Chapter Text
Simon found him in the hallway. He’d opened his phone as soon as Wilhelm had been called away and dropped to the steps when he read the headlines. His head whirled. Someone had tried to talk to him, grab his shoulder, but he’d pushed them away. Erik was dead. Wille had talked about him often enough that Simon felt like he had known him, just a little bit - how he loved to sing just like Simon, except never in tune; how he’d always make faces across the room to get Wille to enjoy events. How he loved his fucking car. His stomach had felt like it was turning in on itself. Wille had just lost his best friend. Thoughts piled up inside his head like a road block. Wille was alone right now. He had to find his… he didn’t know what they were. Did Wille even want to see him right now? He was so alone. He’d taken a long while to control his breathing and then had stumbled to his feet, making his way inside. He didn’t know where to go, but he went in the general direction the housemaster had gone. And that was where he found Wille, in the hallway.
He was standing in the doorway to the entrance hall, the one they’d walked through together earlier. One hand was hurriedly rubbing his chest, the other clenched his hair as if he wanted to tear it from his scalp. His shoulders heaved, hunched over as though he was trying to curl in on himself. Simon couldn’t stop tears pricking his eyes as he stopped a few meters from Wille. He hated seeing him like this. How long had he been standing by himself? He didn’t know what to do. This moment felt so personal and there was so much pain coursing through him, seeing Wille grieve. How could he possibly help? Maybe he shouldn’t have come, but his instincts urged him to stay. There was no way he could leave him alone. He didn’t want Wille to be alone. Tentatively he kept stepping forward and all at once Wille noticed him there. Eyes that were rimmed red and threatening to spill over lifted up from where they were staring, unseeing, at the ground and latched onto Simon’s face. Confused. Lost. Scared shitless. Simon could read all of these on Wille’s face. He’d always been an open book, always been so painfully honest that it made Simon’s heart melt. It was one thing he admired so deeply about him.
“Simon.” Wille quietly gasped his name in a voice that was dipped in relief and soaked with terror.
“Hej,” Simon murmured, because he didn’t know what else to say and because the silence was enormous and because he just needed to be with Wille. He closed the gap between them with hurried steps. Wille grabbed for him and Simon pulled the boy into his chest. As soon as his arms were around him, some strong wall of willpower that had been propping him up until now fell away and Wille’s legs buckled. Simon stumbled backwards under the weight. He felt his back collide with the door frame and he began to slide down it, guiding Wille with him down to the floor. Wille clung to him. Warm tears spilled onto his neck and he could feel hot breath on his shirt collar. It was his favourite shirt, the purple one, which he’d worn today because he wanted to look good for Wille. Now wrinkles were forming where Wille’s hands clutched at him.
Voices made Simon look up at a group of girls walking through the entrance hall.
“... right, it’s just so awful. He was so nice to me when we met at this fundraiser once-” He caught the eye of one that he recognised. Stella. She was in his math class. When they heard the sound of Wille’s crying and their eyes found the two boys bundled up on the floor, their expressions flooded with pity. But how could they sympathise with Wille’s pain? Simon wrapped his arms tighter around Wille’s waist and watched the girls as they hurried out of the room. He wanted to yell. He was angry, but not at them. He was angry that the whole world knew that their prince was gone before Wille knew he’d lost his brother. Angry that the universe had decided to grant Wille, of all people, this heartache. The sobs coming from the poor figure in his arms were growing louder. He’d never felt anyone shake with grief like this, not even mama the day she ended it with papa. He hadn’t been big enough to hold all of her back then.
“I can’t breathe.”
Wille’s gasp pulled Simon's attention back. He was not just crying now. Panic was setting in. He’d lifted his head and was looking up at him with desperate eyes as he struggled to control his breathing. Simon’s chest flared up with worry and he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to help. Touching his forehead to Wille’s, he did the only thing he could think to do, talking to him in a slow, steady voice the same way his mother used to do when he had nightmares.
“Breathe with me,” he spoke softly, “In and out.” He purposely made his breathing louder so that Wille could follow along. “I know you can do this. You are not alone. In and out. You’re safe, I promise.” He rambled on at the same steady pace, rubbing his hands over Wille’s shoulders and arms along with his mantra. In and out. Up and down. He barely even noticed when his speech dissolved into Spanish.
