Like Because, Love Despite, Chapter 5. PG-13, Set It Up AU, Wille/Simon, romance/fluff/slight drama.
Wilhelm and Simon are a pair of overworked, underpaid assistants who team up to gain their supervisors' favor by bringing them together for a joint venture. It might be the best worst idea they've ever had.
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Of course the Monday after Simon's first weekend off from work would start horribly. Of course. He really should've seen it coming.
His alarm did not ring for some unfathomable reason that morning, and he only woke up in time because Sara peeked in, shocked to see him still in bed so much later than usual and wondering if he was sick. He had to rush just to get to the train station on time to catch the next train, and then that train suffered some malfunction, leading to it being stalled halfway between stations for about twenty more minutes. Then, when he finally made it out of the train, it turned out his usual coffee shop was closed, so he had to walk two blocks to find another one— one which would never prepare Englund's coffee the "proper" way.
So he was late. Really late. Well, earlier than most people who worked regular office hours would be, but late by Englund standards. So when he got to the office juggling two large coffee cups and a box of pastries that were sure to get rejected for not being the "good" ones, Simon was readying himself for a lecture.
Since his hands were full, he pushed the door to Englund's office open with his back, mumbling apologies all the way. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Englund. My train broke down, and then the coffee shop I usually go to wasn't..." He trailed off as he realized he was talking to an empty office; just as he'd left it on Friday night, actually.
Simon frowned. He glanced at the clock on the back wall— no, he didn't get the time wrong. He snuck a look up and down the hallway to check for signs of life, but there was nothing. He even knocked on the bathroom door with his foot, thinking maybe Englund was there and hadn't heard him come in, but he got no response.
He had just set everything down on his desk when his phone rang. "August isn't here yet." Wille's voice came through from the other end of the line, urgent enough to forgo a greeting.
"Englund isn't either," Simon countered, running through every possible worst-case scenario in his head and trying to figure out which one was the most likely.
This did not seem to reassure Wille in the slightest. "Okay, see," Wille said hurriedly, "the last we heard from them was on Saturday when they were going to talk business over drinks." He paused to take a deep breath. "What are the odds that they got really drunk, things got out of hand, and now one or both of them is dead in a ditch somewhere?"
"I think you've been watching too many crime shows," Simon retorted, trying to hold those worst-case scenarios at bay. Just because bad things could happen, didn't mean they had. "Also, if they're both in this hypothetical ditch, then who's doing the killing? How does that even work?"
"I don't know! I'm just saying—" Whatever justification he'd been about to give for his paranoia fizzled out as he cut himself off abruptly. "I gotta go. August just walked in."
"Wait, what does he—" Simon wasn't even sure what he was going to ask, but he didn't get a chance, regardless, because that's when Wille hung up on him. Still frowning, he scoffed down at his phone in mild indignation, then sat down at his desk to wait for someone to come in.
This felt like some kind of twisted, non-sexual walk of shame, and Simon wanted to bleach his brain just thinking about it, but it also meant if August had finally managed to make it into the office, then maybe Englund would arrive soon, as well.
It was a stretch, but better than having to check every random ditch in Stockholm.
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"Good morning, cousin!" August said as he walked past Wilhelm's desk, where Wilhelm was, once again, tinkering with his little pile of USB sticks that he was procrastinating on. August's greeting immediately struck Wilhelm as a red flag. He was being polite first thing in the morning? Surely someone had put hallucinogens in Wilhelm's coffee.
"Uh, good— good morning," he stammered, caught off-guard by his cousin's odd behavior.
August leaned his weight against the doorjamb, his expression wistful as if something had just occurred to him. "Listen, my shoulders are a little sore. Would you please get me an appointment at that massage place— you know the one."
Wilhelm grew more and more surprised by the second. "Would I please?" he asked dumbly, then he shook his head. "Um, sure. No problem." He turned to his computer to add it to August's calendar.
"And make sure the masseuse is a hot girl this time, okay?" August added because even when he was acting out of character, he was still August.
"Of course," Wilhelm muttered, typing a note into his computer to do the exact opposite.
"Good man," August returned with that condescending smile of his that made Wilhelm want to roll his eyes. He was hoping August would walk into his office then, but his cousin seemed to have more to say. "Say, Wille, do you play golf?"
Wilhelm was not expecting that non-sequitur. "Uh, no," he replied dryly. His father was an avid golfer, and Erik would go for a round with him every once in a while when he still lived in Sweden, but Wilhelm had never really been into it. Could hardly think of a more boring hobby, really.
"Ah. Shame. You should try it," August said in that "experienced older brother imparting wisdom" tone he often attempted but never quite landed. "I went golfing yesterday and it was very productive. It's an excellent environment to really measure up potential investees."
That piqued Wilhelm's curiosity. "Oh? Who are you thinking of investing with?" he asked, praying internally that he meant Englund and the HSF.
August played it coy. "It's not fully solid yet, but it looks promising. Put a pin on it, though; I'll deal you in when we're ready to take it to Aunt Kristina." He pointed at Wilhelm with his index finger, as if assigning him a mission. "Don't forget that appointment. My deltoids are killing me."
