Archive of Our Own

How many jello shots is too many jello shots?

Asking for a friend. 

Because of course Simon hasn’t had five jello shots in under twenty minutes. That would be crazy…

And so what if he did? Those things are so damn delicious and they go down so easy and he’s not feeling even the tiniest hint of a buzz.

He glances sideways at the tray of lime green jello shots, a Felice-speciality she learned to make on one of her many trips to visit Maddie in New York.

Would a sixth jello shot be a bad idea? Surely one more won’t make a huge difference.

Before he can pick up one of the little plastic cups, a firm slap lands on the back of his hand. 

“Step away from the jello shots,” says a stern voice over his shoulder. 

Simon spins around to face Felice who is standing with her hands on her hips, watching him warily.

“How many have you had?” 

“Not that many…” Simon answers sheepishly. 

“Well I saw you have two, and that’s two too many.” She grabs him by the shoulders and steers him away from the kitchen. 

“Why?” He asks indignantly, trying to wiggle out of her grip. 

“Simon, you almost never drink and when you do, you’re a notorious lightweight.” 

“I am not!”

“Need I mention what happened at last year’s Halloween party?” 

Simon grimaces. There’s a reason he can’t even look at a bottle of tequila anymore. And he has a feeling he won’t be able to stomach dressing up as a sexy kitten ever again either. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll just have a beer.” 

“Absolutely not. You are not mixing beer with vodka.” 

“Who made you my keeper?”

“Your sister,” Felice grins.

Simon rolls his eyes. It wouldn’t surprise him if Sara actually did ask Felice to keep an eye on him, which is complete bullshit. He’s twenty-two years old. He’s allowed to drink at a party if he wants to. And Felice is right - he hardly ever drinks, so is it really that big a deal if he has one wild night each term? He’s an adult and can deal with the consequences of his own actions. 

All he wants is to have a little bit of fun before classes start. Especially after a mind-numbingly boring summer in Bjärstad, working the dullest part-time job ever at the Bjärstad public library and bumming around his house doing a whole lotta nothing. 

Rosh was away most of the summer in lesbian heaven (a football training camp) and Ayub was busy working multiple jobs at odd hours, leaving him with very little time to hang out. 

And worst of all, Simon didn’t get laid once. He didn’t even get any over-the-clothes action. The options on Grindr were bleak and he wasn’t quite desperate enough to go to bars alone, not that there are any gay bars in Bjärstad anyway. 

Now that he’s back in civilization, he is ready to let loose. At least for one night. He wants to party. Dance. Make out with someone. Hook up with a rando. Whatever his heart (and body) desires. Starting with a beer, dammit. 

Simon wrenches his arm out of Felice’s grip and side-steps her to run back to the kitchen, ignoring her complaints. With his head buried in the refrigerator, he cracks open a can of beer with satisfaction.

When he spins around with the can hoisted triumphantly in the air, he sees that Felice has already moved on in life. 

Oh well. 

He still wins. 

Taking a long swallow, he turns to join a group playing a precarious game of Drunk Jenga at the dinner table, but immediately does a double take when something catches his eye.

He notices that Felice has just started talking to a tall guy whose back is to Simon. 

Damn. 

That is one fine ass. 

After a good long stare, Simon’s eyes travel upwards only to happen upon an exceedingly attractive set of toned arms on display in a fitted maroon t-shirt. 

Hot damn. 

Those are exactly the kind of arms that Simon likes. Not too skinny. Not too muscled. Perfect. The Goldilocks equivalent of sexy arms and he’d very much like to get a closer look to make sure they are just right. 

His eyes continue upwards to land on a head of sexy 90s hair, which just so happens to be his kryptonite. The longish auburn strands look soft and oh so touchable and are practically begging to have a hand run through them. And a face nuzzle them. And a mouth moan into them from behind. And fingers grip them while being railed. And two hands clutch them while throat-deep in a mouth. And—we get the point, you dumbass. 

Goddamn. 

Simon needs to get a look at the other side of this hottie. If the front is even half as good as the back, there’s a solid chance his eyes might just pop right out of his head or he might find himself involuntarily wolf whistling. 

It’s his lucky day because the Jenga tower falls in that exact moment, creating an obnoxiously loud and chaotic mess, which conveniently makes the hot guy turn around to watch the chaos.

Wait.

Wait. 

Simon has to do a triple take and squint to make sure he’s not seeing things. 

Is that—

Wille?

Simon’s brain goes haywire when he recognizes the face that is vaguely familiar, but not at all the same as how he remembers it. 

The Wille in his memory is inches shorter, scrawnier, awkwardly shy with gangly limbs, a face full of acne, and greasy unkempt hair. Basically your average teenage boy. 

Nothing like this sexy piece of ass, who is radiating confidence and sex appeal. 

Simon racks his brain, trying to recall the last time he saw Wille in person. It must have been the summer between Hillerska and the first year of uni, so it’s been over three years. Damn, time flies. 

Surely he’s seen pictures of Wille on social media since then? They follow each other on Instagram. Wille always likes his stories and posts. But come to think of it, Wille doesn’t really post much of anything himself. The occasional picture of a sunset or ocean, but never a selfie that Simon can recall. Simon is sure he must’ve seen the occasional picture of Wille on Felice’s stories over the years, but obviously his hotness didn’t translate off the screen. 

In school, they were never really friends. They had some classes together, but never sat next to each other and didn’t interact much outside of the occasional group project. Wille was always good friends with Felice because their parents are friends, but Simon didn’t become close with Felice until uni.

If Simon remembers correctly, Wille went to school abroad. In the UK maybe? He’s not sure where exactly. 

Well, wherever the hell Wille moved to, there must be something in the water there. Something that has magically transformed an average lanky boy into a goddamn sexy hunk of a man.

Simon can’t stop looking him up and down. And undressing him with his eyes. And he might be drooling a little bit. He can’t be sure because his brain is all hazy and disoriented by the overpowering horny cloud of lust that has descended upon him.

Something Felice says makes Wille laugh, lighting up his entire face. What. the. hell? When did Wille get a face like that? Simon would’ve remembered a face like that. The adorable smile, the warm eyes, the motherfucking cheekbones. Those are definitely new. 

Jesus Christ. Current Wille versus Past Wille brings on a whole new meaning to the term glow up. 

Because his eyes haven’t strayed from Wille once since he clocked that ass, Simon doesn’t miss a single second of Wille dropping his cell phone and bending over to pick it up, providing quite the view of his ass at an angle that makes Simon’s cock twitch in his pants. 

Fucking hell. 

Is it hot in here? Simon is suddenly burning up. He fans himself and tugs at his shirt collar. Can somebody crack a window? 

“Hey Simon!” 

Simon recognizes Henry’s voice, but he doesn’t look over. He’s caught in a stare/trance/stupor/ass-staring contest. Call it what you want.

Eyes glazed over, he replies vacantly, “Hey Henry…” 

“How was your summer?” Henry asks, appearing in Simon’s peripheral vision sipping a mixed drink. 

“Uh…fine.” Simon mutters distractedly, not taking his eyes off Wille as he tragically stands back up. “You?”

Henry goes on a rant about being forced to travel to the south of France with his parents for a month thus ruining his summer, and it’s really a testament to how distractingly hot Wille is that Simon can’t even be bothered to care about Henry’s first world problems. 

Henry seems to sense his distraction and his eyes follow Simon’s gaze across the room. “Oh hey, there’s Wille!” 

With some effort, Simon manages to tear his eyes away to glance at Henry. “What’s he doing here?” Simon asks curiously. 

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out,” Henry says, already halfway across the room.

Simon scrambles after him and swallows nervously as he approaches Felice and Wille, watching closely as Henry gives Wille a one-armed hug. Simon wonders if he should give Wille a hug too. That seems appropriate for an old classmate, but then again he’s not sure he can be trusted to ever let go.

He catches Wille’s eye over Henry’s shoulder and his mouth goes dry when Wille’s eyes widen in surprise and a happy smile stretches across his face. 

“Simon.”

Well, fuck. The way Wille says his name sends a tingle straight down Simon’s spine. It’s not a casual ‘it’s been a long time’ kind of greeting or a surprised ‘well look who we have here’ kind of greeting. There’s more of a pleased, almost wistful undertone to it, as if he’s been waiting years to meet him again. Weird. 

By the way, his voice?? This is not the voice Wille used to have. He’s certain of it. This voice is like velvet. Buttery soft and miles deep and so fucking sexy.

