Chapter Text
Shivers run down his spine when Wille's fingers draw lines across his back. Normally, Simon would be embarrassed about letting some rich boy from class he’d only talked to a handful of times press him up against a wall during the middle of a crowded party, but inhibition seems to leave him entirely when faced with Wilhelm’s warm eyes and hands.
Simon still remembers the first morning of the semester. He’d been late, blearily squeezing into a seat and trying to make sense of the syllabus already projected up front, when someone had tapped his shoulder. When Simon had looked up, it’s had been like all of his senses had come alive at once. Suddenly, he was wide awake, blinking back at deep, dark eyes and tumbling, soft-looking hair.
“Sorry,” Wilhelm had whispered to him, discreetly trying to hand him a phone. “Is this yours? I saw it fall.”
Simon had hastily checked his pockets, flushing when he came up empty handed. “Shit,” he’d cursed, “yeah, fuck. Thanks.”
And the rest, as Ayub often jokes, had been history. Slowly, as the weeks passed, Simon begins to enjoy quick hellos, the thrill of their shoulders brushing in class as he pretends to pay attention, and the sizzle of something more sparking in his chest whenever Wille meets his eyes.
All said and done, Ayub thinks he has a crush. Simon, however, vehemently disagrees. Wilhelm is smart, pretty, and funny - it’s only natural that Simon enjoys his company even if the Rolex on his wrist costs more than Simon’s entire tuition and Wille’s second cousin and brother lord over the university rowing team that Simon had tried out for last year only to be brutally cut despite being better than half the people there.
“Don’t feel too bad,” Wilhelm had tried to reassure him once. “Everyone that made it is a family friend. Erik and August can’t really cut them without it being awkward.”
“Then why do they even have try-outs?” Simon had grumbled, crossing his arms as Wille snickered beside him, his own rowing team t-shirt stretched distractingly across his shoulders.
It was always these little details that remind Simon that Wilhelm is not like him - that his family has millions upon millions of kronor, multiple summer homes - Wille had once mentioned a chateau in the south of France - and an aristocratic group of friends that look at Simon like he’s nothing more than the dirt beneath Wille’s expensive shoes.
Which is why he’s still stunned that he’s here, on a random Friday night, in the large penthouse that Wille shares with Erik and August, with people that have never spoken to him in his life.
Begrudgingly, Simon admits that maybe, just maybe, Ayub is right about that crush after all. It’s not like Simon can really deny it when Wille has him up against a kitchen wall, his mouth hot and slick as it works its way across his pulse point and down the length of his throat.
Simon gasps at the slight sting of teeth, tangling his fingers into the short hairs at the nape of Wille’s neck. He tugs weakly, trying his best to angle them back into a kiss.
Wille makes a sound of protest at the interruption, but when Simon tips his head back to wordlessly ask for a kiss, he leans in immediately, crushing their mouths together.
The sounds of the party - pounding bass and the tittering of the crowd - all fade away under the boom of Simon’s heartbeat.
“Wille,” he murmurs, relishing the feeling of Wille’s firm, warm grip tightening around his waist, “can we - ”
A gaggle of people walk by, one of them jostling them hard enough that Wille has to pull away. “Yeah,” he replies, voice delightfully breathless as he pushes his mouth to the crown of Simon’s head, “my room’s down the hall.”
Simon swallows, heat flaring in his stomach. He nods, taking Wille’s hand in his own. “Okay,” he tucks in close enough to smell Wille with every inhale, dizzy despite the lack of alcohol. “Let’s go.”
Wille kisses his forehead again before he turns, half dragging Simon out of the kitchen. Just before they reach the hallway though, he freezes, turning back to Simon with an odd expression on his face. “You want this right?” He asks, eyes searching. “With me?”
“Yeah,” Simon breathes, pressing their bodies together. It’s hard to imagine anything he wants more. “Please.”
“Okay.” Now, Wille looks a tad uncomfortable, “I just - I need to know that you’re not just doing this because you think I’m going to like - give you money.”
Simon feels like he’s been dunked headfirst into ice water. He takes a shocked step back, flinching. “What?”
“I mean like, like,” Wille squirms, “my family’s - you know who they are. And I’m supposed to be careful about the people I associate with because everyone wants - ”
Simon rips his hand away, humiliation making his face feel hot. “So you think because I’m not - I have a job, Wille. I don’t need your fucking money.”
Wille’s expression is blown wide open, his eyes rounded with horror. “That’s not how I meant it,” he insists hotly, “I just - I wanted to make sure.”
“Don’t worry,” Simon shoves his hands in his pocket, turning to blindly push his way in the direction of the door. He’d been a fool to come here in the first place. A fool to think someone like Wille would ever take someone like Simon seriously. “We’re done here anyway.”
“Simon, wait,” Wille scrambles after him, tugging at his shoulder, “please don’t leave. I didn’t mean to - ”
“You did,” Simon sneers, the beginning of mortified tears burning at his eyes, “this never would’ve - I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Forget I said anything, okay?” Wille grips him tightly, spinning him around. Simon watches as neon lights play across his lovely face. “Let’s just - come on, Simon. Please.”
And Simon wishes desperately that he could - aches to even. But his pride is burning almost as much as his face is, so he shakes his head wordlessly, resolutely forcing himself away from Wille’s intoxicating presence.
The last thing he sees before he shuts the door behind him is Erik and August coming up to each sling an arm around Wille’s neck, steering him back in the direction of the kitchen. For a moment, he irrationally hopes that Wille will shake himself free, that he’ll follow Simon out into the night and back to his house. Instead, he watches, stomach sinking, as Wille only smiles in response, leaning into Erik’s side as the crowd swallows them up.