He walked into his office, leaving Wilhelm to mutter "Will do" under his breath at a closed door.
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After all that worrying, it was only a few minutes after he hung up with Wille that Englund hurried past Simon's cubicle. "Eriksson: my office!" he barked out without even looking at Simon as he spoke. He went into his office, leaving Simon behind to scrabble for the coffee, the pastries, and his clipboard.
He set the two formers on Englund's desk and opened the latter to take notes just as Englund dropped himself on his ergonomic chair with a loud groan. "You're going to have to help me with a bath."
Simon dutifully wrote down the request, mumbling the words under his breath as his pen flew over the paper. "Help you with a— Excuse me, what?" he said, doing a double take when he realized what he was saying. Was he being sexually harassed by his boss right now?
As if reading his mind, Englund glared at him. "A foot bath. A foot bath, like with sauna jets and stuff." He leaned back in his chair, his back arching with the movement, and stretched out his legs in front of him. "I went golfing with a potential sponsor yesterday and my feet are still paying the price."
Simon nodded when Englund's actual meaning dawned on him and wrote "Find foot bath" down on his to-do list. "I will Google the place nearest here where I can get one," he said, more to himself than to Englund, but Englund nodded either way.
"And I'm going to need you to compile a report," he added, straightening up again, "of the five to ten most successful projects our team has funded over the past five years. I'll need it as soon as possible."
Simon nodded. "So, something similar to the yearly review we do for the board, except for five years instead of one?"
"No," Englund corrected. "I mean the most successful in terms of reputation and profitability for our sponsors."
Simon thought back to all the reports they'd presented while he'd been working at HSF and still wasn't sure what Englund meant by that. "I... don't think we have that information," he said carefully, just in case he was missing something. "That sounds like something our sponsors would keep as part of their own internal data."
"Well, then you're going to have to call them and get it, aren't you?" Englund volleyed back matter-of-factly before turning to his computer to log into the system. Simon sighed, already dreading having to do this on top of his usual pile of work. So much for getting free time! He turned to leave.
"Eriksson," Englund called, and Simon turned back around immediately. His boss was preoccupied with his computer, not even looking at Simon at all, but he didn't need line of sight to issue orders. "The people who are requesting this report, it could be a really big deal, okay? So focus only on this. The team and I can handle everything else. The report is priority; I need it for this week at the latest."
"Yes, sir," Simon said, surprised by the sudden turn. Most of their biggest sponsorship partners, which were large corporations and thus more heavily regulated, usually kept their operations to regular office hours. There was little for him to do if the people he was supposed to get the information from were unavailable. So there might be some decent downtime in it for him yet, even if the report was urgent.
Buoyed by this unexpected glimmer of hope, he went back to his cubicle and got to work.
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Wille was just signing out at the receptionist's desk when he saw Simon poke his head into the Krona offices. "Hey," he said, grinning at Wille in a way that did not make his heart skip a beat— no, sir, it did not. Simon walked in, the glass door swinging closed behind him. "Guess what? Englund just left."
Wille returned the grin, lifting the sign-out log so Simon could see it. "So did August," he said, pointing at the time stamp on the sign-out sheet. "It's barely even dinnertime!"
"I know!" Simon agreed, laughing joyfully. His mirth fizzled down to a triumphant smirk. "Say, by any chance, did August play a round of golf yesterday?"
Wille definitely wasn't expecting that question. "Yes! How did you know that?" He didn't think he'd mentioned anything about it to Simon; they hadn't texted much that day. But then it hit him. "Wait, do you mean— Englund—"
"Mm-hmm," Simon said, glancing warningly to the side, where Krona's receptionist was following their conversation with a smile. Wille made a mental note not to say too much about their plan in front of other people. "We did it!"
"We did it," Wille echoed with a soft smile. Then, conscious of the eyes on them, he cleared his throat. "Um, I better get out of here before August decides to come back and pile more work on me." He hurriedly signed the sheet and handed it back to the receptionist. "Have a good night."
"Have fun, Wilhelm," the receptionist returned in kind. She sounded amused. And was Wille imagining things, or was there a suggestive undercurrent to her words? God, Wille had to be blatantly transparent if she'd caught his affection for Simon from just a quick exchange and a couple of smiles.
The thought lingered in Wille's mind as he and Simon made their way down the stairs. "So, um," he started with some hesitation, looking everywhere but at the back of Simon's head. "Did you wanna maybe get dinner together? To celebrate that our plan seems to be going well, I mean," he added when he realized how date-y his original question sounded. Or should he have made it sound more like a date? God, he was hopeless.
It didn't matter in the end, as Simon turned to look at him over his shoulder with an apologetic expression. "Ah," he said, seemingly surprised by the question. "That sounds fun, it's just... I can't tonight. Sorry." He paused as if unsure if he should say anything further. "I'm, uh... I have a date, actually."
Wille's steps halted without him even consciously intending it. His heart felt like it was record-scratching, too. "Oh," he said dumbly. It was all he could say, as it was impossible to reconcile the myriad of thoughts running through his mind at the moment. He thought there'd been a hint of... something between him and Simon— had he just imagined it? Or if he hadn't imagined it, had he done something to put Simon off? Should he have made his interest more obvious? Should he have asked Simon out earlier? Because now it felt like he'd missed his chance. He'd missed his chance, hadn't he?
