Chapter Text
"Are you a couple now?" Wilhelm asks after he puts his coat on. He's tired, hurt. For obvious reasons. Simon and Marcus just shared a kiss in the gym while Wilhelm watched.
Simon shrugs. What else is he supposed to do? Because honestly, he doesn't know.
"At least he's open about liking me. He introduces me to his friends, likes my singing–"
"So do I!" Wilhelm cuts him off, feeling extremely offended. It's not like Wilhelm has many friends, really just Felice. And Simon knows Wilhelm likes his singing, but he's grabbing at straws here.
"He accepts me the way I am." Does he really? Simon’s brain unhelpfully supplies.
"And I don't? You're the one who can't accept my role, my family!"
And well, that's the thing, isn't it? The whole reason they're in this mess in the first place. If Wilhelm was just a normal rich kid, there likely wouldn't have been a video of them and if there was, who the fuck would care? It sucks, but it's the harsh truth of the matter.
"No, maybe I can't."
Oh. And there it is. The gut wrenching honest truth.
Wilhelm is defeated, resigned. Shoulders falling. His heart cracks. Well, apparently that's it then. Simon doesn't want him. Maybe he never did. Maybe it was just a fun time. Fuck the monarchy for real. A tick on his belt, something to brag about.
Simon sees the hurt coat Wilhelm’s features, plain as day, but he’s so fucking angry right now. He wishes he would have stopped. Almost does when Wilhelm starts to leave. It’s when the other boy pauses for the briefest of seconds in the doorway with his back to Simon that Simon’s tongue betrays him. Says the words that may be true, but in no way does he mean them.
“I wish I’d never met you.”
The words are worse out loud. So much worse. Anger is instantly and completely gone, replaced by worry and panic. Regret.
So much fucking regret.
What did he just do? Why did he say that? He was so angry . Why did he let his anger take over? Why did he go for the kill?
Wilhelm’s entire body goes rigid. He wants to die as realization hits him square in the chest. With the title of Crown Prince over his head, he supposes he's not meant to be liked or loved. He is meant to be alone. Hands shake as they clench into tight fists, knuckles turning white, nails digging into flesh in an attempt to keep him grounded. The words he spoke to Boris in one of his last sessions echo in his ears; Wilhelm had felt the same. Yet hearing it from the one you love feels life ending. To know that the one you love feels as if you were the worst mistake of their life… His heart squeezes in his chest. He can't breathe, can barely keep his eyes from blurring against the immediate onslaught of tears.
“Wille.” His name is no more than a breath. “I didn’t—” Simon’s voice gives out, shaking his head in disbelief at himself even though Wilhelm can't see him, unsure of how to continue. "I didn't mean–," he trails off, unable to get any more words out. In no universe could he ever mean it. Wilhelm is the love of his life, he's sure of it (not that he'd admit that to himself or Wilhelm). What life has thrown at them is another thing entirely, full of pain and betrayal, lies and deceit. Currency Simon doesn't like to meddle with.
Both boys remain frozen for a long time. All Simon can hear is his heartbeat in his ears, whooshing, making him start to feel a little light headed. His legs are shaking.
Wilhelm clears his tight throat. He doesn’t turn around, can't risk falling apart completely in front of the boy who doesn't love him, doesn't want anything to do with him. Apparently never did. Never wanted him. Does Simon regret everything? He can’t think about that right now.
Simon can’t blame him for not facing him; he’s not even sure if he could handle seeing the agony that is surely painted on the crown prince’s face right now. His voice is thick and wet when he finally speaks.
“You’re right,” he starts, voice tight.
But he's not, Simon thinks, he's really, really not. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Simon shakes his head even though Wilhelm can’t see him.
“We would have been better off never knowing each other.” Wilhelm's voice cracks a little making Simon's already broken heart shatter more.
We? Has Wilhelm thought the same thing? That devastating confession makes Simon's chest ache , the shattered pieces of his heart piercing his lungs. Simon’s breath hitches at the words, at the fact that the one he cares about is hurting, crying, and it’s his fault. But then, didn’t Wilhelm hurt him first? Maybe, yes, but feelings and pain shouldn’t be a competition.
Wilhelm sniffles, “From now on, I’ll leave you alone. I know you don’t love me and I’m sorry I ever bothered you. I’m sorry I...” Another sniffle, a shake of the head. “I–” he stutters, “I hope you and Marcus are happy together.”
And then, he’s gone. Letting his feet take him away. He has to get out.
No. No, no, no. This was never supposed to happen. How did they get here? How did everything go so incredibly, fucking wrong ?
Simon hates that Marcus is even a thing he has to factor into his thoughts right now. He hates that he ever even tried to rebound. He hates that he wasn't strong enough to remove himself from Marcus when sex wasn't on the table anymore. Not that he's sure he would have been able to follow through with anyone other than Wilhelm anyway. Touching and kissing Marcus that night at his apartment had felt so fucking wrong.
With every fiber of his being, Simon misses Wilhelm, loves him. He never stopped, never really wanted to if he's ever honest with himself. Which he's not. Everything felt better in those arms, with those honey hazel eyes and soft smile directed at him. The stolen brush of a hand, the empty hallway available to sneak a kiss, the back of the building where they could get lost in each other for a few minutes. Their talks, their laughter, teasing banter. The kisses and the hugs, oh the hugs. He misses it all.
Simon’s lower jaw quivers, vision blurring with unshed tears as he stares out the door where Wilhelm left, where they finally broke. Connection severed. When he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a sob breaks through; it echoes around the room. It surprises him, eyes squeezing shut and slapping a hand over his mouth, he sinks down onto the bench against the wall. It takes who knows how long and all of Simon's will and strength to calm himself, to make the tears seep back inside, hidden away once more. He can't be caught vulnerable. Not here. Not at Hillerska. Not anywhere but the safety of his room in the dead of night.
He's supposed to be the strong one.
Running his hands over his drying curls, he grits his teeth and promptly finishes getting dressed. Simon feels raw and flayed open after what just transpired, thankful he gets to go home now.
Outside in the winter chill, Simon hikes up the straps of his backpack before pulling his beanie out of his pocket. Slipping it over his damp curls, he quickly traipses through the grounds to the bus stop. Careful to keep his face blank, he waits at the little bus shelter, wondering if he should have followed Wilhelm, if that would have made things better or worse. Though, he’s not sure how much worse it could get after that.
They’re over. Done. Forever.
Just like that.
A stupid phrase he didn’t even mean spilling from his lips just ruined everything . But wasn’t everything already in shambles? Isn't he technically dating Marcus?
Fuck Marcus.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he makes his way to the back of the bus, stuffing his earbuds in his ears. He doesn’t even turn on music. Songs won’t bring him solace right now. Blankly, he stares out the window as the world passes him by.
Could things have been fixed before he uttered those words? It’s a question that burns in Simon’s chest, deep in his lungs, poking at the edges of his thoughts. Wilhelm had been trying . It felt like everything Simon suggested or offhandedly mentioned was then set into motion by the other boy. Like Simon was his guide in how to make things better.
Maybe.
Maybe things could have gotten better.
Fuck.