Chapter Eight - Simon Struck
Part 1 - Angry Wille
Wille's eyes fall on his mother, and he glares. Hard and angry. This is her fault, did she not think to get a nurse to tell him? That's the nurse's job, not hers. She just caused him a panic attack and to throw up. Wille can tell she's trying, he thinks that if Simon hadn't had that talk with her, she wouldn't even be in the building, but she's honestly just making shit worse. Wille's close to asking her to leave.
"Are you good now?" Simon asked, completely unaware of the raging storm of thoughts in Wille's mind.
Wille nodded, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand despite having a towel, eyes pinned on his mother, who was beginning to look slightly concerned by the fire in her son's eyes.
"Wille," Simon followed his gaze to Kristina, before tracing it back to him. "Wille." He said again, this time firmer, clearly catching onto the key source of Wille's anger.
"I'm sorry Wilhelm, if I knew it would stress you out that much I wouldn't have said anything." Queen Kristina said, head held high as she spoke, not even a touch of actual regret in her voice.
Wilhelm doesn't care. He doesn't. She can apologise three million times and he still. Won't. Care.
He ground his teeth, clenching his fists. He wants to scream, to shout, to punch a wall or a window, something he can break and that'll make him fucking bleed. Wille's so done with her bullshit, she keeps apologising and then not changing anything. Maybe he's overreacting, but he just can't see that. Sleep deprivation, starvation, stress, depression, it's all adding up and clodding his brain
"Wille," Simon repeated, nudging Wille's foot with his own.
"What, Simon? Are you going to tell me to calm down? Take a deep breath? Because no, I'm so done with being calm and - and all of that bullshit." Wilhelm shot at him, his anger needing a source to explode on, and that just happened to be Simon right now.
Simon winced, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting Wille's again. He feels guilt. He shouldn't snap at Simon, he hasn't done anything. He should snap at his mother.
Wilhelm turned to her. "This is all actually your fault, literally all of it. We're only here because of you - "
"Wilhelm." Kristina interrupted, her voice calm. The nurse looks distressed, Martin standing just out of Wilhelm's immediate view. "You do need to calm down. I think you should eat something, and go to sleep."
Her words instantly throw fuel onto the climbing fire inside Wille. Oh he's been waiting for this moment.
The nurse decided to step in. "Actually, we need to transport the Crown Prince to the inpatient hospitalization as soon as possible, Your Majesty."
"I don't want to go to a fucking psych ward!" Wille yelled, jumping to his feet, the puke dangerously close to his socks.
"Language Wilhelm! It's not a psych ward." Kristina said, her posture now rigid. Wille's just waiting for her to snap back at him, then he'll have even more reason to argue with her.
"Really?! You're still worrying about me swearing?!" He yelled, voice cracking. "You - I -" Wille stumbled over his words. He's furious, he has a million things he wants to say, but nothing fits that reply. He wants to rant at her, scream at her about how he's been ignored, how she favoured Erik, how she was a horrible person.
Part 2 - Sad Wille, angry Wille, insecure and emotionally drained Simon, Wilmonnnnn, a nurse disappears, like I don't know where she went.
Context: Everyone was asked to leave the room after Wilhelm threw up, but Kristina, Simon, and the doctors stayed.
Wille nodded. He's not okay, but he's done throwing up.
The first nurse looked between Simon and Wilhelm a few times with a slightly questioning expression, clearly wondering where this random boy came from. "Come with me, Crown Prince, we'll find you another room," she finally spoke.
Wille nodded again, standing up shakily. Simon stood up as well, offering an arm for Wille to steady himself on, which he clasped tightly, and they hobbled out the room behind the first nurse together. Queen Kristina watched them, judgement and betrayal swirling in her dark eyes as she watched her son be more comfortable with another boy than with her.
Wille knows his mother was just trying to help, but she doesn't seem to know how. It feels like she's forgotten how to parent.
There's an additional female bodyguard standing next to Malin. The four bodyguards are all spread out along the hall, and Wille hates to think it's because of the 3 guests.
They walked past Sara and Linda, Linda offered an encouraging smile, and Sara nodded, a tight-lipped smile straining on her face, rocking from her toes to her heels. He feels guilty that he caused her to feel anxious, he tried to warn them he was about to throw up, but he was a little too late.
Behind him, he can hear his mother's heels as she follows at a longer distance, but still coming along as the nurse takes him to a room a few doors down.
"Are there other patients on this floor?" Wille asked as the nurse opened the door and turned the lights on.