"You, um," he finally cobbled together after entirely too long a pause, "you hadn't mentioned you were seeing someone."
"I'm not," Simon said quickly, turning to look up at Wille from a few steps below. "He just— my sister introduced us. We only started talking over the weekend. This will be the first time we go out."
"So it's like a blind date, then," Wille summarized, unsure if that made things better or worse.
"Kind of, but not really," Simon tried to explain. "I mean, I know what he looks like. And we've been texting back and forth over the past couple of days. This is just the first time we're meeting in person." He tried for a smile, putting a little pep in his voice. "We're going to do karaoke."
Wille knew it was petty, but he couldn't hold back a scoff. "Well, that's a terrible idea," he muttered, ostensibly to himself, but Simon was looking straight at him, so he couldn't miss it.
He knew it had been a mistake to react that way when Simon's expression darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, defensive.
"Nothing, just—" Wille tried to backtrack. It's not like he could explain that the jealousy and disappointment had clouded his mind and severed his brain-to-mouth connection for one brief moment of idiocy. "I'm just saying, I heard you sing at the football game, and there's no way he can compete."
"It's not a competition," Simon threw back sharply. "And I heard you sing at the football game; I hardly think you have any ground to stand on when it comes to judging other people's vocal talents. Who knows? He might like my singing."
I like your singing! Wille wanted to say but knew he couldn't. Instead, he shrugged. "I'm just saying, they always like the things you're better at than them until they don't." He knew he was just digging himself in deeper, but he couldn't help it; he just felt really hurt.
"You don't even know him," Simon countered angrily. "I don't even know him."
"I know! It's just—" Wille ran his hands through his hair, letting out a frustrated huff. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."
"Well, I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." Simon scowled at him, and Wille felt something inside him wither. "I don't need you to protect me, Wilhelm." The way he used Wille's full name rather than his nickname made Wille flinch.
Simon shook his head, let down at the way Wille had reacted to all of this. "You know what? I'm just gonna go. I don't want to be late." He spun on his heel and continued down the stairs at a resolute clip.
That's when Wille knew that he'd messed up. Big time. And he was filled with dread at the thought that, if he let Simon walk away like this, things may never be the same between them again.
"No, Simon—" He hurried after him, two steps at a time. "Wait, wait, wait—" He landed on the lower floor, just quickly enough to get a hold of Simon's shirtsleeve, effectively stopping him.
He walked around Simon so they could stand face to face, meeting the other man's unamused stare. "Sorry. I just..." He sighed. "I've told you how cautious I am with relationships and stuff. I guess I was projecting my fears onto you. It came from a place of genuine concern, I swear. But I was way over the line. I'm sorry."
As he spoke, the tautness in Simon's frame and expression started to soften. "Okay. I understand," he finally relented, if a little grudgingly. "Just... don't do that again, okay? It feels like you're judging me, somehow."
"I would never." Wille shook his head. "I'm sorry, again. And... I'm sure this guy you're going out with will be really nice." He tried for a supportive smile but wasn't sure he quite got there. It was hard to be supportive when his heart felt like it was getting crushed.
It seemed to be enough for Simon, though. "Thanks. I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" He adjusted the strap of his bag as he waited for Wille's response.
"Mm-hmm," Wille said, nodding. "Have fun." He waited until Simon disappeared into the elevator to pull his cell phone out with a sigh. Since he had no plans for the night, after all, he might as well call his friends to see if they wanted to do something.
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It turned out, Felice and Maddie were still coming down from their club-hopping adventure on Saturday, so they begged off on doing anything big for at least another couple of days. Wille, then, settled down for a quiet evening at home. He'd watch some Netflix, maybe get some decent sleep for once.
At the moment, he was making himself some basic dinner. Wille greatly enjoyed cooking. He didn't get to do much of it while growing up in his parents' home— they had a private chef for that, and when the chef wasn't around, his father would pick up the slack— but when he moved out to live with Erik, he'd discovered the joy of making his own food. He wasn't great at it; he liked to try a lot of different, difficult stuff, and most of the time the result was barely passable. But when it did work out well, he would be really proud of himself. Those rare victories kept him going.
So while he stirred his hopefully not-going-to-stick-to-the-pan attempt at a risotto, he propped up his phone against the container where he kept his flour, and made a video call. It had been a while since he'd talked to his brother.
"Is something wrong? What happened? Who died?" were Erik's first words when he picked up the call, in place of a greeting.
Wille frowned, confused. "Why would you assume something's wrong? Can't I just call you for a chat?"
Erik leaned to the side as if attempting to see behind Wille (which he couldn't because this was a video call and Wille was two-dimensional on his screen— Erik just liked being dramatic). "It's daylight," he pointed out smartly.
Wille rolled his eyes. "It's summer. It's always daylight."
"You know what I mean," Erik countered with a shake of his head. "You're usually at work at this hour."
