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“I’m sorry, bro. He insisted, and we couldn't exactly just take him home to Linda,” Ayub explained, shaking his head.
Wille heard the knock on his window as he was drifting off to sleep far too late at night. On a normal Friday night, Wille would either be spending time at Manor House, partying at Hillerska, or hanging out with Simon in Bjärstad. Tonight was one of the exceptions, where Simon had been invited to a party in town and Wille was too bone tired to tag along. His duties of being prefect, rowing captain, and scraping by in classes had taken their toll.
Malin would have been fine to let Simon in, but Ayub and Rosh were another story. Technically they were barred from entering the Hillerska campus, as all guests had to be pre-approved and during visiting hours. It would technically be his job, as prefect, to report it.
“Hi, Wille,” Simon smiled sleepily, immediately reaching his arms up for Wille to pull him through his window. It was a strangely familiar callback to their earliest days.
“What’s going on?” He asked Simon blearily. Something was clearly off. He was relaxed, with no signs of damage or distress, but he was nearly too fluid, his eyes too unfocused.
“Don’t kill us, but at the party, there were these brownies, and - well - none of us really knew until it was too late, but Simon ate one or two,” Ayub explained.
“He’s not a child, okay? He’s going to be perfectly fine. Look at him!” Rosh gestured. Her annoyance at the whole situation would’ve been funny, but the admission immediately made Wille go into overdrive. Was Simon okay when he found out? Did he even understand he was high? Could the brownies possibly be laced with something else? Wille’s thoughts ran wild as Simon tumbled into his arms.
“You’re here,” Simon breathed, nuzzling at the base of his neck.
“See? Splendidly, disgustingly normal. Now let’s go home before your mother actually kills me this time,” Rosh huffed.
“Again, he insisted,” Ayub said. “Take good care of him, yeah?”
“I will, and thanks for bringing him here,” he replied. Dazed from it all, but he waved them goodbye, watching their figures fade off into the night.
“Love you guys!” Simon shouted behind them, and Wille knew that he would wake up to a healthy interrogation from Malin. It didn’t matter, though, as long as Simon was safe, and okay, and most importantly - and somewhat selfishly - here with Wille.
He knew Simon had never been high before. He drank once or twice at the Hillerska parties but abhorred the taste, and was quite neutral about the other effects. Simon liked being in control of himself, endlessly ready to do whatever was required of him. Wille thought it may also have to do with his dislike of seeing what happened when other people lost control. Wille mostly stayed away from weed as well. It made his anxiety worse, and after everything came out about the Society and the drug scandal, the court started thoroughly testing him every chance they got. Nevertheless, he remembered his first highs vividly, and had been around his fair share of high people to know it affected everyone a bit differently.
“Simon?” He asked.
“That feels funny. Do it again.” Simon pressed his ear up against the column of Wille’s throat.
“Simon,” he repeated.
Simon laughed. “Wow, I can feel your voice. Like the vibration of my name is right in my ear. It’s nice,” he exhaled, pressing himself into Wille’s chest further. He seemed impossibly soft, Wille noted, all of his usual composure gone. He knew that Simon in that state was rare, and he wanted to make sure that he looked after him as best he could.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, and Simon rubbed his nose back and forth against Wille’s clavicle.
“Really good,” he sighed easily. Suddenly he raised his head, his eyebrow furrowed. “Where did Rosh and Ayub go?”
Wille knew that memory and being high didn’t go well together. One night he smoked with Henry and Walter in their room, and he still didn’t remember how he got back into his bed, or even if he’d brushed his teeth the night before.
“They went home. They brought you here, after you ate those brownies. Don’t you remember?”
“Hmm,” Simon hummed. “No.” He sighed, and then responded a minute later. “They’re such good friends. I love them so much.”
Wille smiled internally. “They love you too.”
“And I love Sara, and my mamá. And I love you.” He looked up at Wille, like he suddenly remembered something important. “Wille,” he said, his face morphing into something more serious, and shit, his eyes were red and puffy. “I love you. You know that, right? I always have.”
Wille’s heart beat a little faster at his honesty. He knew Simon loved him, but he didn’t always say it in words the way Wille did. He was usually the first to tell Simon that he looked nice, or said something intelligent, or that he liked the way he sang. He was the first to say those three words out loud, too, and so every time Simon said it it was like a little bell rang deep in his chest.