“…Está bien, mi Wille. Eres tan fuerte y yo estoy aquí … ”
He kept speaking until Wille’s breathing slowed and his tears no longer came in racking sobs. They still fell steady and unchecked, but Wille let his head drop back into Simon's shoulder. Simon lifted his hand and slid his fingers into hair that was ash blonde in the fading daylight. He’d always wanted to feel it, to brush it away from Wille’s face everytime it fell over his forehead. He always watched Wille run his hands through it to push it back and to be honest he’d imagined what those hands would feel like tangled in his own curls. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He didn’t want this. Not when the touch of his fingertips on Wille’s nape caused him to let out a whimper, so small and so hopeless it pierced right through the center of Simon's heart. He pressed his lips into the top of Wille’s head. Not quite a kiss. He didn’t want to pressure him. But he needed to be close to Wille. He needed him to know he wasn’t alone.
A few minutes, or maybe it was hours, passed before rivers of tears slowed to a trickle. Simon felt Wille’s lips brush the skin of his neck as he mumbled a small plea.
“Can you take me to my room?” Simon hated Wille sounding so distant, so forlorn. Not even an hour ago, they were planning what they could do during their trip to Bjärstad. Simon nodded sincerely.
“Of course. But you’ll have to show me the way.” He hated that he couldn’t even do the one thing Wille had asked of him. Slowly he rose to his feet, lifting Wille up with him gently. Wille wrapped his arm around Simon’s shoulders, leaning on him as he took tentative steps forward on unsteady legs, like a toddler learning to walk again. Simon didn’t take his arm from Wille’s waist, holding him close. As they turned into an adjacent hallway, they met the headmistress and a couple of staff sitting, evidently waiting for Wilhelm to come out of the hall. Wille ignored them, or maybe didn’t even see them, he thought. They looked surprised to see Simon appear.
“I’m taking Wille to his room,” he said in a quiet explanation, and nobody moved to stop them. He didn’t know what he would do right now if someone tried to pull him away from Wilhelm. Probably something irrational.
As they walked through the House, Wille’s claw-like grip on Simon’s shoulder didn’t ease. He didn’t appear to be seeing anything around them but he kept moving forward so Simon could only assume they were going the right way. While they made their way up a staircase, they passed a couple of boys who dropped their eyes as Wilhelm stumbled on a step in front of them, pretending they weren’t staring. Whispers followed them up the stairwell. They had almost reached the end of a short corridor on the second floor when Wille halted suddenly, dropping his arm from around Simon. He turned around slowly, running a hand through his hair and his eyes roved, looking confused.
“What’s…” Simon trailed off, unsure of what he should ask. Any question seemed pointless right now. He already knew what was wrong. The brother of the boy he… liked was dead and there was nothing he could do.
Wille stood unmoving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His right thumb and index finger frantically rubbed against each other. After a moment he spoke. His voice sounded empty, as though the tears had flooded through his throat and washed everything out until there was nothing left.
“I was standing right here. This- this was the last place I saw him.” He went quiet, biting the inside of his cheek. Simon was quiet too, because what the hell do you say? He was about to reach out his hand when Wille turned abruptly and pushed past him, hurrying into a room at the end of the hallway. Simon hesitated, unsure if Wille wanted him. He’d asked to take him to his room, not that he should come in. But- maybe it was selfish, but he had to stay. Wille had to know he wasn’t alone. He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and then followed him into the room, pulling the door gently closed behind him.
Wille was sitting on the side of his bed, phone in hand, punching his thumbs hurriedly into the screen. Simon wondered who he could be texting, realised he didn’t even have a right to know, wondered again if he should just leave Wille right now. He almost backed out, his hand still on the door handle, when the phone started ringing and a contact photo popped up on the screen. The breath Simon had just caught faltered again.
Calling; Erikkk - His Royal Highass
In the photo, Erik had a big dumb grin on his face, his cheek pressed up against Wille’s, who was sticking his tongue out trying to lick Erik’s nose. They were both in suits and Erik had a champagne flute in his hand. This was probably from some black-tie event, or maybe suits were everyday attire in the palace for all Simon knew. It didn’t matter. They both looked so happy.
