There's a song in my heart (I feel like I belong), Part 4: Bridge. M, AU, Wille/Simon, romance/fluff/slight drama.
Concert pianist Wilhelm Berwald had no idea his entire life would change when he was paired up with pop star Simon Eriksson for a charity concert. Birthday fic for TheAmberFox.

Note: Title from the song "Better Place" by Rachel Platten. I've finagled a slowed-down/slightly pitch-shifted version of the song, in case you want to have a better idea of what the version they're writing/playing here sounds like. Just PM me to ask for the link! I also have the sheet music for the song? In case you want to try playing it yourself, or if you just want to look at it like me, because idek, I just think sheet music is pretty to look at. Yes, I'm weird. Moving on...

Note 2: I have now put together an official playlist for this fic! Be sure to check it out if you're in the mood to listen to pretty piano music; once again, just hit me up on PM for the link. =)

Note 3: This is a birthday fic for my dearest TheAmberFox, and though the happy day has already gone by, we love gifts that keep on giving, don't we. xD I've dropped a few references to her and some of her fics here and there; hopefully she (and everyone who's read her stuff) will have fun picking those out— makes this fic kind of interactive, I guess? Keep an eye out!

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"Mr. Eriksson? Mr. Berwald?" They both turned to look toward stage left. There, through the same entrance Wille himself had come in, stood Annette Lilja, president of the non-profit organization in benefit of which the charity concert had been organized. She wasn't involved with the production of the concert itself, so she didn't really have a reason to be at the concert venue except to check that everything was good to go the day of. It was certainly unexpected for her to stop by when they still had one week of rehearsals to go.

"I need to speak with both of you," she said, polite but serious. "The manager has graciously allowed me to use one of the conference rooms for a little bit, so if you could please come with me..." She left the sentence hanging, but they all knew it was not a request.

Exchanging a wary glance, they followed her out of the hall and down the hallway toward a room Wille was sure neither of them had ever been in before, not having spent much time in the administration side of the building. It didn't look any different than any other conference room Wille had ever been in: long table, surrounded by office chairs, with a couple of VoIP phones on it. The walls were decorated with framed photos of concerts and plays put on in the venue, but Wille didn't have time for more than a glance at them before Lilja closed the door behind her and spoke again.

"Mr. Eriksson," she started, "I'm afraid the board has decided that the concert must go on without you."

"What?!" Wille blurted out without even thinking about it. He felt like a tear had opened up in the bottom of his stomach. This couldn't be happening. "But— the performance— you can't— we've been rehearsing for two weeks—"

"They feel it will be better to apologize to our patrons and reorganize the performance than to have it be associated with the scandal that came to light over the weekend," Lilja explained, grim. It almost sounded like she didn't want to have to say any of it, but that was hardly a comfort considering she was firing Simon anyway. "We will be sure, however, to make a statement recognizing that the recording and dissemination of the video was something you did not consent to, and making anyone contracted by the foundation available for any internal investigations that may be required to find the culprit."

Wille had seen Simon tense up, his expression one of shock, initially, but now he just looked angry. "Right, you're going to tell everyone I'm the victim here, but also you're going to fire me." He shook his head. "Have you informed my team about this? Because the contract we signed—"

"...has a clause in it stipulating that you can be terminated for a breach in professionalism," Lilja interrupted him, finishing his sentence in a very different way than Simon intended. "And— I apologize, but I have to put this plainly— having sex in a place classified as a work location can definitely be considered unprofessional behavior. Which was widely publicized over the past few days."

Simon's jaw clenched tightly. Lilja continued speaking. "We will handle any lingering issues directly with your team. In the meantime, I am sure Mr. Berwald is more than capable of continuing with the concert on his own, given some rearranging."

Simon scoffed, fists closed tightly at his sides. "Seriously?! The only reason you aren't firing him, too, is that his face is not on the video so you don't want his management to sue your asses if you do the same to him."

Wille's heart stopped for a second at Simon's assertion, knowing it contradicted everything his publicist had put out since the video broke. Lilja, however, did not react at all to it, so clearly she was not someone who had believed the statement in the first place. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Eriksson. It's out of our hands."

Simon turned to look at Wille, who had not uttered a peep since his nonsensical attempt to put his surprise into words earlier. Clearly, Simon expected him to say something, though.

"I—"

He had no idea what to say, however. Should he quit? Part of him wanted to. He didn't want to do this if Simon wasn't with him, and it seemed from Simon's expression that was what he wanted, too. But hadn't he said earlier that he didn't want both of them to be affected? Also, Wille couldn't do that just out of the blue— his manager would kill him— and who knew what kind of clauses he was unaware of in his contract that could have unintended repercussions for his career? The career his brother had started him on?

"I don't—"

But it wasn't fair, what they were doing to Simon. He shouldn't have to pay this price because some disgusting person decided to put their private moment on the internet. The shame of having strangers they'd never even met watching that, even knowing about it, was already sickening enough— Wille felt it, too, of course he did— and then to be blamed for it? It was disgusting. Wille didn't want to work with anyone who would do that to another human being; it made his skin burn just to think about it. But his fucking contract—

He was about to suggest Simon take this to a lawyer, as it was probably better to find some solid advice rather than just react in the moment, but his thought process seemed to take too long for Simon's taste because he let out a laugh that was completely devoid of any humor. "You know what? Fuck this," Simon said harshly, and spun on his heel, making his way out of the conference room.

Wille stood there, stunned and trying to process everything that had just happened. He finally shook himself out of his stupor after entirely too long, muttering a huffy "Fuck!" under his breath when he realized how deeply he'd messed up. And now Simon had stomped off before Wille could even explain himself.