"A few, but none near your room." The nurse replied. "The other rooms aren't prepared though: no sheets, not the right equipment, etcetera..." She trailed off, dragging the privacy curtain away from the bed.
Wilhelm nodded, letting go of Simon's arm to walk into the identical room, hovering next to the bed, not quite sure what to do now.
He's still kind of in shock, inpatient hospitalisation, that's a mouthful. No visitors but family. Which means he can't see Simon, Linda or Sara. Can they make exceptions? His immediate family now consists of two people he doesn't like or want to see, ever. He doesn't even want to go. Spend a week there, will he have to interact with other people? He has so, so many questions.
"Is there anything we can get you, Crown Prince?" The nurse asked, dragging a chair over to be positioned next to the bed.
"No, thanks." Wille replied despite all his questions, it was an instinctive reply. He turned to the window, walking over a few steps to stand in front of it.
Martin walked in and sat in another chair in the corner, pulling out his book as nothing happened, removing his bookmark and continuing to read.
Wille stared down at the cars milling past, the headlights are bright in the dark: red, orange and white. Hundreds of different cars flood the streets, black, white, blue, silver, a few yellow ones, nothing out of the ordinary. It sounds like any main road, screeching brakes, the occasional honking horn, and tires on wet asphalt. A siren rings as an ambulance with flashing lights zooms down the road, cars pulling out the way to let the speeding car pass. Wille watches it fly into the car park and disappear somewhere under him in a blur of yellow, green and red.
Simon steps up to stand next to him, also looking down out the window. Wille can feel the heat radiating off him as their shoulders brush.
Wille glanced at him, noting his clenched jaw and fast blinking. Wille also noticed his slightly frizzed curls, like he's just gotten out of bed, his rumpled clothes, and how he smells like fast food and the overall smell that Simon always has. It's the scent he's had right from the first time they interacted, all the way to now. Wille can't describe it, but if someone gave him a clothing item with that smell, he'd say it's Simon's scent. It sounds kinda weird, but it makes sense to him.
Simon took a very slow, deep breath, exhaling equally as slowly, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check.
"I should probably go." He started, not moving his eyes from a single spot outside the window.
Wille doesn't want him to go, the hospital feels so big and empty without him and his smile.
"When can I see you again?" Wille asked, his own eyes trailing out the window, tracing a white car down the road.
Simon shrugged helplessly. "I -" He glanced at Wilhelm. "School?" He phrased it like a question. "I don't know when you'll be out of the - the inpatient... thing." Simon's clearly trying to be strong for Wilhelm, to not cry, not make the situation any worse. Especially because the Queen is sitting behind them in that chair next to the bed, watching with a piercing gaze they can both feel.
If Simon leaves, she'll try to talk to Wille, and he does not want that. What is there to talk about? The plan which I made and then fucked up, probably continuing therapy, her apologising again... All things I really, really don't want to talk to her about.
"Mama," Wille turned to his mother, finally acknowledging her presence.
"What?" She asked, face painfully blank.
Simon stayed facing the window as Wille spoke. "Can Simon visit me while I'm in that hospital thingie?"
Queen Kristina stayed frozen, a perfect mask of calm and collected, which is a dead giveaway that she's anything but. "I don't know Wilhelm." She said shortly. Her gaze shifted to Simon, then the door, a simple way of saying without speaking "he needs to leave". Wille resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her, and turned back to the window with Simon.
"She sucks." He whispered to him, pretending his mother can't hear.
Simon smiled slightly, but wisely said nothing.
Wille chewed on his lip, trying to think of the right thing to say when Simon spoke. "Are you nervous?" He asked.
Wille sighed shakily, glancing at Simon, who was looking back at him, now the lights are on in the room Wille can even more clearly see the details in his face, the light bags under his eyes hurt, those were never there at school.
"Yeah, I am. I ... I know that people will find out, there's no way I won't get seen being taken in or out of hospital, it's only a matter of days until my absence at Hillerska is leaked to the public." Wille rambled, Simon didn't interrupt, watching him silently. "And people will judge, because that's just what they do. Not everyone will, of course, I'll see a lot of "poor Wilhelm"'s and "I hope he's alright"'s, but even those people don't understand." He blinked a few times, eyes flickering to the window, and then back to Simon's face. "I'm really fucking scared. I'm scared to go, I'm scared of the press, I'm scared of myself, I'm scared of letting you down, I'm scared of making you sad. I - I don't know what I'm fucking doing." Simon's eyes brimmed with tears despite his rapid blinking, his lips curling downwards as he tried to suppress his emotions.
