Start a Riot, Chapter 7. PG-13, Wille/Simon, romance/drama, directly post-S1.
On his first day back to school after the Christmas break, Simon is informed that he's been suspended for two weeks because of his involvement in the video making the rounds on the internet. Now it's up to Wille and his few allies to recruit as many out of the entire population of entitled rich kids at Hillerska as they can to go full Greta to try and pressure the school to reverse this decision before it ruins Simon's future.
Note: Inspired, most recently, by Netflix's Moxie and Sex Education, and a bajillion other teen movies and TV shows out there where high schoolers stage a school strike/walkout/protest against their school.
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Simon laughed at the never-ending string of happy/victorious/relieved emojis his mother sent him when he told her the news, along with a promise to bring back the ingredients for his favorite meal so they could celebrate properly at dinner. She'd had to go back to work shortly after Wille's speech; Rosh and Ayub stayed for a while longer, but even they had to leave when school hours were over, as they had responsibilities in their own homes. So Simon was left alone again, with nothing much to do except ponder on the Hillerska Strike for Justice.
The broadcast itself had ended before his friends even left, the powers that be at the network evidently losing interest after the Crown Prince said his piece, and even the little rectangle in the corner of the screen disappeared eventually when it started getting dark and the crowd started dissipating. The video quality wasn't great at that point, even for people who could afford fancy 10,000 kronor phones with 4K night mode or whatever.
It was around five when he got the call, so he assumed the protest itself was over, but he still hadn't heard from anyone involved, and he was starting to get worried that they'd gotten in trouble. He'd texted Sara several times, but she wasn't looking at her messages. Madison wasn't even getting his messages— knowing her, her phone was probably dead. He'd even texted Wilhelm— just the once, something along the lines of "What just happened?!"— with similar results. His phone must've been off. He did follow Felice on Insta so he could technically just DM her, but she must've been swamped with messages from her adoring followers at that point so whatever he sent was very likely to get lost in the deluge.
Throwing his head back against his pillow, he cursed himself, not for the first time, for being a damn recluse. Okay, he didn't have to be Mr. Social Butterfly with a bunch of kids who didn't give two shits about him (...at least until today?), but it really was rather pathetic that he only had three classmates' numbers in his contacts list, and one of them was his sister.
He was still slumped over in his bed, browsing through his Instagram feed trying to find someone from school he talked to somewhat regularly who might be amenable to replying to his DM today of all days, when someone knocked on the front door. Assuming it was one of his friends coming back to pick up something they left behind (Ayub especially had a bad tendency to forget important items at Simon's when he came over to visit), he shoved his phone into his pocket and got off the bed with a sigh.
The person on the other side of the door was not Ayub.
"Wille?" he asked, eyes wide in surprise. "Why are you here? Did you guys get in trouble? I've been sending messages, but no one's answering—"
"I'm sorry," the taller boy blurted out, almost without meaning to, it seemed, but he interrupted Simon's questions nonetheless.
Simon looked at him in confusion. Wille looked almost... scared? Simon couldn't place what it was, but it wasn't how he'd expected Wille to look after everything that happened that day. Not when Simon himself was jubilant. "What are you talking about?" he asked, puzzled. "I just got a call from Headmistress Lilja telling me that my suspension's been rescinded and I'm expected back at classes on Monday!"
"I was going to say it," Wilhelm once again said very fast and bluntly. "That it was me in the video. I wanted to say it at the rally, but I..." He trailed off, looking almost helpless, like he was begging for the right words to fall from the heavens because he couldn't grasp them. Simon found the expression unexpectedly cute.
He huffed in resignation— whether at his own hopeless self or the prince, he couldn't be sure. "Come inside," he said, pulling Wille by his plaid scarf and into the house. "It's too damn cold to do this here," he muttered.
"Right, sorry," Wilhelm mumbled under his breath as he stepped past the threshold, the front door closing behind him, and then it was Simon more than Wille himself taking off Wille's winter wear before hanging it all in the foyer. Wilhelm started babbling again as Simon led him to the living room. "I meant to say it when I decided to speak at the protest, but then I kept thinking that it's probably not a good idea to tell the people that their Queen and future King blatantly lied to them. Even if we did do that. Because, like, it could undermine trust in the Crown? And what if there's a national emergency at some point and people refuse to listen to official government advice because the Crown lied to them once? I know you wanted me to tell the truth, and I meant to— for you— but also that could be really dangerous, and I just..."
By the time he finished his diatribe, he was biting on the corner of his thumbnail and looking like one opposing word from Simon could destroy his entire soul. Simon's heart clenched. He'd never considered himself particularly intimidating, but there was something sobering in the knowledge that Wilhelm was hanging by a thread just as much as he was. Simon's Christmas break had been utterly miserable, and he'd been so immersed in his own pain that he hadn't really thought about how their breakup might be affecting Wille. Not that he thought Wilhelm didn't care or anything, but one always tended to assume that the hurt was always greater for you than for your ex. And Simon was the one who'd been betrayed, so he felt justified in that feeling. But looking at Wilhelm now, it was clear that he was terrified of making things even worse between them.
