Chapter Text
The worst thing about applying for something you really, really desperately want, Simon comes to find out, is having to wait.
He is already late, barely made the deadline. There wasn’t really any time to check if he had missed any important documents, but now it’s too late anyway. The recording he had to provide of himself singing was filmed on his phone, the audio quality not the best but hopefully good enough. And the song… oh, dear, the song.
Simon had contemplated for a long time which piece was reflective of his abilities, showcased his vocal range and allowed him to get creative with his talents. He had practiced some Madonna and Cher, then had moved on to older classics like Sinatra and Elvis. None of that had felt quite right though. Then, he had rummaged through his drawers and old shoeboxes until he had found the music sheets his choir conductor back in Hillerska had provided them with. He had always enjoyed singing traditional, church music and folk songs.
After a day of bellowing Uti Vår Hage until Sara had stormed into his room and pleaded with him to please, shut up, I’m working on my bachelors thesis!, Simon sulked for three days, scrolling through his playlists and saved songs on the search for anything to inspire him.
And then — there was this one song, a song that used to mean everything to Simon, but one that he hadn’t listened to in ages. It had been too painful, too many memories connected to the melody, to the words. Now, it felt like it was calling for him, desperately wanting to be listened to, yearning to be sung.
Simon waited for another day and a half. Then, after tossing and turning for hours at night, he finally got out his old keyboard. He needed a few tries before finding the right notes, but once he did, it all came back like the floodgates had been opened.
‘Cause it takes a fool to remain sane,
Oh, in this world all covered up in shame.
He had remembered standing on the stage at Hillerska, the entire student body gathered in front of the choir. Simon had breathed in, out, in — and when he had started singing, everything else tuned out. There was only him and the music, the words to say, the notes to hit. At that point, Simon had sung on stage a few times, had gathered some experience and confidence, and he had long stopped caring about what his fellow classmates thought about him.
And then, he had felt it. His gaze on him, his dark, amber eyes, gentle lips curled up and his hair hanging into his face like strands of silver and gold in the morning sun. Simon could still remember the way his heart had skipped a beat, his breath hitching, and he had almost missed his part. It all happened so fast, within a split second, then he was back to himself, quickly averting his gaze.
Even now, years later, Simon’s stomach buzzed with excitement. He smiled to himself, slowing down the melody and eventually quieting down altogether. His room lay in silence, his ears vibrating, blood rushing through his face.
Yeah, this was it. He had found the song he wanted to sing.
Ironically enough, Simon is on his way back from Mrs. Blom’s when he sees the headline.
He passes by a small convenience store, newspapers laid out front. He sees Wilhelm’s face from afar, but at first, he isn’t fazed. The media has been in a frenzy about the royals recently, with all sorts of gossip and outrageous stories coming out every other day. Royal Recovery — First Pictures of Queen Kristina After Hospitalization; Could She Be The One? How Thea Edström Won Over Prince Wilhelm’s Heart; Where Are They Now? August Horn von Årnäs And Other Royals Left Behind.
Needless to say, Simon has learned to ignore it. So, he isn’t entirely sure what is different this time, why he looks, and then stops walking and actually reads the headline, again and again. Maybe it’s the massive picture of Wilhelm and Thea on the front page, his arm wrapped around her, or the big, red grin on Thea’s lips that doesn’t reach her eyes enough to be convincing. Most likely, it’s Wilhelm, Wille, his eyes dark and empty, his lips barely smiling. His posture is stiff, his suit strangely tight, and he looks like he is holding his breath.
To anyone else, this picture of Wilhelm looks no different than any other. He has never been particularly comfortable in front of a camera, Simon knows that, but he has gotten better at masking his anxiety.
Simon sees his misery, though. Sees it in the wrinkles around his nose, missing from the corners of his eyes, the way they show up every time he is truly happy. It gives him away, he doesn’t even notice them, but Simon does. Simon did, always.
Wilhelm looks utterly unhappy, tense, out of place. Not like a royal at all.