“Wille, hi,” Simon manages to say (croak). Speaking of voices, when the fuck did his get so hoarse? He sounds like he’s smoked a pack a day since birth. 

Wille steps forward and envelopes Simon in a hug and holy fucking hell, if Simon thought the voice was good, that’s nothing compared to the smell. 

For god’s sake. This is too much. 

Wille smells so fucking good. Like a fresh load of laundry and a hint of something woodsy like cedarwood and clean like shaving cream and would it be weird for Simon to bury his face in Wille’s chest and take a giant whiff just to make sure he’s not missing any notes? Yeah? He might do it anyway. 

“How are you? I missed you,” Wille says, pulling back but still holding Simon by the shoulders, making it achingly obvious just how perfectly they’d fit together. Wille is the absolute perfect height. A few inches taller just how Simon likes, but not so tall that he’d have to crane his neck to kiss him. Perfect.

Dropping his hands, Wille watches him expectantly. 

Wait, did Wille just say something? Shit. Simon was too distracted cataloging every minute detail of Wille’s hotness. If asked, he could write a detailed eyewitness account of every single one of Wille’s physical attributes. He could draw a perfect likeness. But if quizzed on what the fuck Wille just said, he’d be utterly clueless. 

“Sorry, what?” Simon asks sheepishly.

Wille grins (perfect), “I asked how you are.” 

“Oh! I’m - good. Great. Yeah.” Simon answers in a stutter. Jesus, what the fuck? Guys never affect him like this. One sentence from Wille, though, and he’s a bumbling idiot. 

Felice, who Simon frankly forgot even existed for a second there, gestures to Wille, “Simon, Wille is going to be living in your building.” 

Wait a damn second. 

Wille is going to Uppsala? They are going to live in the same building? How the hell is he going to survive being so close to someone so hot on a regular basis? He’s already melting. He’ll have to trade his bed out for an ice chamber or something. 

“I thought you were in the UK?” Simon asks curiously, looking back at Wille.

“I transferred to Uppsala for my final year. I was accepted into an intensive creative writing seminar,” Wille explains with a bashful smile. 

Hold up.

Wille writes? Hot and he’s a tortured artist? Simon may never recover. 

Wille starts to back away and Simon barely resists the urge to dig his claws into him. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Don’t go anywhere,” Wille says, looking pointedly at Simon. 

Simon blushes and nods. No need to worry about him going anywhere, unless it’s to drag Wille into a dark closet somewhere. 

As soon as Wille is out of earshot, Felice is on Simon with an obnoxiously smug grin, “Alright there, Simon?” 

Simon swallows a mouthful of beer, wetting his dry throat as he watches Wille walk away a little too closely, “Hmm?” 

Felice smirks, “Do you need help picking your jaw up off the floor or can you manage on your own?” 

Simon considers denying it, but honestly, his brain is a little too fuzzy to give any fucks right now. Instead he asks bluntly, “When did Wille get hot?” 

Felice barks out a laugh, “Thirsty much?”

“Doesn’t Wille have a girlfriend?” Henry asks casually. Too fucking casually to drop such a nuclear bomb of a statement like that on Simon, whose stomach just plummeted straight to the ground. 

So Wille is taken. Figures.

“I’m not sure. There was a girl in the UK, but I don’t know what’s happening there,” Felice says, pulling out her phone and tapping away, already in full detective mode. “I’ll find out.” 

Simon shrugs, already defeated and glum, “Just forget it. He’s straight.” He swats away the voice in the back of his head which tries to tell him, “hey maybe don’t be a dickwad and assume things about someone’s sexuality.”

In perfect tandem, Henry and Felice both laugh at him incredulously. The pair of them look pretty ridiculous with their wide eyes and agape mouths, which almost makes Simon laugh but mostly he’s just really fucking confused.

“Simon, you’re kidding right?” Felice gapes at him. 

Henry shakes his head and rubs his hands together, “This is too good.” 

“What?” Simon asks bemusedly, looking back and forth between them. 

“Don’t tell him,” Henry cackles evilly, “It’ll be more fun this way.”

Felice rolls her eyes at Henry and scoffs, “Simon, you know that—“ 

Her sentence is cut off by the return of Wille, who is slowly sipping from a plastic cup which is precariously full, something that is far sexier than it has any right to be.

With his eyes glued to Wille’s mouth, Simon tries and fails to finish Felice’s sentence in his head. Does he know what? Know WHAT?

“Simon, is the choir performing anytime soon?” Wille asks, filling the silence. 

Simon gawks at him, “How did you know I’m in the choir?” 

“Instagram,” Wille states like it’s obvious. 

Oh yeah. Simon posts videos from choir practice and performances all the time. 

“Right…we’re singing at the welcome party next weekend.” 

“Amazing,” Wille says with a smile. “I’ll be there.” 

Really? Wille wants to go to his lame choir concert?

Their conversation is cut off when someone cranks up the music and “Whatta Man” by Salt-N-Pepa starts playing. Hell yes.

“Let’s dance!” Felice suggests, dragging Simon over to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room. They immediately fall into rhythm together, holding hands and jumping and singing along loudly. 

Wille and Henry follow close behind. Henry is as silly of a dancer as you’d expect, immediately pulling out some corny dance moves like the lawnmower and the robot.

Wille is more of a bouncer it seems, which is pretty fucking cute (and hot, shocker).

This is one of those songs that Simon has heard so many times that he doesn’t usually pay attention to the lyrics anymore, but right now, watching Wille dance, he is extremely aware of the lyrics and how fucking fitting they are in this moment. 

“Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man,” Simon sings, eyes locked on Wille whose shirt is riding up a little as he bounces next to Henry. What a man, indeed. 

Their eyes meet and a wicked smile creeps onto Wille’s face as Simon sings along to the lyric, “From seven to seven, he's got me open like 7-Eleven.”

Wait, did Wille just waggle his eyebrows at him? And was that a wink? Or was that just a trick of the light? 

Maybe Simon should get a little closer to check…

In what he hopes is a subtle move, he dances his way closer to Wille, facing him as their bodies fall into rhythm together, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the static between them. 

My man gives real lovin' that's why I call him Killer
He's not a wham bam thank you ma'am, he's a thriller

Simon shamelessly sings along with a naughty twinkle in his eye, holding firm eye contact with Wille. 

Henry, who is now doing an insane version of a moonwalk, abruptly bumps into Wille, sending him flying into Simon’s chest. Henry shoots Simon a nefarious grin over Wille’s shoulder. That fucker did that on purpose! Simon would be annoyed if he wasn’t busy with an armful of Wille. 

Strangely, Wille doesn’t pull himself away. He just keeps dancing and did he just press himself closer to Simon’s chest? 

Being able to take a breath is suddenly a completely foreign concept to Simon, which doesn’t really help with the whole dancing thing tbh. 

But he manages. He sways against Wille with his arms held in the air above him. The song switches to “Jumpin Jumpin” by Destiny’s Child. Who the hell made this playlist? It’s the fucking best.  

Wille seems to agree because he sings along just as enthusiastically. Hot and he has good taste in music? Somebody call a doctor because Simon is feeling a little faint. 

Speaking of feeling faint, is the room spinning? Simon can feel Wille’s breath on his face, and all the sudden, his head is so light it might just burst like a balloon. Heat rises in his cheeks and his body is clammy and it’s all so intoxicating. 

Actually…

It suddenly occurs to him that it’s all so intoxicating because he’s literally intoxicated. 

Yeah…the jello shots just hit. 

All five at once. 

Whoops.

Out of fucking nowhere, the room is fuzzy and everyone is dancing in slow motion and his skin is buzzing like crazy. The thumping music envelopes him and he’s floating outside his body, hovering on the ceiling, staring down dizzily as the world tilts around him.

He’s gonna blame the third jello shot for giving him the tipsy confidence to loop his arms around Wille’s neck. Wille takes him by the hips as they begin to dance together with wild abandon. They might as well be in da club, the way they are bumping and grinding and oblivious to everything happening around them.

It’s the fourth jello shot’s fault when Simon spins around and backs into Wille, moving his hips to the beat of the song, just barely brushing his ass against Wille’s crotch with each bounce. 

And unfortunately that damn fifth jello shot is to blame for blasting all normal bodily function right out the window, because abruptly Simon is on the floor on his ass.

What just happened? 

He must’ve tripped. Or it’s possible he literally swooned right off his feet. Who knows.