He didn't have to feel that way. He was the Crown Prince; he had an entire world away from Simon that he could fall back on to help himself move on. A world that might be less complicated for him in the long run. But Wille hadn't moved on, even though Simon had pushed him away. Instead, he'd done the one thing Simon knew very well was the last thing he wanted to do in the entire world— step in front of a crowd of people pointing cameras at his face to give a speech that was entirely too personal for even the most practiced public speaker to get through unscathed— and he did that for Simon.
And now he was worried that wasn't good enough.
Simon sighed. "Wille," he started in what he hoped was a calming tone, "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think people are going to buy your previous statement about the video anymore after what you said today."
Wilhelm's brow furrowed, and once again Simon chided himself for finding it adorable. "What? Why?" Wille asked, completely befuddled. Clearly the prince had not actively heard the words that had come out of his mouth earlier in the day. Or at least hadn't realized how they could be interpreted by... pretty much anyone with more than a single brain cell.
Simon looked back at him with obvious amusement. "You told everyone that I'm the best person you've ever met," he pointed out. Wilhelm still looked at him like he couldn't understand what was wrong with that, and Simon smiled. This time it didn't even bother him that his affection for this dumb boy was obviously showing. "Seriously? Barack Obama came to your confirmation!"
Wilhelm shook his head with a scoff. "He was here for a conference and it just happened to be on at the same time as my confirmation— wait, you followed my confirmation?" His eyebrows lifted in surprise and perhaps, if the slight turn up of the corners of his mouth was any indication, some not-so-small level of delight.
Well. They couldn't have that, could they? The Crown Prince already had enough people around him to fluff up his ego; Simon wasn't going to be part of that choir. "I couldn't help it; it was everywhere," he explained with a roll of his eyes, but his smile remained.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malin standing outside in front of the window, and immediately felt bad. He'd completely forgotten about her, but he should've let her in along with Wille— surely it was freezing outside. Then again, the way she was standing with her back to them made it seem like standard procedure, like she was deliberately standing there to situate herself between her ward and the sight of a gun (okay, maybe Simon had been watching too many movies lately; in his defense, he'd had a lot of free time that week) or, perhaps, a camera. Which, given their history, was probably for the best. He considered asking Wilhelm if he should ask her in, or at least offer her a warm drink.
Wilhelm shuffled his feet. He looked a bit more relaxed than he had when he came in, but still somewhat unsure. "I thought..." He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze down to the coffee table that separated them. "I thought you wanted me to come out."
Simon held back a groan. That wasn't really what he'd meant, but he could see how Wilhelm might have interpreted his words that way. They hadn't really dug deeply enough into it that day, had they? The hurt was too raw. But now Simon had... he didn't want to say he was "on the other side of it" because he was still hurt, and he still thought he'd done the right thing in putting himself out of the equation, but he also now knew how awful it felt to be away from Wilhelm. He wasn't a fan of prolonging his pain with his own decisions, so maybe it was about time for them to have this conversation, now that the sting of betrayal did not cut as deeply.
Simon sighed again. "It wasn't about you coming out, Wille. That's a very personal decision; I can't tell you when or how to do that." He walked around the coffee table so that he was closer to Wilhelm as he spoke. He saw Wille's hands twitch at his sides, then he moved them into his pants pockets, almost like he had to keep them away in order not to immediately reach for Simon.
"It was about you figuring out what you want out of this relationship, and not just doing whatever everyone else wants you to do," Simon clarified further. "Particularly not letting your mother get in your head."
Wilhelm scoffed again. "Well, she's had nearly seventeen years of practice; she's very good at it," he muttered.
"Yes, but at some point, you have to find your own voice," Simon insisted. He lifted a hand and laid it on Wille's chest, right over his heart. He felt, more than heard, Wilhelm inhale sharply. "You did that today. And I'm so damn proud, Wille."
Simon looked up at the boy in front of him and saw Wille's eyes start to water. "Yeah?" he asked, almost like he couldn't believe it.
Simon nodded, smiling. "Yeah. And grateful. And a little put out that I couldn't be there myself— you know, social justice is kind of my thing." Wille laughed at that. "But mostly just... impressed? I don't know how you managed to get all these rich kids to go along with it, but whatever you said must've been really convincing."
Wilhelm shook his head humbly. "It was mostly Felice and the girls. I just... got the ball rolling, I guess." He pulled a hand out of his pocket to tenderly cover Simon's on his chest. "I'm... so happy that it worked, but it's not..." His expression sobered up again. "This doesn't just fix things, though, does it?"
Simon carefully pulled his hand back; Wilhelm's hand closed into a fist where it rested against his chest as if scrambling to fill up the space Simon's warmth had just vacated. "I... I don't know," Simon admitted, taking a step back almost reflexively. "What you did was really shitty, Wille, and even before that, you were all up and down. That really hurts," he added as if it wasn't blatantly obvious. "You might be doing and saying the right things now, but how can I be sure you won't back out again tomorrow? Or the next time something happens that makes you embarrassed to admit that we're together?"
Wille's utter devastation at that last remark was clear as day in his expression. "Embarr— No, Simon, that's not—" He ran both hands over his face and through his hair in exasperation, letting out a frustrated growl. Then he turned around, paced back and forth a couple of times, and when he spun back toward Simon, he grabbed both of Simon's hands in his, silently tugging him toward the couch, where they both sat down facing each other. Wilhelm did not let go of Simon's hands.
