Chapter Text
January 2022
Wilhelm
Wilhelm stared at his phone, his heart beating with a faint echo of the wild rhythm that name used to elicit once upon a time. Eight years.
“Kronprinsen?“, Stig interrupted him.
Wille cleared his throat and turned the phone screen onto the table. “Yes, sorry. You were saying?“
Stig took a deep breath and with barely restrained annoyance repeated, “Seeing as the Crown Prince’s birthday celebrations are approaching in five months, we'll soon have to settle on a choice of performers. I have made a list of suggestions and would like the Crown Prince to have a look at it.“
Wilhelm sighed and nodded. “I will. Thank you, Stig.“
He knew that at some point he should get used to the fact that he was forced to start planning and preparing for his own birthday party half a year in advance. It never failed to annoy him, though.
The court‘s chief of staff slid a sheet of paper across the table towards him and turned a partition in his leather binder.
“The Crown Prince will also have to select a winner for this year’s Erik Award“, he continued, tapping his pretentious fountain pen on the document in front of him.
He really was Jan-Olof’s carbon-copy in most of his mannerisms and to this day Wilhelm was still pissed that his mother had vetoed all the people he’d found at least somewhat tolerable when she’d hired the old guy’s replacement six years ago. Contrary to her claim and unsurprisingly, then 48-year-old Stig had not brought even the tiniest bit of ‘youthful spirit’ to the court.
Wilhelm hummed indistinctly while glancing over the list of artists. For the second time in a matter of minutes the letters forming the word Simon danced in front of his eyes. He looked up and met Farima’s eyes. She frowned and Wilhelm realized that his, well, he would call it surprise, was probably written very clearly on his face. He hid it behind a small cough and slid the paper to the side.
Pulling up a mental wall to block out the whole jumble of confusing emotions trying to escape from their confinement in the back of his mind, Wilhelm turned his attention back to Stig.
He listened to two of Stig’s presentations for potential candidates for the award honoring the athlete of the year, before he said, “I want Milos Novak to get it this year.”
Stig’s expression turned a tad sour before he nodded. “Yes, he is on my list as well, I was going to get there.”
“Well, then we can shorten this whole thing and settle on him”, Wilhelm replied, smiling sweetly.
Stig looked to Farima and Minou for help, received only a shrug and an approving nod and turned back to Wilhelm. He cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Well, there are things to consider here”, he said slowly, and Wilhelm just loved seeing him squirm. He always looked like he was trying to hold in a fart and it brought Wilhelm an unreasonable amount of glee.
“Yes?”, he asked, feigning ignorance. “Like what?” He was not going to let Stig off that easily.
Stig reached for his coffee cup, lifted it to his mouth in slow-motion, took a few sips, his swallowing sounding loudly in the small conference room, and set the cup back down. He looked around again, maybe hoping that someone would save him, but both Farima and Minou just waited quietly, expectant expressions on their faces. Wilhelm bet that they were secretly enjoying the whole thing very much.
“Right”, Stig said and cleared his throat. Then he coughed. Dabbed his mouth with his handkerchief. “Certain topics are going to come up and the Crown Prince will be expected to voice an opinion.”
Come on, Stig, say it. Say the word. Wilhelm hid his grin by taking a sip of water.
It seemed Stig needed some more support. “An opinion?”, Wilhelm asked innocently, not fully successful in keeping the laughter from his voice. He caught Minou biting her lip and shaking her head almost imperceptibly.
“Yes. On matters of… homosexuality and LGB…Q…T…plus”, Stig finally got out.
Wilhelm almost felt like a proud parent. He fought back the laughter and nodded slowly. “Well, that’s what I’m hoping”, he said easily and good God, now he almost felt sorry for Stig.
He laughed. “Stig, I’ve been supporting LGBTQ charities for years now. Hell, I’ve been named QX’s Hetero of the Year two years ago, which, well…” He cleared his throat. “My point is: It’s what I do. And Milos coming out last year was a fucking brave thing to do. As you know, it’s not really common in professional football. Plus, he’s at the height of his career right now. All of which makes him perfect for this year’s Erik Award.”
“I agree”, Farima chimed in. “It’s perfectly in line with the Crown Prince’s public image and charitable agenda.”
Wilhelm nodded his thanks to her, ignoring the tiny spark of anger at the fact that at 30 he was still dependent on other people supporting his standpoint to be taken seriously.
Stig dabbed his handkerchief over his receding hairline and nodded. “Alright.” He circled something on the document in front of him and flipped his binder to another partition.
Slowly, the exhilaration of successfully taking the piss out of Stig wore off and Wilhelm followed the rest of the meeting with a strange agitation buzzing in his body, his phone looming at the edge of his vision.
Afterwards he walked back to his private apartments, the phone burning a hole into his pocket. He couldn’t help but wonder what combination of circumstances had led to Simon ending up on the list of potential artists for the birthday concert after all these years of his name being conspicuously absent. Not that he had expected it to appear after everything.
Simon had been a successful solo artist for seven years now and had returned from his celebrated world tour a couple of months ago, announcing that he would permanently move his residency back to Sweden. Maybe he had gotten so famous that ignoring him any longer would look suspicious.
Or perhaps Stig had let his new assistant put together the list seeing as Stig didn’t seem the person to be up to date on Sweden’s modern music scene. Also, Wilhelm wasn’t even sure Stig was entirely in the loop about the whole Simon thing since it had happened before his time. His assistant certainly hadn’t received any kind of briefing, silence always having been the court’s preferred method of dealing with the situation.
Was the concert the reason why he’d received the first text from Simon in, what, almost nine and a half years? Although, that didn’t make sense. The list was preliminary and the artists or rather their management were usually only approached after the court had given its final blessing.
When Wilhelm had reached his kitchen, he took a glass out of a cupboard and filled it at the tab. The cold water helped clear the fog from his mind. He stared out the window into the thick snowflakes that were dancing in the dusk. It would be dark again in half an hour. Wilhelm sighed. This winter hadn’t been as hard on his mental health as the previous one, but he still found himself longing for spring.
After inhaling deeply, he pulled out the phone and stared at Simon’s text until the letters were swimming in front of his eyes, reduced to blurry black spots, having lost all of their meaning. Finally, he blinked and typed a reply.