He ran out the door and into the hallway, running to catch up. "Simon!" he cried out when he caught sight of his lover's head of dark curls upon turning a corner. "Simon, wait. Can I just—" He made it close enough to reach out and try to pull Simon to a stop.

Simon's steps halted, but he also pulled his arm away from Wille's grasp harshly. "No," he snarled back, looking at Wille with his head held high. "Too late."

"I was going to suggest we take this to a lawyer," Wille tried again desperately, figuring if he could manage to get the words in, explain his reasoning, before Simon could cut him off or storm away, at least it would be out there. Unfortunately for him, he barely understood his own reasoning. He'd just frozen completely, like an idiot. "I just— it took me a second—"

Simon glared at him. "Yeah, thanks," he said sarcastically, "'cause that never would've occurred to me." He shook his head. "That's not what I needed from you, Wille! This will put my professionalism into question. I've told you I take my career very seriously. And you couldn't even say one word to defend me?" He sounded so hurt. Wille had really screwed this up.

But what could he realistically have done? Everything was happening so fast, so overwhelmingly. Even now, standing in front of Simon as he was, he had so many feelings, so many thoughts running through his head. "Did you want me to quit?" he said, terrified that his failure to do so was the straw that broke the camel's back. "I-I thought about it, but you said it wasn't worth both of us having to deal with the fallout—"

This was, again, the wrong thing to say. "So you wouldn't be forced to come out publicly if you aren't ready!" Simon interrupted him. "This is different: you don't have to come out to have my back on this. I literally just told you I wanted your support," he reminded Wille, "but when it came down to it, you couldn't come up with one thing to say!"

Simon directed toward him a look of such utter disappointment, Wille thought he might just wither away on the spot. Because that was it, wasn't it? He had one opportunity to show his support, whichever form that took, of this man who had given him so much in such a short time. This person who had changed his life without Wille even realizing it. And now it was Wille's turn to do something for him, and he'd completely dropped the ball. He just needed to do the right thing at the right time... and he hadn't.

But surely that couldn't be the end of this, could it? There had to be something he could do that would show Simon they were in this together, right? He just needed to think about it some more. He needed time. He needed Simon to give him time to fix this. But Simon was already walking away.

"Simon," he tried again, pleadingly, hurrying to catch up with Simon's angry strides. He could not let Simon just leave until they fixed this, he would cease to exist in that limbo of not knowing. He was so frantic to not let things end this way that his mind barely registered they were making a scene in the middle of a hallway where anyone might pass by. Wille couldn't see his surroundings anymore; his vision was tunneling. "Simon, I'm sorry— I— we can figure this out together, just let me—"

He didn't think he was making sense, but there must've been something in his voice, because Simon stopped again, this time without Wille touching him at all, and so abruptly that Wille almost ran into him. Once more he was hit with the full force of Simon's glare, and it was chilling.

"No, no," Simon said. "You should go back to rehearsal. You're going to fucking need it." In the final period of their argument, he dipped his head down in a perfect mockery of a bow. "Your Majesty," he added, cementing the gesture as clearly acerbic.

He headed for the exit. Wille stayed, his feet leaden and anchoring him in place as he watched the only good thing in his life walk away from him, possibly forever. "Simon," he called out. "Simon, please, don't..." But his pleas went nowhere. The exit door swung closed between them, blocking Simon from his view, and Wille felt everything inside him hollow.

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That Monday ended up being one of the worst days Wille had lived through, perhaps just short of the direct aftermath of his brother's death.

Faced with the news that she was directing a brand-new concert from that point on, Felice sent everybody back while she rearranged their original plan for the performance to one more adequate for a solo pianist. So Wille went home and, after informing his parents in a droll monotone of everything that happened (his manager immediately whipped out her phone and started making calls— what for, Wille had no idea, and frankly, he didn't care to find out), he locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. He didn't even bother to come out for meals, he just... laid in his bed with his headphones on, listening to every heartbreak song he could find in an attempt to not think of their song, his and Simon's song, and how it was now most likely dead on arrival.

The next morning, he only made it back to the concert venue on sheer inertia. He didn't really want to be there— not without Simon— but he was locked in his contract and had no other choice. Still, he was barely mentally present. His feet took him to the concert hall almost like they were running on auto, without him even realizing, or caring, where he was going.

Perhaps that's why the sound of the piano caught him by surprise.

He was just coming into the hall through the backstage entrance as he usually did when he heard it. It wasn't a song; they were just notes. Just scattered notes, played one by one in no discernible pattern to them. His heart started racing regardless, furiously reminding Wille of the day he first met Simon. Could it be possible that Simon was back? The pace of his steps sped up instinctively, his breath growing agitated like he'd run a marathon when in reality it was only a handful of meters until he reached stage left.

It wasn't Simon, though; it was just Madison.

For a minute or so, he stood at the edge of the stage and let a wave of disappointment and... just... sadness wash over him. But then Felice noticed him standing there and he had to shake himself out of it.

"Hey," he greeted them warily. "What's going on?" They had agreed the previous day that they'd just re-cut all the promos with Wille's individual piano track they had recorded rather than the muxed final version with both his melody and Simon's vocals, so there was no need to record anything again. Wille didn't see any reason why Madison would be there unless some problem had arisen.

"Wille, hey," Felice greeted him just as hesitantly. Madison stopped pressing the piano keys. Wille made his way toward them. "Listen, I'm not sure we'll get to rehearsal today," Felice added. "There's... there's something I need to tell you."