"I—" Wilhelm started, then cut himself off with a shake of his head. His gaze met Simon's with a familiar intensity as if demanding without words that Simon's attention remain only on him. "I need you to really understand this, Simon," he said, and Simon knew this was important to him, so he nodded, urging him to continue.
"Everything I do is a public matter," he said, absolutely serious. "It has to be that way, because the monarchy is sustained by public funds, and so there has to be some level of accountability for what those funds pay for." Simon nodded. He knew all of this in principle, of course, and very much agreed, in theory, but of course now knowing from personal experience that there were human beings on the other end of that principle— not just abstract figureheads— it did put things into perspective for him. Was that what Wille was trying to tell him?
"That means I have no privacy. Or very little," Wilhelm continued. "And I mean that literally. Even things that are silly or everyday things for other kids, for me, they're this huge deal that has to be announced and scrutinized. Because I may be a kid myself, but as far as the institution of the monarchy is concerned, I'm not a person. I'm a role model. A representation of what every Swedish teenager should aspire to be," he added, distress clear in his expression.
"And I do mean silly stuff," he continued, "like which friends I had playdates with in grundskola, or how many concerts I go to on any given year. It doesn't all get reported because, let's face it, it's boring. But it's all a matter of public consumption. The palace keeps track."
He sighed, squeezing Simon's hands a little tighter before speaking again, like the words grated at him. "Like, when I lost my two front baby teeth, the palace put out a statement informing the public of this momentous occasion, and for weeks after that, there were discussions on TV about whether my getting kronor from the tandfen was going to make me spoiled, and random people would come up to me on the street demanding that I show them the gap in my teeth."
Simon had to press his lips together to keep himself from giggling. It wasn't that he couldn't see how that might've been overwhelming for Wilhelm at that age, it's just... now he kept thinking of baby Wille with his two front teeth missing and the mental image was just too cute.
Wille noticed, of course, and mock glared at him. "Don't laugh! It was traumatic, okay? I was six, and these were complete strangers," he whined.
Simon managed to swallow back most of his mirth, except for one loud snort that he couldn't keep inside. "Okay, that's fair," he conceded. He didn't like it when people shoved cameras in his face and demanded to know things about his personal life either, and he was sixteen.
"What I'm trying to say is," Wilhelm continued, narrowing his eyes playfully at Simon, "I've got no control over which parts of my life get reported out and which don't. It's not up to me. Honestly, it's a miracle they don't put out a press release every time I go take a dump— and I'm sure that's only because the official position of the Crown regarding bowel movements is that royals don't do that."
This time Simon couldn't help but laugh, but Wilhelm didn't mind this time; he smiled as well. "Yeah, I can definitely see that," Simon said, shaking his head in disbelief. Royals were so weird, he wouldn't put it past them to go to such heights of ridiculousness.
"The worst part of it is," Wilhelm said, sobering up as he lowered his gaze to their joined hands, "because most of it is boring, the only parts that hit the news are the bad parts. So that's what people judge you on. Not the thousand other things you did right in the last I-don't-know-how-many weeks, but the one day when you made a mistake." He sniffled and shook his head. "So you have to go through life trying to be perfect at any given second because you know you've got this... eternal microscope trained on you all the time. But no matter how hard you try, all people care about is when you fuck up."
Simon's stomach lurched. He had known, intellectually speaking, that the pressure for Wilhelm was a million times worse than it was for any other kid their age. But this... this sounded worse than he had ever imagined. No wonder Wille was terrified of the public reaction to their relationship.
"You get what I'm saying, right?" Wilhelm said, looking at Simon again, that lingering desperation still shining in his eyes. "It's not that I'm embarrassed by you— I could never. If anything, I'm embarrassed by me, of the fact that— that I don't have any control over my life. So I have to cling to the few things I can still control, can still keep away from that microscope, because otherwise, I'll just... become what they want me to be. A thing that's only here for people to gawk at and judge. Every day is like... it's what I imagine it would feel like to live in a zoo. But, you know, like, from the side of the animals."
"Yeah, I got it," Simon said sadly, responding both to the general thought and to the random unnecessary clarification Wilhelm felt the need to tack on at the end. Simon might've chuckled at that if he didn't feel so bad for him. No one should have to live that way, monarchy be damned. Especially not someone as sensitive as Wille.
"But I have to live with it, because of who I am, what I was born into," Wilhelm spoke again like he was responding to Simon's thoughts, but at the same time it almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Reminding himself of a mantra that had been repeated to him over and over since childhood. "And I hate it, but I can't change it. The royal family owes itself to the Swedish people. They have that right; it's the price I have to pay for all the privileges I get. I know that."
His next words were punctuated with something that almost sounded like a sob. "But I can't... I can't give them everything. I would have nothing left of me." His voice trembled as he said the last sentence, and Simon wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms and reassure him, promise him that was never going to happen. But he couldn't.