He didn’t see any indication that the message had been read, probably due to Simon’s privacy settings. With annoyance, Wilhelm registered that his stomach was starting to clench nervously. Why was he standing here, gawking at his phone and driving himself unnecessarily mad before he even knew what this was about?
Determinedly, he selected Malin’s number and told her he wanted to go for a run. There still hadn’t been an answer from Simon when he met her twenty minutes later at the door, clad in several layers of thermal running clothes, a beanie pulled low and headphones around his neck. They jogged through the darkness and the light snowfall in companionable silence, a familiar routine established over the years.
Wilhelm found a childish joy in being the first one to leave his prints on the pristine white surface of the freshly snow-coated sidewalks and park paths. There weren’t many people around in this weather at four in the afternoon and the few that were lived in the area and were used to the Crown Prince running around the neighborhood. Since he’d made such a habit of it, he was rarely bothered anymore and while out on these runs, he almost felt something akin to freedom. It was a rather convincing illusion at least. The benefit for his physical health was an added bonus.
Back at the palace, he pulled the glove off his hand with his teeth and fumbled the phone out of his pants pocket. If his heart hadn’t already been pounding from exertion, it might have started doing so at the sight of the new notification. Wilhelm made an indistinct noise in Malin’s direction through a mouthful of glove when she took her leave, his finger hovering over the screen before he took a breath and unlocked it.
That sounded ominous. Wilhelm’s mind feverishly tried to come up with a reason for why Simon would want to meet him as he walked back to his rooms. They hadn’t seen each other in person for four years and that had only been from afar at a gala. They hadn’t spoken in eight. What could possibly have sparked this? He guessed there was only one way to find out.
Fika should be safe enough, surely. And The Golden Room was one of his favorite places. It was exclusive, members only, and offered him the privacy he craved, but without making that the selling point. There was no expensive silverware, no table linens or liveried waiting staff.
Instead, it was a place where people like him could come and pretend to be normal. Sit on colorful mismatched wooden chairs at wobbly hardwood tables, order their food at a counter and sip coffee out of ridiculously large mugs, indie music blaring in the background. A hipster café for the rich and famous.
Belatedly, he remembered that he was already invited to Felice’s for breakfast on Saturday and had at least vaguely promised his girlfriend Cecilia that he would be free in the afternoon. But they could do something on Sunday. Maybe drive out of the city and go for a hike in the snow somewhere. He made a mental note to fix their plans later tonight.
In the bathroom, he peeled off his running gear and stepped into the shower. When he closed his eyes under the gloriously warm stream of water, for the first time in years a memory overcame him. Of a body nestling against him, so the spray from the shower head would cover both of them; Wilhelm’s back getting cold because, of course, he would step back a bit.
He tore open his eyes when he felt his body reacting.
Fuck.
Three texts. That was apparently all it had taken to bring some of it back, unbidden and surprisingly vivid.
He took a deep breath. They were just memories. Memories were normal and didn’t have to mean anything. He could hear his therapist’s voice in his mind. “Your assessment is what gives them meaning. You are allowed to just let them be.”
He toweled himself off and decided that he would have to accept the fact that memories would come up over the next days. Which was fine. Simon was a part of his past, it was only natural. Besides, he was over it. Over him. Had been for a long time.
***
Unsurprisingly, more memories appeared throughout the next three days. What surprised Wilhelm a bit was how ok he was with all of it. He didn’t freak himself out, his feelings didn’t overwhelm him. They were just that. Memories. Fleeting moments captured in his mind, lived through by his past-self, that had little to do with him today. Apart from the whole formative experience thing of course.
He decided that it was probably a good thing that they were coming back to him now, slowly, in a continuous trickle over the course of several days instead of all at once when he would be standing in front of Simon again.
Saturday came and he found himself a tiny bit more nervous than he’d anticipated. He changed his outfit three times before frustratedly throwing all of them in a suit bag and taking it with him. He would let Felice decide. She was good with these things, had often helped him pick out outfits for special occasions.
Wilhelm refused Malin’s offer of carrying the suit bag for him when they had reached Felice’s house. He did have some sense of pride. He ended up throwing the clothes over his one arm, grabbing the bouquet of flowers with that same hand so he could take the big paper bag with the other hand. That even left him with a free elbow to press the doorbell and he pretended he didn’t hear Malin’s chuckle from over by the car.
“Oh”, Felice said as a way of greeting when she saw him before her mouth pulled into a big grin. “Hej, Wille. Come in.”
She wrenched the flowers out of his hand and waited patiently until he had wrestled out of his coat and shoes.
“This is the blanket I promised you”, Wilhelm said and held the paper bag out to her. “I thought you might want to wash it with your own detergent, before…”, he gestured to Felice’s impressive pregnancy belly. It was one of his own baby blankets and since Felice was a sucker for vintage stuff like this, he’d gladly promised to lend it to her seeing as he did not intend to use it in the foreseeable future.
Felice thanked him by pressing a kiss to his cheek and gestured to his other arm. “And what’s that?”
“Uhm, I might need some help choosing an outfit. For later.”
“Ok”, Felice said and started walking towards the kitchen. “What’s later?”
Wilhelm was kind of glad she couldn’t see his face when he answered, “I’m, uh, meeting an old friend.”
There must have been something in his voice because Felice stopped abruptly and turned around. “What old friend?”, she asked slowly, narrowing her eyes.
Wilhelm hesitated because he knew this would turn into a whole thing and he hadn’t even had coffee yet and didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway.
“I’ll tell you at breakfast, ok?”, he said and after one last scrutinizing glare, Felice rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine.”
Two cups of coffee later Wilhelm had patiently listened to Felice vent about the fact that she could barely sleep for more than two hours before having to get up and pee, was constantly plagued by heartburn and muscle cramps and really needed that baby to come out soon. He had assured her that, no, she certainly did not look like a whale and if she did then surely like the most beautiful one there ever was.
When Felice returned from the bathroom, she poured herself some tea and said, “Enough about me and my little parasite – who are you meeting?”
Wilhelm took a deep breath and looked at his best friend. He saw suspicion giving way to realization before the word even passed his lips, “Simon.”
Not many things did, but this rendered Felice speechless for a moment. “How…? And why?”, she asked finally.