Simon looks up in a daze only to find himself eye level with Wille’s crotch. Nice. Thank you, gravity, for conveniently putting him in the perfect position to surreptitiously check out what Wille’s got going on down there. 

Alas, Wille ruins the view when he crouches down. “Are you okay? What happened?” Wille sounds concerned, amused, and bewildered all at once. 

Felice drops down on his other side just in time to throw Simon a massive eye roll. “Someone-“ she looks pointedly at Simon “-had a bunch of jello shots and a beer even though they can’t hold their liquor.” 

Wille laughs, holding a hand out to Simon, “Trashed already? Didn’t this party only start like half an hour ago?” 

Simon giggles helplessly and slips his hand into Wille’s. Fuck, his hand is soft. Is there a single damn thing about Wille that’s not perfect? 

Wille hauls Simon to his feet and asks with a chuckle, “Can I get you some water?” 

The word ‘water’ alerts Simon to the now obvious fact that he desperately needs to take a leak. 

“Bathroom,” he chirps in lieu of an answer, turning on his heel to rush to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, he fumbles around like a drunken idiot, getting water and hand soap everywhere while he manically washes his hands. When turning off the faucet with a little too much gusto, he knocks Felice’s entire collection of skincare and perfumes into the floor and clumsily attempts to put everything back in it place. Then he knocks it all over again. He also somehow manages to slip on her bathmat, leaving it crumpled and half upside down in a corner. 

After he exits the now wrecked bathroom, he remembers something AMAZING. There’s pizza in the kitchen!

He skips (yes, skips) to the kitchen where a gloriously tall stack of pizza boxes sits tantalizingly on the counter.

He opens every box and inspects each pizza carefully. There’s a cheese (we can do better than that), veggie (the only acceptable way to eat vegetables), kebab and fries (hell to the yes), pepperoni (nothing wrong with a classic), some sort of thin crust monstrosity with olives and artichokes (only a psychopath would go for a slice of this bad boy), and finally Hawaiian (whoever ordered this deserves jail). 

The obvious winner is the kebab. He folds a slice in half and eats it standing up in the kitchen dancing along with the music, dropping bits of kebab and fries and garlic sauce all over the floor.

(By the way, five jello shots is definitely too many jello shots.)

Once he’s demolished two slices of pizza, he’s ready to go back to the party and get another look at a certain somebody. But maybe a drink first?

Simon inspects the alcohol, only briefly pondering the jello shots. He may be drunk but he’s not an idiot. No, he’s not going to have another shot. Maybe he’ll just have a rum and coke or something. (He is an idiot.) 

“Simon, my man,” Walter appears at his side and gives him a fist bump.

They catch up while Walter mixes an elaborate cocktail that looks like death in a cup. “It’s a Long Island Iced Tea,” Walter explains when he notices Simon gawking at the bottles of vodka, rum, gin, and tequila. “Want one?” 

For half a second, Simon considers saying yes, but even wasted, he knows that a Long Island Iced Tea = Bad.

Simon shakes his head and reaches for the rum instead. He turns to grab a Coke from the refrigerator. 

“Saw you dancing with Wille,” Walter grins. 

Simon raises an eyebrow, pouring his drink, “Yeah, and…?” 

“Finally giving him a chance, huh?” Walter asks with a chuckle as he lifts his drink for a test sip. 

Simon frowns. Huh? He opens his mouth to ask what the hell Walter is talking about, but something over Walter’s shoulder catches his eye and suddenly his brain is empty except for one thought: hnnnghhhh. 

Across the room, Wille is motherfucking shirtless. 

Aaaaaand Simon’s brain is broken. 

His eyes greedily rake over Wille’s naked torso while his brain has a full meltdown. 

Shoulders. 

Pecs.

Nipples.

Abs. 

Waist. 

Belly button. 

Did he say nipples?

Dear lord. Wille is so fucking hot. Like criminally hot.

Why the fuck is Wille suddenly sans shirt and more importantly, why is he so far out of the reach of Simon’s tongue and fingers? Talk about inconsiderate.

Wille is sitting in a circle on the floor playing a card game, but he is the only one missing a piece of clothing. Simon can only assume it’s a drinking game of some sort and that Wille is losing. 

Well, Wille might be losing, but Simon is winning.

He takes another good long look at Wille’s toned chest, committing every detail to memory for later examination.

Randomly the thought pops into his head that he’s glad Wille didn’t look like that in school because they definitely used to change in the same gym locker room and teenage Simon definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle looking at that every day and then return to class like a normal human being. 

“Well that answers that question,” Walter laughs, looking back and forth between them. Simon hears him, but the words don’t compute. He's too busy ogling and objectifying and lusting and debating if he needs to get a room with himself. 

Simon is still shamelessly gawking when he makes eye contact with Wille. Wille smiles and waves him over. 

Oh snap. He’s been beckoned.

Time for a closer look. Fuck yes.

Without a word to Walter, Simon crosses the room with his drink in hand. When he reaches the circle, he stands above Wille and takes in the absolutely outstanding bird’s eye view of his smooth chest and stomach. Now that he’s close enough to take in the finer details, his eyes zero right in on Wille’s nipples, which are hard. And uh-oh, those aren’t the only thing getting hard.

“Sit,” Wille says, patting the ground next to him. 

Simon drops to the floor, crossing his legs under himself, extremely grateful that he wore a longer graphic tee today. 

“Your turn,” the girl to Simon’s right says. “Flip a card.”

Simon blinks down at the playing cards which are fanned out in a circle with a cup in the middle. What are they even playing?

“It’s King’s Cup,” Wille leans over to explain like he can read Simon’s mind (hopefully not because it’s absolutely filthy in there right now). “Each card has a different rule to follow. You’ll pick it up quick.” 

Simon, who was definitely listening and absolutely not staring at Wille’s lips, turns his attention to the cards. He picks one up and flips it over. Four of Hearts. Everyone in the circle scrambles to slap the floor with a hand while Simon just stares blankly. 

Is he too drunk to play this game? Most definitely. 

“Four floor. Last person to touch the floor has to drink,” says the same girl to his right.

Simon looks around and notices that he is the only one without a hand on the floor. Okay then. He takes a long swig of his drink. 

Wille flips over a card to reveal the jack of spades. They both look over at the girl who says, “You get to make up your own rule.” 

Wille licks his lips (hot) and thinks for a second, “First person to say a swear word has to shotgun a beer.”

The group chuckles, and the person to Wille’s left pulls a card. Seven of diamonds. Once again, Simon is left staring as everyone points to the sky. “Seven heaven,” the girl says looking at Simon who is the only person not pointing up. “You have to take a drink.” 

Simon grumbles at Wille, “I thought you said I’d pick it up quick.” 

Wille grins and shrugs, “Maybe you’re at a slight disadvantage.” 

Simon rolls his eyes and takes a swig of his drink.

By the time it’s Simon’s turn again, he still has no fucking clue what any of the rules are, so when he flips over a queen, he learns the hard way that the last person to touch their nose has to remove an article of clothing, thus Wille’s current state of undress. 

Welp. 

Simon throws a foot in the air (nearly kicking the girl next to him in the face) and slowly, seductively removes a sock to catcalls from all around.

Wille’s adorable laugh floats into his left ear and Simon has never heard anything more perfect. He nearly jumps out of skin when Wille leans over to whisper, “Only you could make taking off a sock sexy.” 

Simon’s jaw drops. He searches Wille’s mirthful face trying to figure out if he’s taking the piss out of him or not. It’s obviously a joke, but the look in his eyes suggests that he might be…flirting with him?

Sober Simon probably would’ve had the chill to play it cool and just laugh it off, but Drunk Simon is apparently incorrigible. He leans over and murmurs, “Play your cards right and maybe I’ll take the other one off too.”

Now it’s Wille’s mouth which drops open with an incredulous laugh. He opens his mouth to reply, eyes locked on Simon, when the same girl to Simon’s right rudely interrupts, “Wille, your turn.” Jesus, what is she - the game police?

Wille blinks and seems to have to tear his eyes back to the circle of cards. He flips over another four.

Even though he now knows that four means floor, Simon is too damn distracted and too damn slow and is still the last person to slap the floor.

“Well fuck,” he mutters amusedly, taking a swig of his drink. 

“You swore,” Wille exclaims, pointing at Simon. “You have to shotgun a beer.” 

Simon throws his head back with a groan. 

Wille taps his arm, “Let’s go.” He stands up, shrugging his shirt back on (alas), and holds out a hand to haul to Simon to his feet. He doesn’t let go of Simon’s hand as he drags him across the room to the kitchen. 