"And this?" Wille said, lifting both of Simon's hands to his mouth so he could kiss them. "Us, what we have? They don't get to have that. That is ours." He shook his head, his tearful eyes shining in the warm light of Simon's living room with the movement. "Only we get to choose who can see it, who we share it with."
Simon thought he might start crying himself, and found himself blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. "I agree," he said, after a moment of letting Wilhelm's words settle. "But that means you can't go off making decisions about us on your own, Wille."
Wilhelm pulled his hands away and threw his head back. "I know," he said with a groan. "I'm sorry. I guess I was just... afraid." He crossed his arms and leaned forward almost protectively. "When I think of random people out there knowing about us, and judging us, it's like... it's like every single part of me just recoils from that." He made a hand gesture as if to illustrate said recoiling, and Simon thought it added to the visceral feeling Wilhelm was trying to convey.
"The public scrutiny has been so... suffocating, and I just..." Wille took hold of Simon's hands again. "This, being with you, is the best thing I have in my life, Simon." His gaze pinned Simon down in place. "I don't want my baggage to ruin it."
They stared at each other in silence for Simon didn't even know how long. It felt like forever, honestly, but that's usually how Simon felt around Wille anyway. Like he could stay there staring into those golden eyes he adored for the rest of time, the only sound their intermingling breaths, the only movement the slight caress of Simon's thumb on the back of Wille's hand. Simon never thought he could be so comfortable just... looking into someone's eyes, but it was so easy to get lost in Wilhelm's.
And then Wille broke away, looking down at the two centimeters or so that separated their knees on the couch. "There's one thing my mother told me that day— the day she picked me up from Hillerska— that I still think she was right about," he admitted almost reluctantly. Simon wasn't sure he wanted to hear what kind of advice the Queen had to offer her "wayward" son, but he was also rather curious. Wille elaborated. "She said if I feel the attention I'm getting right now is too much, it's only going to get worse as I get older."
Simon had thought it might be something more insidious, but that was probably his bias speaking— he had to concede that it made sense. He had never paid too much attention to royal gossip, but again, it was hard to dodge, and so he was aware that even Erik, who did not end up in many scandals over the years, had been hounded incessantly by the press, especially after he officially became the heir. And people had liked Erik. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for Wilhelm, who already came with a(n unfair) "Party Prince" label attached. Everyone would be just waiting for him to mess up, and that expectation would just get worse the more responsibility he took on.
But Wilhelm was already struggling with that weight. A truly supportive family would have helped him deal with it effectively, try to mitigate the pressure somehow, rather than just throw him to the wolves with nothing but a passing warning. It made Simon angry for him all over again.
"And I have to deal with that; I don't have a choice. But you shouldn't have to," Wilhelm continued speaking, snapping Simon out of his indignant musings. "It's not that I want us to keep sneaking around forever, it's just... I was afraid that you would realize all of this and feel it was all just... too much, I guess, and... I'd lose you anyway." He looked absolutely shattered just saying that, and it hit Simon just as hard. He knew how that felt. The past few weeks they'd been apart had been nearly unbearable.
"I just wanted to have this for as long as I could. But I really, truly didn't mean to hurt you," Wille finished, earnest. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and raw, made it impossible for Simon not to believe he meant every word.
Simon intertwined his fingers with Wilhelm's, tightening his hold. "I know," he said, "and I understand what you're saying, Wille, but I need you to understand me as well." It was Wille's turn to encourage him to elaborate, nodding emphatically and adjusting his position to give Simon all of his focus. His hair flopped right into his face as he did, and Simon couldn't help but smile.
"It's not that I need to have a giant spotlight on our relationship," Simon started after a pause to gather his thoughts. "Being 'famous'"— he made air quotes with one hand, thinking back to a comment Rosh had made after the sex tape hit the web— "that's not something I've ever wanted. But I can get through it with you... I can try my hardest, at least... because it shows me that you're not just playing around with me. That you really want to be with me."
Wille looked like he was about to say something, but Simon continued speaking before he could. "There's a power imbalance between us, Wille," he pointed out. Wilhelm dodged his gaze, and Simon could see the guilt creep up on him, so he tugged at his hand to get the prince's attention back on him. "I know you don't want there to be, and I know it's not your fault, but it's there, and we have to deal with it," he insisted. Wille considered this for a heartbeat or two, then nodded.
"I want to believe you when you tell me you don't want us to sneak around forever," Simon continued very seriously, "but I can't go on faith alone." He shook his head, feeling the creeping sadness prickle at him, as it always did when he thought about his past. "I've already had someone in my life who said he loved me, but it wasn't enough to keep him from hurting me. I won't go through that again."
Belatedly, Simon realized he may have made it sound like he had some old boyfriend who had broken his heart before Wille was even in the picture, which could not be further from the truth. He figured he should clarify, but at the same time, Wilhelm didn't seem bothered by it. Almost like he understood what Simon meant right away.
"Your dad?" Wille asked, catching Simon off-guard.
"Yeah," Simon confirmed, surprised. "How did you...?"
Wille shrugged. "Sara said something similar," he said like it was just an everyday thing for him to be talking to Simon's sister about Micke. Sure, those two had probably interacted more than usual this week on the lead-up to the strike, but Simon tried to picture a conversation between them and struggled to come up with a visual in his mind. And wasn't Sara supposedly angry at Wilhelm on his behalf? For the entire break, she had glared at anyone who even mentioned the Crown Prince.