So, he explained about the texts, how naturally he’d found himself thinking about the past a bit and that he had discovered that all in all he was pretty chill about the whole thing.
Felice looked at him over the edge of her mug and rolled her lips. “This”, she gestured towards the suit bag that Wilhelm had draped over the back of the couch, “is you being chill?”
Wilhelm felt caught and warmth crept into his cheeks. “Ok, fine. Maybe not exactly chill. Maybe I am a bit nervous.”
“Sorry, I’m just teasing”, Felice said, laughing and laying her hand on top of his. “I’m glad to hear you’re fine with it. Mostly.”
Wilhelm ran a finger through the crumbs on his plate and asked, “It’s normal that I’m a bit nervous, too. Right?”
“Of course”, Felice replied. “Meeting an ex can be… a bit nerve-wracking in my experience.”
Wilhelm nodded. Not that he had much experience in that regard. That one time… had definitely been something else.
Felice studied him silently for a moment. She leaned back in her chair, winced slightly and pressed a hand into her side. “Stop. Kicking. My ribs”, she muttered through her teeth. Then, in her normal voice, “I wonder what it could be that he couldn’t tell you on the phone.”
Wilhelm let out a short incredulous laugh. “Are you trying to make things worse?”, he asked, shaking his head.
Felice shrugged and grinned.
“Speaking of making things worse”, Wilhelm started hesitantly, “I, uh… kind of haven’t told Cecilia who I’m meeting. Apart from it being an old friend. Does that mean anything?”
Felice’s smile faded. “Do you think it means something?”, she asked.
“Stop talking like my therapist”, Wilhelm countered. “Please. I need you to be my friend and explain myself to me.”
“Well”, Felice said, absentmindedly running her hand over her belly, “you still haven’t told her about your history with Simon, have you?”
Wilhelm shook his head. He and Cecilia had been dating for ten months but he’d never felt a need to tell her about Simon. She hadn’t asked, either, unlike a surprising number of people he had encountered over the years who couldn’t contain their curiosity and sooner or later started probing. That was especially true for people his own age and slightly younger who had witnessed the whole affair play out live on social media eleven years ago.
Maybe it was his luck that Cecilia had been an emo girl back then and never really cared about pop music and boybands. And perhaps she just didn’t care now. She hadn’t told him about all of her exes, either, and he hadn’t questioned her because it wasn’t important.
“You’ve always been very protective of that relationship”, Felice continued. “It took you ages to confide in me.”
That was true. They had reconnected when Felice had moved back to Stockholm after her studies abroad five years ago and if Wilhelm remembered correctly it had taken him six months and an evening with three bottles of red wine between the two of them for him to pour his heart out. Making her the only person besides his therapist who knew the whole story.
“At some point you might feel ready to tell Cecilia about the past. You don’t have to, of course”, Felice said. “But I do think you should be open with her about the present.” Her eyes searched his face. “You told me that you’re over it. Repeatedly. So - you shouldn’t have anything to hide. Maybe it’s just a left-over reflex. Muscle memory so to speak.”
Wilhelm wasn’t entirely reassured. But he also didn’t want to dig deeper at this point.
Felice announced that she had to move to the couch and put her feet up or she wouldn’t be able to fit into her shoes this evening for dinner with her husband Stellan and she doubted the two-star restaurant would let her enter wearing flip-flops.
Wilhelm took the opportunity to take the contents out of the clothes bag.
“Yes, fashion, baby!”, Felice called and clapped her hands excitedly.
Wilhelm was glad that at least one person was having fun with this. He slipped out of his jeans and sweater and laid them on the armchair before changing into the first of the outfits he’d brought. He didn’t bother dressing in another room since Felice and him had long surpassed the stage of polite modesty, having been on several vacations and spa trips together. And, well, having dated briefly way back when.
Felice made Wilhelm feel comfortable in a way not many people did and their friendship had grown and solidified over the years, becoming an invaluable constant in his life.
She snorted when he inelegantly hopped around on one leg like a broken-winged flamingo after losing his balance, one foot stuck in a trouser leg. Finally, he closed the zipper, put on the button-down and the blazer. He turned towards his friend, indecisively holding the tie in his hand.
Her index finger pressed to her lips, Felice looked him up and down, nodded and said, “Ok, next.”
Unsure what to make of her reaction, Wilhelm put on the second outfit, consisting of loose black slacks and a thick-knit gray sweater he’d been wearing all winter because it was the most comfortable sweater he’d ever owned.
Felice nodded again wordlessly and motioned for him to proceed.
Wilhelm didn’t even finish closing all the buttons on the patterned silk shirt of his third outfit when he shook his head. Looking up he met Felice’s barely suppressed grin. “I know”, he said, ripping the buttons open again. “I panicked.”
Felice laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can see that. Why in God’s name do you even own that?”
Wilhelm shrugged and picked the slippery fabric up from where it had slid onto the thick white carpet. He had long since stopped asking himself that question. Clothes appeared in his closet all the time. Sometimes the royal tailor tried to sneak in a couple of bold items, sometimes he himself randomly ticked items on a list.
“So?”, he asked Felice, silk shirt in hand, wearing only his undershirt and a pair of what might have been velvet trousers.
“Well, are you meeting him as you or as the Crown Prince?”
Wilhelm shrugged.
“Because, that”, Felice pointed at the pile with the blazer and dress pants, tie laid out on top, “is Crown Prince Wilhelm. This”, she gestured towards the grey sweater combo, “is Wille. And I have no idea who the hell that is”, she finished, waving her hand in front of him.
Wilhelm laughed. “Well, maybe I’m entering a new era.”
Felice chuckled. “Honey, that’s not a new era, that’s a cry for help and I can’t let you go out wearing that. If you want to experiment, I’m all here for it. But not when you look like a vintage sofa.”
“See, I know there’s a reason why I keep you around”, Wilhelm grinned and started collecting the discarded clothes.
“You could hire a professional stylist, you know that”, Felice said, not for the first time.
“They don’t know me like you do. And I wouldn’t trust them to be honest”, he replied while pulling the gray sweater over his head.
Felice laughed softly. “Damn, that basically makes me the second most powerful woman in this country.”
Wilhelm snorted as he closed the zipper on the clothes bag. He got two glasses of water from the table and flopped down on the couch next to Felice. They ended up talking for over two hours, sparing only Simon as a topic of conversation and then it was time for Wilhelm to leave.
