knees and Wilhelm had to moisturized them for days after their little adventure on the carpet).

“Wilhelm,” Simon moans right on his ear, gripping his boyfriend’s hair on the back of his head tightly. “I’m, I’m-“

“Me too,” Wilhelm groans.

They come almost together, Simon first and Wilhelm following him closely.

Wilhelm has the brain capacity to grab Simon and fall back, dropping them both on his bed, his boyfriend laying on top of him, as they both catch their breath.

“Fuck,” Simon breathes out, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He looks up at Wilhelm, who laughs with him, sweat coming down his forehead. “It shouldn’t get this better.”

Wilhelm raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“It shouldn’t?”

Simon groans, understanding the underlining teasing tone of Wilhelm, and sits up, straddling his tights.

“You know what I mean,” he says, resting both of his hands on Wilhelm’s stomach.

“I think you mean I’m a sex god.”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Wille-“

Simon yelps as Wilhelm gets a hold of his waist and turns them around, trapping Simon underneath him.

“Wille,” his boyfriend laughs, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Stop being an idiot.”

“But you like it.”

“I do?” Simon’s hands find the back of Wilhelm’s neck, pulling him down until his faces are inches away from each other. He nudges Wilhelm’s nose with his, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I do.”

Their mouths meet.

From somewhere on the ground, Wilhelm’s phone rings.

He groans, annoyed, and pulls away.

“It’s probably my brother,” he complains and leans out of the bed, Simon’s arms being the only thing keeping him up, and removes his phone from his jeans’ pocket. Once he settles back into Simon’s side, he answers the phone. “Hey Erik. Not a good time.”

“Not a good time?” His brother echoes the words mockingly. “I’m fifteen minutes away from there. Get dressed. Now.”

Wilhelm groans.

“And also,” Erik adds, and Wilhelm can feel his smirk through the phone, “tell Simon I want to meet him.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Wilhelm mutters something under his breath, to which Simon arches his eyebrow amusedly.

“Fine. Bye.”

“What was that about?” Simon asks, his fingers carding through Wilhelm’s hair.

Wilhelm sighs, resting his chin on Simon’s chest, and confesses, “My brother wants to meet you.”

Wilhelm didn’t tell Erik he was dating Simon. His brother figured it out on his own, during one phone call, a couple weeks after Valentine’s Day. He said he sensed something in Wilhelm’s voice, which is bollocks, because Wilhelm always uses the annoying little brother voice with Erik.

“That’s not a thing,” Erik had said.

“You said it was.”

“But not all the time,” his brother argued. “Besides, I can literally feel the happiness in your voice, Wille. That’s how I know.”

“He does?” Simon says now, panicking. “But- I- What-“

Wilhelm chuckles, amused, and caresses his boyfriend’s face. “Babe, it’s fine. It’s just my brother. He already likes you.”

Simon mutters something under his breath before groaning and hiding his face against Wilhelm’s naked chest.

“But what if he changes his mind?” Simon’s muffled voice asks.

“Impossible.”

Simon takes a couple of seconds to gather courage and pull back. “Let’s go.”

They dress up slowly, Wilhelm’s stuff mostly packed in three bags for the summer, the room empty and ready to not be used for the next months.

Wilhelm’s going to miss Hillerska. What started out as a place he didn’t want to go, filled with dumbasses, turned out to be the place he wanted to be at the most, next to the most wonderful people he has met.

And Simon. Hillerska got him Simon.

“I’m going to miss your room,” Simon pouts, patting the door’s frame.

Wilhelm, who has already pulled a backpack over his shoulders, comes up from behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, kissing the side of his neck. Simon melts against him immediately and mutters, “We do not have time for this again.”

Wilhelm chuckles. “Idiot.”

Simon smiles at him. 

“But I’m going to miss it too,” Wilhelm confesses, surveying the room over his shoulder. “I’m going to miss coming back here.”

Simon turns around in his arms. “Me too,” he says, almost wary, sure in the back of his mind he is thinking about the college applications he submitted and is now anxiously waiting for an answer.

“But hey,” Wilhelm pulls him out of his thoughts, “we’re going to live new adventures. Together.”

Simon’s wariness disappears and he beams, leaning up to kiss the corner of Wilhelm’s lips. “Together.”

Wilhelm’s phone rings again, his brother warning that he is here.

Simon helps Wilhelm with his bags, taking one with his left hand while his right hand holds onto Wilhelm’s.

“You sure he’s cool with me?” Simon asks nervously as they make their way to the school’s front gate.

Wilhelm tugs at his hand. “Yes, babe. He is.”