Wille frowned, immediately concerned. "Is something wrong?" Were there more unexpected changes? Surely not with only four rehearsal days to go before the concert. Had something happened to Alexander? That would explain why he wasn't there today. Was the concert postponed, or even canceled? He almost hoped it was.

"Not with the concert," Felice clarified, figuring out where his thoughts had immediately gone, "but..." She sighed, still unsure whether she should say what she was about to say. "I was very stressed yesterday about having to rearrange the entire performance with less than a week to go, and it just so happened that August called me, as he does sometimes, to ask me out. I figured I could use a night out even if it was with August, so I said yes."

"Okay...?" Wille said, without any idea where this story was going. Had August done something to her? He knew his cousin was a douchebag, but it was usually more about his terrible attitude than any outright harmful physical behavior. If he'd crossed that line somehow, and with Felice, of all people...

"That's not the point of this story, I swear," Felice interjected, once again reading his expression correctly. She was a lot more perceptive than a lot of people gave her credit for, and sometimes even Wille, after years of acquaintance, still forgot.

"When we were at the club," she continued speaking, "at one point he excused himself to go take a call. He said it was work, which I thought was weird since it was very late at that point." She frowned. Madison just looked between the two of them soberly, and Wille figured she most likely already knew what Felice was building up to. "But he was outside for a while, and I started to get worried because he drove us there and I thought he might have left. So I went looking for him."

She paused again, unsure. Whatever she was about to tell Wille, she seemed really nervous about it. "And Wille... I overheard him speaking to someone on the phone. About the video."

Wille's attention immediately spiked, his heart rate picking up at the possibility of any good news on that front. "The investigation? Did he figure out who leaked it?"

Felice shook her head, worrying her lower lip. "He was asking the other person who he could pin it on that would be most believable," she finally revealed, somberly. "Because he was the one who uploaded it to the web."

Wille started, the revelation hitting him like a punch to the stomach. "What...?"

"I already went over there this morning and told him I'll never work with him again," Madison intervened for the first time since the conversation started, in English, as usual. "I didn't tell him why, though— I figure that was more your prerogative, though I intend to tell everyone I know in the industry to dump him right away. No one should work with such a disgusting fucking creep," she concluded with a shake of her head.

"I did, however," she added with a triumphant glint in her eye, "tell him to go fuck himself. It was very satisfying. You should've seen his dumb face." She chuckled, then pointed in Wille's direction. "I gotcha, bestie."

Wille didn't know what to say to that (...Thanks? Maybe?), but mostly he didn't know what to say, period, because he was still processing. It's not that he doubted Felice's word, and God knew he'd never liked his second cousin, but while August had always been a horrible person, Wille had never pegged him as so completely morally bankrupt that he would do something like this.

The fact that it was a crime was the least of the issues; surely August was the type to feel entitled enough that he was certain he would never get caught. But Wille couldn't imagine what would ever motivate his cousin to do something that would drag Wille's legacy, Erik's— and his own by association— through the mud. If there was one perennial rule in this universe, it was that August Horn always looked out for himself. So why?

"Why would he...?" Wille mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to either of the women. He was starting to feel overcome with a level of anger he hadn't felt in years. "I have to..." He made to leave right back the way he came in, but Felice called out to him again before he could turn on his heel.

"Wille, wait," she said. "There's something else."

Wille paused in his movement, waiting for her to elaborate. It took her a beat longer to spit it out than Wille would've hoped for with the level of adrenaline suddenly pumping into his veins.

"The person August was talking to on the phone..." she said, looking at him with pity, "...I think it was your mother."

Wille's vision blanked. The sounds around him became nothing but white noise. He felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "I have to—" he tried, but it came out as a gasp. "I have to go." He thought he heard Felice call out to him, concerned, but he couldn't tell the words apart. He stumbled hurriedly all the way through the backstage, out of the building, and into the back of his town car, where a now-startled Malin had been having her breakfast.

"Take me home," he all but barked at her. "Now." It wasn't her fault that any of this had happened, but he was in no state to modulate his tone at the moment. Thankfully, she seemed to understand his agitation had nothing to do with her, and aside from one concerned glance over her shoulder, she did as he asked.

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Wilhelm found his manager in the office, reading glasses perched low on the bridge of her nose, poring over what he assumed were proposals or contracts for upcoming performances. She was alone, his father having left for work earlier that morning, around the same time Wilhelm did. There was chamber music softly playing through the speakers of the sound system in a corner of the room, which Wilhelm recognized as Mendelssohn's "Notturno" in G minor.

He didn't bother knocking. "It was August," he stated forcefully, pausing then to examine her reaction.

There wasn't much of one, at first. "Mmm. What was August?" she mumbled, not taking her eyes off the paper in front of her. After a few seconds, however, she seemed to realize that something was not as it should be. She turned to look at Wilhelm with a frown, quickly pulling off her glasses. "Why are you here? Did rehearsal get canceled again? I will need to have words with those people..."

"Rehearsal can wait," Wilhelm declared, unflinching. "The video. It was August."

She didn't say anything to that, but the tight pursing of her lips was enough of an answer for Wilhelm. He was so enraged he thought his molars might crack from clenching his jaw so tightly. "Did you know?" he asked her point-blank.

Kristina sighed, placed her glasses carefully down on the desk, then looked up at him, serious. "Yes," she admitted, deciding there was no use in denying it at this point. The cat was out of the bag.

"When?" Wilhelm pressed, his jaw locking up even tighter.

She paused momentarily, and Wilhelm thought this might be the one question she refused to answer. But after a moment of silence, she replied, "The day you showed me the video. When I called August, he told me it was him."