“It’s gonna be fine”, Felice said before she hugged him goodbye. “You look good.”
Wilhelm nodded and tried to believe her, he did. But the closer the car got to his destination, the more nervous he got, his stomach twisting with nerves and his palms sweaty. He checked himself in the hand mirror that he kept in the car one last time.
Eight years.
He knew he had changed a lot during that time. His hair was longer again, the youthful softness gone from his features and he’d used the forced reclusiveness the Covid pandemic had brought and finally grown a beard. It had taken forever to fill out, but now he sported a neatly trimmed, longish scruff. Naturally it had caused quite the public stir when he’d made his first appearance with the new facial hair. In the end, the popular verdict had been a positive one, not that it mattered because Wilhelm liked it and that was enough.
The car came to a halt and Wilhelm’s heart sped up. It was fine. He was prepared. With a deep breath, he ducked out of the car door that Malin had opened for him and walked into The Golden.
As it turned out, he had, in fact, not been prepared.
He had never been prepared.
September 2010
Wilhelm
“This way, please, Kronprinsen”, the woman in black with the headset said and gestured towards a door. Wilhelm and his security detail followed her through a corridor, empty and eerily silent after the roar in the concert hall. Adrenaline was still buzzing in his veins, his ears were ringing slightly and his hearing was a bit fuzzy as he’d carelessly foregone the earplugs, not wanting to miss any detail of the concert. His concert.
It was the first charity concert he’d lent his name to, having recently turned 19, and what a concert it had been. He was very pleased with how it had turned out and pretty sure it had been a success. The absolute highlight, of course, had been headliner HIGH 5, local Swedish boyband turned worldwide pop sensation, skyrocketing to success within the last year. To be completely honest, Wilhelm had not really paid attention to them until tonight, seeing as he’d thought that shallow pop music wasn’t really his thing.
That had changed the second he’d seen him. “I really gotta thing about you” he’d sung with that voice and maybe now Wilhelm might have a thing about him. He’d had to remind himself a couple of times to close his mouth because he’d just been gawking, completely transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from the guy who danced and moved like that and sang with that voice. And who was the most beautiful human being he’d ever laid eyes on.
And now he was going to meet him backstage. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and ran a hand through his hair, using the movement to check if there were sweat stains on his shirt. There were, but not too pronounced and the shirt was black, so it would be fine. The quick sniff test yielded satisfactory results and he relaxed slightly.
His stomach still fluttered nervously, when the woman pushed open another door and suddenly, Wilhelm found himself in a small room, much too crowded with people. He recognized a few of tonight’s artists and before he could start scanning the room for him, he was already shaking hands and giving out “Thank you”s and “Amazing performance”s.
“Guys, your turn”, a man in a suit a few people down the line called into the back of the room and then he appeared behind the singer Wilhelm was just greeting. He was even more beautiful up close, despite his slightly annoyed expression. Wilhelm stared at his mouth, at those lips, moving as he was munching something.
A cleared throat snapped his attention back to the poor woman whose hand he was still clasping. With an apologetic smile he released her and made an extra effort to find some nice words for her performance. He hoped they were fitting because, honestly, he had no recollection whatsoever. His memory had apparently crashed, overrun by him.
Then he was standing in front of Wilhelm with his four bandmates. He shook the long curls that were tumbling down the top of his head out of his eyes, swallowed whatever he’d been chewing as the guy next to him introduced himself as Noel and – “Simon”, he said with a nod. His eyes flickered down before meeting Wilhelm’s again and his lips curled into an amused smile when Wilhelm stuttered, “Wi- , uh, Wilhelm.”
“I know”, Simon smirked and Wilhelm was done for.
He barely caught the names Olle, Ilay and Max because he was busy trying to keep breathing. “Will I see you at the afterparty?”, he asked the four guys, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, careful to only shoot Simon a quick glance.
“Hell yeah”, Ilay exclaimed and the rest of them nodded along.
Relief might have fueled the beaming smile Wilhelm flashed the boys. He got through the rest of the greetings in a hazy fog, a strange buzzing in his veins. The room emptied quite quickly after that and the next thing he knew he was herded into his car and driven off to the venue that had been rented for the afterparty.
Thankfully, he’d taken a fresh black t-shirt and a somewhat casual sport jacket and changed in the backseat of the car. He felt a little more confident without his sweaty shirt but still annoyingly nervous. Upon entering the room, he was offered a glass of something with fruit and a straw that he accepted gratefully.
It took a frustratingly long time to work his way through the room with people stopping him every few steps, asking for pictures or engaging him in small talk and he was already on his second drink by the time he finally spotted the small crowd that had formed around a group of sofas. Getting closer, he heard Max and Olle animatedly tell some story, talking across each other, and by the audience’s reaction it must have been hilarious.
Wilhelm didn’t listen to a word that was spoken because his eyes had found what they’d been looking for: Simon. Wedged between two girls, he was sitting towards the side of one of the couches. When he spotted Wilhelm, he raised his eyebrows and shot him a small smirk before leaning over slightly and nodding along to whatever the girl to his left was just yelling into his ear.
“The prince!”, Max shouted suddenly and raised his bottle of beer in his direction.
Wilhelm held up his almost empty glass in return.
“Come, sit with us!”, Max called, jumping up and beckoning Wilhelm over.
People scooted and shuffled around and then he found himself on the sofa between a girl with long dark curls and Olle, his heart beating a bit faster than the situation afforded. Simon was sitting on the other sofa to his left and while Wilhelm pretended to follow the conversation, he kept sneaking glances.
At one point, the guy in the suit he’d seen backstage shooed away the girl next to Wilhelm, sat down and introduced himself as Jimmy, the band’s manager. The pungent scent of his perfume stung Wilhelm’s nose and if he could have, he would have moved away.
“I’m so happy to have the Crown Prince be a fan”, Jimmy said after they’d shaken hands.
“Yes, huge fan”, Wilhelm heard himself say. “Have been from the start.” He’d worry how he’d get out of this one later.
Jimmy waved over a waitress with a tray of drinks and took two, handing one to Wilhelm. “May I be blunt and ask the Crown Prince a question?”, the manager said.