Wille pulls a canned beer from the fridge and passes it to Simon with an expectant grin.

Having never shotgunned a beer before, Simon is a little fuzzy on the details, but he knows that he needs to a poke a hole in the can. So he walks over to the utensil drawer and pulls out a steak knife.

Wille laughs incredulously when he notices, “Oh god no.” He carefully wrenches the knife out of Simon’s hand and puts it back in the drawer. “You’ll cut your finger off,” he chuckles. Instead, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys which he hands to Simon. “Have you never shotgunned a beer?” 

Simon takes the keys with a shrug, “Nope.” 

Wille shakes his head, “Where have you been, Eriksson?” 

Simon blushes. He quite likes Wille calling him by his last name. 

Wille holds the can upside down and after drawing an invisible line down from the mouth hole with his finger (which totally doesn’t make Simon’s mind wander to other places Wille could trace a line with his finger), he points to a spot at the bottom of the can, “Keep the can tilted downward at an angle like this, so you have a little pocket of air. Stab it here with a key and make yourself a hole. Crack open the beer just a little, quickly lift it up, and chug from the hole.” 

All Simon hears is chug from the hole. Instructions unclear. Time to bend Wille over the counter. 

Wille interrupts that bizarre fantasy with a teasing, “Any day now.” 

Simon blinks and looks down at the beer dubiously, already knowing this won’t end well. But rules are rules. He said a curse word, so he has to shotgun a beer. And he certainly can’t deny Wille, who looks positively delighted to be witness to Simon's first ever shotgun. 

Here goes nothing. 

At first, Simon is a pro. He pokes at the can with the end of the key until he has a hole approximately the size of a shirt button. There’s no leakage or accidental beer spray.

Nailed it. 

It all goes to hell, though, when he cracks the tab open a little too wide and doesn’t move quickly enough and next thing he knows, beer is fucking everywhere. Spraying him in the face, down the front of his shirt, and yeah…he basically just got hosed right in front of his brand new crush. 

0/10 did not nail it. 

Beer drips into his eyes while he stands frozen in shock. When he pushes his soggy curls back and blinks his eyes open, he sees that Wille is struggling to keep his shit together. He has a hand clapped over his mouth and his shoulders are shaking. 

Simon laughs first. Wille joins with a burst of laughter and soon they are both doubled over.

A sudden and intense shock zips through Simon when Wille reaches over and pushes a wet curl out of his eyes. “I’m not sure that really counts as shotgunning a beer,” he says between giggles, “I think you’re gonna have to try again.” 

“Hell no!” Simon laughs, swatting his hand away. “Why do I feel like I’ve been pranked?”

“If you had followed my simple instructions, you’d still be dry.”

Simon rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Sure, simple instructions.” Looking down, he pulls at the front of his soaked t-shirt which now reeks of beer, “I need to go find a new shirt.”

“Need help?” Wille asks casually. 

Simon stares at him. His brain is all fuzzy from the alcohol, but…is he crazy or does it kinda seem like Wille is flirting with him again? There might be a twinkle in his eye. It’s hard to tell, especially since he doesn’t know Wille very well. And honestly, why the hell would Simon need help putting on a new t-shirt? Unless Wille is offering to help take this one off…

Tempting. 

Fuck it. He’s just tipsy enough to say yes. Simon opens his mouth to answer, but he’s interrupted by a shriek.

“Simon! Why is there beer all over my kitchen?!”

Damn, Felice can be scary when she wants to be. 

Simon spins around and smiles at her sheepishly, “I’ll clean it up.” After a beat, he adds, “Can I borrow a shirt?” 

After a dramatic face palm, Felice says to help himself to a shirt from her room and disappears again, but not without one more pointed look at the puddle of beer at his feet. Rather than finding napkins, because that feels like a lot of effort, Simon just shrugs, tugs his t-shirt off, and crouches to clean up the mess. 

Again it could be the tipsy fuzziness, but Simon swears he can feel Wille’s eyes boring into the top of his head from above as he mops up the beer…or maybe Wille is looking at his bare chest? The air around their bodies suddenly feels thick enough that you could easily poke a hole through it with a key.

Still wiping up the beer with his shirt, Simon subtly glances up at Wille only to see that he is definitely watching him with a dark, unyielding gaze. Simon’s damp skin prickles with goosebumps when their eyes meet. 

Damn, this is an angle that Simon could get used to. Kneeling at Wille’s feet. He wouldn’t mind staying in this position for a while. Maybe if he’s lucky this won’t be the only time he gets sprayed in the face today…

That unhinged thought makes Simon’s stomach clench with desire and simultaneously triggers a fit of random laughter, enough so that he loses his balance and wobbles on his knees, almost falling right over into the floor until he catches himself with a palm to the ground. When he glances back up, Wille is watching him amused with an adorable quirked eyebrow. 

Wille holds out a hand, which Simon takes, letting Wille haul him to his feet. Wille’s close proximity and the impossibly gentle touch of his hand sends another spark of arousal through Simon. To his horror, he feels himself getting stiff, which is a big problem given that he’s now shirtless and can’t easily conceal a boner.

On that note, he spins on his heel and flees to Felice’s room to find a dry shirt and more importantly to calm himself the hell down. 

🔥 🔥 🔥

Simon doesn’t know exactly how he ended up on Felice’s bedroom floor on his back, but it’s the jello shots’ fault.

Even weirder, he’s wearing a fuzzy sweater with a teddy bear on the front because that’s the first thing that caught his eye when he opened Felice’s closet. 

As he stares up at the ceiling, which is only slightly spinning, his thoughts stray back to Wille. Hot, funny, adorable, beautiful Wille. He wishes he was here on the floor with him. They could stare up at the sloped ceiling together and pretend they are stargazing. 

Upon seeing an imaginary shooting star, Simon would declare that they both have to make a wish. And his wish would instantly come true when Wille would roll over and French kiss him, press him into the rug, cover him with his body. Like magic they’d both suddenly be naked.

His horny daydream is rudely interrupted by a series of buzzes from his pocket. He digs his phone out and holds it up above his face. “Owww,” he groans when he drops the phone onto his face, smashing his nose. It’s fine. He doesn’t need a nose anyway. 

Picking up the phone again and holding on more securely, he sees that Sara is calling. He swipes to answer the call and for some unknown reason decides to answer in a British accent, “Good day, madam.” 

“So you’re drunk,” she sighs. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

She lets out an exasperated laugh, “Or should I say shitfaced?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” (Still British.)

“Where are you?” 

“Felice’s bedroom.”

“Good. Stay there. Don’t walk home alone, okay?” 

“Okay!”

“Are you having fun?” 

“Yes. Do you remember Wille from school?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s here and he’s hot.”

Sara chuckles, “Good for him. Are you going to ask him out?” 

Simon frowns, “Why would I ask him out? He’s straight.”

“Simon,” she laughs, “Wille is most definitely not straight. He was completely in love with you in school.”

Wait, what?

Simon stares at the ceiling, his brow all furrowed up with confusion, “He - what?” 

“I thought you knew that.” 

“How would I know that?!” Simon thinks back to school. He never talked to Wille. Wille never talked to him. There’s no way he was in love with him. 

“Everybody knew, so I figured you knew too.” 

“And nobody ever said anything??” 

“A bunch of people had a bet going about how long it’d take you two to get together.”

Simon’s head spins as he tries to absorb this information. “Why did he never tell me?”

“Probably because you never gave him the light of day.” 

“Well maybe I would have if I’d known,” Simon huffs. “He should’ve said something.” 

“I mean, he was always shy. You know how it feels to have an unrequited crush. He was probably too afraid of the rejection,” she says and Simon can practically hear her shrugging. “Anyway, I have to go, but please take it easy. No more jello shots.” Ugh, Felice must’ve ratted him out about the jello shots and his subsequent drunkenness. How rude. 

“No more jello shots,” he agrees. They hang up and Simon rubs his eyes.

With the brand new information that Wille had a crush on him in school, Simon racks his brain trying to remember a single detail that would make that make sense.

To be honest, he’s having trouble remembering a single specific detail about Wille at all. Or a single real conversation they had, but his memory comes up blank. Wille was one of those classmates who was just there. Not obnoxious enough to remember for being annoying. Not a bully. Not one of those effortlessly cool people who everyone paid attention to. Just Wille. 