“Wille…”
Simon usually tried to shut down his emotions at times like these. It was something he prided himself in, being strong for others when they couldn’t be strong themselves. But the sight of this boy on his bed, calling the one person who meant everything to him - who would never pick up again - it was too much. Simon felt his throat closing over. His insides were twisting up, wrung like a wet cloth. He let two tears roll down his cheeks as he slowly crouched down in front of Wille, sliding a hand gently onto his knee.
“Wille-'' he tried again but the name caught in his throat. He almost choked on it. Wille in front of him didn’t respond, didn’t look up. He was staring unblinking at the screen, the hands that clutched his phone tightening with every empty ring emanating from it. Simon didn’t think he was even breathing. He watched Wille’s face and his heart shrivelled with every second that passed. The desperation in his clenched jaw, the light brown strands of hair that fell across his forehead which furrowed, crumpled, with every trill that echoed around the tiny room. Another tear carved a path down Simon’s cheek. And then it stopped.
Facetime Unavailable.
The silence fell like a blanket and Simon swallowed tightly. He felt useless. Wille was immobile, apart from his hands which began to tremble. The phone teetered on his quivering fingers and fell out of his grip. It tumbled between his knees and Simon thought he heard a crack when it hit the floor. Wille was breathing again, but it was coming in ragged, sharp gulps. Simon tried to tighten his grip on Wille’s knee, but in a scramble of movement Wilhelm pushed away, hurrying backwards onto the bed until his back hit the wall. He began rubbing his chest hard with one hand, the other digging fingernails into his shin. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out everything because if you couldn’t see it, it couldn’t be real.
As Simon reached down to pick up the fallen phone he realised his hands were shaking too. He tried to still them, brushing the teardrops off his cheeks as he rose from the ground. Looking down at the phone in his hand he realised the glass had been broken in a line down the right side of the screen. It went straight through Wille’s forehead. Simon pressed the power button before another well could begin to form in his eye. His throat wasn’t able to form more than a whisper but as he folded the phone closed and placed it on the desk, he had to ask. “Do… Do you want me to leave?” He was afraid of the answer.
“Please stay.” The answer came, urgent and begging. If Simon’s heart hadn’t already been aching to the breaking point, this would have shattered it. He lifted his eyes to meet Wille’s. There was nothing but panic and a pool of tears looking back at him. Wille was staring at him as though if he left him alone, he wouldn’t survive for a second.
“Please,” Wille choked out, drops falling thick and fast now. He was shaking.
“Of course,” Simon said, climbing onto the bed beside him. Wille’s arms reached for him, clinging to him like a sailor clings to the hull of a sinking ship.
“Of course I’ll stay,” he whispered, pulling Wille down to lay sideways on the bed. He twined their legs together and Wille curled even closer, sobbing once again racking his body. Simon could feel fingertips digging into his shoulder blades so hard they would bruise, but he didn’t complain. If he could take on even an inch of the pain that was poisoning Wille’s heart, he would take it without hesitation.
“I’m right here,” Simon murmured, wrapping Wille up as though his arms alone could hold the pieces of him together. Wilhelm was falling apart.
He didn’t know how long they lay like that, but slowly Wille’s breathing eased and the wet patch on Simon’s shirt collar began to dry up. The strip of sky he could see through the open window had turned to the grey charred sky of twilight. He was quietly tracing patterns up and down the pale arms which still enveloped him in a tight grip. Wille was lying burrowed into his right side, his face buried in Simon’s chest. When a soft knock came to the door, Simon felt his body tense.
“Wilhelm?” He recognised the voice of the headmistress. “May I come in?”
After a long moment when she received no reply, she slowly pushed open the door. Wille made no move to lift his head. Simon watched the headmistress take in the scene on the bed, saw her eyes mist over and her face crumple. Erik had been her student, he thought with a jolt. He realised then just how many other people were touched by Erik. How far this ripple of grief spread from the boy bundled up in his arms. Even if you didn’t support the crown, the whole country respected their crown prince. He tucked Wille’s head protectively under his chin. The headmistress took a long, deep breath.
“Wilhelm, the royal escort has arrived to take you home.” When Wille still made no move to reply, her eyes drifted over his hidden face to meet Simon’s eyes. He couldn’t read what was written there.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she said quietly and Simon returned her sad smile of recognition as best he could. After a moment she turned and left the room, closing the door with a quiet click. Simon thought he could hear other voices outside. Tuning them out, his thumb resumed drawing a slow circle on Wille’s shoulder.