Underneath their picture, in big bold letters, it says, BREAKING: First Look At The NEWLY ENGAGED!
Simon doesn’t even realize he picked up the newspaper until the paper crumbles and rips underneath his tightening grip. He puts it down but doesn’t let go, then he glances into the store. The cashier is not by the register, and there is no one else around either. Before giving it a second thought, Simon has slipped the newspaper into his bag and walks off, not looking back.
At home, he doesn’t read the article about Wilhelm and Thea. He doesn’t even open the magazine; all he does is stare at the cover, at Wilhelm’s face, the sadness etched into his features, the light that has vanished from his eyes. First, he doesn’t feel anything. He just stares, traces Wilhelm’s outlines with his fingers. Then, there is something mean and angry, a nasty feeling that takes great pleasure in seeing Wille unhappy. Suits him right, he thinks, Suits him right for what he did to me.
But the pleasure he gains from that is short lasting and quickly replaced by guilt and shame. Simon knows he is better than this, and it’s not like Wilhelm has ever enjoyed his role as a royal. Judging from the picture, not much has changed, and somehow, Simon has sympathy for him. But in the end, Wilhelm is getting married in Stockholm and Simon is here in Bjärstad, seething and bitter.
The realization and accompanying sadness doesn’t hit him until later that day, though. His mother heard the news on the radio and treats him like a fragile piece of porcelain, and Sara calls from out of town, claiming no reason but having nothing particular to say as well. Simon plays along but reassures them that he is okay.
Now, he is lying in his bed, and the magazine he had tossed on the floor earlier is mockingly smiling at him. For a while, he stares at Thea’s distorted grin and Wilhelm’s miserable grimace. Then, suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Simon jumps up, grabs the newspaper, and throws it against the wall as hard as he can. A frustrated shout leaves his throat, then, without thinking, he kicks against his desk. The wood cracks, and a sharp pain erupts in his ankle. Simon curses, pulls his foot back, and the tears are already burning in his eyes.
“God… fucking fuck.”
Stupid Wilhelm in his stupid fucking suit and his stupid smile and… Thea, beautiful Thea holding Wilhelm’s hand, carrying Wilhelm’s ring, sleeping in Wilhelm’s bed and kissing Wilhelm’s lips, having the Queen’s blessing and the King’s love on her side, and of course things had to end this way. Simon doesn’t know what he expected; he knew this day was going to come. The moment Wilhelm told him about Thea, he knew that he had lost him, that Wilhelm was never, ever going to be his again, their time was over and whatever he believed to own was nothing but an illusion. Why he is still crying now though is beyond him and makes him angrier than anything else.
It’s not even six, but Simon strips down to his underwear and lies back down in bed. He is too exhausted to fight the nasty, mean thoughts and find a distraction, so he forces his eyes shut until he falls into a restless, dreamless sleep.
A strange noise wakes Simon up in the middle of the night. It’s hardly three in the morning, his head is aching and his throat is dry. As he sits up and reaches for the water by his bed, he tries to locate whatever woke him up, but now everything is quiet and serene. In front of his window, the trees bend in the wind.
Then, a shadow, and another noise — a knock, clearer this time. The adrenaline shooting through Simon’s veins wakes him up enough to roll out of bed and quickly move over to the window. His first thought is a burglar, but that makes no sense. Someone trying to break in wouldn’t knock. Who else though…?
A third knock, louder this time, and with a curse pushing past his teeth, Simon opens the window.
“Who is there?” he hisses. In the darkness, it’s hard to see anything. He blinks a few times, then he hears a soft voice to his left, a broken whimper.
“Simon…”
He feels his heart drop down into his belly. Hiding in the dark, his face and hair covered by a hat that doesn’t match the rest of his outfit, stands Wille, his arms protectively wrapped around himself. He sniffs and gasps for air, and as Simon’s eyes slowly grow used to the lack of light, he sees the wet streaks on Wilhelm’s red cheeks.