Actually, come to think of it, he has one Wille-specific memory from their Swedish class in which they worked on a group project together and had to give a presentation on the book Kris, but Wille froze up and said nothing. Simon remembers being annoyed in the moment, but later sympathetic because Wille was so debilitatingly shy and anxious. 

Nothing like the confident person out there in living room. Simon is so curious to know how that changed. About what Wille’s life has been like since Hillerska. And particularly, he’s interested in his writing. What does he write? Novels? Short stories? Poetry? What does he write about? Fantasy or Science Fiction? History maybe? Something more abstract? Something personal?

Out of nowhere, another Wille memory pops into his head. One that he’d definitely blocked out on purpose. Not because of Wille, but because of Micke.

Simon had received a distressing phone call from his drunk father one day during lunch, which frankly he can’t even remember what exactly his father had said that had upset him so much, but he does remember seeking refuge by the lake when he couldn’t control the sudden onslaught of tears. 

And he recalls crossing paths with Wille with tears running down his face.

They had stared at each other like two deer in headlights. Mercifully, Wille hadn’t said anything about Simon’s red-rimmed eyes or tear-stained cheeks. He’d just wordlessly handed him a chocolate bar and disappeared.

A Kex bar if Simon remembers correctly. It was a really sweet thing to do. And it actually did make Simon feel so much better in the moment, but because of the awkwardness of it all, Simon had never acknowledged it, which was pretty shitty of him. He should’ve thanked him.

He should thank him right now. And ask him about his writing. And learn every single thing about him. And check him out again.

As soon as he can get himself up off the floor. 

Any day now. 

Somehow, he has no idea how really, he finds himself on Wille’s instagram. Going back into the past. Deep into the past. He scrolls through rows and rows of photos looking for a single Wille sighting, but all he finds are cityscapes, sunsets, random food pics, the occasional picture of a friend. His page is very artsy and cool, which is all well and good, but not exactly the thirst trap treasure trove Simon was hoping for. 

Alas. 

When he hits the bottom of the Wille’s page, he swipes out of the app and heaves himself off the floor. He’ll just have to get a look at the real thing. 

The party is more crowded now, so it takes Simon a minute to find Wille and when he does, the sight of him takes Simon’s breath away.

He is sitting on the floor with a beer bottle resting between his legs playing Super Smash Bros. with a group of guys, biting a lip in concentration. His hair is falling into his eyes and his cheeks are flushed a deeper shade of pink than before, indicating that he may be a little tipsy. He’s so gorgeous. 

With some effort, Simon shifts his attention to the screen. It takes a minute to figure out that Wille is playing as Link, clearly evidenced by the way he groans out loud (super hot) when his character falls off the platform. 

But after he recovers, it quickly becomes clear that Wille is one hell of a Smash player. 

Not gonna lie, Wille being good at video games may be the sexiest thing the man has done all night. It makes Simon want to rip that controller from his hands and fucking mount him right here in the middle of a crowded room. Who cares who’s watching. 

Simon steps a little closer to the screen and Wille must catch a glimpse of him in his peripheral vision because his eyes shift from the screen and immediately soften. A tiny smile blooms on his face and he shakes his head with amusement when his eyes flicker down to the teddy bear sweater.

That tiny smile wakes up a whole horde of butterflies in Simon’s stomach, stirring up a flutter of shivery tingles that spread throughout his entire body.

Now that Simon knows about Wille’s alleged feelings for him in school, it puts everything in a whole new light. Where previously he was wondering if Wille might be flirting with him, it’s now painfully obvious. That soft, intimate smile. The dancing. The sock comment. How his eyes keep finding him. How his smiles seem to hold more meaning than an average, polite smile. 

Wille is into him.

And that might just be the best news Simon’s ever not heard. 

Suddenly Simon wishes he was sober so he could ask Wille if he wants to get out of here. When he came to this party, Simon was interested in a casual hookup or tipsy makeout session with no strings attached. Wanted to find a cute guy to fool around with.

And oh boy did he find one. But this isn’t exactly what he had in mind. 

Don’t get him wrong. Simon obviously wants to get Wille alone. And naked. Very, very naked. But he doesn’t want it to come off as a drunken mistake, especially if Wille had real feelings for him in school. No, Simon has to take this seriously. He wants to learn everything about Wille. Get to know him before jumping into bed with him. 

He wants to woo Wille the old-fashioned way. 

When he’s not trashed. 

But that doesn’t mean he can’t keep a close eye on him in the meantime. Simon settles himself into a corner of the sofa to watch the video game; his eyes torn between watching Wille adorably jab at the controller with a very serious look on his face and watching Wille aka Link dominate on the screen. 

At some point, Henry flops down next to him with two beers in hand, one of which he passes over to Simon, and proceeds to talk Simon’s ear off about the Swedish mens national football team. A subject which Simon cannot contribute a single thing to and couldn’t even if he wasn’t extremely distracted by the hot guy playing video games. 

Not long after that, Walter brings them all a round of whiskey shots. 

Needless to say, Simon’s body is growing groggier by the second, and the room fuzzier and fuzzier. 

Out of nowhere, Simon finds himself blinking up at Wille, who is standing over him with a very amused look on his face.

“Simon Eriksson, were you stalking my instagram?” 

Simon stares up at him, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and surprise. How the fuck does Wille know that?

“Um,” Simon hesitates, putting on an innocent face, his head still tilted back against the sofa, “What makes you think that?” 

Wille holds up his phone, “Just got a notification that you liked a picture from 2022.” 

Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Simon must’ve accidentally hit the like button during his manic scrolling. Oh god. Time to jump off the roof. 

Simon’s face burns hot as he scrambles for an excuse, but unfortunately his muddled drunk brain is a useless bastard. The best he can come up with is, “Nope. Must’ve been a weird glitch.” Great job, Simon. Nailed it. 

Wille nods seriously, eyes crinkled at the corners and lips pursed with amusement, “Oh a glitch. Makes perfect sense.” 

Unable to hold back an embarrassed smile, Simon covers his eyes with a hand and grumbles, “Whatever.” 

Wille mercifully changes the subject, “I was wondering…”

He pauses for dramatic effect, his bottomless brown eyes glowing with intensity, and damn does it work, because Simon’s heart starts thumping wildly in his chest while he waits for Wille to finish his question, which hopefully will be something along the lines of …if I can kiss you? or …if you wanna get naked? or …if you’d be interested in eloping?

Yes to all of that.

“…can I kick your ass at Mario Kart?” 

Simon flounders for a second, because that’s definitely not the question he was expecting. He can’t decide if he’s disappointed that it wasn’t a horny question or kinda turned on by Wille’s challenge.

Simon’s mouth drops open with an incredulous smile, “I sincerely doubt it.” 

“I don’t know…” Wille says casually, examining his fingernails with an air of superiority. God it’s kinda sexy. “I’m pretty good at Mario Kart.” 

“No one is better at Mario Kart than me.” (Ayub is better, but Wille doesn’t need to know that.)

“Care to bet on that?” 

Simon raises a single eyebrow, “How much are we talking?” 

Wille doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Loser buys dinner tomorrow?” 

Simon freezes. 

Did-

Did Wille just ask him out? 

Wille watches him closely, still hovering over him. His eyes, while twinkling playfully, are so intense. Even in his drunken state, Simon picks up a shred of something there. Vulnerability maybe. And nerves. 

Holy shit. Wille just asked him out. 

Simon is certain of it. 

And now there’s a solid chance that Simon’s heart is going to beat right out of his chest. It’ll be flopping around on the ground any second now. 

He’s going on a date with Wille tomorrow.

Simon has a date with the hottest guy at this party.

Oh god. What is he going to wear?

Is Wille going to come back to his room after the date? He needs to finish unpacking. His room is a disaster zone. Oh god, is he getting laid tomorrow? Fuck, does he have condoms?

Simon snaps out of his panicked thought spiral when he sees Wille’s face fall. Oh shit. His brain got so carried away that he forgot to say yes. You idiot! Fix this immediately.

Simon holds out a hand, “Deal.” 

Wille’s face blooms into the happiest smile Simon has ever seen. Fuck. Simon never wants to look at a single thing that isn’t that happy smile ever again, which isn’t going to work because he’d also very much like to kiss that happy smile right off Wille’s face. 

Wille takes Simon’s hand, gently sliding his fingers across Simon’s palm, his grip impossibly soft, “Deal.” 

Their eyes meet and time seems to freeze as their hands remain connected for far longer than is necessary for a handshake. Wille is very lightly shaking their hands in a gentle handshake, but his fingers are also just barely caressing Simon’s skin. 