Almost ten minutes passed before Wille spoke, muffled words absorbed in Simon’s chest. “I feel like I can’t move.” Simon let out a heavy breath, rubbing his hands up and down Wille’s back. Ducking his head, he could speak into Wille’s ear in a soft undertone.
“You don’t have to move anywhere right now.” He hugged Wille to him, as close as possible.
“But I have to - “ Wille paused as he choked back another swell of tears. Shafts of anger rushed through Simon’s body, overwhelmed by how unfair this was, how they expected Wille to get up when he’d just received the worst blow of his life. For the first time, he considered what Erik’s death would mean for Wilhelm as the next prince in line. He hated it.
Maybe Wille felt Simon tense underneath him because he turned a little, lifting his head from where it was buried. Exhaustion was worn like a mask that dragged his face down.
“Fuck,” he whispered, rubbing a hand over his eyes, thought is grip around Simon’s waist didn’t loosen. He shifted his body off of Simon’s chest so he could stare up at the ceiling but he still pressed his head into the crook of Simon’s neck. Simon lifted one arm so he could reach up to stroke Wille’s hair, twisting the strands that fell across his temple and brushing the tips of his fingers over Wille’s forehead. He felt a shuddering sigh go through the boy next to him and he turned his neck so that he could press his face into the top of Wille’s head. He smelt like lavender and the forest in spring.
Simon guessed they lay for another twenty minutes in this restless kind of peace before another knock sounded on the door and another voice came from outside. He didn’t recognise it this time. It was firmer than the headmistress.
“Prince Wilhelm, we need to leave soon. Her Majesty is requesting your presence as soon as possible.” Wille’s hands curled into fists, bunching up the purple fabric of Simon’s shirt. Simon watched his eyes squeeze shut, before Wilhelm sighed. With that sigh a change came over the boy and he seemed to flick a mental switch. He pushed himself up, slowly. Simon felt proud that Wille could be so strong. He was angry that he had to be so strong. And he missed Wille as soon as he left his side.
Following his lead, Simon sat up himself and they swung their legs to the side, sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed. Wille ran a hand through his hair and Simon’s heart fluttered at the familiar movement. He noticed a water bottle on the bedside table and reached for it, handing it to the boy beside him.
“Thanks,” Wille whispered, moving to take a sip. He looked so fucking tired. Why couldn’t they just let him sleep? Wille handed the bottle back before leaning his elbows forward onto his knees, digging palms into his eyes.
“This doesn’t feel real,” he murmured. Simon placed the bottle back on the table and then reached for him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. Wille sat back again, looking up with lost eyes, searching for answers that no one would be able to give him. He met Simon’s gaze with one full of sorrow and confusion.
“No.” Simon said gently. “It doesn’t make sense.” He felt like running to the window and screaming out into the darkening night sky. Wille’s hurt was too much for him. He was right. How could this nightmare be real? What was the point of this?
”But... I can tell you that you are real.” Simon spoke slowly, not once breaking eye contact with Wille.
“And I am real.” He didn’t know where these words were coming from but they felt right. Like they were a safety rope that Simon was tying around the both of them. He was trying to anchor themselves together, protecting them from falling into the dark void on either side.
“And I am here to help you carry whatever is in here,” he lay his finger over Wille’s chest, where a broken heart lay crumpled.
“And in here.” Simon continued quietly, reaching up to tap gently on Wille’s temple.
“Okay?” He faltered and let his hand drop away. He felt a slight flush creep over his face when he realised how close they were. Wille’s eyes were so beautiful, he thought. Even now when they were so achingly sorrowful, they were curious and wonderful and endless. He felt like Wille could really see him. And there it was again, that funny thing his heart did whenever he looked at him.
“Okay.” Wille managed to reply, so quietly Simon almost didn’t hear it. God, he wanted him to stop hurting.