"Huh. Okay. Well... we'll circle back to that one," Simon said, still dumbfounded by the fact that his sister and his... whatever Wille was... were apparently friends now. Or something like that? Either way, they probably could touch on that some other time. He shook himself back into topic. "But do you see what I mean? I need some assurance that I'm not just some... side piece that you have to hide forever because it's shameful or whatever."
Wilhelm shook his head vigorously, this time not holding back from speaking before Simon could continue. "Not shameful. Never shameful," he affirmed, his tone almost like he was begging Simon to believe him. He shifted closer to Simon, negating what little space there was between them until his knees were touching, almost on top of, Simon's shin.
He let out a frustrated breath. "Simon, you're— this is— the happiest I've ever been. If I wasn't terrified it could cause a massive crisis, I would go around telling everyone." He closed his eyes for a moment, almost as if savoring the thought, before continuing. "Really, there is nothing I want more than to be able to just be with you out in the open like any other regular couple. I literally dream of it."
"So do I," Simon admitted in a whisper, somehow feeling way more exposed as he said it than he thought he should. It's not like it was some sort of secret that he was head over heels for this boy— even now, after ostensibly "breaking up" with him— but saying it out loud made it feel riskier for some reason, like he was leaving himself without cover in the middle of a blitz. It was only because of everything Wille had already put out there, every vulnerability the prince had admitted to himself, that Simon could even bring himself to say it.
Wille gave him a tremulous smile and a nod, which Simon reciprocated, and they remained in silence for a moment, just basking in those words and in the weight of that feeling. It was only after a minute or so that Wilhelm remembered he was supposed to be saying something. "Anyhow, I can't keep all my relationships away from the public forever. I know I can't— I'm going to have to come out anyway, right? Eventually. I mean, it's not like I can just walk up to the altar on my wedding day and be like 'oh, by the way, I'm marrying a man.'"
Simon's smile turned mischievous; he couldn't help himself. "...Are you proposing?" he asked teasingly.
"What?" Wille asked, immediately going bright red. "No, that's not— I just meant it as a hypothetical—"
Simon laughed. Wille really just made it too easy. "Yeah, okay," he said, poking at the other boy's side playfully. Wille squirmed. "Thought you might be getting a little ahead of yourself there, Your Highness."
Wille pushed Simon's hand away, then flicked his forehead. "What I'm saying is," he started again, "eventually I'm going to have to tell everyone. About me, I mean; not you, necessarily— though, of course, that involves you as well— but, like... about who I am." He took a deep breath, and let it out heavily. "I just... I don't know who that is yet. This is all so new, and so... overwhelming, and... the only thing I know is that I want to be with you." He looked down at their joined hands as he absentmindedly played with Simon's fingers. "That's it; that's the only thing I'm 100% sure of."
He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. "I wish I could be more like you; you're so sure of who you are, but I'm just— I'm just not," he said, sounding disappointed in himself.
Simon shook his head promptly, quick to disabuse him of that notion. "And that's okay. You don't have to have it all figured out right now, and I would never try and force you to do that," he assured Wille. Just because figuring out his sexuality had been pretty straightforward for Simon, it didn't mean that it had to be that way for everyone. And Wille didn't even have anyone to talk to about this. It was no wonder he was so confused.
"It's just..." Simon continued. "I just need you to remember what I'm telling you, okay? I need you to always keep in mind that I can't be the only one making sacrifices here. You need to meet me halfway because I'm going to be on the losing end every time something like this happens." Wille nodded, again looking heavy-hearted at the prospect that being with him could hurt Simon. But it was their reality, and they had to talk about it.
"You've seen it just from this week alone," Simon added, "how this could affect my future, my family..." He sighed. "But more than anything, this is my heart I'm putting on the line here, Wille. You could crush it so easily." He shook his head. "You already have," he admitted brokenly.
Wilhelm's lips trembled, and Simon saw him swallow hard. "I'm sorry," he said yet again. "I'm trying, I really am. I even told my mother you were my red line. I won't go along with anything that hurts you or affects your life. Not again. If that happens, I'm out."
His phrasing caught Simon by surprise. "What, out of the monarchy?"
"What?" Wilhelm retorted automatically, before seeming to think back to what he had just said. "No, I meant out of... out from under my mother's control, I guess," he cleared up.
Simon nodded. "Ah. Good, okay. I mean, I don't approve of the idea of the monarchy on principle, but you'd be heaps better than the whole lot of them," he added, not even wanting to think of who would end up on the throne if Wilhelm ever took himself out of the line of succession. God, the title wouldn't pass to August, would it? Because Simon would be on the first plane out of Sweden if that ever happened.
Wille was smiling shyly, though, like Simon had just said something unexpectedly transcendental. "You really think so?" he asked sheepishly.
Simon tapped a finger against Wille's knee affectionately. "I know so," he confirmed, holding Wille's gaze so the other boy could tell that he meant it. Just as a person, completely separate from their romantic relationship, Wilhelm was such a better person than he had any right to be. When Simon first heard the prince of Sweden was going to enroll at Hillerska, he was sure he would be the worst of the already terrible bunch of entitled rich kids that populated the school halls.