Speaking of Simon’s skin, every inch of it is on fucking fire. Nothing has ever felt this good, and it’s only a motherfucking handshake. Simon can only imagine how good it would feel to have those fingers touch him everywhere. 

Wille’s grip on his hand tightens (ugh hot) and he tugs lightly, “Come on. Let’s play.” 

Simon lets Wille pull him to his feet, and thank god for Wille’s hand, because standing up is way more difficult than it ought to be. He sways slightly on his feet and Wille steadies him with a hand on his upper arm.

“Okay?” Wille squeezes his arm, setting Simon’s insides ablaze yet again. 

Simon nods, “Just a little buzzed.” Understatement. “Probably shouldn’t operate a moving vehicle, but I have to kick someone’s ass at Mario Kart.” 

Wille laughs, tragically dropping Simon’s hand to sit in front of the TV, “Guess you’ll have to ride a bike then.” 

They choose their characters. Wille picks Bowser because there is apparently something very, very wrong with him. Red flag alert. 

Simon chooses Yoshi, obviously. No explanation necessary. 

As they race through Shy Guy Falls, it quickly becomes clear that Simon is not the best Mario Kart player ever when trashed. But even if he wasn’t wasted, Simon would probably still be losing because Wille is so goddamn distracting in the best way. Every time Wille skids on a banana peel or gets exploded by a shell or accidentally takes a turn too sharply, he lets out the most adorable giggle.

Wille finishes in first place, which means he is available to sit there looking a little too pleased with himself while Simon tries to not come in last place. While watching the screen, Wille comments, “I don’t have the best short-term memory, but I think I remember you saying something about no one being better at Mario Kart than you?”

“Shut up,” Simon grumbles, cursing when he drives off a cliff into a waterfall.

When Simon finally crosses the finish line in fifth place, Wille turns to him with a smug grin, “So where do you want to take me to dinner tomorrow?” 

Simon bites back a smile, “Obviously it’s best two out of three, right?” 

Wille shakes his head, “If you feel like embarrassing yourself, sure why not.” 

Simon shoves Wille sideways with a laugh, “Or maybe I was just getting you comfortable and now I’ll leave you in the dust.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

The second race is even worse, because somehow their bodies have drifted closer and his thigh is now pressed tightly against Wille’s. And now the only thought running through Simon’s head is thigh. 

And frankly, it’s impossible to drive around a haunted mansion when you can only think about thigh. 

This time Simon finishes dead last. When he turns to find Wille looking unbearably proud of himself and so fucking cute with a giddy smile on his face, Simon knows that he’s fucking done for.

“So I’ll pick you up from your room at 7:00?” Simon asks with a teasing sigh. 

Wille beams at him, “7:00 is perfect.” 

Their eyes remain locked as they smile stupidly at each other until their disgusting heart-eyes are rudely interrupted by Henry who appears above them and insists on playing the next round. 

The rest of the party goes by in a blur of poor decisions, including more jello shots (Henry’s fault!), another insane game of King’s Cup, too much staring at Wille’s ass, and at one point someone hands Simon a cup of schnapps, which he only manages to drink half of before it’s snatched out of his fingers by Felice. 

It’s possible he may have gone a little overboard on his one wild night of drinking this term.

Oops.

🔥 🔥 🔥

And suddenly it’s morning. 

Terrible, painful, nauseating morning. 

Simon wakes up with his face wedged between two pillows and everything hurts. His head. His eyes. His stomach. His throat. His big toe. Even his curls hurt.

Miserably, he smacks his dry gums, shifts a pillow, and blinks one eye open, only to quickly squeeze it shut again when it’s assaulted by the asshole sun. 

From the brief and painful glimpse, he knows that he’s in a dorm room, but definitely not his. What the fuck? How did he get here? Where even is here? He tries to think through the pounding headache and brain fog and agony, but he doesn’t remember leaving Felice’s apartment. 

When he finally manages to wrench his eye open again, he blearily looks around the empty room. No sign of any other humans. There are two painkillers and a glass of water sitting on the edge of the desk. It looks like a goddamn oasis, but why is it so far??

With a hell of a lot of effort, he lifts an arm (ow) to pick up the water and shakily drinks from the glass while still mostly horizontal, which means most of the water ends up on the pillow. Whoops. Sorry to whoever’s bed this is.  

Once he awkwardly downs the pills, Simon manages to sit up and rubs his groggy eyes. He feels around in his pockets for his phone, but it’s not there. He looks over to the desk for his phone, but instead sees a framed photograph of two boys hugging. One of whom is a much younger Wille.

Oh fuck. 

How the fuck did he end up in Wille’s room? 

Did he pass out here? 

Where is Wille? 

Oh god, did they hook up?

Simon will jump off a cliff if he hooked up with Wille and doesn’t even get to remember it. He buries his face in the pillow with an embarrassed groan. 

At least he’s still fully clothed, so he sincerely hopes that he just slept here and didn’t make a drunken fool of himself by throwing himself at Wille or doing anything equally embarrassing.

Like a slow-moving zombie, Simon hauls his ass out of the bed and drags himself across the room to look in the mirror. Jesus Christ. He looks insane. 

He’s still wearing the fuzzy teddy bear sweater, his face is pale and clammy, and his frizzy curls are sticking up in every possible direction. Please let this just be bed head and not how it looked last night when Wille - what - walked his drunk ass across campus and tucked him into his bed?? 

After some searching, Simon finds his phone under Wille’s duvet and perches on the side of the bed to look for any signs of what happened last night. All he finds is a Good Morning! text from Felice to which he responds Bad. Bad morning. What the fuck happened last night? 

Simon is just debating if he should message Wille on Instagram to ask where he is when he hears keys in the door, causing his pulse to spike. He quickly reaches up to try to tame his crazy curls, even though it’s probably a lost cause. It’s fine. Totally not embarrassing to see your hot new crush when you’re a hungover hot mess. Not at all.

The door swings open to reveal Wille juggling two coffees and a paper bag. But more importantly, he’s wearing sweatpants. HOT. How is it possible that Wille looks so good so early in the morning? 

When he sees him, Wille grins, “You’re awake.” 

“Hey,” Simon replies hoarsely, rubbing his eyes with a sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry.” 

Wille steps over to the desk to set down the drinks and bag, “It’s all good.”

“What happened?” Simon asks, nervously fiddling with his sweater sleeves, feeling unbearably awkward about just being here in Wille’s room in this state. 

“You don’t remember?”

“Don’t remember much of anything after Mario Kart.” 

Wille nods, looking amused, “Well, you and Henry had an outrageous amount of jello shots, then you insisted we go to 7-Eleven for snacks.” Wille shakes his head, thankfully amused by Simon’s stupid drunk behavior. “You ate a bag of chips on the side of the road, then started walking back here. You couldn’t tell me your room number, so here we are.” 

Simon drops his face into his hands and groans, “I’m so embarrassing.” 

“I probably shouldn’t tell you that you FaceTimed your mamma then,” Wille says with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Oh god,” Simon hunches over and buries his head in his arms. 

Wille laughs and sits down next to him on the edge of the bed, bringing his intoxicating scent with him, “She says you’re grounded, by the way.” 

Simon shakes his head and laughs, watching as Wille opens the paper bag and pulls out two breakfast sandwiches, “Thank you for helping me.” 

“Anytime,” Wille smiles, passing Simon one of the coffees. 

Ugh, he is so fucking sweet and thoughtful. The coffee. The water. The painkillers. Last night when he asked about the choir. Was Wille always like this? Simon has a feeling he was. He wishes he would’ve known. 

Suddenly Simon remembers their date tonight. Actually, is it even a date? Last night when drunk, he was so certain it was a date, but now he’s not so sure. Should he ask? Will Wille even want to go on a date with him anymore after how badly he behaved last night? 

“Um,” Simon says and immediately regrets it, because he has no idea what to even say. 

“Hmm?” Wille hums, sipping his coffee. 

“Did you…um-” Simon hesitates, stuttering a bit. God, what the fuck? He’s never this awkward. 

Wille’s face is kind and patient, so Simon decides to just spit it out. “Did you still want to go out tonight?” 

Wille watches him impassively for a moment, his eyes searching, long enough for Simon’s stomach to twist itself into a knot, but then magically his face melts into a happy smile, “I’d love to.” 

And just like that, the same butterflies that were going fucking crazy inside his stomach all night take flight again, flapping their wings wildly, filling his entire body with a tingly warmth from top to bottom. 