Simon nods, his lips twitching.

“Hey,” Wilhelm stops and turns to him, “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to meet him yet. Honestly. Erik will be cool with it, and I’m fine with it too.”

Simon doesn’t react for a moment, and then his shoulders relax, a smile stretching out on his lips.

“I want to. Really. Just worried. After all, you met my family before we dated. It was easier for you to… re-meet them as my boyfriend.”

“Oh hell no.” Wilhelm shakes his head, restarting his walk. “It was hell, Simme! I was so nervous that Linda would turn and say, but you two were so much better as friends only.”

Simon bursts laughing.

“Why would my mom say that?” Simon asks between laughs, trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t know! She could have!”

Simon cackles, and Wilhelm almost thinks about elbowing him to make him stop, but then just ends up smiling at the joyful tears in Simon’s happy expression and lets it go. Felice has more than once called him whipped. He has more than once agreed he is.

Erik’s already by the school’s parking lot waiting for them, plopped down on his red convertible’s front, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He’s going to be an idiot,” Wilhelm warns his boyfriend, “but he’s cool.”

The second they step in front of Erik and Wilhelm opens his mouth to say, “Erik, meet-“

“Simon, finally!” Erik pulls Simon into a bear-crushing hug that Simon gazing at his boyfriend over Erik’s shoulder, his eyes asking what the hell?. Wilhelm just shrugs, also surprised. He knew how much Erik already liked Simon, even without knowing the boy, but to the point of hugging him? Sometimes his brother surprised him.  Erik pulls back and clasps a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “I thought my brother was keeping you locked up forever. He’s kind of a psychopath like that.” 

“That’s a lie,” Wilhelm immediately says. He turns to Simon, who’s still baffled by the unexpected hug, and reinforces, “That’s a lie, really,” as if Simon hasn’t known him for over two years and hasn’t been dated him for four months now.

“Well, I’ve asked you to meet Simon hundreds of time-“

“Not true, Erik.” Only like a dozen.

“-And you’ve always been very cryptical about it-“

“Not true either.” Kind true, but whatever.

“-I actually though you made him up at some point.”

“Erik,” Wilhelm deadpans, “Simon knows you’re lying.”

Erik looks at Simon who presses his lips together and gives a solemn nod that says he pretty much knows everything because Wilhelm tells him everything.

“Well,” Erik starts, “you have to come by for dinner one of these days.”

“He will,” Wilhelm says.

Erik doesn’t need to know that he and Simon have already booked two weeks for him to come to Stockholm and that Wilhelm will go to Bjarstaal for two weeks too. All he has to do first is go through the family summer vacation with his parents to Malta. Then, it will be Simon all summer long.

“Can you, like, give me a minute now?” Wilhelm asks, motioning to Simon. “I want to say goodbye.”

Erik rolls his eyes. He turns to Simon, pats his shoulder and offers a hand. “It was nice to finally meet you, even if it were for five seconds.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Simon says, shaking Erik’s hand.

Erik then grabs Wilhelm’s bags and gives them some space.

Wilhelm immediately grabs Simon’s hands, fingers tightly intertwined together, and looks down at him with a sad smile.

“Wille,” Simon pouts (although if you told him he did, he would vehemently deny it) and leans to hug his boyfriend. “It’s just three weeks,” he reminds his boyfriend.

“I still don’t like it.”

Simon pulls away just enough to look at Wilhelm’s face, smile and nuzzle their noses together. Wilhelm follows the movement and then leans down to kiss him.

“I’ll see you soon, yes?” Wilhelm whispers against Simon’s lips, and after getting a nod from his boyfriend, he says warmheartedly, “I love you.”

Simon beams. “I love you back.”

They text each other not even ten minutes later, Simon letting him know his mom has already picked him up as well. Erik notices him texting and snorts loudly.

“You two don’t ever let go, do you?”

If Wilhelm were a lesser man, he’d feel embarrassed and deny, but, honestly, it’s true and he is happy it’s like this. Simon and he spent too long tiptoeing around each other’s feelings for them not to fully embrace them now.

He has always loved keeping in touch with Simon, why stop now that they are dating? It’s not like they talk all the time, because it would be too much for both boys, but they both have the need to text each other once in a while throughout the day, even if it is with a meme, just to remind each other that hey, still here, still thinking of you.

“We’ve always been like this. And yes,” he adds before Erik can mock him, “I know I’m whipped. Felice reminds me of it every day.”

“You were whipped even before you dated.”

“Rude.”

But true.

Then, his brother changes the topic to a less happy one. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do next year?”