"Well, I got off early today." Wille picked up a little bit of the risotto on a spoon and blew on it before tasting it; it needed a bit more salt. He continued speaking as he added an extra pinch. "Work's been going really well recently, actually. I think August might finally recommend me for a promotion soon."
"That's great, Wille," Erik said. "Just... you don't have to be like August. You know that, right? I mean, God knows I love him like a brother, but he's a bit too far gone on the lifestyle"— He made air quotes with his fingers— "for anything I say to be able to reach him."
"I don't want to be like August," Wille retorted as he went back to stirring his food, "I just want to prove myself. Once I make associate, I will only have to deal with August when absolutely necessary."
"But is that what you really want?" Erik returned smartly. "You don't need to prove yourself to anyone, Wille. You don't have to be who Mamma wants you to be. You have to do what's best for you."
Wille let his brother speak, but found himself shaking his head through it all, his jaw clenching almost involuntarily. When Erik finished speaking, Wille finally pulled back, dropping his stirring spoon on the counter maybe a little bit too harshly.
"Well, that's easy for you to say," he snapped, "since who Mamma wants me to be is you."
The words left his mouth like an anvil. The heavy silence after allowed Wille to actually hear what he'd just said, and he immediately knew he was being unfair. "I'm sorry. That's not your fault."
"It's okay, little brother," came the soft response on the other end of the line. Erik didn't look offended; he just seemed concerned. "I also hate that my leaving put so much pressure on you."
"But you still left," Wille mumbled, gaze low, fingers picking at the edge of the countertop.
"I had to, Wille," Erik said with a sigh. "You know that. It was bigger than you or me."
"I know," Wille said, and he meant it. The information Erik had revealed on his way out had gone off like a bomb not just within the firm, but also within the Swedish financial establishment and, more importantly, the regulatory apparatus. What Erik did was important. Even if it went against the family. Even if it ended with Wille having to take on the family legacy all by himself.
And the truth was, it was important to Wille, too. He could never wish for Erik not to do what he did, because it meant a lot to him, too. On a personal level. He appreciated it because he knew Erik had also done it for him, in a way. He only hated it because it ended up with his brother living hundreds of kilometers away.
"But let's talk about something else, alright?" Erik suggested, and Wille was only all too happy to go with it. "So you have a night off, for once. What are you up to?"
Wille shrugged. "I'm just having a night in. I asked Felice and Maddie if they wanted to do something, but they weren't up to it today."
"Mm-hmm," Erik sing-songed, and Wille held back a groan— that meant he had some teasing coming his way. "You know, if you had more friends, maybe you'd have someone else to hang out with tonight."
Wille scoffed. "I have other friends!" he defended himself. He knew Erik had a point, but he wasn't going to just admit it. "In fact, just a few days ago"— eh, more like a couple of weeks— "I was hanging out"— or more like scheming together— "with Henry and Walter"— and Simon, most importantly— "so there."
Erik shook his head, dismissive. "Henry and Walter are acquaintances at best, and you know it." He gave Wille a pointed look. "And Felice and Madison are great, but they have their own lives. I know who I go home to at the end of each day. I want you to have that, too. Not even as a romantic partner or anything, just... someone."
"You're the one who's always telling me we have to be careful who we open up to!" Wille countered because that was how they'd been raised. That's why Erik leaving was such a betrayal, exposing the internal dealings of the family business to external, prying eyes. That's why August went about life not caring about anyone but himself and his status; it was better not to trust anyone than having people take advantage of you.
But Wille couldn't be like that, and they both knew it. "I've told you that you have to be careful, yes, but that doesn't mean you should close yourself off," Erik clarified.
"I don't close myself off," Wille said. He was aware he sounded like a petulant teenager, but that was pretty much always the dynamic between them: Erik would always be the wise big brother, and Wille would always be the rebellious younger one. No matter how old they got, that was just the way they worked.
"Okay, then tell me this," Erik urged, "who do you go to if you want to have an intimate, meaningful conversation with someone? And Felice and Madison don't count."
Wille shrugged. "I call you."
"That's not what I'm for!" Erik retorted with a surprised chuckle. "I mean, of course I'll be there for you whenever you need me, but I'm also fifteen hundred kilometers away, Wille. You need someone who's there beside you, someone you can hold."
He had a point, although Wille was reluctant to admit it. He'd always been a very tactile person; he cherished physical touch and a sense of connection with someone. Felice and Maddie were great, and certainly had no problem with physically displaying their affection for him— which Wille loved them for— but he knew that wasn't what Erik meant. Wille was wary of opening up to others, but at the same time, he longed for a deeper bond with someone, romantic or otherwise, and those two inclinations pulled him in opposite directions until there was a crack in the middle of him, filled with loneliness.
At least when Erik was around, they helped each other carry that inherent loneliness. But Erik got out, and he found himself a partner to share his life with, and Wille was left with... what?
"I guess I thought... it might be..." Simon, he thought, the name on the tip of his tongue. Any sane person would think it weird that he was so into this guy he'd known only for a few weeks, but that was why Wille knew Simon was special. Wille was so cautious about these things, usually, but he felt so drawn toward Simon in a way he'd never felt with anyone else. In a way that was irresistible to him.