Wilhelm was glad he'd worked past the anxiety stage on the way home and was now running on pure anger and frustration; otherwise, he'd be gasping for breath right about then. "Before we put out the denial, then," he stated more than asked. As it was, his entire body was shaking.

His mother scoffed, pushing herself to her feet like she was working up her patience to deal with an unruly kindergartener. "What does it matter? It had to be done regardless," she retorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Wilhelm shook his head in disbelief that she could be so bald-faced about her disregard for his input when it came to matters of his own life. "I deserved to have all the facts!" he shot back, furious. "What if I wanted to confirm that it was me in the video? That I want to be with Simon? At least then I wouldn't have left him to deal with all of this on his own!"

"Are you out of your mind?" she asked sharply, now visibly angry, her tone growing louder. "You know very well that you can't be in a public relationship with that man and expect your audience to just embrace you with open arms. This could ruin your career!" She shook her head again. "At least August had the good sense to only upload the parts of the video where your face couldn't be seen. It gave us the out that we needed—"

"'Good sense'?!" Wilhelm cut her off, feeling like his head was about to explode, he was so infuriated. "He ruined the only fucking good thing I had in my life!" He ran both hands harshly through his hair as he started to pace. "Why? Why would he do that? It is our family name that has singlehandedly put his failing studio back on the map. Why would he put that in jeopardy by doing this?"

Kristina took a breath and crossed her arms before answering. "He believes you associating with this man would be detrimental to your standing among our high-society patrons." She exhaled in a huff. "And frankly, seeing you act like this, I don't know that I disagree."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Wilhelm retorted, his eyes bulging out in utter disbelief that his mother— his own mother— would say such a thing. "How can you defend him like this? He should be arrested!" He barely held back an angry growl. "I'm going to the police," he declared, ready to walk into the nearest precinct right that moment if necessary.

"You will not!" his mother screeched back. "He's family!"

"Family?" Wilhelm scoffed. "Why should I hold any kind of familial loyalty to him when he didn't hold one ounce of it for me when he decided to post an intimate video of me on the internet?" He trembled in fury and continued pacing, needing an outlet for the fiery energy.

"Use your head, Wilhelm," Kristina tried to sound conciliatory. "A trial will just keep this in the headlines for years. You cannot become 'that pianist who threw his own cousin in jail.' That kind of stink doesn't go away. Is that what you want your career to end on? The career we built on Erik's success?"

Wilhelm's expression darkened at the mention of his brother. "Erik would not have let August get away with it."

"Erik wanted you to be a successful pianist," she retorted, her voice softer, but still stern.

"No. Erik wanted me to be happy." His voice trembled on the last word, and his eyes watered but he had to continue. This argument had been a long time coming, all the way back to when Simon wasn't even in the picture. "He wanted me to be a good pianist because he knew that's what I wanted. Because I wanted you to be proud of me."

He shook his head. "But it's never going to be enough, is it? It's never been about us. It's always been about you."

His mother frowned, and for a second she looked like she was going to say something, so Wilhelm preempted her. "You've always resented the fact that you gave up your career to get married. And then Erik came along, and he turned out to be a prodigy, and you thought you could live your dream through him."

He swallowed heavily. "And then Erik died, and you were left with me as a last resort." He closed his eyes for a moment, missing his brother with an almost physical pain. When he opened them, the sadness in his gaze started morphing into determination. "I'm sorry I'm not as good as he was, and I'm sorry I can't elevate the family legacy, but I'm not going to let you dictate my career— my life— based on what you think is right. Not anymore. I will do what's best for me."

His mother seemed legitimately hurt by his words for a heartbeat, but the emotion was immediately obscured by defensiveness. "I will not apologize for being a good manager to you, Wilhelm," she stated, her tone cold.

"Yeah, well," Wille said, completely despondent, "maybe what I needed this whole time was not a manager, but a mother." He exhaled slowly, exhausted. All the anger that had propelled him had deflated. At this point, he just hurt. "And now I have neither."

Kristina gasped. "What— you can't fire me!" she exclaimed, affronted.

Wille let out a humorless chuckle; it was good to know where her priorities lay. For a brief moment, he let his gaze drift to the ceiling, almost hoping his brother was looking down on him. Then he looked back at Kristina and affirmed, tired, "I think I just did."

He turned and walked out of the office wiping tears off his cheeks. As he made his way out of the apartment, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, quickly browsing through his contacts list.

"Felice?" Wille said once the person on the other side of the line picked up. "It's Wille. Listen, I need you and Maddie to help me with something..."

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Wille peeked out at the concert hall from behind the curtain. It was mostly full but not packed, which would normally make him anxious, but not today. Today he just felt vindicated; he knew for a fact that some patrons had demanded refunds when it was announced that the concert would be going on without Simon, and Wille hoped the foundation heeded that karma. There was also a small crowd of protestors outside, which Wille saw when he arrived at the venue. Technically they were protesting against him as much as they were protesting against the foundation, but he was glad that Simon had a dedicated, supportive fanbase. He knew for a fact that Simon really appreciated them.

"Hey," Felice said, smiling as she approached him. "Are you ready?"

Wille dropped the curtain and nodded. Truth be told, he was terrified. He always got nervous before his performances, but this one was special. Important. Perhaps the most important performance of his life. He needed everything to go well, because if he didn't... he didn't know what he would do.

"All right. I'll be in the control room, but if anything comes up, Alexander will stay backstage, okay? You can just ask him if you need anything." Wille nodded again, too worried to speak. "Okay. Break a leg, then. And Wille," Felice added, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "look toward the back."