"Wille..." Simon brokenly whispered.
Wille sniffed, before grabbing Simon in a tight hug. Simon hugged him back instantly. Simon pressed his face into the space between Wille's neck and shoulder, tear's slowly dampening the fabric there. Wille wraps his arms under Simon's, and Simon's arms wound around his neck, he's standing on tiptoes again. It's a mirror to the hug they shared in the rain not even a day ago.
It's crazy how much can happen in a day. It feels like weeks since they met. Wille knows the names of Simon's fish but not his favourite food, or colour. But he knows he likes to sing, that he writes his own music, that his mother's very nice, and his sister is loyal (AHAHAH I'm So funny I forgot I wrote that, this isn't canon compliant we like Sara in this one), that his house smells like a mixture of spices and whatever Linda has cooked. He knows that the thought of Simon makes him feel warm, he thinks that even if he was in Antarctica, imagining himself in Simon's arms would give him enough warmth to survive.
He knows he likes hanging out with Simon more than he likes hurting himself.
He knows he's scared of hurting Simon, and a part of him still feels numb, and that numb part is chanting for him to do it, do end it, he'll feel a strike of pain before everything goes black again. The blissfully numb memories replay in his head, the strangled, gasping sobs that had escaped his throat as he died. The moments of peace he felt as his brain ran out of air, pain no longer being receptive.
"You'll be okay. And you can't let me down," Simon whispered. "I'm already so proud of you. Just you being here is a big achievement. You're strong, Wille, don't let the press get under your skin. And - and you have me now, we can talk whenever you need. Just not for the next week..."
"Fuck, I don't want to be without you," Wille whispered, somehow holding him even tighter. The words seemed strong, not something two friends would say, it scares Wille how easily they just slipped out.
Simon took a shaky breath, repositioning his face so his cheek rested on his shoulder, facing outwards. "I'm sure we can call, or something. Plus, this is meant to be good for you, right? So - so if seeing me helps, then I'm sure they'll work something out."
Wille wants to punch the wall. Why does it have to be so complicated? Why can't he just get some antidepressants and move on?
Kristina cleared her throat and the two boys fell away. Wille hates her, he does, he decides it right then, he hates her.
"Sorry, but we need to talk, Wilhelm." She said, her tone of voice sounding pained, like she doesn't even want to.
Wille really, really doesn't want to talk to her, he'd rather spend a year in a freezer, he'd rather never eat any salted food again, and he'd rather talk to Simon, but he fears that has come to an end. For now.
Simon shrugs when Wille looks from his mother back to him, swiping his wet eyes with his sweater paws to dry the tears.
"Mama, I really don't feel like talking to you right now. Can't we talk tomorrow, when we've both had time to sleep?" Wilhelm asked as he turned to face his mother, Simon watching over his shoulder.
Queen Kristina clasped her hands in her lap. She looks beyond tired of arguing with Wille, but she didn't back down.
"I know sweetheart, you think I can't see that you hate me?" She replied, voice not wavering as she spoke.
For some reason, this shocked Wille. She knows he hates her, and yet she isn't changing anything.
"Why can't we talk tomorrow?" Wille pressed again, clenching his fists to stop his hands from shaking.
The Queen sighed, eyes flickering to Simon before she spoke. "Because I'm going to be extremely busy. I have had to reschedule several meetings just to be here today."
Wille ground his teeth. That shouldn't matter, she should be here because she's his mother and it's her job as a parent.
"I could have sent Papa, you know this Wilhelm, but I choose to come instead. I could have not allowed Simon to visit, but I did. I could have sent Malin to pick you up from their house the second I knew your location, but I did not." She took another deep breath like admitting all of this is tiring, like sharing her few, barely acceptable 'good parenting' moments is taxing, like listening to your child isn't a normal parental act. "I am trying Wilhelm, it's harder than you might expect." Again, her gaze jumped back to Simon, but she didn't ask him to leave. Wille could practically feel how uncomfortable Simon is, shifting nervously next to him, but he didn't leave Wille's side. "This is how I was raised, this is how my mother was raised, and her mother before her. You are the first royal child who hasn't been okay with this form of parenting."
"That's ridiculous, this isn't parenting. Parenting would mean you were actually there, that you did actually raise me. But you didn't, you didn't parent me." Wilhelm seethed, eyes glued on hers.
Clear hurt is now displayed on her face, her frowns crease and her lips press together firmly. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she breathed. "Alright. We'll talk later then, when you are calm and we can talk in private."