Although... guess that wasn't enough, was it? Not when Simon didn't see him the same way. He'd found someone else to spend his time with. Someone better, maybe. Wille shook his head. "...no. Never mind," he dismissed quickly.
Not quickly enough for Erik, though. "Wait, what was that pause?"
"Nothing," Wille said right away. "There was no pause."
"Yes, there was," Erik shot back, not buying his denial for even a second. He stared at Wille for a beat, as if trying to figure him out, before his mouth started curling up into a shit-eating grin. "You've met someone," he stated, rather than asked.
"What? No," Wille tried to deflect with a way-too-emphatic scoff. "That's not— I haven't—"
"...And now you're getting all red," Erik pointed out, entirely too amused. Not for the first time, Wille cursed his fair skin that made even the lightest blush stand out like a stoplight. "So it's like a dating thing, right?"
"I'm not dating anyone," Wille continued in his denial.
"But you're definitely interested," Erik volleyed back, still one step ahead of his flustered little brother. "See, this is exactly the kind of opportunity I think you should take! Why haven't you asked them out?"
Wille shook his head. "I can't— I—" He ran his hands over his face and into his hair, clutching tightly at the roots in frustration. "I think I missed my chance, Erik."
Erik gave him a look of disbelief. "I'm sure that's not true."
"He's literally on a date with someone else at this exact moment," Wille disclosed dejectedly.
Erik thought about it for a heartbeat or two. "You mean like a first date?" At Wille's nod, his expression brightened. "Well, then. Who knows? The date might go terribly! Don't lose hope just yet, little brother."
Wille couldn't help but make a face. "Isn't that kind of awful? To be rooting for his date to go terribly?"
Erik shook his head. "We're not rooting for his date to go terribly. We're just stating a fact that it might." Wille had to admit that sounded pretty reasonable. "I'm not saying it's great that he's on a date with someone else, but it's not like he's getting married, right? If it doesn't work out with this person, then you might still have a shot. Don't despair just yet."
Erik smiled encouragingly. "Now, tell me about him," he requested.
Wille groaned, embarrassed, but knew he couldn't dodge it anymore. "His name is Simon," he admitted reluctantly. "He works at an LGBTQ+ nonprofit in my office building, and he's..." He sighed. "I've never met anyone like him, Erik. There's no pretense with Simon. He's... he's just real."
His brother's smile softened at that description. "Well, sounds like someone worth fighting for, then," Erik said elatedly, a glimmer of pride in his gaze that Wille cherished. "Don't throw in the towel just yet. If it's meant to happen, it'll happen. And you deserve to have someone wonderful in your life, Wille."
"Thanks," Wille said, a little bashfully. He didn't feel as confident about it as Erik sounded, but he really hoped his brother was right.
"Okay, I gotta go now," Erik said, "but call me next time you get off early, yeah? I promise not to freak out."
"I will," Wille said. Certainly, one of the benefits of not having to spend eighteen hours a day at work or thinking about work was that he could call his brother more often. They didn't get to talk as often as he would like. "Say hi to your wife for me," he added in a teasing tone.
"We're not married yet," Erik replied in a similar tone.
"Yeah, and why is that?" Wille kept poking. "Like, are you planning to propose anytime soon? Because, you know, if I need to start planning a trip to London in the near future, I'm going to need to have all the info ahead of time."
"Only if you bring Simon with you," Erik shot back with a devilish grin, prompting Wille to groan loudly.
"You're so annoying!" he said, but he was also laughing, the softball insult losing all its sting. "Why do you always have to—" He was cut off by a loud beeping. It took him a beat to realize that it was the smoke alarm. "Shit! My risotto!"
Erik's laughter rang out of the phone's speaker as Wille lunged to turn off the stove and move the risotto— now definitely stuck to the pan and, in fact, starting to carbonize— to the back burner. "I guess I'll leave you to it," his brother said, entirely too amused. "Have a nice night off, little brother!"
Wille didn't even get to say bye back, busy as he was trying to salvage even a little bit of his dinner.
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Perhaps a noisy karaoke bar was not the best place for Simon and his date to get to know each other, but he was damn well going to try.
"...I mean, I don't get any overtime pay," he admitted, because that is where the conversation had led when Marcus asked him about his job, somehow, "but! Benjamin Ingrosso did appear at our holiday gala last year, and that is just as good."
Marcus nodded seriously like Simon had just stated an irrefutable truth. "That's fair." He tried to keep a straight face but couldn't hold it, breaking out into chuckles a moment later. "So, did you get to sing with him?"
Simon scoffed. "Are you kidding? I didn't even get to talk to him," he said, shaking his head. "If it's not my team that puts on the event, I'm not allowed to interact with the talent."
"Pity. Maybe next time?" Marcus suggested with a grin. Clearly, Sara had to have told him that Simon enjoyed singing. "I think the two of you could do an amazing duet."
Simon had to smile. Sure, maybe Marcus was laying it on a bit too thick, but it was a first date, and quite frankly, this tended to work for Simon, this flirty compliments thing— it was nice to feel like someone was into you. "You haven't even heard me sing," he pointed out coyly.