Except he'd turned out to be nothing like that. Wille was gentle, unassuming, empathetic, and he cared so much. He wasn't perfect, and he had blind spots just like everyone did, and his insecurities got the better of him a lot of the time. But if they had to have a king, Simon would much rather it be someone like Wilhelm than anyone else. And once again he wanted to curse Wille's family and the entire damn institution of the monarchy for ever making Wille doubt that he was good enough.
Wille groaned again. "I really wish I had your confidence. I feel like all I do is mess things up," he said with a dejected expression.
"You don't," Simon insisted, trying to snap him out of his self-pity funk. "You try to make everyone happy, it just... doesn't always work out for the best, I guess." It was one thing for him to own up to his mistakes, and a whole other thing for him to blame himself for everything just because that's what his family usually did. He was just a boy; he wasn't supposed to be perfect, role model or not.
"And to be fair, you weren't wrong," Simon added, recognizing that there was one aspect of this he might not have fully accounted for when he told Wille they couldn't be together if it had to be in secret. Wilhelm looked at him curiously, waiting for him to expand on that point. Simon spoke through a grimace. "Seeing my face on the covers of tabloids and having paparazzi knocking at my door was... a lot."
Wille winced as well. "I'm sorry," he repeated. It was at least the fourth time he said that in the course of the conversation, and a part of Simon wanted to tell him to stop saying it, because saying the words didn't change things. The rest of him, though, didn't mind, because he believed Wille truly felt remorse and wanted to make things better.
"I hate that I put you through that," Wille mumbled, crestfallen. He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against Simon's. Simon closed his eyes as well, breathing in the familiarity of being near Wilhelm. So close.
"Maybe..." Simon started, his eyes blinking open as he recalled what he'd said earlier about meeting halfway. "Maybe it's not a bad idea to take it slow. Give us— and everyone— some time to... adjust?" he suggested. He wasn't sure what that would even entail, but going back to being apart from Wille felt like an impossibility after today. Simon didn't know if he'd survive it. "I mean, I want to be able to be with you in public, but we also don't want riots in the streets," he added with a chuckle.
Wilhelm's lids remained shut. "I'd start a riot for you," he whispered. "That's what scares me."
His fervent assertion gave Simon that funny weightless feeling you get when you get to the top of the roller-coaster and are just about to thunder down the rails. He could only guess it meant that his heart was doing loops inside his chest. He found himself holding his breath for a heartbeat, lost in that sensation of free-falling.
He sighed, delicately rubbing his nose against Wille's. "Well, I'm not asking you to," he said just as quietly. He wanted to be very clear about that, in case it had somehow gotten lost in the back-and-forths of this conversation. He didn't need Wille to make some grand declaration on national TV. He just needed to be sure that he wouldn't always have to worry that Wille was going to back out when things got tough. It wasn't healthy for either of them.
But that didn't mean they couldn't be together. Simon didn't think so anymore, at least. "Wille..." he started, cupping the other boy's face carefully in his hands. Wille's eyes opened, immediately locking with Simon's. Simon smiled. "Today was good. Thank you. I can see that you're trying."
And then finally— finally— he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Wille's, so softly it was almost like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He meant to keep it short, just a peck, but as he started to pull back, Wille pulled him back in with a hand to the back of his neck, tips of his fingers buried in Simon's curls.
The kiss itself was still chaste, more of an outpouring of emotion than anything else, but Wille was putting his everything into the warm pressure of lips on lips, and Simon reciprocated wholeheartedly, feeling like a man finding water in the desert after days of longing for it.
He didn't know how he'd made it so long without this.
As they pulled back breathing heavily— just a centimeter apart, anything more than that was wholly unacceptable— Wille was the first to speak. "What does this mean?" he asked. Simon had to suppress a shiver from the way Wille's thumb was oh-so-exquisitely grazing the side of his neck.
"I think..." Simon started, taking the leap. "I think it means that... maybe we can take it one day at a time?" He didn't know if that even made any sense to Wilhelm, as he wasn't even sure it meant anything concrete to him. But as long as they both agreed to try and understand each other, and talk to each other, and make decisions together, they could figure the rest out on the go. They just needed to be able to trust each other.
"Okay. I can do that," Wille readily agreed, willing to keep trying in any way he could. He moved his hand from Simon's neck to softly caress his cheek. "But can I still kiss you?"
Simon felt his lips slowly draw into a smile. "Yes, please." He'd hardly finished saying the words when Wille was already diving in again.
As ever when they were together like this, things got really heated really quickly. Because this kiss... yeah, there were no pure intentions with this kiss. It immediately became a flurry of lips and tongues and shivers and sighs and hands grappling under layers of clothing for skin-to-skin contact.
Simon pushed himself up on his knees on the couch, scrambling for leverage to be able to kiss Wille harder, deeper, and Wille's hold tightened almost reflexively on Simon's hips. It occurred to Simon that Wille might be about to pull him to straddle his lap, and was about to comply enthusiastically when Malin knocked loudly on the window.