Martin hadn't moved the entire time, hadn't even turned a page. Simon also didn't respond, stuffing his hands into his pockets, glancing at the floor and scuffing the toe of his shoe against the shiny ground.
"I am calm." Wille spat back, not very calmly.
Queen Kristina stood up, gathering herself and clearing her face of sadness. "Goodnight Wilhelm. Goodbye Simon." She said calmly, smoothing out her skirt before turning and walking to the door without another word, closing it gently behind her.
Wille looked at where she'd disappeared, feeling cold. He hates her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her, he kept telling himself, but... it still hurts for his mother to be like this, for her to treat him like an explosive.
Wille turns to his bed, sitting down and staring at his feet.
Simon took a deep breath, glancing at the window again before plopping down next to Wille. "I'm sorry," Simon told him, looking ahead as Wille is.
What is Wille meant to say? He needs a few minutes to collect his thoughts, think about this situation, and gauge what will happen next.
"Don't be sorry, she's the one who fucked up," Wille replied, his gaze flicking to Simon before going to his own lap, his chewed-up nails fiddling in his lap.
Simon shrugged. "Then I don't know what to say. I've... I normally have a vague idea of what to say, that or it'll come to me and if I feel it's right, I say it." Simon explained, glancing at Wille again. He looks lost, eyes wide and scared. "But I just don't know this time. I feel like I couldn't even hold a coherent conversation anymore." Simon paused, before leaning fords, dropping his head into his hands with an annoyed groan.
Wille watched him for a moment. "Then I'm sorry."
Simon sat up, frowning at him.
"I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
Simon didn't reply, leaning fords again to press the heels of his hands against his eyes. "See? I don't even know what to say to that. Don't be sorry? I've already said that. Don't apologise because I don't regret anything? It's true but it doesn't feel right to say. Like, it doesn't fit."
Wille blinked, watching Simon's spine stick out through his jumper as he leans into his hands.
"You don't have to say anything then," Wille spoke.
Simon sat up again, eyes now wild and distressed. "But I have so many thoughts." He whispered, voice cracking. Wille lifted his hand with the new intent of holding his cheek, but redirected to his shoulder when he realised what he was doing.
"Simon, I don't even know what I want to hear, so you can't really say the wrong thing."
(No way I cut it off there that sucks oh my God I got invested in my own work I haven't looked at in like a month)
Part 3 - Spoiler alert, Wille's not calm, also Wille may have a small gay crisis,
"I am calm." Wille spat back, very not calmly.
Queen Kristina stood up, gathering herself and clearing her face of sadness. "Goodnight Wilhelm. Goodbye Simon." She said calmly, smoothing out her skirt before turning and walking to the door without another word, closing it gently behind her.
Wille looked at where she'd disappeared, feeling cold. He hates her. I hate her. He kept telling himself, but... it still hurts for his mother to be like this, for her to treat him like an explosive.
Wille turns to his bed, sitting down and staring at his feet.
Simon takes a shuddering breath, glancing at the window again before plopping down next to Wille. "I'm sorry," Simon told him, looking ahead as Wille is.
Wille looks at Simon. He's feeling so many emotions right now, and he doesn't know what to do with a new one that's begun to boil up. It's terrifying. It makes him anxious and twitchy. It makes him curious. He thinks curiosity will kill him. The way Wille's stomach drops when Simon looks at him, the way his heart swells when he laughs, the way he'd fight tooth and nail just to see him again, the way he feels safe and protected when Simon hugs him. Wilhlem's no fool, he knows what these feelings are, but he can't be dragging Simon further down with him.
Wille forced himself to look away from Simon, back to the window. He feels his throat close over. He knows what he's feeling, but he can't feel it, not for Simon, not for the boy he's known well for less than a day.
Simon needs to leave right now before Wille does something he'll regret, before he ruins another beautiful thing.
Wille didn't look at him, forcing the words out his throat, "I think you should leave." He whispered.
Simon's head snapped to look at him. "Pardon?" He replied, leaning fords slightly to see Wille's face better. If Wille was looking at him, he'd see a creased brow and wide eyes, a boy praying he just misheard him.
Wille took in sharp breaths, eye twitching with the concentration he's using to keep them on the window.
"Can you leave, please?" He whispered again, and this time Simon heard him clearly.
He recoiled slightly, leaning back again. For a moment he didn't reply. A part of Wille just wants him to say
(No because that's literally where I finished it, nothing more nothing less.)