“I love you too, Simon. Here, you need to drink some water.” Wille made a move towards his nightstand, but Simon protested fiercely, gripping him with surprising strength.
“No, you don’t understand. I really, really love you Wille. So much.” Simon’s eyes darted back and forth between his own, and Wille’s heart swelled.
“I really, really love you too. But Simon, you have to drink some water, and maybe take some eye drops. I’ll be right back, promise,” he chuckled. Simon nodded regretfully, letting Wille go. He drank the water willingly, but when Wille handed him the little bottle of eyedrops he struggled to unscrew the lid. He kept giggling, which didn’t help, and finally dropped the cap where it rolled on the carpet.
“Oops,” he said as Wille ducked down to look for it under his bed. That was another thing, Wille reminded himself. Weed didn’t mesh well with fine motor skills.
“Just tilt your head back, I’ll do it for you,” he suggested. Simon obliged, still laughing to himself. Wille got Simon to sit on the edge of his bed and tilted his chin up, squeezing the bottle and aiming carefully. Wille sat down next to him and drew him into his side. He was more reassured that Simon was fine, the brownies were most likely not laced with something terrible, and the side effects were, frankly, heartwarming.
Simon looked over to the window. “Wille, look,” he breathed. “There are so many stars tonight.” Simon got up, pacing towards the window, and Wille cursed internally. They were getting closer and closer to sleep, and his own eyelids had just started to drift shut. “Let’s go look at them,” Simon concluded, and made to open his window.
“Hey, Simon, Simon, hold on,” Wille responded, rushing to the window to stop him. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
Simon looked up at him, eyes still glassy and so, so bright. Wille swore he could see each star reflected in his irises. “But the stars tonight…” he said, looking out wistfully.
“And they’ll be here tomorrow night. And the night after that. And you have your rehearsal tomorrow morning, remember?” Simon was uninterested in his argument, and continued to look wistfully up at the sky. It was just impossibly hard to say no to him. Wille thought about how anxious he’d been when he’d been high, and saw not an ounce of that in Simon. He remembered his earlier promise to himself. He’d do whatever he could to make sure Simon woke up in the morning feeling alright, that he wouldn’t spiral about his exposure to substances or blame himself. It struck him that it was unlikely Simon would experience this ever again.
“Okay,” he sighed. Together they climbed through the window, Wille first and Simon second, and they lugged Wille’s bedspread across the lawn and towards a gap in the trees. The stars stretched out above them, and Wille fell asleep to the sound of Simon talking about the constellations and the feeling of Simon's curls tickling his nose.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was a deep shade of gray-blue, and the morning mist was creeping in around them. He jostled Simon awake gently, which he was not a fan of.
“Simon, come on. We have to go back inside. Malin’s not going to be thrilled if she finds us here,” he whispered.
Simon groaned and sat up. His brow was completely furrowed, and he started opening and closing his mouth. “My mouth feels so weird. Like it’s sticky, but dry,” he said perplexedly.
“Yeah, that can happen. I have water inside, c’mon.” Simon finally blinked his eyes open again and peered at Wille. Further coming to his senses, he looked around them. “What the hell are we doing out here?” Simon looked inquisitively at Wille.
“Your idea. You said you wanted to look at the stars .” Simon’s eyes widened a bit, a sign his memory was returning.
“Shit. The brownies.” He put his hands over his face and leaned over, his forehead hitting Wille’s shoulder. “I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?” He asked meekly.
“No, the usual. You insisted Rosh and Ayub bring you here, told me how much you loved me, and made me sneak out of the dorm that I’m prefect of, by the way, to lay under the stars with you,” Wille teased. So much for making Simon feel less embarrassed in the morning, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Oh God. Rosh and Ayub,” he registered. “I owe them, like, a week’s worth of pizza.
“At least. Rosh, maybe two weeks,” he joked. Simon lifted his head, his face so close to Wille’s.
“Thanks, for taking care of me. Sorry if I - if it was too much,” he said, already starting to draw in. Wille could see that need for control sneaking back.
“Hey, Simon. It’s okay,” he said. As they sat there, Simon looking back at him, Wille thought that the stars in the sky were beautiful, but he much preferred the ones that lived in Simon’s eyes.