He didn’t know exactly who moved first, but when their lips met it was like the world tilted upside down and then righted itself with a sudden surety. This was real. They were real. He couldn’t possibly begin to describe the way he felt when they kissed, but he’d been thinking of this impossible feeling for nigh on two weeks now. This- this feeling was why he’d gone in twice on movie night, even while Wille was short-circuiting. He’d had to try it again, because he hadn’t known it was possible to feel like that, and he was certain Wille had felt it too. At least he hoped he did. He wanted to make Wille feel like this all the time. Like when their lips touched he was wilting and growing at the same time.
He loved this.
Maybe it was the shock of that thought echoing through the room that caused them both to hesitate but they paused, pulling back to put barely a hair's breadth between their lips. The tension here was just as overwhelming for Simon as though they were touching. It was like there was a current ebbing around the two of them. They were breathing each other’s air and Simon imagined that with every inhale he was draining away some of Wille’s pain. Their faces were so close, but he didn’t move to close the gap. It was up to Wille. Whatever Wille needed, he would give. He was desperately aware of a hand on top of his, fingertips ever so slightly pressing down, willing him to stay.
He lifted his chin just a fraction so that he was ready to catch Wille’s lips when they came down a second time, more sure now, more despairing. In this there was something that Wille was trying to communicate, something that lay in the cracks between gratitude, deep caring and a plea for strength and comfort. Simon understood him perfectly. He would have said right in that moment that he was put on this forsaken earth to kiss Wilhelm and Wilhelm was sent by the universe just to kiss him back. He wondered if he was the only one who was burning from head to toe right now. Barely aware of his hand moving of its own accord to clutch Wille’s hip, his thumb found a sliver of skin where the hem of Wille’s shirt had ridden up and tentatively he drew another circle there.
Wille hesitated once more and Simon let his lips slowly fall away, wondering if he’d done too much, but barely an instant passed before Wille’s other hand curled around him, pressing into the small of his back, pulling him closer. They met for a third time and this kiss was deeper, longer, like the pressing of a seal on a royal envelope. Wille tilted his head sideways so that he could pry Simon’s lips open a bit further and it took everything in Simon to stifle the sound that boiled up at the back of his throat. They pushed and pulled gently against each other in a way that was kind of rhythmic, Simon noticed. Everything felt certain in that moment, just the two of them. They were real and everything else, everything else was fake.
Both of them were slightly out of breath when they pulled away, Wille pushing his forehead into Simon’s. He was reminded of the movie night once again, feeling Wille’s shoulder’s tensing as though he was about to do something reckless. Simon lifted his hand from Wille’s hip to stroke Wille’s neck and the boy let out a shallow but steady breath.
“I really like you, Simon.”
He spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper. Simon opened his eyes to look up at Wille, who wasn’t looking back at him. He was staring down at where his hand still rested on top of Simon’s, and slowly he relaxed his fingers to lace their hands together. Wille had pianist fingers, Simon noted. Thin and graceful - and perfectly designed to slide between his own.
“I really like you too.”
He murmured it back, picturing the words floating in the air around them, a secret for their eyes only. Nothing could stop the smile that traced its way onto Simon’s face as Wille pulled back and finally lifted his eyes to connect their gaze. Disbelief. Uncertainty. Exhilaration. It was all written there plainly for Simon to see. He bumped their noses together. A breath of surprised laughter escaped as the corners of Wille’s mouth tweaked upward. It was the first smile from his boy in hours. Simon smiled back and thanked the stars he was able to bring just a dash of light into the very worst evening.
“That’s good.” Wille replied and his weak voice held a small glimmer of humour on top of relief. Simon watched the smile on his face grow an infinitesimal amount. They sat locked in their own world for a moment longer before Wille’s gaze dropped and the shield they had built around themselves crumbled.
“I have to… um… I…” Wille faltered and his hand tightened around Simon’s. Simon stroked his neck again.
“What do you need?” he said quietly but steadily.
Wille furrowed his brow at the carpet, like he didn’t quite understand the question. “Uh… I… you?” He said it so earnestly Simon’s heart panged.
“I mean what do you need to, uh, to take home?” he rephrased.
“Um… you?” Wille tried again and Simon bit back a smile.
“I don’t think I’m allowed,” he said soothingly. He was about to make a joke about him walking into the palace, but noticed Wille was beginning to panic again. So he kept quiet, rubbing his thumbs slowly where they sat in contact with Wille’s skin and pressing a kiss to his temple. Wille squeezed his eyes shut and tried a third time.