“Sure”, Wilhelm replied and took another sip.
“Would the Crown Prince consider the possibility of making a cameo in one of our videos?”, Jimmy asked.
“Yes”, Wilhelm answered immediately without even thinking about it. All his brain had registered was a chance at getting to meet Si- the band again. It sounded like a lot of fun, too. Of course, he had no fucking clue if he’d be actually allowed to. But he could try.
Jimmy flashed him a wide, toothy smile and slapped a hand down on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fantastic. Who do we contact to set this whole thing up?”
After Wilhelm had given him Farima’s contact info, Jimmy excused himself, not after telling the HIGH 5 guys to behave themselves. Which prompted Olle next to Wilhelm to start taking pictures with his phone. “Need to post some stuff now before everyone’s too shitfaced”, he whispered to Wille conspiratorially.
Wilhelm politely refused to appear in the photos and eventually got up to make room so someone could pose with Olle. Coincidentally, he ended up right next to Simon when everyone started talking again.
Their sides brushed against each other and Wilhelm would have been lying if he said it didn’t make goosebumps rise on his skin.
“So, huge fan, I gather?”, Simon asked, a teasing tone to his voice, and took a sip from his drink.
“Mh-h”, Wilhelm nodded, with effort tearing his eyes away from Simon’s lips around his straw. What was it with this guy? Why could Wilhelm not stop staring at him?
“Well…”, he said, mostly to distract himself, “I’m not really into pop music. But… I would listen to anything you sing.” And how exactly had he ended up making this weird so quickly?
Simon giggled and Wilhelm’s heart fluttered. Somehow that noise was even more captivating than his singing. Suddenly, Simon’s lips where very close to Wilhelm’s ear and a cloud of his scent enveloped him. “Is this your way of flirting with me?”, Simon murmured.
Wilhelm suppressed a shiver and grinned. Turning his head slightly, he answered, matching Simon’s low tone, “Is it working?”
Simon pulled back, holding Wilhelm’s gaze. They looked at each other wordlessly for a few moments. The pulse throbbed in Wilhelm’s throat and his chest felt a little too tight. Simon’s lips twitched and he turned his attention back to the drink in his hand. It might have been Wilhelm’s imagination, of course, but he was almost sure Simon’s cheeks had taken on a faint pinkish hue.
Two girls came over and asked Simon for a picture. He obliged dutifully while Wilhelm moved out of the shot. When they had left, he asked, “How does it feel, being every girl’s dream?”
Simon let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Says the nation’s poster boy and most eligible bachelor.”
Wilhelm frowned.
“Oh, come on”, Simon said. “Pretty sure a substantial number of girls in this country have our posters hanging side by side in their bedrooms.”
It was a strange image, but a weirdly exciting one at the same time.
Still. “Even if you’re right, my experience is very different from… this.” He waved his arm around the group which mainly consisted of girls and young women huddling around the HIGH 5 guys, some crouching on the floor, some sitting in laps, a few standing.
Simon shrugged. “In the end we’re both doing the same thing”, he said.
There was a commotion when a few people, including Simon’s bandmates, rose and moved towards the dance floor. Some new people took the free seats, but the sofas were definitely not crowded enough anymore to justify Wilhelm and Simon sitting squeezed as closely together as they were. Neither of them moved, though. The music was rather loud and it meant less shouting when their heads were close. That was all.
“What did you mean by that?”, Wilhelm asked near Simon’s ear, his nose accidentally grazing the skin of Simon’s cheek. Damn, he smelled good.
“Well, we’re both playing a part. Selling dreams”, Simon answered, his breath warm on Wilhelm’s neck.
Simon looked at him, a challenge twinkling in his eyes, daring Wilhelm to contradict him. He was right, though, Wilhelm realized. Of course, he was aware that his main purpose was to fulfill people’s fantasies, the fairytale prince, bringing some magic into the dreadful reality of everyday life. And he hadn’t asked for any of it.
“Does it bother you?”, he asked and his eyes momentarily caught on the twinkling diamond stud in Simon’s ear.
Simon shrugged and grinned. “I don’t think about it too much, to be honest. It’s part of the job and I agreed to the conditions. And it’s not like people don’t know. They just choose to believe the dream. Girls want to hear us sing to them about true and eternal love and finding the one.”
He lowered his voice and leaned in even closer. Wilhelm had to fight a shiver. “Nobody in their right mind would want to be with a popstar in real life. We’re just making them think they want to, supply them with a fantasy. That’s what this boyband thing is all about. And you can’t tell me that being a princess is a dream any girl would actually want to come true if it came down to it.”
No, Wilhelm couldn’t. Even Felice had become disillusioned with the whole thing after a few months of dating. It hadn’t been the reason they’d split up in the end, but she had confided in him at a later point that she was glad that she’d finally woken up from that dream.
“So, your coping mechanism is to become a cynic?”, he asked, partly teasing, partly honestly curious. Simon’s low chuckle let his stomach flutter.
“I gotta do what I gotta do”, Simon grinned. Serious again, he added, “This is my dream, right now. Singing, performing, touring the world with my friends. I’m willing to make sacrifices if it means I get to do what I love more than anything else. People like me don’t get chances like this a lot.”
For a moment, something flashed across his face that Wilhelm couldn’t quite read. Then it was gone and Simon leaned forward to pick up his glass from the table.
They moved on to lighter topics of conversation after that and when he thought back to it later, Wilhelm for the life of him couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about. What did stay imprinted on his mind, however, was how much they laughed, the little, seemingly accidental brushes of hands against arms or thighs, the twinkle in Simon’s eyes, his giggle and how, at one point, he had thought that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much.
“You’re not at all what I expected”, Simon said, the small smile that had been permanently stuck on his face during their conversation widening.
Wilhelm felt himself blush under his gaze. “What did you expect?”, he asked.
Simon grinned and shook his head. “I don’t think I should tell you.”
Wilhelm nudged him playfully with his elbow. “Come on!”, he said. “I told you I don’t like your music – how much worse can it be?”
It earned him another giggle and a firm shove against his shoulder. “Hey! You didn’t phrase it like that before!”, Simon exclaimed, laughter blazing in his eyes.