They sprung apart as if shocked by lightning, frantic gazes turning immediately to the window only to find Malin still with her back to them. What a relief. They'd completely forgotten she was right there (God, they needed to get smarter about that! What the fuck!), but at least she had the good sense not to watch.
Simon was about to ask what was wrong (and maybe follow through on that warm drink he'd intended to bring out to Malin way back at the beginning of the conversation) when the front door opened and Simon's mother came in, carrying a couple of grocery bags. Simon and Wilhelm barely had time to rearrange themselves (and their clothes) so as not to make it obvious what they'd just been doing.
"Simón, I need you to—" she started loudly in the general direction of the bedrooms, probably assuming that's where Simon was, as she struggled to push the door open on the way in. Halfway through the sentence she caught sight of the two of them in the living room and spoke in a more measured volume. "Ah, there you are. Bebé, necesito que me ayudes con las bolsas, por favor. And why is Malin outside in the cold? You could have at least let her in, it's freezing— hi, Wilhelm. We saw you on TV; I can't believe you all were able to pull that off!"
She said all of this almost in one breath as Simon hurried over to grab the bags from her. He saw Wille shuffle his feet as he responded. "Hi, Linda. It was the least we could do, really. Um, Malin— that's my fault, actually. She said she would stand guard outside and I didn't— I should've insisted she come in. I wasn't really thinking... at that point."
Simon headed over to the kitchen to drop the bags off, but he could still hear them speaking. "Oh, well, surely we can let her in now, right? I'll be making dinner in the kitchen, and I'm sure you boys can entertain yourselves away from a window for a while."
Her tone was teasing, Simon noticed (he knew which side of the family he'd gotten that from), but it seemed to go straight over Wille's head. "No, that's okay, I—" He cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have come, anyway. Can't imagine you're very happy to find me in your living room unannounced after... after everything."
He was self-flagellating— again— and Simon frowned as he made his way back to them. Seriously, it had taken Simon this long to snap him out of it, and now he was just going to lather, rinse, repeat the whole guilt spiral with his mother? Thankfully— and it was also clear where Simon got his empathy from— by the time Simon made it back to the living room, his mother had approached Wilhelm, who was determinedly dodging her gaze.
"Wilhelm, cielo, look at me," she said, lifting a hand to cradle Wille's cheek. The motherly gesture forced Wille to do as she said, though he still looked wary. Simon couldn't see his mother's face, but he assumed she was smiling up at the other boy. "All I want for my children is for them to have people in their corner who will fight for them as hard as I would. And after what you did today, I'm pretty sure you're one of those people. So if Simon is all right with you, then I'm all right with you. Okay?"
Simon smiled to himself, crossing his arms and leaning sideways against the doorframe as he waited for Wille's reaction. The silly goober was obviously overcome by the response— as if mamá was ever going to stay mad at him after today, Simon thought, amused— and Simon saw him blink quickly, as if blinking back tears, before he nodded.
"Good," Simon's mom declared, moving her hand from Wilhelm's face to squeeze his shoulder affectionately. "Now, are you staying for dinner? I'm making Simon's favorite Venezuelan lasagna to celebrate the news about his suspension. There'll be more than enough for you and Malin."
"No, actually, um, I should— I should probably get back to school," Wilhelm said, his gaze moving somewhat sheepishly from Simon's mother to Simon himself, who was still standing at the entrance to the room. He was talking directly to Simon at that point. "My phone's been off all day so I haven't been getting any calls, and, uh, I'm pretty sure the palace will be trying to get in contact with me at some point."
Simon flinched at the unexpected reminder of the world outside their bubble, now worried at what might come for Wilhelm after the stunt they pulled earlier in the day. He could only imagine the Queen was not happy about it, and Simon didn't want Wille to get himself in trouble for him, but... there wasn't much he could do about it now.
"Well, then," Simon's mom said, "I'll get to cooking and give you two some privacy to say your goodbyes." She turned slightly so she could see Simon in the doorway and gave them both a smile. "And Wilhelm," she added, "you're always welcome here, chiquito."
With that assertion, she walked out of the living room, past Simon at the doorway, and toward the kitchen to start making dinner. Simon watched her pass by before turning back to Wille and smiling. The other boy returned the smile a bit shyly, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as if he didn't quite know what to do with himself after that. Simon, entirely too endeared by the gesture, signaled to Wille with his head to follow him toward the foyer, where he handed Wilhelm his coat and scarf back.
"Is your mother going to be angry?" Simon asked as Wilhelm started putting his winter outerwear on. He genuinely did not care how the Queen felt about any of this, especially after everything Wilhelm had told him earlier, but it bothered him that this was something Wille had to face alone. Simon couldn't help, and he hated being unable to help the people he cared about.
Wille shrugged as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. "Probably. But when isn't she?" he mumbled bitterly. Noticing Simon's concerned expression, he shook his head, trying to reassure him. "It's fine. I told her I wasn't going to let you get suspended because of me. She knew something was coming."
Simon didn't know how a vague warning would make much of a difference, but he wasn't immersed in the world of royal PR like Wilhelm was, so he'd have to take Wille's word for it. "Okay," he said, moving to open the door. "Just... text me when you hear from the palace, okay?" He caught sight of Malin once again out of the corner of his eye, making her way around the corner when she heard movement at the front door. "I don't care if it's late."