“I… um… my toothbrush.” Simon smiled into Wille’s hair. “And I… I need my headphones.”
Gradually, without once breaking their direct touch, Simon helped Wille pack a small bag with his things. It wasn’t much. Most of his belongings were duplicates of what they had back in the palace. But the motions of packing seemed to ground Wille and he looked less confused by the time Simon helped slide his coat onto his shoulders. Wille turned around to face him, worrying the inside of his cheek silently as Simon adjusted the coat collar. Then reaching up to grab both of Simon’s hands in his, Wille looked at him. He rubbed Simon’s knuckles softly.
“Will you walk down with me?” Simon nodded. Of course he would. He would go anywhere this boy asked. Wille tilted his head right back to look up at the roof and exhaled heavily. Then he dropped Simon’s hands, squared his shoulders and picked up his bag. Something happened when Wille opened the door. It was like he drew a curtain over himself and Simon had to squint just a little to see the Wille that had been so open to him before. He could still see him in the little things though, like the way his right thumb and index finger fiddled with each other or the way he flicked back his hair when it inevitably fell over his face.
Outside in the hallway, a blonde-haired woman in a black suit was leaning against the wall. She straightened up as they came out of the room. Wille seemed to recognise her.
“Hi, Prince Wilhelm,” she said and Simon heard Wille swallow hard at the mention of his title.
“Hi. Uh, this is Simon.” Wille said, brushing his hand on Simon’s arm. “Could one of the escort cars take him home, please.” He was about to open his mouth to protest, say that he could just take the bus home, but Wille’s voice cut him off.
“I need to make sure he gets home safely.” Wille was looking at him intently and his heart crumpled for the thousandth time that evening. That gaze rendered him immobile. He doesn’t want to lose me. He needs to know I’m safe. The loud thoughts crashing through his head drowned out the lady as she spoke.
“That can be arranged. I will drop him off myself, sir.”
“Thank you, Malin.” Wille turned back to her and Simon looked down at the floor, swallowing a moment to compose himself. He didn’t know why Wille’s care for him had affected him so much, but he could feel his love for Wille swelling infinitely inside him. His love⎼
“We are just parked outside, if you will follow me.” Wilhelm nodded curtly and they began to follow the bodyguard. Wille turned to make sure Simon was beside him and he offered a cautious smile, trying to shake off his unheralded thoughts. Whatever his feelings - far too early to name, he scolded himself - he had to focus on Wille right now. But it was difficult to think straight when Wille’s forearm was pressed tightly into his. He remembered Wille barely able to walk without his support earlier and was reminded of how hard it must be for him to function right now. His heart ached, throbbing so loud he swore everyone could hear it. He pulled forward the words that he had uttered before to comfort Wille and now used them to comfort himself.
You are real, and I am real. And I am right here.
Lights were on in the dining rooms on either side of the entrance hallway and cheerful voices could be heard over the clatter of knives and forks. Simon’s stomach twinged, reminding him what time it was. He wondered tiredly what Mama was making for dinner. He wondered what Wille would eat, too. He wondered if rich people would take their frozen home-baked lasagne and pastries to the palace in condolence. When the front door was pushed open for them by a second bodyguard, they were greeted by a rush of crisp air. A single crumpled autumn leaf flicked across the steps in front of them. Two black cars were parked in the courtyard outside the Forest Ridge house. Rosh would be freaking out over these wheels, Simon thought bleakly.
As they descended the steps towards the vehicles, Malin moved away from them to talk to a third and fourth body guard standing off to the side. Simon noticed them glancing toward Wilhelm with more sadness in their eyes. He wanted to yell at them, tell them to leave this poor boy in peace, that he didn’t need their pity. Instead he pushed his shoulder further into Wille’s side. Wille stopped a few feet from the first car, wrapping his fingers around Simon’s wrist and turning to face him. He noticed Wille’s breaths were coming up short again. If his rising fear was anything to judge by, he could only imagine Wille feeling ten times worse.
“Can I call you? Later?” Wille sounded so uncertain, so scared. Simon wanted to grab him and kiss him and whisper in his ear that there was never a moment, ever, where he would not want to talk to him. But he was acutely aware of the gaze of the black-suited people on them.