Wilhelm caught his hand and just kept looking at him expectantly. Simon’s eyes flicked towards their hands before landing back on Wilhelm’s face. He opened his mouth, inhaled and after a short moment of hesitation, said softly, “You seem a lot happier in real life than in pictures and on TV.”
Warmth melted all over Wilhelm’s chest. “Maybe you bring it out in me”, he said, his tone not quite as teasing as he had intended.
Perhaps that was why Simon’s smile faded and Wilhelm found himself unable to breathe, his eyes roaming Simon’s face, at the same time that Simon’s were exploring his.
“Uhm, do you maybe –“
Simon was interrupted by a guy throwing himself down on the couch next to him with a deafening “Simme! I haven’t seen you in ages!”. Simon quickly withdrew his hand and Wilhelm tried to remind himself that it was probably hard to cover up a homicide, even for him. He took up his drink and waited impatiently for Simon to get rid of the obnoxious drunk guy who might have been another famous singer, but Wilhelm couldn’t really have cared less.
He needed to know what Simon had been about to say. Now. With every sip he was losing his mind a little more until, finally, the dude fucked off, not without slamming a hard bro-slap down on Simon’s shoulder that made Simon flinch and red-hot anger flash through Wilhelm that surprised him with its ferocity.
It dissipated immediately when Simon blew out a breath and turned back towards him, his gaze soft and – maybe a bit uncertain?
Wilhelm cleared his throat. “Uhm, you were saying…?”
The corner of Simon’s mouth twitched. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “I, uh, was wondering if you, uhm, wanted to come back to my place.” Wilhelm’s heart jumped. “To, uhm, talk”, Simon added, his gaze dropping and meeting Wilhelm’s again.
How was anyone supposed to keep breathing when someone looked at them like that? What more was there to do but nod and try not to completely lose his shit while faced with Simon’s answering smile.
“Cool”, Simon said and he almost seemed cool, too.
Wilhelm still noticed him wiping his palms on his pants and the hitch in his breath when he inhaled deeply.
“I’ll say goodbye to the guys, then”, Simon said, shook back his curls and got up. “Meet me at my place in 30 minutes?”
Wilhelm nodded silently and typed the address Simon gave him into his phone.
Then he was sitting on the sofa, alone, clutching his phone, a little dazed and trying to comprehend what was happening. Simon wanted to talk. Except he maybe hadn’t been talking about talking. But Wilhelm couldn’t be sure. He wouldn’t mind actual talking, either. He had never found anyone as easy to talk to as Simon. It was just that he also couldn’t stop thinking about Simon’s lips. And kissing them.
With a sigh, he got up and made his farewell round. He didn’t see Simon anymore, and he rushed through the small talk as quickly as he could. It still took him an excruciatingly long time until he finally stepped out the door, Malin in tow. She had silently nodded when he’d told her they were making another stop.
The closer they got to Simon’s address, the more Wilhelm felt anxiety mix with his eager anticipation. By now, he was about 90 percent sure that Simon did, in fact, not want to talk. Which left him with a whole bunch of things to freak out about. He had never actually done this – met someone at a party and gone home with them. Casual hookups weren’t really something he could afford in his position. Assuming this was a hookup and he hadn’t completely misinterpreted things.
There was also the fact that his experiences with boys were limited to a few drunken kisses at a Hillerska party which had led to those two times Nils had invited him to Verbier. But those experiences had been entirely different than this, today.
He wondered how much experience Simon might have. It was ironic that Wilhelm of all people had fallen for the boyband narrative and assumed along with everyone else that Simon must be straight. Wilhelm’s hasty little Google search after the concert had revealed that he was rumored to have been in a relationship with a Norwegian actress for a couple of months. But again, as he should well know himself, that didn’t mean anything.
It was probably wise to stop assuming things and just see where the night would take them. In the end, none of it mattered anyway. What mattered was that back at that party, there had definitely been something between them. And it might have been the after-concert high, but that something had been unusually strong.
A vivid image of Simon’s body under his hands, his skin under his lips, flashed before Wilhelm’s eyes and arousal rippled through him. God, he hoped Simon hadn’t meant talking.
Finally, the car pulled up in front of a nice, new apartment building. Wilhelm waited until Malin opened his car door and got out. He quickly glanced around, noticing with relief that the sidewalks were empty at this time of night. Simon’s voice sounded over the intercom and told him to take the elevator to the fifth floor.
Nervously, Wilhelm checked his reflection in the mirror inside the cabin. His eyes landed on Malin’s back next to him and he wondered what she must be thinking about all of this.
Once they had reached Simon’s apartment, Wilhelm took a deep breath, nervously ran his hand through his hair and rang the bell. The door was opened a few seconds later by Simon, still in the ripped skinny jeans and tight black shirt he’d worn to the party, his feet now bare.
“Hej”, Wilhelm breathed.
Simon’s mouth pulled into a smile. “Hej”, he answered.
He cocked an eyebrow and looked past Wilhelm.
“Will she be joining us?”, he asked, a teasing undertone to his voice.
Wilhelm cleared his throat, embarrassment warming his cheeks. “Uh, no, she just has to do a quick sweep.”
Simon sighed.
“If that’s ok with you”, Wilhelm added hastily, suddenly afraid that Simon might change his mind because this was more of an inconvenience than he had anticipated.
“Sure, go ahead”, Simon said to Malin.
He opened the door further and beckoned both of them inside.
“Are there more people coming?”, Malin asked. “Is this going to be a party?”
Wilhelm felt his pulse in his throat when he shook his head. “No, we're, uh, just hanging out. To talk.”
The last word seemed to have gotten stuck somewhere in his throat and came out rather choked. Simon was looking at him in a way that left no doubt that talking was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were dark, there was something hungry about them in the way they were slowly dragging down Wilhelm’s body. Malin passed between them to scan the apartment. They remained standing on opposite sides of the narrow corridor.
Wilhelm felt his breath growing shallow, his gaze drawn to Simon’s lips. That Simon licked right then, leaving them glistening and slightly parted. Something hot spread from Wilhelm’s chest through his body, his skin started tingling, heat crept up his neck. He half expected tiny sparks to materialize in the air between them. He swallowed and it sounded entirely too loud in the charged silence.