"Well, we should change that, then, shouldn't we?" Marcus said, grabbing hold of the songs folder that was on every table at the bar and opening it so that Simon could read off it as well.
Looking down at the list of songs in front of him, Simon felt a heaviness in his chest. Not because he didn't like the selection or anything— all of a sudden, he just couldn't stop thinking about Wille's words from earlier: They always like the things you're better at than them until they don't.
Would Marcus be that way? Simon didn't get that vibe, but he couldn't help but wonder. Was that terrible of him? And why was he letting Wille get in his head right now? Why was he even thinking of Wille at all? The whole idea of going out with Marcus tonight was so he would stop thinking about Wille all the time. Why couldn't he do that? Marcus seemed like a perfectly nice guy, and the least Simon could do was give him a fair chance.
He looked down at the folder again. "I'm— I don't think— I don't think this is a good idea," he stammered, struggling to come up with a valid reason not to do this when he'd been the one to initiate this date.
"Come on; we've been sitting here for too long already," Marcus said as he passed the pages. "You choose the song. Which one's your favorite?" He pushed the open folder directly under Simon's line of sight, leaving the selection up to him.
Simon shook his head. "No, I-I don't do karaoke."
Marcus gave him a look. "This is a karaoke place," he pointed out with a grin. Simon cringed sheepishly, realizing what a dumb thing that was for him to say, but Marcus only chuckled, not bothered in the least. "It's not a big deal. We'll do it together, yeah?"
"No, no, I—"
"And I know exactly which song." He pointed to the page the folder was currently open to. "Carola."
Simon looked down at the page. "'Love isn't love'?"
Marcus grinned at him, obviously excited. "'Love isn't love,'" he concurred. He stood up, extending a hand to Simon. "Let's do this. It'll be fun; I promise." He waved his hand in front of Simon, insistently.
Simon shook his head, but the corners of his lips were turning up. Marcus's zeal was actually really contagious. "No," he said, just to be contrary.
"Yes," Marcus retorted, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet, tugging him toward the front of the room where a little makeshift stage and a handful of microphones were located. Simon kept playfully refusing all the way, but he was laughing at the same time, and the people sitting at the tables they passed by clapped encouragingly at them.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Marcus said into a mic once he was done setting up the song on the proffered tablet, "I present to you, from the beautiful, parochial town of Bjärstad, in the heart of Östergötland County—"
Simon leaned in so he could speak into the microphone as well. "I've been living here in Stockholm for six years, and he's never been to my hometown," he explained quickly in a deliberately dry, no-nonsense tone that made a few of the people in the front laugh.
Marcus continued speaking like he hadn't been interrupted. "—the one, the only: Simon Eriksson!" He gestured for people to clap, and the people around them were nice enough to humor him. Simon just rolled his eyes with a smile.
Then the music started, and Marcus signaled for him to take the lead. Finding himself with a roomful of people waiting for him to do something, Simon's performer instincts, which had been sadly set aside for years of assistant work, clicked into gear. Taking the microphone up to his mouth, he started singing about falling in love with a stranger.
"One starry night, we made it right forever..."
Marcus joined him in the next verse, and Simon had to stop singing to laugh his head off. The poor man sounded like a dying hyena, but what he lacked in vocal talent, he more than made up in enthusiasm. There was no inhibition in him whatsoever, no sense of shame or embarrassment, and the crowd loved it.
"I thought I knew love, but then a true love came my waaaaaaayyyyyyy...!"
Simon pushed the mic away from his mouth and against Marcus's chest so the sound of his snort wouldn't resonate around the room at the extended high note Marcus had just mercilessly butchered. Marcus smiled at him with clear affection in his eyes.
Simon grinned mischievously and pulled the mic back to his mouth. Well, if what the people wanted was a show, he was inclined to give it to them. He turned to the audience, clapping along to the song's rhythm. "Love isn't love without this feeling..."
The people at the tables near them started clapping along, and soon enough the entire room was doing the same. He exchanged a glance with Marcus, who winked at him slyly.
Simon had to admit he was having fun.
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It was around lunchtime the next day that it hit Simon that he hadn't heard from Wille all day. Which was weird, because normally they'd be texting each other from early on in the morning— to synchronize Englund and August's schedules, of course. For their scheme. No other reason.
But today, it had been radio silence. And it felt weird.
Simon knew they'd left off on a somewhat awkward note the previous day, but he hoped Wille didn't think he was mad at him or something. Yes, he'd been annoyed at Wille's comments about his date, but Wille had apologized, and Simon didn't want to hold a grudge. As far as he was concerned, things between them were fine, and their plan was still ongoing.
Of course, it was entirely possible that Wille was just really busy, but maybe Simon should reach out, just to make sure Wille wasn't thinking the worst? He put the last satsuma wedge in his mouth and wiped his hands with a napkin before grabbing his phone.
Hey, he texted nonchalantly. How are you doing? Did you end up doing anything fun last night?
It took a few minutes for Wille to respond, but that wasn't unusual; they could both get caught up on work, after all. What was unusual was the lack of a greeting, though. I kinda nearly burned my apartment down, but apart from that, it was fine.