Their eyes remain locked with intense eye contact until Wille looks away just long enough to wordlessly take Simon’s coffee from him. He sets both of their cups on the desk and turns back to him. 

Simon’s heart skips a beat when Wille moves closer on the edge of the bed, closing the distance between them until their thighs are flush.

Thigh. Now that’s something Simon remembers from last night and so not important right now, Eriksson!

Their gazes meet again. Intense and dark. Wille’s gorgeous eyes flit back and forth between Simon’s with an almost unbearable softness. Boundless amber pulling Simon under like quicksand.

Hell, Wille is so fucking breathtaking in the hazy early morning sunlight. And so close.

And closer. 

They both take in a shaky breath right at the moment their lips meet in a gentle kiss. 

It starts impossibly slow. Soft lips lightly pressed together. Knees bumping. Breaths shallow.

Wille’s hand finds his where it rests in his lap and their fingers curl together. Simon can’t believe how gently Wille is holding his hand, soft skin caressing soft skin, like his hand is the most precious thing in the world. 

When Wille breathes a quiet, pleased sigh into the space between their lips, all of Simon’s self-control snaps. In one swift movement, he turns to face Wille and takes up two handfuls of silky hair, pulling their lips together with determination. 

Wille doesn’t miss a beat, burying his own hands in Simon’s hair, pushing back curls and lightly stroking Simon’s scalp with his fingertips. Each shivery touch sends a wave of goosebumps straight down Simon’s spine. It feels fucking incredible. 

Simon isn’t sure whose tongue joins the party first, but soon they are tangled together. Tasting and exploring each other’s mouth with urgency. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Simon knows he should be embarrassed by his undoubtedly horrible morning breath and stubbly face and messy hair and all around hungover disgustingness, but with the way Wille is kissing him so passionately, he can’t bring himself to give a fuck. 

It’s not a perfect kiss. It’s a little sloppy and their bodies are at an awkward angle and Simon’s left leg is starting to fall asleep where it’s awkwardly wedged between them.

In spite of all of that, Simon already knows this is the best kiss of his life thus far. 

Because they are drowning in each other. There’s no hesitancy or second thoughts or doubts. Just pure hunger. 

Speaking of hunger, Wille just slid a hand under the teddy bear sweater to run his fingers over Simon’s stomach, setting his skin on fire and coaxing a hungry moan out of Simon. The desperate sound seems to propel Wille forward. Both hands are under the sweater now, stroking the bare skin of his waist and chest, lighting him up with fierce arousal.  

Fuck. Simon’s one brain cell is absolutely losing its shit over how good it feels to be in Wille’s arms. So much so that it takes him way longer than it should to remember that he could be touching Wille too. 

He lifts his woefully underused hands and runs them up both of Wille’s arms, slipping under the sleeves of his t-shirt to massage his upper arms, reveling in the tiny moan that follows each squeeze. Each bicep fits perfectly in the palm of Simon’s hand. His skin is velvety soft. Good god, these arms are fucking perfect. If he was willing to separate their lips, he’d give each arm a chef’s kiss. 

But still, Wille deserves to know just how perfect he is. 

“You are so hot,” Simon breathes into Wille’s mouth between kisses. 

Wille breaks away with an almost imperceptible gasp, “I can’t believe…” Simon moves back a few inches to gaze into Wille’s eyes which look suspiciously shiny. Wille takes in a shaky breath, “Can’t believe you’re here.” 

Simon swallows thickly. Wille’s voice is full of disbelief, and Simon wonders what’s going on his head right now. If Wille had feelings for him in school, this might be a little overwhelming for him. Maybe they should slow things down. Maybe they should acknowledge the elephant in the room, but then again if his crush asked him about his crush to his face, Simon would be mortified.

Instead, Simon lifts a hand to cup Wille’s cheek, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

It’s true. Simon can’t believe that in less than twelve hours he’s reconnected with an old classmate, and it’s utterly baffling that said classmate has the potential to become one of the most important people in his life. 

Not to get super cheesy mid makeout sesh, but a random Taylor Swift lyric just popped into his head. It’s like all along there was this invisible string connecting them to each other. And now here they are in each other’s arms. Like fate or serendipity led them right here to this exact moment in time.

Perfect time. Perfect person.

For a second, Simon wonders if they really should slow things down, especially since Wille seems to be feeling a little emotional. He reminds himself of his goal to get to know Wille. To not rush into sex. They could at least wait until they go on their date…that’s only like twelve hours from now. 

But then his cock taps him on the shoulder and gives him a very pointed look as if to say don’t you fucking dare. 

Fuck it. It’s apparently still the day for bad decisions that are also very, very good decisions. Instead of taking things slow, Simon decides to kick things up a notch. Without another thought, he throws a leg over Wille and settles into his lap, capturing his lips in another fierce kiss. 

Wille lets out a surprised moan and runs his hands over Simon’s waist and down to the swell of his ass where he squeezes and pulls their crotches together.

Fucking hell. Wille is so hard, and because the sweatpants don’t leave much to the imagination, Simon can now confirm that Wille does in fact have quite a lot going on down there. 

“Can I…?” Wille asks breathlessly, tugging at the stupid teddy bear sweater, which Simon truly can’t believe he’s still wearing during the hottest makeout session with the hottest guy ever. 

“Please,” Simon breathes into Wille’s mouth, still kissing him feverishly as their bodies rock together. 

Wille tugs the sweater off and drops down to kiss a line across Simon’s collarbone. When he reaches the dip of his throat, he swirls his tongue around, tasting his skin, sending a wave of want straight to Simon’s cock. 

“You kinda taste like beer,” Wille chuckles into his skin, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over Simon’s chest and prompting him to bury his face in Wille’s hair with a laugh. Once again, he should probably find his current hot mess status embarrassing, but he’s too busy dry humping the hell out of Wille to care.

Simon tugs at Wille’s t-shirt too until he lifts his arms allowing Simon to pull his shirt off. Sweet Jesus. Wille is so hot. Simon saw this naked chest up close last night, but now he can touch it. Fuck yes. 

Simon beelines for his nipples, brushing the backs of his fingers over one, eliciting a breathy moan, and he rubs his thumb over the other earning himself a groan. 

Wille takes Simon by the hips and rocks him over his cock. Simon moans at the pressure against the underside of his cock and captures Wille’s lips again, kissing him desperately while his hands explore his chest.

Abruptly, Wille grabs Simon by the thighs and easily picks him up (hotttttt). Without missing a beat, he twists and drops Simon onto the bed with a bounce and crawls on top of him. 

Hell yeah. 

Simon spreads his legs, allowing Wille to slot right between them until their warm chests are pressed firmly together. The soft glide of their skin feels so fucking good it’s unreal. Wille rolls his hips down and Simon grabs two handfuls of ass, pulling him closer. Their lips meet again. Urgent and greedy. 

“I want you,” Simon gasps between kisses, his head dizzy with lust as they continue to dry hump over the clothes. 

Wille pulls back to look down at him. His face so full of tenderness and disbelief. “I want you too,” Wille replies, delicate and shaky. His words seem to hold so much more meaning than just desire, which under normal circumstances might scare Simon off, but right now it only serves to make him want Wille even more and the fire inside him to burn even brighter. 

“You have me,” Simon replies firmly, dropping his hands onto Wille’s shoulders resolutely. “Now take off your pants.” 

Wille chokes out a laugh, “Such a romantic.” 

“That’s me,” Simon giggles. “I’ll charm you right out of your pants.” 

“It’s working,” Wille grins and sits back to pull down his sweatpants, kicking them to the ground. 

Simon watches him closely. Very closely. Meticulously taking mental notes so he can update the list he started last night of each and every insanely hot physical attribute that Wille possesses.

Important items to be added:

• The trail of light blond hair under his belly button that disappears into his boxer briefs
• The mouthwatering bulge
• Supple thighs
• Knees

Yup, those knees are hot too.

While Simon does his list keeping, Wille kneels between Simon’s legs (hot) and unbuttons his jeans. His fingers brush Simon’s erection when he lowers his zipper and a pathetic whimper escapes Simon at the brief stimulation. 

Soon Simon’s jeans join Wille’s sweatpants on the floor and Wille sinks back down on top of him, slotting their mouths together again. They moan in unison when their erections meet hot and heavy through the thin fabric of their underwear. 

Simon slips his hands under the waistband of Wille’s boxer briefs and firmly cups both asscheeks, pulling their hard cocks together with delicious friction. 