He heard Malin’s steps echoing in the next room. This must have been the longest security check in history. A light blush had appeared high on Simon’s cheeks and Wilhelm wasn’t imagining this, was he? He searched Simon’s face and his eyes for an answer only to end right back at his lips that looked so incredibly soft in the dim light.
His bodyguard appeared in his field of vision. “All clear”, she said.
Wilhelm nodded. “Tack. Tack, Malin”, he croaked.
The door had not yet fallen into the lock behind her when Simon surged forward. Their lips clashed and Wilhelm’s back hit the wall. The kiss was everything and more. Simon’s lips were indeed as soft as they looked and when Wilhelm parted them with a gentle stroke of his tongue, he tasted hints of lime and alcohol from the drink earlier and underneath that something sweet and uniquely Simon.
He had never really thought about liking someone’s taste until now. Sure, kisses always tasted a certain way, some good, some less so. But this? Simon’s taste was intoxicating, awakening something carnal deep inside Wilhelm and he couldn’t get enough.
He also couldn’t get enough of feeling Simon basically pinning him against the wall, feeling wanted so desperately that this could not have waited until they were at least in the living room and had exchanged a few polite words. No, this was something hot and urgent and fierce, barely controllable and it was an enormous relief to finally act on the tension that had been sizzling between them all night.
When Simon eventually drew back, they were both breathing heavily and staring at each other, dazed and, at least on Wilhelm’s part, slightly incredulous. Also, very turned on. Simon’s lips drew into a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners. Wilhelm returned it and inhaled deeply.
“So, this is your idea of talking?”, he asked in a low voice.
Simon chuckled silently. “Call it what you want”, he replied and twisted his fingers in the front of Wilhelm’s shirt. “Just shut up and keep kissing me.”
And what else was Wilhelm supposed to do but oblige?
While he opened his mouth for Simon’s tongue, he ran his hands up Simon’s back, over his nape and buried his fingers in his curls like he’d fantasized about half the night. He was a bit disappointed that they were a bit crunchy and sticky from product. Simon made a soft noise when Wilhelm tightened his grip and used it to tilt Simon’s head back a little further in order to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck.
In response, Simon arched his back, grinding into Wilhelm, and the friction against his crotch was enough to make his knees go weak for a second. Simon leaned forward, playfully nipped Wilhelm’s earlobe and murmured, “Come on”, before taking his hand and dragging him into the next room. There, he stopped, and pulled him in for another sloppy kiss until they were both breathless, only to grab his hand again and lead him into another room.
A lamp was burning next to a large bed with dark sheets, neatly made. Wilhelm just thought he saw what looked like a crumpled heap of clothes peeking out from underneath the bed when he stopped thinking altogether because Simon grabbed the open sides of his jacket and shoved it down over his shoulders from where it carelessly fell to the floor.
Wilhelm caught Simon’s lips in another kiss while he fumbled with the hem of Simon’s shirt. He stepped back and Simon lifted his arms so Wilhelm could pull the fabric over his head. His beauty took Wilhelm’s breath away. In awe, he trailed his gaze over Simon’s smooth chest, adorned by a few small tattoos, his flat, toned stomach. Breathing shakily, he placed his hands on Simon’s waist and pulled him close again. He felt so good against his body, his slender frame molding perfectly into Wilhelm’s lanky one.
Wilhelm felt cool air graze the small of his back and then Simon dragged off his shirt. Heat rose into his cheeks when he felt Simon’s gaze roaming over his body before he was crushed into yet another kiss, made even better by naked skin on naked skin.
Suddenly, Simon drew back. “Just so we’re clear – for obvious reasons this never happened. And it’ll have to be a one-time thing.”
Wilhelm ignored the pang of regret and nodded. He’d probably agree to selling his own soul right now if he could just keep going. Dealing with this would be future-Wilhelm’s problem.
Simon studied him silently for a moment before closing the gap again, a new urgency in the way his tongue pushed into Wilhelm’s mouth. Wilhelm moved his hands down Simon’s back until they were cupping his ass and pulled them together firmly.
Simon moaned softly into his mouth, sending blazing heat coursing through Wilhelm’s veins. He wanted, no, needed to hear that sound again, needed to make Simon feel so good that all he could do was make those sounds. His fingers found the button on Simon’s jeans and managed to open it and shove the fabric down over his hips. Simon broke their kiss and took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the bed.
Wilhelm grabbed the jeans’ waistband where it was sitting high on Simon’s thighs and yanked the fabric down. He cursed softly at the stubborn, much too tight material when it took him several tries to get it over Simon’s heels. Why was this ridiculous piece of clothing trying to ruin the mood by making this the least sexy move of all time?
Simon let out a giggle and it instantly resolved all of the awkwardness. Wilhelm chuckled, half in relief, half because that sound was just so infectious, he couldn’t help himself. He flung the offending garment as far back into the room as possible, earning him another snort from Simon, and quickly stepped out of his own trousers.
Simon’s smile faded and he scooted back on the bed, his eyes irresistibly pulling Wilhelm towards him. The sheer desire in that gaze made it hard to breathe. Wilhelm wanted, oh, how he wanted. Nothing else mattered right now except that somehow, the most beautiful boy in the world wanted him, too. He wasn’t the Crown Prince right now, and the boy splayed on the bed in front of him, biting his lip and devouring him with his eyes, wasn’t an international popstar.
They just were. Right here. In this moment.
Wilhelm tried to calm his beating heart with a deep breath and climbed onto the bed, crawling over Simon. He hovered in the space above him, gazing into his eyes for a moment before carefully lowering down.
Simon lifted his head, meeting Wilhelm halfway in another fierce kiss, while their bodies settled against each other. Simon raised his knee and grabbed Wilhelm’s ass, making them rub against each other, and Wilhelm moaned deep in his throat. Hot and cold shivers ran through his body and he knew he needed to slow down or this would be over embarrassingly quickly.
He drew back from their kiss, ignoring Simon’s soft sound of protest, and slowly began pressing his lips onto Simon’s neck, his chest. The skin was smooth and soft, tasting slightly of salt. Wilhelm kissed the dip over his sternum and followed it down, down to his stomach, noticing how the muscles tensed, relishing the gasp escaping from Simon’s mouth.
