[Standing there on the front steps of the school, with a wooden lectern the only defense between him and a row of cameras and hundreds of pairs of eyes, Wilhelm had felt for a moment that he was tilting over the edge of a precipice. His heart beat in the base of his throat, sweat slicked his palms, and the lurching in his stomach threatened the upheaval of his lunch. But Simon's presence, pressed into his awareness like the sun at one's back, assured him that everything would be okay. He had to pitch himself headlong into the unknown. Whatever happened from that point forward, he would not be alone. He could not be made to take back his truth.
It was out there, and it was beautiful. Him and Simon against the world.
Wilhelm bargains with his mom to bring Simon back to the palace. The queen wants a clean sweep of the scene, time to plan out the next PR move, and Simon, if left alone, could fall vulnerable to reporters. By whisking him away, they all get what they want. She, the illusion that this was intended all along; he, more time with Simon, to make up for all the days that fear and hurt kept them apart.
Finally, finally, after the long car ride, and a tense private discussion with his parents, and an endless meeting with the royal court, Wilhelm is released. Finding Simon in his room, he smiles. For the first time since Erik died, the palace doesn't feel too huge around him. He approaches him wordlessly, just gathering up this moment: Simon borrowing his sweater, breathing it in, as in love with Wilhelm as he is with him.
When he's caught watching, he laughs for the sheepishness that crawls across Simon's face. His hands find Simon's waist, and no reason not to touch him. Teasing, he tugs at the hem of the commandeered sweater. That's when Simon says boyfriends, and Wilhelm looks at him like it's the most brilliant thing he's ever heard. Like the word never meant anything until those lips shaped it.]
My boyfriend, Simon.
[He tries it out the same way Simon tries out his clothes. With a smile that gives away his answer, he cups Simon's face in his hands. His fingers stretch into the curls behind his ears, stroking gently.]
no subject
It was out there, and it was beautiful. Him and Simon against the world.
Wilhelm bargains with his mom to bring Simon back to the palace. The queen wants a clean sweep of the scene, time to plan out the next PR move, and Simon, if left alone, could fall vulnerable to reporters. By whisking him away, they all get what they want. She, the illusion that this was intended all along; he, more time with Simon, to make up for all the days that fear and hurt kept them apart.
Finally, finally, after the long car ride, and a tense private discussion with his parents, and an endless meeting with the royal court, Wilhelm is released. Finding Simon in his room, he smiles. For the first time since Erik died, the palace doesn't feel too huge around him. He approaches him wordlessly, just gathering up this moment: Simon borrowing his sweater, breathing it in, as in love with Wilhelm as he is with him.
When he's caught watching, he laughs for the sheepishness that crawls across Simon's face. His hands find Simon's waist, and no reason not to touch him. Teasing, he tugs at the hem of the commandeered sweater. That's when Simon says boyfriends, and Wilhelm looks at him like it's the most brilliant thing he's ever heard. Like the word never meant anything until those lips shaped it.]
My boyfriend, Simon.
[He tries it out the same way Simon tries out his clothes. With a smile that gives away his answer, he cups Simon's face in his hands. His fingers stretch into the curls behind his ears, stroking gently.]
Yeah, I want that. Definitely.