Simon was immediately alarmed by the casual mention of a possible fire. Omg! Are you okay? Was there any permanent damage? he replied quickly, worried.
It took Wille maybe a minute or two to reply, which told Simon that he probably was rather busy, indeed. It wasn't a big deal. Just something of a cooking mishap. The only thing that's damaged is my pride.
Simon was relieved to hear that, but at the same time, it felt like something was off. There was something in Wille's tone in those last few texts that came off a little... curt?... in a way that seemed out of character for him. That's good, he texted back, because he didn't know what else to say.
It seemed like Wille wasn't quite sure what to say, either, because Simon could see him starting to type a message and then stopping. Starting again, then stopping. Simon couldn't tell if he was composing a really long message, or if he was typing something short but deleting it over and over again.
It took even longer— nearly five minutes this time— but the message, when it came, was clearly of the latter kind. How did your date go?
Simon stared at those five words for probably longer than he should have, feeling the pit of his stomach clench because, on the one hand, it was somewhat thrilling that Wille cared enough to be thinking about it, enough to ask about it, a day later. On the other hand, after their argument the previous day, Simon was dreading him even bringing it up.
It was good, Simon texted back. And it wasn't a lie, but he also didn't want to delve so deeply into the details of his karaoke night that it landed them in the same awkward position they left things the day before.
Once again came the typing and stopping, and the longer it went on, the more that dread started to congeal in Simon's gut. You don't sound excited about it, was what Wille said next. Clearly, he wasn't satisfied with Simon's vague answer.
Simon frowned down at his phone. He didn't owe Wille every single detail of his night out with Marcus; they weren't that kind of friends. At the same time, though, there was a part of him that bristled at how smug Wille sounded, both yesterday and just now. Like he, and only he, knew what Simon wanted, what he needed in a romantic prospect. And Simon wanted to stomp that smugness out of him. No, I am, Simon insisted, trying to toe the line between those two instincts.
Okay. Are you going to see him again? came the follow-up.
Probably. Truth be told, Simon hadn't even thought about it; Marcus was nice, and he'd had fun, but that was about it. The thing was, it was none of Wille's business. And Simon wasn't going to center his decisions about his (potential) romantic life around Wille's opinion. If anything, he was making these decisions to avoid thinking about Wille in a romantic context altogether. So if he ended up going on a second date with Marcus out of spite, well, he could do worse.
Right. That's good.
Simon's frown only deepened at that. "That's good"? Now he was trying to be supportive, after everything? What did that even mean?
Yeah, Simon sent back, hoping that would be the end of that. Confused and frankly annoyed, he locked his phone and put it face down on his desk. Getting up, he picked up his satsuma peels so he could drop them in the trash, then headed to the bathroom to wash his hands.
Just as he sat back down upon his return, his phone chimed with a text notification. He had to push down a spark of irritation. Did Wille intend to continue pushing this topic neither of them, clearly, was comfortable with?
When he checked his phone, however, he found that it wasn't Wille who had texted, but rather Marcus. Hey! Last night was fun, he said affably. I was wondering if you'd want to hang out again soon? You could come over to my place. I'll make you dinner, and maybe we could watch a movie after.
Simon bit his lip, unsure. Stupid Wille. Now he felt weird about saying yes to a perfectly acceptable second date.
One more message came through as he was staring at the chat. No rush, though. Just let me know if you're ever up for it.
Simon sighed. He was about to respond— something along the lines of "I'll let you know if I get time off work," he figured— when a loud bellow made its way to him from Englund's office. "Eriksson!"
He put his phone down and went to check what was wrong. When he peeked in, he saw Englund with his VoIP phone against his ear, frantically pressing buttons on the phone's base. "This stupid phone isn't working," he said, clearly irked (but then again, when wasn't he?). "The messages aren't coming through."
Simon signaled for him to wait for a second and went back to his cubicle, picking up his own VoIP device which was set up to connect to Englund's so he could screen all his calls. "No, it seems to be working fine," he informed Englund when the system let him connect to the message inbox without a problem. "You just don't have any messages."
"I'm expecting a very important message!" Englund threw back, his face turning a distressing shade of puce in his intensity. "It should be there! The phone must have eaten it!" He was looking at Simon as if expecting him to solve the problem, but Simon had no idea what to do— he had no technical expertise short of calling someone in IT, and that was a company expense he knew Englund wouldn't appreciate.
But then it hit him: it was August. Englund was waiting to hear back from August, but August was ghosting him, and Englund's pride wouldn't let him acknowledge that. "...Oh!" He signaled for Englund to wait again. "I know what the problem is. I'll fix it!"
He rushed back to his cubicle and grabbed his phone. It unlocked to his chat screen with Marcus, whose last message he still hadn't replied to. For a second, he contemplated typing something quick and sending it. But then he shook his head and clicked out of that chat, opening instead his conversation with Wille. Determinedly not looking at the earlier messages, he quickly typed the words, bookended with several red police light emojis:
August needs to contact Englund ASAP!