He hesitated when he reached Simon’s navel. The sight of the narrow trail of dark hair disappearing into his tight white boxers that were barely containing his straining cock, the smell, made him dizzy with arousal. And at the same time, his worries were back. All he wanted was to take Simon into his mouth. But what if he wasn’t good at it? What if Simon wouldn’t like it?
With shaky fingers he gripped the elastic of Simon’s boxers and after catching his enthusiastic nod, he pulled the fabric down. Simon impatiently kicked the underwear off his feet. Wilhelm sat between his legs and for a moment, all he could do was stare. Fuck, even Simon’s cock was gorgeous. Running his palms up Simon’s thighs, Wilhelm lowered down.
Simon’s hands tightened in his hair when Wilhelm swirled his tongue before carefully taking Simon into his mouth. He wrapped his hand around the base and moved his mouth down as far as he could before pulling off again.
“I, uh, I haven’t done this a lot”, he said, his cheeks burning, all the while gently continuing to move his hand up and down Simon’s cock. “So, you’ll have to tell me if it’s bad.” He ran his thumb around the tip, slick with saliva.
Simon’s answer was a soft whimper and a shake of his head. “It’s not… ah… bad.” He hissed when Wilhelm lightly increased the pressure from his fingers. “Fuck”, Simon gasped. “It’s good. Very.”
The word turned into a moan that sent searing heat straight into Wilhelm’s own cock. He lowered his mouth back over Simon. Watching Simon throw his head to the side, feeling Simon’s fingers twisting in his hair, noticing how Simon’s abs clenched and his breath hitched, hearing his moans and whimpers let Wilhelm lose the rest of his uncertainty. A part of him couldn’t believe that it was really him making Simon squirm on the sheets and drawing those sounds.
Suddenly, Simon’s hand gently pushed against his forehead. “Close”, he panted. There was no way Wilhelm was stopping now. He reached for Simon’s hand, wrapping it in his own, and kept hollowing his cheeks. It wasn’t long before Simon’s fingers tightened around his and salty, liquid warmth filled his mouth. Wilhelm swallowed and slowed down until Simon stopped shaking beneath him.
He released him reluctantly and kissed and licked his way back up Simon’s body, over his heaving chest, until he was hauled into a deep kiss. Simon pressed their foreheads together and whispered against his lips, “Holy shit”.
Wilhelm pulled back. “You liked it?”, he murmured, studying Simon’s face.
Simon’s lips pulled up at the corners and he huffed out a short laugh. “Are you kidding me?” He kissed Wilhelm again. Then, his expression changed, the hungry look back in his eyes. “I’ll show you”, he whispered.
Before Wilhelm knew what was happening, he found himself flat on his back with Simon gently sucking the skin on his neck. He surrendered to Simon’s caresses, to his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses all over his skin. By the time Simon reached his groin, Wilhelm was sure he was going to die from sheer bliss.
He looked down when Simon halted. Their eyes met and Wilhelm noticed something that looked like uncertainty flicker across Simon’s face. He smiled and his hand searched for Simon’s, squeezing encouragingly. Simon returned his smile and took a deep breath. His fingers were still trembling slightly when he pulled Wilhelm’s boxers down.
It was almost too much, the sight of Simon’s eyes widening, dark with desire, the sound of his small moan and then the sensation of sinking into his wet, warm mouth. Wilhelm closed his eyes, trying to at least shut out the visuals so he would have a chance to savor this. It only enhanced the sounds, which were obscene in a way that catapulted him dangerously close to the edge, making him claw the sheets.
He opened his eyes again and found Simon looking at him, his eyes twinkling. He was very clearly enjoying himself and it was that realization that made Wilhelm all too soon utter an indistinct sound of warning, leading Simon to double down on his effort. His orgasm tore through him like a white-hot blaze, leaving him trembling and gasping for air.
Eventually, Simon crawled up next to him and sank onto the pillow. The sounds of their breaths mingled in the quiet of the room while Wilhelm slowly came down from his high. Somehow, their hands had ended up entwined between them and he gently ran his thumb over Simon’s fingers. Turning his head, he met Simon’s gaze.
A lazy, satisfied grin spread on Simon’s face. “This was – unexpected”, he said.
Wilhelm smiled widely. “It was”, he agreed.
The smile slowly faded from Simon’s face and from one moment to the next the light in his eyes seemed to dim. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and instead averted his gaze to stare at the ceiling.
Simon’s hand slipped from Wilhelm’s grasp, leaving him with a strange, hollow feeling in his chest. He inhaled deeply and sat up. “I should, uh, go”, he said, waiting, hoping for Simon to object.
Instead, Simon nodded silently.
Wilhelm gathered his clothes and got dressed, while Simon walked over to his closet and threw on a pair of sweatpants. He looked unfairly hot, the tight grey fabric slung low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination and already Wilhelm felt his body reacting again.
With effort, he tore his gaze away and walked towards the entrance.
He desperately searched for something to say, too overwhelmed to find the words to express any of the things he was thinking and feeling right now.
“It was nice meeting you, Wilhelm”, Simon said, the tiny smile back in the corners of his mouth and a trace of a glint in his eyes.
“Nice meeting you, too, Simon”, Wilhelm answered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. We should do this again sometime.
He was still pondering if a hug was an appropriate way to say goodbye to a one-night-stand when Simon stepped forward and brushed his lips against Wilhelm’s, so softly and tenderly that Wilhelm’s heart was aching by the time Simon pulled back.
This didn’t feel like a one-time-thing kind of goodbye. It really didn’t. Still, Simon opened the door and after they’d exchanged one last smile, Wilhelm found himself in the hallway where Malin was dutifully waiting. He nodded in her direction and wordlessly walked towards the elevator.
When he sank into the car seat, a cloud of Simon’s scent wrapped around him, wafting from his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Simon’s taste still lingered on his tongue. Wilhelm allowed himself one more moment of indulgence, closing his eyes and replaying the last hour in his mind, before taking a deep, cleansing breath, grabbing a water bottle and taking a deep swig.
He pulled out his phone and swiped through the picture gallery Farima had sent him from tonight’s concert. An echo of the excitement and the happy atmosphere spread warmly in his belly. His breath got stuck in his throat when the next photo revealed a close-up of him, wearing an engrossed expression, his lips slightly parted in awe. Nobody needed to tell him who he was looking at when this picture had been taken.
It was written all over his face.