“Of course.” He tried for an earnest smile instead. “Anytime. I mean it.” Then, in a movement that seemed so natural now when a few hours ago it would have been taboo, he reached up to tuck Wille’s hair behind his ear. Wille’s eyes didn’t seem to want to leave him as he brushed the strands back into place. His hair had turned a darker brown now in the dusk light. There were so many colours to this boy and Simon found himself longing to see them all. He dropped his hand to Wille’s arm.
“And then, when you’re ready, you can come hang out with me and mama.” He tried for a tiny breath of laughter and his heart soared when he managed to coax a minute smile out of the corners of Wille’s mouth. But that ghostly presence of happiness was shadowed by the memory of a weekend that never happened. And why it had been disrupted. He watched Wille’s face and could tell he was thinking the same thing. This was all so fucking unfair.
They were pulled out of their silent conversation by the sound of a car door opening and the blonde-haired lady was holding it open, waiting patiently for the prince to enter. Simon dropped his gaze hurriedly, looking around him in a panic. He could feel eyes on them and noticed curious students peering out from the windows of the House. Suddenly he felt dread coursing through him. He didn’t want Wille to leave. All he could picture was Wille standing solitary in that huge palace. He didn’t want him to be alone. His arms reached upwards to pull Wille into a forceful hug. He didn’t want to be alone. It was his turn to bury his face in Wille’s neck. Shielded from the view of the escort by his arms, he pressed his lips onto the skin just above Wille’s shirt collar. He felt Wille pull even tighter around him, a hand lifted to cup the back of his neck and hold him there. He couldn’t stop his heart from jumping when he realised Wille was touching his curls.
“Thank you, Simon.” Wille’s breath on his neck made his skin tingle.
Though their embrace was far too short, they both knew with reluctance when it was time to pull away. If he didn’t let Wille go now he suspected he never would. But as soon as he took a step backwards, away from Wille, the cold dread threatened to drown him once more. He tried for a smile of encouragement but knew he must look as miserable as he felt.
“I’ll see you soon,” Wille said dejectedly. His face looked like it was on the verge of collapse. Simon bit back a comment about how he wanted to know exactly when ‘soon’ was. He didn’t know when he’d see Wille again. Maybe never. He pushed away that irrational thought as soon as it entered.
“Yeah. See you soon.” There was no need to panic, he tried to reason with himself as Wille slowly but surely turned away and climbed into the waiting car. He gave one glance back at Simon, despair mirrored in both their gazes. There was no need to panic, he said, when the door closed and he couldn’t see Wille anymore through the black tinted windows. He was only breathing heavily because it was cold, not because the car holding Wille was pulling away from where he stood, was turning out down the Hillerska driveway. He watched the taillights for as long as he could see them, barely registering the kind hands of the blonde-haired lady who turned him gently and eased him into another waiting car. If Rosh was here she would have obsessed over it - it was one of those electric ones. Simon didn’t care though. He couldn’t see the taillights anymore. It was so cold. He realised Wille hadn’t taken his scarf.
When the escort car pulled up to his house, he mumbled an awkward thank you and hauled himself out of the vehicle as quickly as he could. Something had been building up inside him as he and Wille were pulled further and further apart, and he didn’t want to cry in front of these people in black suits. He rushed inside and tried to pass through the kitchen without being noticed. He wanted to be alone in his room. Well, no. He wanted to be alone with Wille in his room. But he couldn’t and so he tried to push past his mother who was setting the table for two.
“Hey, darling, I thought you were staying at Ayub’s...” his mother’s voice trailed off when she noticed his face. God, he didn’t want to break in front of her either, but she reached out a hand to stop him in his tracks. “ Mi amor , what has happened?” she said quietly, cupping his chin in her hand. He couldn’t look up at her. He felt the grief bubbling up in his throat and he pursed his lips, trying to keep himself in check. But his mother wouldn’t let him go. “Tell me, Simon.”
He didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to talk to anyone except the one person who had just been driven away from him. He had promised that he was right there, and now he wasn’t.
“Mama, I was supposed to stay with Wille,” he let the words fall off his lips and with that sentence out in the open, his floodgates burst with one shuddering sob. It was all too much. He let himself fall apart, pieces of himself crumbling into his mother’s arms.
He wished the prince would come back.