She patted his shoulder once, then made her way offstage and toward the control room. Alexander, who was standing off to the side talking into his headset, met his gaze and gave him a thumbs-up. Wille acknowledged it with another nod, then made his way around the corner to take his place at the entrance to stage right. As was his routine right before any public performance, he did a series of breathing exercises to calm his nerves and center himself. Tonight, however, there was no slowing down the furious beating of his heart.

The curtain opened and he walked onto the stage to thunderous applause which he tuned out with practiced ease. As he sat down at the piano, he let his gaze briefly drift toward the back of the hall, directly below the window of the control room. It was a long way away from the stage, and the hall was dark, and the glare of the stage lights shining directly on him didn't help, either; he couldn't distinguish any specific figure. But he looked either way. He couldn't help himself.

He opened the concert with a contemporary piece— something his mother would've blown a gasket over. It was one of Wille's favorite pieces to listen to, a beautiful, soothing melody titled "River Flows in You" by South Korean composer Yiruma. That was followed by a few classical pieces that were much more recognizable to the audience— Ravel, Debussy, Beethoven, Liszt, Shostakovich— interspersed with more popular stuff, such as score pieces from famous films.

Everything went off mostly without a hitch. As the last chords of his second-to-last piece faded under the sound of applause, Wille allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. He took a deep breath and internalized the magnitude of what he was about to do.

"This last piece," he spoke into his microphone, "is one you haven't heard before. It's never been performed in public, so this is a very important occasion for me. I hope it's special for all of you, too." The audience responded with scattered applause as if agreeing with his assertion.

"However," he continued, turning his gaze toward the back of the concert hall again, "I can't play this song by myself. It is not just mine to share; it was composed in partnership. So I'd like to invite Simon Eriksson to join me on stage, so we can present this song to you the way it was meant to be performed: together."

The hall erupted into murmurs at this unexpected move, even a few loud gasps here and there, but Wille didn't have a moment to worry about the reaction as he anxiously swept his gaze around the hall, pulse roaring in his ears as he looked for any sign of movement.

Please, please, please, he thought, hoping he wouldn't be left hanging. There was every chance that Simon had just up and left the second the concert started, and Wille would be left here waiting like an idiot, forced to laugh it off to save face in front of his audience. He knew that when he thought of this plan. But oh, he really hoped things wouldn't end that way.

Then a large, bright spotlight turned on overhead, spanning the hall side to side before illuminating two figures making their way down the walkway to the left side of the stage. Maddie seemed to be none-too-subtly nudging Simon toward the front, and the singer attempted to resist, but as soon as the spotlight found them and all eyes in the hall were on them, he had no choice but to go with it, lest he cause a scene. Wille dared not breathe as Simon made his way toward the steps at stage left.

The audience erupted into cheers in a way Wille wasn't used to hearing in his solo concerts; his usual audience was generally very measured in their support, never lacking in applause, but with little signs of enthusiasm beyond that. It was clear this was something very different.

The spotlight followed Simon until he made his way up the steps, Maddie stopping just at the base and giving Wille a bright grin and two thumbs-up that Simon couldn't see as he made his way toward the piano. The audience renewed its applause as Simon walked across the stage, which he responded to with an awkward wave and a smile that turned out more like a grimace, put on the spot as he was.

He made his way toward Wille glaring daggers at him, which the audience thankfully couldn't see from that angle. He was clearly not amused by this stunt Wille had just pulled, and Wille had expected that, as Simon had been basically kidnapped. Wille had no idea what Maddie had said or done to get him here. "What are you doing?" Simon hissed between his teeth when he was close enough for Wille to hear him. His eyes were wide, punctuating his question as a warning that he wasn't happy about any of this.

Wille pushed his microphone, which was propped on a hinged arm coming up from the side of the piano, to the side calmly. His heart was still going crazy inside his chest, but he'd had enough practice at donning his "performance" persona that he hoped his jitters didn't show on his face. "What I should've done from the beginning," he asserted in a low tone as he looked up at Simon with a steady, sincere expression.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Simon's hand, but he knew that would be a step too far right then. "You don't have to do this," he assured the other man, serious. "If you're uncomfortable, you can go, and I'll... I'll figure out a way to deal with the fallout. It's okay." That was the truth of the matter: it was all up to Simon. Wille didn't want any part of their relationship— if they still had a relationship to speak of— to be solely on his terms ever again. Either they were in it together, or bust.

"But Simon..." Wille held Simon's gaze, unwavering, and spoke softly, sincerely. "I love our song. I am so proud of it. And I want everyone to hear it." Simon's expression softened, and Wille wondered if he'd understood that, underneath Wille's actual words, he wasn't speaking just about the song.

Simon considered the situation for a moment, and Wille thought he might say yes, but then he tensed up again. "Wille," he started again, his eyes wide once again but this time not in admonishment, but rather in chagrin. "I'm wearing ripped jeans."

Wille laughed; it was funny that Simon said that as if it were a bad thing. "Well, you still look beautiful," he said, and he might've been biased, but in this case, he thought it was the objective truth. Simon might not be wearing the black-tie outfit that would satisfy Wille's hoity-toity clientele, but he'd look good in anything. (Or in nothing. But that was a thought for another moment.)

Wille's mirth dissipated down to a smile, bright and hopeful, as he signaled toward the piano. "Sing with me?"

Simon let out a long-suffering sigh, like resigned to his fate, but his eyes were glinting, and Wille couldn't be sure with the stage lights beaming down on them, but he thought Simon might be blushing a little, too. "...I need a mic," he said with a quick roll of his eyes, but the mock reluctance only made Wille's smile widen.