As much as Simon wants to draw out the dry humping, he really can’t handle Wille not being naked for one more second. Especially because he briefly caught a glimpse of a dark wet spot on the front of Wille’s boxers when he was taking off the sweatpants. Ugh, must taste. 

Without further ado, Simon shoves Wille’s boxers as far down his thighs as he can, revealing a perfect flushed cock glistening with precum. You know, Simon has always considered himself an ass man, but this cock may have just single-handedly changed that. God, what a cock. 

Simon wraps his fingers around Wille’s shaft and caresses the unbelievably soft skin, getting a feel for him, which elicits a very sexy string of sounds from Wille who has broken away from Simon’s lips to look down between their bodies.

Using his left hand, Simon gently swirls his thumb around the head, and brings it to his lips to taste Wille’s precum. Jesus, he tastes good too.

“Fuck,” Wille moans from where is he is hovering above Simon. “Here, let me…” Wille reaches down to pull down Simon’s underwear as well. Simon moans when Wille takes him into his hand, following his lead and just exploring the newly exposed skin with curiosity, stroking lightly, and testing out the weight of him.

And when Wille swirls a finger around in Simon’s precum, tastes it, and outright moans, Simon goes absolutely feral. 

Batting Wille’s hand away, Simon takes both of their lengths into his hand and begins jerking them off together making them both groan in tandem. Wille pumps into his hand, arms pinned on either side of Simon’s head, hair falling like curtains between them.

Wille drops down to capture Simon’s lips in a bruising kiss, trapping Simon’s arm between them, moans spilling from between their lips. Hot and heavy. The angle is a little awkward and Simon’s hand between them is a little dry, but fuck is it hot. 

Abruptly, Wille pulls back and crawls off Simon, “Hang on a sec.”

Wille hops off the bed, walks a few steps, and bends over a box on the floor to look for something, which what the fuck? What could be so important right now?? Although…it does give Simon an excellent view of Wille’s bare ass and holy. shit.

Definitely an ass man. 

Wille makes a triumphant sound and hurries back over to the bed with a bottle of lube in hand.

By the time he makes it back to the bed, he has squeezed a generous amount into his palm. When he lands back on top of Simon, he is the one who takes both of their cocks into his slick hand and takes over jerking them off.

Okay, maybe Simon can calm the hell down, because this was well worth the interruption.

Simon’s eyes roll back at the incredible feeling of sliding against Wille’s hard, slick cock, and the tight fist moving over him at the perfect pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. Perfect.

“You are so hot,” Wille moans into Simon’s neck, where he is leaving little nips and wet kisses in a tingly pattern. “Can’t wait to see you come.”

Simon has no idea how Wille has the multitasking skills to jerk off two cocks, bite a throat, and sprinkle in some dirty talk all at once, but he’s very impressed. Simon, on the other hand, only has the mental capacity to lay back, writhe, and curse like a sailor. 

“Fuck - shit,” Simon moans, eyes squeezed shut, the pressure in his abdomen growing more intense by the second. “Motherfuck.”

“Gonna come for me, baby?” Wille breathes the question into Simon’s ear and how. is. he. so. fucking. sexy?

“Yes - god - ” Simon groans, gripping Wille’s arms as he pumps his hips wildly into Wille’s fist.

“Do it, Simon,” Wille murmurs, deep and rumbly, his fist picking up speed as he squeezes them both just a little harder. 

When his pleasure reaches its peak, a crazy sound wrenches itself from Simon’s throat, and he arches his back off the bed as he comes all over Wille’s fist and both of their cocks. Fucking hell.

Wille kisses him hard, moaning into his mouth, and he comes a second later with his own deep groan. After he strokes them both through their orgasms, Wille collapses on top of him; their bodies shaking together for what feels like a month. 

“Holy shit,” Simon pants into Wille’s shoulder, staring at the ceiling, feeling like he may have just discovered the answers to all the questions of the universe.

“Ditto,” Wille mumbles against his neck. 

They stay like that for a long time. And when they actually manage to move, it’s only to touch each other again.

What? They’re college guys. 

🔥 🔥 🔥

At seven on the dot, Simon knocks on Wille’s door to pick him up for their date.

No, it’s not at all backwards to pick Wille up for a date when Simon only left this room an hour ago and had Wille’s dick in his mouth a mere fifteen minutes before that. 

It’s adorable. 

And chivalrous. 

This is a first date, so Simon is pulling out all the stops. He is wearing his finest purple button-down, has gel in his hair, and comes bearing the man-version of a bouquet of flowers also known as a six-pack of energy drinks and a bagful of Kex bars. 

When Wille opens the door, the first thought that pops into Simon’s head is of course: HOT. 

The second thought is: damn, how did I get so lucky? 

Because Wille is so fucking cute. He’s wearing a thin blue sweater which makes his eyes pop and his hair is all swoopy and there’s an adorable smile playing on his lips and Simon wonders what Wille would think about foregoing dinner to stay in bed…

Right on cue, though, Wille’s stomach growls making them both laugh. 

Dinner it is. 

“Hey,” Simon says, weirdly feeling a little shy. 

“Hey,” Wille smiles, also looking a little bashful. 

Omg. They are so ridiculous. They’ve shared hand jobs and blow jobs and fingered each other today and yet they are both blushing like teenagers. 

Sickening. 

“I missed you,” Wille murmurs, eyes twinkling.

Utterly sickening. 

Simon shakes his head, unable to hold back the stupid smile, “Get over here.” He pulls Wille forward by the front of his sweater and pulls him into a deep kiss. 

When they reluctantly part, Simon passes over the bag of snacks, “For your first all-nighter.” 

Wille looks into the bag and his eyes light up when he pulls out a Kex bar, “My favorite. How did you know?”

“You gave me one of these once. You probably don’t remember—“

“Of course I remember,” Wille says, cutting him off. “I’m surprised you remember.”

Simon shrugs, “That was one of the only times someone was genuinely nice to me at Hillerska. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Wille nods, watching him with soft eyes, “I wish…I wish I would’ve made more of an effort to talk to you. At that time.” His lips twist together with an almost melancholy wistfulness. 

“Me too,” Simon replies gently. He steps forward to loop him arms around Wille’s neck. “But I think it worked out exactly how it was supposed to.”

“You think?” Wille murmurs, sliding his arms around Simon’s waist. 

Simon hums, “I don’t think Hillerska could’ve handled us together.”

Wille laughs and tugs Simon closer. His voice drops dangerously low to ask, “Oh, are we together now?”

“I mean, we can just be fuck buddies if you want,” Simon replies with a playful arched eyebrow.

“Oh god yes. Can we start now?” 

“No dinner?” 

“What do you mean?” Wille asks, walking Simon backwards toward the bed. “You brought dinner.” He holds up the bag of chocolate bars and energy drinks with a smirk. 

With the hungry (not for food) look in Wille’s eyes and the way their crotches brush together with each step, Simon already feels himself getting hard and his heartbeat picking up speed. So much for chivalry. 

Simon lets Wille unbutton his shirt and press him into the mattress, moaning when Wille’s lips attach to his neck, lightly sucking at his pulse point. When Wille’s stomach rumbles again, he laughs into Simon’s neck, which should not feel as fucking amazing as it does. 

“Wait a sec,” Wille murmurs. He sits up, straddles Simon’s hips, and reaches for the bag of Kex bars. 

Using his teeth (hot), he rips open a package and proceeds to eat one of the chocolate bars on top of Simon, which of course leaves crumbly pieces of chocolate and wafer all over Simon. It’s weirdly hot. Absently, Simon wonders if there’s a single thing Wille could do at this point that isn’t hot. 

“Want some?” Wille mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate (yup, you guessed it, hot). 

“Obviously.” Simon watches Wille break him off a piece resulting in an even bigger mess on his chest. 

“Guess I’ll have to do something about that,” Wille says with a glint in his eye. Simon’s breath hitches when Wille leans over to lick the little bits of chocolate off his chest. 

Yeah, they obviously don’t make it out of the dorm for their first date. In fact, it takes a full two weeks before they make it to a real restaurant, instead of just eating pizza and sandwiches in bed between orgasms. 

And four weeks after that, when Simon and Wille drive to Bjärstad for a weekend getaway, Rosh pulls Simon aside in the middle of game night to whisper, “Well he’s pretty fucking cute, isn’t he?” 

Simon grins and looks across the room to where his hot boyfriend is having his ass handed to him by Ayub during a round of Mario Kart.

Doesn’t he know it. 

 🔥 The End 🔥