Simon doesn’t know what to say. He stares at Wilhelm, open-mouthed, long enough for insecurity and embarrassment to spread across Wille’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he says and shakes his head, taking a step back, “I — I didn’t know where else to go…”
Finally, Simon remembers to move. He puts on the first hoodie he can grab from his chair and climbs out the window. The grass underneath his bare feet is cold and wet.
“Wille,” he says once he stands in front of him, “What’s going on? What… what the hell are you doing here?”
His swollen eyes and trembling lips make him look so much younger. Like this, he looks so much more like the boy Simon met all those years ago than the crown prince he sees on TV.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. My parents, Thea, I can’t… Simon, I can’t marry her.” Wilhelm wipes his tears and cries fresh ones. “I don’t want to, I… I don’t want any of this anymore. Never did. And I’ve known it for so long, but I was too cowardly to do anything about it. I—” He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing.
“I left them a letter.”
Simon doesn’t know what Wille is talking about. He tries to follow, but the words don’t make any sense; he hears them, but doesn’t register anything, his eyes glued to Wilhelm’s lips.
“What?”
“A letter. For my parents and Thea. That I can’t do it.” He swallows heavily. “That I can’t marry her. And… well, that I don’t wanna be a part of this entire mess anymore.”
Speechlessly, Simon shakes his head. “… what?”
Impatience replaces the panic marking Wilhelm’s features. Nervously, he looks around. “Let’s not talk here.” He points to the black car parked further up the road. “Come, let’s drive somewhere.”
Dumbfounded, Simon nods and climbs back into his room. He gets dressed as fast as he can, and when he comes back out the front door, Wilhelm is already sitting in the car behind the wheel. Well, that would answer the question of how he got here in the first place. Simon hurries over to the car and slides into the passenger seat.
“Wille, I don’t—”
“No,” Wilhelm interrupts him, “First, let’s drive.”
So, they do. It doesn’t seem like they have a particular destination, and after a while, Simon gives up trying to understand the situation. He watches the streetlights fly by as they speed down the empty roads of Bjärstad, eventually driving away from the center and out to the countryside. Finally, Wilhelm pulls onto a parking lot just outside of town. Behind them, the dark, thick forest spreads so far, Simon can barely make out the sky anymore. Here, they sit for a while, neither of them knowing how to break the silence.
Eventually though, Wilhelm takes his hat off and clears his throat.
“I’m sorry for just… showing up like that,” he says, “You were the only person I could think of going to.”
Simon’s heartbeat quickens. He tries not to look affected.
“It’s okay.”
“Especially after everything that happened… between us.” Wille clears his throat. “You know… all the shit I did to you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Simon says, “I didn’t forget.”
Wilhelm’s face flushes a deep red. “I’m embarrassed. Really, I am, and I will never forgive myself for hurting you… for dragging you into this mess. And I hope that you won’t forgive me either.”
Simon sighs and rolls his eyes, but before he can speak, Wilhelm is already interrupting him.
“No, I mean it. It sounds dramatic, but… I would understand, and I’d deserve it. Because — I don’t care what anyone thinks, my parents, Thea… I don’t care if I… hurt or inconvenience them. I’ve played by their stupid rules all my life and all that’s brought me is misery. But you—” He turns to face Simon. In the gray moonlight, his eyes shine and sparkle.
“I… never wanted to hurt you. Ever. You’re the only person I’ve ever cared about, especially after Erik… you know. The moment I first saw you in Hillerska, I so desperately wanted to be liked by you, seen by you. And then you did, and I never felt happier. Isn’t that bizarre?” He laughs, more to himself, and falls back against the seat. “I could have had everything my stupid, immature brain could have thought of. And I thought I knew what I wanted — until I met you. Suddenly, everything was you.”
Wilhelm’s eyes make Simon feel electrified. The air inside the car is stifling hot, hard to breathe in and burning his lungs.
“Stop it,” he whispers weakly; he isn’t even convincing himself.
“I wish I could turn back time,” Wilhelm mutters. He is fully crying, not even hiding it, but there are no sounds, no sobs. “I would do so many things differently. I would have fought, for you, for myself… I would tell my parents what I really want and I’d just… do it. What would they have done? Nothing. I could have just packed a bag and left. Crash at your place, then figure it out from there.”