Alexander promptly ran in from stage left with a wireless microphone he handed to Simon before scurrying off the same way he came in. Simon exchanged a glance with Wille, trying really hard to rein in a grin of his own. Wille just beamed back at him. As Simon moved to take his position, just as they had practiced during rehearsals, Wille could only see him from the back, but it didn't matter: he knew he would be playing for Simon, and Simon would be singing to him.

Wille took a deep breath and let it out, lifting his hands to the keys. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon nod, ostensibly at the crowd, but really for Wille's benefit: a signal of readiness, just like they practiced.

And Wille started playing.

Simon spoke into his microphone as the opening chords of the song traveled through the entire hall. "This is called 'Better Place,'" he whispered quickly, mindful of his cue. Then he started singing, rich and firm and hauntingly beautiful.

Wille had worried when he came up with this idea that by ambushing him like this, Simon wouldn't have any time to warm up before performing. But he should've known better; even without proper preparation, Simon's talent was beyond words, his technique perfectly tuned after so many years of work, and this song was a part of him. It might not be a perfect performance, but it would not be anything but dazzling.

Wille kept his focus on the score in front of him, but his heart was enveloped by the warmth in Simon's tenor as he finally, finally gave voice to the emotions, the bond that had developed between them, and shared it with an audience, an entire universe of other beings that were now privy to their feelings for each other.

The energy Wille felt coursing through him was transcendental, a cacophony of soundwaves oscillating inside his bones. It was like he could feel his very existence resonating with Simon's, two souls in perfect harmony as they danced together to the tune of skylight encounters and kisses in nautical-themed bathrooms; of the magic of finding someone who makes your dull, unlived life burst with color.

Simon sang these words, their sacred verses that spoke of the ineffable state of rightness of just meeting someone who, through serendipity or fate, already knows you on a spiritual level. Your person. Yours. That person who makes you the happiest you've ever been, with whom you can talk about things you've never told another soul. The one you can't wait to spend every second with, who gives you a much-longed-for sense of belonging, of fitting in. A quantum existence defined by someone's eyes on you.

He sang of their song, of the soft golden notes expanding out into the world, echoing into the atmosphere. Revealing their truth, but knowing that, as long as they were together, things would be okay. They would be okay. Or at least better. And that was worth a ballad or two.

"There's a song in my heart; I feel like I belong," Simon sang as Wille leaned into the melody, honoring the term pianoforte in preparation for the softer tones that followed, marking the tail end of the song.

Simon's voice dimmed to a whisper as they came to the last line, hinting at a fade. "It's a better place since you came along," he sang. He stretched out the words raspily as Wille's fingers slowed on the keys. "It's a better place since you... came along."

There was complete silence for three, four, maybe five seconds before the audience erupted into cheers. Wille felt so effervescent, he burst into giggles of pure joy. He saw Simon cover his face with his hands for a moment, then turn to look at Wille over his shoulder with a grin that could've lit up the entire auditorium.

Wille's feet propelled him up and forward, like Simon's centripetal force was pulling him into his orbit. The singer seemed to have the same idea, however, as just as Wille cleared the piano bench, he found himself with an armful of Simon. Wille's heart somersaulted inside his chest. He hadn't been sure, over the past week, that he'd ever even see Simon again, let alone touch him, hold him like this. So now that he had Simon back in his arms, he wasn't about to let go.

He pulled Simon tightly to him and pressed his face against the side of the other's head. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Simon's ear.

Simon shook his head, his messy curls tickling Wille's nose with the movement. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Wille pulled back just enough that he could look Simon in the eye. "I never wanted to hurt you, Simon. I..." He paused, suddenly very aware of what had just been about to come out of his mouth. It hadn't been part of the plan to say any of this when he first thought up this scheme, but now Simon was right here, in his embrace, and it was everything.

The feeling was so all-encompassing that it threatened to spill out of him, this earth-shattering truth. He couldn't hold it in if he tried. "I love you."

Simon's expression shifted quickly as those three words settled in the air between them, going from concern to shock. His dark eyes widened. His mouth went slack. Wille thought he might be about to say something, but then he just... didn't. He just stared. Speechless.

It went on for long enough that Wille started to feel awkward. "...Or, we could just forget I said that," he started babbling, "because it's crazy to tell someone you love them after only knowing them for three weeks, right? I mean, who does that, right? Maybe I can just—"

And then, to his absolute horror, Simon started laughing. Wille was absolutely aghast. "Oh God, I ruined everything again, didn't I?" he groaned.

"No, no," Simon assured him quickly, noticing his turmoil as he wiped tears from the corner of his eyes— whether those were from mirth or joy, Wille had no idea. But then Simon beamed at him. "It's just..." He shook his head, almost like he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "I love you, too, and it's only been three weeks, and we are both utterly ridiculous."

He pressed his forehead against Wille's shoulder, almost coyly hiding his face from view, but his shoulders were still shaking with laughter. Wille was just stunned. Simon loved him back? That was... more than he could ever have hoped for.

It was only when Simon pulled his head back again to meet his gaze, his eyes shining with happiness, that Wille let that previously unfathomable possibility lodge itself like a balm in his frantic mind. "...Yeah?" he asked, just to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

"Yeah." Simon grinned, and Wille grinned back, and he didn't know who moved first— perhaps they both did— but then they were kissing. Passionately and eagerly, right there on the main stage of one of Stockholm's most important high-society concert venues, in plain view of hundreds of people.