Wilhelm clenches his jaw, anxious, and his phone suddenly burns in his hand, a message from his mom still unanswered in it. She keeps sending him links for college applications, both in and out of Sweden, and he keeps ignoring them.

“I’m taking a gap year,” he states, surer than he was when he first told his mom about his future plans for next year. She’s just in denial by now. “I’m thinking of taking some volunteering projects in Stockholm. I’ve been in contact with a couple of shelters and an NGO. I have an interview for it next week.”

Wilhelm has thought it through. He can’t make up his mind about college because he’s not sure of what he wants. Instead, he’d like to do some good. Find out what he is good at while helping others.

For so long, he has felt anxious about making the wrong decision, making the wrong call for his future, and keep up with his parents’ expectations, but now he knows better. Now he knows he needs not to overthink some things. Sometimes it’s one step at the time.

It's okay to take time to figure ourselves out.

Without tearing his gaze from the road, Erik nods, making sure Wilhelm knows he is listening carefully. “Good, that’s good. I’ll… I’ll talk to mom when we get home, okay? I won’t force her to make any rushed decision.”

“Thank you, Erik.”

Wilhelm’s phone buzzes again, a new message from Simon waiting for him.

Simon

okay, i miss you already.

what have you done to me, wilhelm?

Wilhelm

Why are you using my whole name?

Also, I miss you too.

Simon

whipped

Wilhelm

Simon….

Simon

WE CAN HANDLE THREE WEEKS

RIGHT?

Wilhelm

I’m getting a lot of mixed signals here

Simon

i stop functioning without you

that’s what this means

Wilhelm

Three weeks, baby

Three weeks that can pass really slow when you’re not doing what you want.  When your parents try to have at least three conversations with you that you don’t want to until Erik snaps halfway through their meal course at a fancy restaurant in Malta and reminds them that Wilhelm’s just a kid and has the right to take his time with his life.  “So, for the fuck’s sake, leave him alone!” He ends his speech, leaving both their parents speechless and Wilhelm with a tear in the corner of his eye.

Erik’s words won’t do any drastic changes, but at least his parents will keep out of his business for a while.

And then Simon finally arrives at Stockholm. Wilhelm is waiting at the bus station, so excited that he can’t keep standing till, anxiously checking each bus that arrives, hoping it’s Simon’s turn.

When Simon climbs out of his bus, a backpack over his left shoulder, and wearing a light-yellow t-shirt that so clearly doesn’t belong to him, Wilhelm immediately jumps on him, trapping him inside his arms.

“That’s my t-shirt,” Wilhelm says into Simon’s ear.

Simon chuckles warmly. “I missed you too.”

They kiss, a peck at first, and then deeper, passionately, Wilhelm’s hand is tugging Simon’s curls, and Simon almost whimpers, and then reminds them both that they’re still in public. Wilhelm sighs dramatically, but pulls back, only holding Simon’s hand.

He doesn’t care if people look. All he cares is that he has Simon with him for two weeks in Stockholm, followed by two weeks in Bjarstaal, and that it won’t stop there.

By fall, they’ll both be living in Stockholm, Wilhelm doing volunteering work while Simon attends his first year as a music major and living in a dorm.

In a year, Wilhelm will join him in college, finally knowing what he wants, a psychology degree so that one day he can help others overcome what he still struggles with.

In two years, they’ll be spending most of their time together, not really sharing a house but wanting to.

In three years, they’ll finally be living together, a shy attempt at what sharing a life together will look like in the future for them.

In four years, they’ll have a big fight, one that will have them take a break for a total of thirty-five minute before they are both clinging to each other, saying no fighting ever again.

By the time Simon’s out of college and working, Wilhelm will be writing his thesis and hiding a ring box in his underwear drawer, always telling him not yet, but soon.

They’ll be twenty-seven when Wilhelm finally proposes, on an unusual warm October night, the same date he and Simon first met eleven years before, and Simon will cry and say, “What took you so long, you idiot?” because he had known Wilhelm had had the ring for years.

They’ll act disgustingly in love, their friends will always remind them of it, but Wilhelm won’t care. After all, he finally has what he wants; who he wants: the most beautiful boy loving him back. The love of his life.

Simon.

After all the pain, the pining, the inner struggles he went through, Wilhelm can now rest. He can now be happy, just like he daydreamed so many times before when he was a teenager with a crush on a boy that he thought he couldn’t have, because he now has that boy next to him. Because Simon loves and will always love him. A promise forged with a ring.

It’s not a wish anymore, but a fact.

Simon loves him back.

Simon loves him back.