"Okay," Wille said with a smile— a real smile, like the mention of his mother had gone in one ear and out the other. He leaned down to kiss Simon goodbye, which Simon more than welcomed. They were still standing in the foyer, really, so the only way anyone could catch sight of them was if they were standing directly in front of the door, which they wouldn't, as Malin had situated herself directly in that position, her back to them once again. It was secluded enough that it felt private, but not like they were deliberately hiding. Simon liked that.
He liked it so much that it kept going for a few minutes too long, and Simon only realized they had completely forgotten about everything but each other again when he heard Malin clear her throat loudly.
Simon tried to pull back. "You need to—"
"Nope," Wille said, pulling him back in and cutting off his protests with his lips.
Eventually, though, they did need oxygen, and Simon was freezing, and Wille did have to go, so they couldn't just kiss forever, much as they might want to. "Sorry, Malin," Wilhelm said to his bodyguard, though he was still looking down at Simon with a very satisfied smile.
"That's quite all right, sir," the woman replied, sounding resigned, but if Simon had to guess, there was also a slight undercurrent of amusement in her voice. It made him burst into a very undignified snort, followed by laughter.
Wilhelm looked down at him, chuckling as well. "What?" he asked, feigning curiosity but clearly finding this whole situation just as ridiculous as Simon did.
Simon shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Just go," he said, pushing the other boy out the door none too gently.
Wilhelm stumbled a bit but maintained his amusement, his brown eyes shining golden in the exterior lighting of Simon's doorstep. "I'll call you," he reiterated, walking backward.
"You better," Simon threw back, giving Wille one last wave before the prince turned around and started following Malin back to the car park. Simon watched him walk away until they moved out of sight past the corner, then closed the door and leaned against it dreamily, covering his face, and the blinding smile he couldn't hold back, with his hands.
Shaking his head at his own silly self, he breathed out a deep sigh. "Mamá, ¿te ayudo?" he asked, pushing away from the door to make his way to the kitchen, where his mother was busy chopping up vegetables. Better give himself something to do so he wasn't checking his phone for new texts every five seconds.
.
.
Author's notes!—
Malin is 1000000000% done with these two idiots' ridiculousness. But she also thinks they're cute, so. There's that.
Meanwhile, *sigh* isn't communication the sexiest thing in the world? And how about that title drop? LOL xD (I didn't even know that was going to be a thing until I wrote it). If you noticed there's *cough, cough* one very specific and important thing Simon hasn't quite said yet, well... *discreetly sneaks a glance at the chapter count*
As for Wilhelm's reasons not to admit to his lie, I'm not saying it's okay for governments to lie to the people or anything, but also if there's one thing we've learned in recent times... *gestures around at... the world* ...it's that a lack of trust in government CAN be deadly, and I think that's something Wilhelm, having been raised to (mostly) respect the importance of the monarchy if not the practical applications of it, would agree with, even if he felt guilty about it. But I think the people could probably forgive this one lie, mostly because it's personal and, y'know, the kid's a teenager.
Barack Obama, 44th president of the United States, was fairly popular in Sweden during his presidential term, with about 83% of Swedes approving of him at the time he left office according to Ipsos polling. (Can't verify that he's still that popular given that he's not asked about in polls anymore now that he's not president, but I hardly think his appeal would drop that much.) Also, I totally had that line already planned before Obama went and appeared at the climate conference in Scotland. xD Grundskola is Swedish comprehensive education, which goes from grades 1-9 and is compulsory. The tandfen are the Swedish version of the Tooth Fairy; Swedish kids put their baby teeth in a glass of water before going to bed, and in the morning the tandfen will have exchanged the teeth for coins.
Simón is the way his name would be spelled in Spanish, with the accent mark indicating that the emphasis is put on the second syllable, which is different from the Swedish pronunciation. You actually can hear Linda pronounce it that way a few times, most notably in episode 4. "Bebé, necesito que me ayudes con las bolsas, por favor" means "Baby, I need you to help me with the bags, please." "Mamá, ¿te ayudo?" means "Mom, can I help you?" Cielo means "sky/Heaven," and chiquito means "little one;" they're both terms of endearment a parent would use for their child. (I will keep throwing these out until y'all stop using "mijo" for everything. It is my new mission in life.) The Venezuelan lasagna Linda mentions is known as pasticho; I've never had it myself, but from what I understand it's basically your regular meat and ham lasagna, except the seasonings are slightly different from regular bolognese sauce, and it's made exclusively with flat lasagne noodles, rather than the ones with the curled edges.
Next up: "The next time the Crown Prince stepped foot at Drottningholm, it was because he was summoned."
Fair warning that the next chapter might take a bit long, though; I'm about to fly back home for the first time in two years, and between the packing, the ridiculously long plane flight, and the subsequent jet lag, I don't know how much time I will have for writing in the next week and a half or so. Feel free to bug me about it on Twitter (girls_are_weird) or Tumblr (girls-are-weird), though! And while you're at it, check out my latest Wille/Simon video edit that I uploaded just today (it's embedded on my Tumblr)— I'm very proud of it. =)