The place went absolutely nuts; apparently, Wille's audience was a lot less conservative than he'd given them credit for. Felice, Maddie, and Alexander stood to the side near the stage, cheering the loudest. The acoustics of the room helped their words of encouragement blend in with the rest, however, save for the one loud finger whistle followed by a "Go Wilmon!" that had to have come from Maddie.

The applause went on and on, as did their kiss, and Wille figured if anyone had managed to sneak a cell phone into the concert hall, the news would hit the internet in a matter of minutes. But it didn't matter one bit, because he was back in his better place, right where he belonged— by Simon's side, kissing him, loving him.

And for this one perfect moment, everything in his world was alright.

.

.

.

Coda:

Wille took a sip of his coffee as he walked back to the control room. It wasn't great coffee: just standard machine fare, and certainly not anything fancy like the 15,000 kronor brand-name, artificial-intelligence-aided coffee maker his cousin had in his studio to rub it in everyone's faces that he had money— or pretend like he did, at any rate. Wille would much rather have cheap, mediocre vending machine coffee than ever step foot in his cousin's studio ever again, anyway, even if August had been forced to sell it to pay for his legal defense. As far as Wille was concerned, that place was cursed.

Vending machine coffee aside, the new studio they were working at was quite nice. The control room felt a bit cramped, but that wasn't because it was small; it just happened to be full of people that day. Recording studio control rooms weren't normally designed to fit an audience.

He looked around the room, trying to decide where to sit. Maddie and her two sound engineers were at the mixing console, fiddling with buttons and levers here and there. Off to the side, Linda sat on a leather-upholstered club chair, with Sara, Simon's sister, perched on one of the armrests, talking to Alexander, who was standing in front of them with his hands in his pockets. Simon's family did not often get involved in his career, preferring to leave that to Simon himself and his management since they were the experts, but Simon liked inviting them to listen to the first full cut of songs he was particularly excited about. And this was a pretty special song, so he wanted them there by his side the first time he heard it.

Representing Wille's side, there was only Malin, standing near the back and talking to Simon, who was sitting on the similarly leather-upholstered couch that was pushed against the back wall. Felice had wanted to come, but she wasn't able to get out of brunch with her mother; she left them with express instructions to send her the file as soon as there was a final cut. Malin didn't need to be there, but this was Wille's first album recording of any kind since she became his manager, and they both thought it would be good for her to be around this one time to get a feel of how the recording process went.

His relationship with his actual family was still... tenuous at best. Just as he was getting his coffee, he'd received a text from his father, asking Wille and Simon to have dinner with him and Wille's mother one of these days. Wille took it for the olive branch it was— his direct contact with his mother had been rather limited since their last argument, but she'd made overtures through Wille's father that Wille truly believed came from her and not just his father's meddling. Apparently, now that she was no longer his manager, she was trying to be more of a mother.

Wille wasn't sure quite what to make of it just yet. He hadn't decided anything about that dinner— he had to talk to Simon about it— but he wasn't completely opposed to it. He was willing to give his mother a second chance if she was sincere about it, especially after she agreed to testify against August, but he was going to tread carefully. He'd seen now, through Simon, what a real family was like. He wasn't sure he could ever have that with his own parents, especially not without Erik, and he didn't intend to get his hopes up.

His gaze fell on Simon, just the sight of his beautiful features immediately inducing in Wille a calming effect. Taking another sip of his coffee, he made his way to the controls, letting Maddie know, with a hand on her shoulder, that he was back and ready to hear the song. Then he sat beside Simon on the couch— the curly-haired singer didn't halt his conversation with Malin at his arrival, but his hand went immediately to Wille's thigh as if his body all on its own acknowledged his lover's presence at his side.

"All right, are we ready for this?" Maddie asked in English as usual, and everybody went quiet at her words, expectant. She fiddled a bit with the console, turning some rotary knobs and sliding some faders up and down before the music started playing over the control room's speakers.

Simon grabbed Wille's hand and intertwined their fingers tightly, a bright grin taking over his eager features.

The soft piano melody filled the space, and Wille closed his eyes for a moment, basking in it. He opened his eyes again when Simon's vocals came in, clear and fresh and lovely as ever. He let himself stare at Simon again, taking in every minute emotion, every reaction in his posture, his face, his eyes as he listened to the song in silence. Wille felt immensely privileged that he could just... do this, study every detail that was Simon like this, without caring who was watching, without worrying about something going wrong, from up close and privy to every thought, every feeling, even those Simon didn't voice out loud.

Wille caught the unbridled joy building up in Simon the second he heard the strings come in halfway through the chorus; he turned to Wille, obviously thrilled, and Wille could only reply with a grin of his own. The orchestral backing really complemented the piano melody well, adding depth and solemnity, almost an ethereal quality to it, especially come the second verse. Simon had every right to be proud of this suggestion.

"And the sun paints the skies, and the wind sings our song..." They gazed into each other's eyes like the room had emptied of any other living souls. Simon tugged their joined hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back of Wille's, warm and tender. Then Wille squeezed his hand tightly when the choir kicked in after the second chorus, carrying the instrumental section right into the bridge— he'd heard the choir record their section, but it was different when it was all together. It was perfect.

As the song came to an end, only a couple of piano chords and Simon's voice fading in their ears, it was like the entire room had to inhale after not breathing for three and a half minutes.

"Well, everyone," Maddie announced with a flourish, "that was 'Better Place.' Arrangements by moi. Music and lyrics by Simon Eriksson and Wilhelm Berwald." She signaled to the two of them, grinning widely, before starting up a round of applause that everybody else joined in.