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August and Wilhelm got on the elevator, coming back to the office after a lunch meeting at Sällskapet. August was staring at his phone, as usual. Wilhelm fidgeted beside him, trying to figure out how to breach the subject he was meant to bring up without making it blatantly obvious what he was doing. "You know, it's kind of funny..."
The only response from August was a disinterested grunt.
Wilhelm didn't let it deter him. "It's kind of funny how business deals are almost like dating, in a way." August didn't look up, but Wilhelm heard him scoff under his breath, so he was fairly certain he was listening. "Yeah, like when you go out with a girl and you have a good time, but you can't call her the next day because you don't want to seem like you're too into it, right?" he said, trying to put things in a way August would vibe with.
"But then if you wait too long," he continued, "she starts feeling like you're just not that into her, and she might move on with someone else, and then you've lost your shot." He punctuated the sentence with a shrug.
That finally got August to glance his way— a skeptical look, at that. "What the hell does that have to do with business?" he asked derisively.
Wilhelm cleared his throat, trying to come up with an explanation on the fly that would keep his point from going over August's head altogether. "I mean, it's kind of like how you can't take too long to seal a deal, because then the other party might think you're not serious about it and might back out, I guess?"
August frowned, but it seemed like he was at least trying to understand the analogy. "I guess," he muttered, before going back down to his phone. "What would you even know about dating girls, anyway?" he asked, eyes glued to the screen.
Wilhelm had to fight not to roll his eyes. His cousin knew very well that he identified as queer, and that he didn't feel comfortable defining specific genders he may or may not be attracted to because, quite frankly, he couldn't know for sure. But August insisted on reducing his sexual orientation to "gay" because he couldn't— or wouldn't— bother to understand the nuances of being non-straight, and oh, how Wilhelm wished he could call him out on it. Unfortunately, he just had to hold his tongue if he wanted that promotion.
So instead he just shook his head and threw out what he hoped would be his trump card. "Oh, yeah. That was just... something Erik mentioned the last time we spoke." He shrugged. "I thought it made a lot of sense."
August peeked in Wilhelm's direction again. "Erik said that?" he asked, and that's when Wilhelm knew he had him. Hook, line, and sinker. Wilhelm might have been pushed by his mother to be Erik, but August wanted to be Erik. He admired his older cousin more than anyone in the world and had been devastated at Erik's betrayal of the firm and his subsequent move away from Sweden.
But a lifetime of looking up to Erik was hard to shake, so despite that, as far as August was concerned, Erik's business instincts were flawless, and every little bit of advice he imparted was to be followed. So if "Erik" had said that a successful dealmaker shouldn't string potential business partners along, August was going to take that as gospel. Or, well, that's what Wilhelm hoped.
He nodded in response to August's question. August just stared for a bit longer, like he was thinking about it. "Huh. I guess that makes some sense," he mumbled to himself before going back to his phone.
As they got to the office, though, he asked Wilhelm to put in a call to a certain Mr. Englund at HSF. Wilhelm got on it straight away. He smirked triumphantly as he dialed the number.
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Simon nearly jumped when the VoIP phone rang. He was about to pick up the call when he heard Englund yell from his office. "I'll get it!"
The older man spoke into the phone. "Mr. Horn! I've been expecting your call..." There was a pause. "Oh, you're the assistant. Yes, I'll hold..." Englund conceded, deadpan and with a sigh at the end. Simon chuckled.
There were a few seconds of silence before Englund spoke again, this time with noticeably more energy. "August! It's good to hear from you again. We're expecting to send you that report you asked for in the next couple of days..."
As the conversation over the phone line got more and more involved, Simon had to smile. It was good to know that even if things were a little bit tense between him and Wille, they still made an excellent team.
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Author's notes!—
Listen, I wrote the first half of this while getting through heavy, night-is-day-and-day-is-night jet lag, and then I got sick. So, like... cut me some slack here. xD
The deltoids are the muscles that form the rounded corners of the shoulders. A risotto is an Italian dish consisting of rice cooked in broth and mixed with cheese until it reaches a creamy consistency. Benjamin Ingrosso is a Swedish singer/songwriter/producer; he had a lovely duet with Omar in his album "OMR," a cover of "La Incondicional" by Mexican singer Luis Miguel. "Love Isn't Love" is the English version of the song "Främling" ("Stranger") by Swedish popstar Carola Häggkvist, which she performed in the 1983 Eurovision Song Contest. Simon and Marcus also sing the Swedish version in episode one of season two of the show.
Next up: Sometimes you think having a bucketful of pet frogs would be fun, but then you actually get one, and you realize you didn't really want them after all. (How's that for cryptic? Lol.)
I have recorded, am editing and uploading episode reactions for season two; the first two episodes are already up on my vlog, and the third one, as well as the rest, will soon be posted exclusively to my P-treon along with the untagged versions of the first two, so if you're into that kind of stuff, be sure to subscribe and check those out!
I'm no longer on Twitter, but you can find me on Tumblr (girls-are-weird), Mastodon (girls_are_weird), Post (cpinillad), or even on Discord if you want to chat with me. Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated! I'll see you guys on the next one.