Simon chuckles tiredly. Like he hasn’t had these pipe dreams himself. “They would have known. Then they’d have come to get you, locked you in a tower somewhere and thrown the key far, far away.”
Wilhelm hums. “Then you could have saved me. My knight in shining armor.”
The thought alone is enough to make Simon laugh, quietly first, just his shoulders shaking, then louder. Wilhelm looks confused before smiling, unsure.
“And then, what? I fight a dragon and break you out and we run off into the sunset?” Simon asks in between gasps.
“Right. Why not?” Wilhelm’s smile grows into a grin. “A dragon called August…”
Now, Simon is full on laughing. His stomach cramps and there are tears in his eyes. “Stop it — stop, I can’t…”
He isn’t even sure what’s so funny, and judging from the look on Wilhelm’s face, he doesn’t know either.
“I’m sorry,” Simon gasps, “But… Jesus.” He takes a few deep breaths, his face burning up, and forces himself to calm down. “It’s just… this is so strange, I don’t — I don’t know what to say. You — God, Wille, you’re such a fucking asshole.”
Wilhelm looks scared for a second, but Simon smiles.
“You drag me to hell,” he says quietly, “And then you just… show up and cry your heart out.”
Wille lowers his head. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know what your goal is, if you’re serious about… fuck.” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “What do you mean, you left them a letter? Wille, you’re the Crown Prince.”
“Not anymore,” Wilhelm replies so dryly, Simon isn’t sure he’s heard him right.
“So, that’s real then? Until, what, tomorrow when you wake up and have slept all this delusion away?”
“No, forever. I’m not talking to my parents or anyone from the palace until they agree to release me from my duties as Crown Prince.” His eyes meet Simon’s, and for the first time in ages, there is nothing but sincerity in them. “I mean it, I’m done.”
Simon swallows heavily. “Okay.”
Wilhelm nods. “Okay.” He grips the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles stand out white. “Yeah, okay.”
“But what now?” Simon asks, “You’re just gonna hide out at my place and hope my mother won’t find you, else she’ll personally bring back the guillotine?”
Wilhelm grimaces. “No, I… I don’t know where I’ll go. But I wanted to see you. I wanted you to be the first to know. I feel like I owe that to you, after everything and all… well. And apologize.” Their eyes meet, and a shiver runs down Simon’s spine. “Simon, I’m sorry. For lying to you about Thea. For not being honest with you about the nature of our relationship. I wanted to help you, that’s true. And then I realized that I still love you… or, maybe I just fell in love with you all over again. Because you are like that, lovable and sweet, and there is no other person who makes me feel the way you do. And I couldn’t stand that you weren’t mine, couldn’t ever be, so I was selfish and lied. I thought I could drag it out a little longer, live in my fantasy world. Well, I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I didn’t think anything.”
Simon listens silently, unmoving. The shadows of the trees behind them dance across Wilhelm’s pale skin and disguise his features well enough that Simon isn’t sure if he is crying again.
“Wille,” Simon says, gently and quietly. He reaches out, the tips of his fingers brushing against Wilhelm’s arm. “All I ever wanted from you was honesty.”
Wille sniffs and nods, wiping his nose.
“You know, I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, is it? I didn’t grow up in your world, I’m not like you.”
“I know,” Wilhelm interrupts, “That’s what I like about you.”
“Then act like it,” Simon says, “The way you treated me — it makes me feel like you don’t even think of me as a person, let alone your equal. You don’t lie to the people you love. You don’t lead them on with empty promises and false fantasies. I believed you, you know? I was already on the ground, I had nothing, I was no one. You were my lifeline, and I’m grateful for everything you did for me. But then, Berlin, Thea… it’s like, how do I say this?” He lets his gaze wander outside, across the fields and trees.