Simon tapped the back of Wille's hand with a finger to get his attention. He cupped Wille's face with his free hand, leaning in to press a kiss against Wille's lips, sweet and gentle. "I love you," he said as he pulled back.

"I love you, too," Wille just managed to reply before Simon's attention was pulled away by his sister and Maddie. Linda cried. Alexander was bouncing on the balls of his feet, he was so excited. Malin clapped Wille's shoulder and smiled, assuring him that the song was beautiful, and he and Simon had done an amazing job.

"So!" Maddie intervened when she finally got to talk to Wille and Simon on their own. "Shall we all go out to lunch to celebrate?"

Simon hesitated. "I'm not sure. Mamma and Sara were planning on going shopping after this, Malin has to go back home because it's literally her wedding anniversary today and her wife will kill her if she spends most of the day with us, Alexander has some logistics to arrange for his and Felice's new project." He counted off each of them with his fingers. "Wille and I will probably just go home." Wille nodded at his side. He loved everybody in the room, but he would much prefer to be alone with Simon for the rest of the day. For reasons.

Maddie narrowed her eyes at them and for a second Wille worried she might've read his thoughts. "Right, I forgot that making music together makes you horny," she quipped, entirely too casually.

Wille covered his face with his hands— in amusement or embarrassment, he wasn't sure; he was blushing up to the tips of his ears, so it was probably both. Simon's eyes widened. "Maddie! Jesus!" He looked over his shoulder to make sure his mother hadn't heard that. She hadn't. Thank goodness.

Maddie rolled her eyes. "Please. No one here was born yesterday." She laughed, throwing an arm around Simon's shoulders. "Just promise me you'll play this song at your wedding, and we're good. It'll be the proudest moment of my career."

"Christ, Madison," Simon groaned. Wille laughed nervously. Sure, their relationship had started in a bit of a whirlwind, and to be fair, they'd hit most of the major milestones way faster than most couples did, but they'd only been together for a few months. They weren't quite at the point of thinking about marriage... yet.

The group split off at the parking lot, headed in different directions. After waving goodbye to Simon's mother and sister as they pulled out into the street, Wille pulled Simon close, playfully pinning him against the side of the car before Simon could open the driver's side door. "Hey," he said. He peered down at Simon with so much love bubbling inside his chest that he thought he might explode. "We did it. That was our song," he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

Simon nodded, delicately pushing Wille's hair back behind his ear. "It is," he agreed with a nod, beatific smile brimming with happiness. Wille leaned in to kiss him, overcome with the realization that everything they had lived through led them here, and unsure what he'd done to deserve it. But now that he had it— that he had this, a life he could be proud of, doing something that he loved, with this man he adored by his side— he knew he was never going to doubt it or take it for granted ever again.

"Come on," Simon said as they pulled back. "Let's go home."

Wille nodded, rounding the car toward the passenger's side door. And they drove back to Lidingö with their hands held between them, top down and wind in their hair, sunshine illuminating their path.

.


.

Author's notes!—

"Muxing," short for multiplexing, is the term for combining separate analog or digital signals into one. In music production it often means putting together tracks that are recorded separately (such as lead vocals, backing vocals, separate instrumental tracks, etc) into one track that is the final song with all the elements included. The sound and lighting control room is a room at the back of a theater/concert hall, sometimes above or combined with the projector room, from where sound and lighting are controlled. The word piano derives from "pianoforte," which literally means "quieter and louder." Intro, verse, chorus, and bridge are the most basic parts of a song. The coda, also known as the outro, is the section that brings the piece to an end.

"Quantum" is a reference to quantum mechanics, specifically Schrödinger's paradox of quantum superposition (better known as the thought experiment of "Schrödinger's Cat"), in which the state of a system can only be determined when the system is observed/measured, as the observation itself is what causes the system's wave function to collapse. The centripetal force is the force that pulls an orbiting body toward its center of curvature.

The "Notturno in G Minor" is a piece by German pianist Fanny Mendelssohn. She was incredibly talented as a performer, and also a prolific composer, although because of the conventions of the time, several of her pieces had to be published under her brother's name (hi, the patriarchy sucks). There's a museum dedicated to her and her brother Felix in Hamburg. Ludwig Van Beethoven was a late-18th century German composer, one of the most celebrated and well-known in history. Franz Liszt was an early-19th century Hungarian composer and one of the most prominent members of the New German School of music. Joseph Maurice Ravel and Claude Debussy are early-20th century French composers, and Dmitry Shostakovich was a Soviet-era Russian composer. Yiruma is a contemporary South Korean pianist and composer; his song "River Flows in You" was the first single off his second studio album, First Love. Once again, you can hear all the songs Wille performed in the concert (there's more than just these!) over at the official playlist for this fic.

The last scene I threw in exclusively because I wanted more Maddie. I'm not even sorry. xD But also because studio scenes remind me of the Julie and the Phantoms: Behind the Band series of videos on Youtube, and I'm still salty that show got canceled. Oh, and 15,000 kronor is about $1500 USD. (And is it kinda weird that I kinda ship Sara and Alexander now?)

And so we've come to the end of this little fic! I hope you've all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it— AUs are normally not my thing, so the enthusiasm I felt for this fic surprised even myself, but if y'all liked it, then who knows, I may do more of these. There may be plans. *cough cough* So you may want to subscribe to my AO3 user profile, or keep an eye on my socials for any upcoming stuff: I'm on Twitter (girls_are_weird, but not for much longer, probably) or Tumblr (girls-are-weird), and also now on Mastodon (girls_are_weird). See you on the flip side!