“It’s like you hand me the rope to climb out of a hole, and when I’m almost at the top, just out of reach, you just — let go. But then, you cry and scream for help, and you beg me not to fall, but what am I supposed to do? And you’re just… up there, with Thea, watching me perish.” His head drops back against the seat. “Maybe that sounds brutal, but it’s true. That’s what it feels like.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And, you know, I’m glad that you helped me get back to my family, even though you did it behind my back. Without them, I don’t know where I’d be. And I’m getting better, every day I try, and sometimes I fail, but most of the time, I’m doing okay.” He smiles softly. His stomach churns with nervousness and emotions that don’t make sense to him — nothing does, none of the thoughts in his head and the words on his lips.
“I just… need the reassurance that you’re serious this time,” he says and watches the way Wille’s eyes first narrow, then widen. “You know, about everything, but most importantly… about me.”
Quickly, he turns his head away. God, this is so fucking hard.
“I mean, I’m still hurt. And I can’t forget. And, well, who knows? Maybe I will realize that I cannot forgive the things you’ve done, and that’s okay. We’ll break up and go our separate ways. But at least then we can say that we’ve tried. Because — fuck, I don’t know what it is about you, but Wille, I just can’t get over y—”
He hasn’t even finished speaking when Wille grabs his chin, turns his head and kisses him. A soft, surprised noise escapes Simon before he melts against him. A quiet voice of reason reminds him that this probably isn’t the best idea, but Simon skillfully ignores it, because who would he be if not a little irresponsible? So, he puts his hands on Wille’s cheeks and pulls him closer, leaning across the center console, the hand brake digging into his side, but he doesn’t care. Wilhelm holds his body, allowing him to lead the kiss and greedily taking it all, every touch and every slide of the lips Simon gives him.
“Fuck.” Simon pulls away with a gasp. “Wille, I swear — if you hurt me again, I will kill you.”
Wilhelm shakes his head. “I won’t”
“I mean it. You do any of that shit again, I’m going to hunt you down, and I will personally break your neck and cut your head off and all your fingers and toes, too, and then I will feed your remains to the nastiest street dogs I can find in all of Sweden.”
Wilhelm, stunned and wide-eyed, can’t do anything but nod and stammer an almost inaudible, “Yessir.”
Simon releases a breath, then he kisses Wilhelm again, taking what he craves, needs. Ungracefully and not without hitting his head against the ceiling, he climbs across the center console and onto Wille’s lap.
“Simon,” Wille whispers without breaking their kiss, “Simon, I love you.”
There are tears in his eyes.
“You hear me?” Wille kisses down his cheek to his jaw. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, always, and I will love you forever. Simon…”
“Don’t.” Simon shakes his head. The tears block his vision, but he smiles. “I love you too.”
Wilhelm releases a shaky, relieved breath.
“You’re all that matters in this life,” he says, “I don’t care if the world goes down tomorrow, as long as I have you.”
“Jesus fuck,” Simon cries and laughs. “Wille, stop it. I believe you, it’s okay.”
They kiss again, slower and gentler this time. Then, Simon buries his face against Wilhelm’s neck, breathing him in and allowing himself to be held. Slowly, his muscles relax as he sinks deeper into the embrace.
“I love you,” Wilhelm reminds him every now and then, “I love you.”
Simon smiles.
“I know.”
Simon wakes up sweating and aching. At first, he doesn’t know where he is — not his bed, that’s for sure.
Then, he smells the leather on the car seats, sees the forest outside and hears the first birds greeting the morning sun. Wilhelm is still sleeping, half on top of, half curled up next to him. Simon brushes the hair out of his face, his heart swelling with love, then he reaches for his phone.
It’s barely past seven. He quickly texts him mom not to worry, there was a little emergency, but he’ll explain when he is back and that he is okay.
The position they’re in is deeply uncomfortable, but Simon doesn’t want to move. He enjoys the heavy weight on top of him, a stark reminder that last night was not a dream, it had really happened; Wille is in his arms, Wille is here, Wille loves him.
Like this, sleep once more overcomes Simon quickly, and he gratefully embraces it, tightening his grip around Wille and smiling even when he has drifted off.