#normal simon

originally posted and updated on archive of our own.

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Ever since Prince Wilhelm graduated Hillerska; it was assumed by almost all of his then classmates he would go back to his duties as he was suddenly intended to pursue earlier in his years. The video, the ongoing battle with hiding, and everything in his heart told him to do anything but. So he cut ties. For himself…and Simon. 

Simon was…everything. To Wilhelm. And in his years of knowing him, he knew that he always would be. Nothing in the world would let him forget the incredibly golden, kind-hearted, generous human that is Simon Eriksson. 

It wasn’t easy, with the endless messages from Kristina and Ludvig, but he got his own place with the money he had at the time. He’s content. Still in Sweden, just in a normal neighborhood since no one would expect him to be in a place like that. Luckily, he hasn’t heard anything from either of them. 

He blames himself a lot for the events of Hillerska, dwelling on things he could’ve avoided. Things he could’ve saved Simon from. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand if his mother would’ve been one; instead of acting like his boss at a major company. The aftermath of everything still haunts him at night, keeping his anxiety high and his guard overwhelmingly more visible than he’d like. It’s much harder to make friends, especially since not only the video, but now the speech, had both gone viral. Everyone knew. Everyone knew, and Simon got out. Wille was happy for him, if anything. 

But he misses him.

Since Wille had cut ties, he had no real reason to not contact Simon. He always thought about it, but he didn’t want to reopen a wound that he knew he would inevitably let bleed. Instead, he ends up spending his days talking to his long-time friend Felice. Since Hillerska, she’s now a successful businesswoman. She says all the time that the reason she’s so successful is because she put Wille down as a reference; he always laughs about that. The truth is though, she works her ass off. Ever since he met her, she’s been the most loyal, most determined person he’s known when it came to how she wanted to grow up. She always knew. Sometimes Wille wishes he knew what he wanted to be earlier in life. But he knows it’s a waste to think about it all the time. 

His therapist, Boris, had been helping him with his anxiety, depression and had been talking to him regularly through text message since graduating. Wille found himself talking about August and his family’s views on what he did more than he’d like, and Boris can tell it still affects him greatly. He’s more guarded. More scared. He doesn’t like going out much anymore, and orders in when he doesn’t feel like cooking. Felice has offered to cook for him many times, but he won’t let her, since it reminds him too much of his time at the palace. He’s on some medication now, and sometimes he forgets to take it, and sometimes he doesn’t. Lately, though, he’s been doing good with it. The only thing is he has to eat before he takes his antidepressant and if he’s honest, it hasn’t been helping either way. 

It’s been 30 minutes since Wille’s woken up, and he’s been trying to cook himself breakfast. His apartment is cozy, it’s small, but that was intentional when he saw it. It makes him feel more normal. His kitchen is white with a dark blue tile backsplash and a medium length island with two chairs on either side of it. Across from the kitchen is a small living room with a beige couch along with a matching coffee table and a tv in front of it. It’s not much, Wille wishes he knew how to decorate better, but he thinks plants are all he can handle for right now. No one’s coming over anyways. He thinks. 

For his breakfast, he tries to make a simple piece of toast spread with butter, topped with an egg and cheese. When the egg is heating up on the stove, he wishes Simon would have written some of his household recipes down while he had the chance. Wille hadn’t cooked for himself much but at this rate, he even overcooks pasta. He always thought the spaghetti with pasta dish Simon always liked was… interesting, to say the least. Maybe if he cooked it right it wouldn’t taste so bad? Smoke is suddenly in the air and the egg is burnt. Of course. This would happen while drifting into Simon-Land. After one more long attempt he finally got his breakfast. Thankfully the only thing he had to recook was the egg itself. 

Wilhelm sits on his couch and turns on the news. The top story is apparently about how August had now become the crown prince. Who actually cares? He rolls his eyes as he takes a bite of his breakfast; now realizing he should’ve made himself a coffee.

His phone dings.

Felice: 

Wilhelm!

Wille: 

Felice!

Felice:

Let’s go out tonight.

Wille:

But I’m tiredddd.

Felice:

You’re always tired, Wilhelm.

Besides, there’s this new bar I wanna try.

Wille:

Feliceeeee.

Felice:

Wilhelm.

Wille:

…

Fine.

What time?

Felice:

9:30pm, I’ll pick you up.

Wille:

See you thennn x

Felice:

xx

The bar is nice, the glow of the multi-colored lights give it a nice ambiance and the music isn’t extremely loud like most bars. The bar counter is at the very back, and the wall behind it is filled with various different spirits; and Wille wants to try them all just to see if he could become normal overnight. He’s wearing a silk black long sleeve button up, with some black fitted pants and some shoes to go with it. After looking at the others, it seemed like he overdressed just a little bit. It was busy, and the ceiling was painted with some mural he couldn’t make out. Two angels reaching for one in the middle. He never understood art, but this one seems targeted in a way. Kristina and Simon; both reaching for him. Crown prince or Simon? His lie or his truth? He doesn’t want to know. 

Felice sits next to him on a bar stool, and Wille thinks watching the bartender working so fast is impressive. No way could he memorize all of the drinks.

He looks around as the silence breaks suddenly, “okay, yeah, I like this place,” Felice says. She looks stunning, he thinks. She’s wearing a burgundy dress with her hair in a low bun and minimal makeup. He assumes it’s because last time they went out she always had to re-apply her lipstick, so she got sick of it;

“but it’s so annoying!” She whines, Wille rubbing his hand slightly on her shoulder as an act of reassurance.

“it looks pretty though,” he spoke softly. “Do what you’re comfortable with, that’s all that matters.” His uplifting grin reflecting onto her.

Wille scans over the drinks menu as he responds, “I need to be here a while to actually have an opinion on it I think,” “mmm” Felice hums, mid-way sipping her already ordered drink. Eyes widened, “we’ve been here for 10 minutes, how do you already have a drink?” “I already have a drink because we’re sitting at the bar… right in front of a bartender… whose job is to make people drinks.” He laughs, scanning over the menu once again, his mind contemplating between something sweet or something bitter. After some thought he goes with a glass of cider as he calls over the bartender and quickly gets the glass soon later. He really is good at what he does. He takes a sip, he wants to start slow, he’s a lightweight after all. 

The music is some sort of EDM music, and Wille can’t make it out, like most things. He’s here for Felice. If it wasn’t for her, he’d probably be home watching Law & Order trying to see if he can figure out the result of the crime before the characters do; but alas, he’s here.

He needs to get out of his head, “How are things?” He says, taking a much bigger sip of his drink than anticipated; “Things are good, I just got promoted to chairman of the board, which I think is funny because there’s no such thing as chairwoman, so basically, I’m making history.” she laughs, she has a reddish looking drink with sugar on the rim, Wille assumes it’s some kind of cherry margarita. He’s proud of her, he really is. “Felice, that’s fucking amazing! You deserve that more than anyone,” “Wille, you didn’t even know my competition,” He smiles, “you still deserve that more than anyone.” He drinks; “your turn, how are things?” And he’s silent. What does he say? He’s been isolating. Sleeping too much? Too little? Can’t stop missing Simon? “Things are fine,” he settles on, “fine? Really?” she says sarcastically, “that’s all you have for me?” Her drink gets refilled.

Wille sighs, he should just tell her, “I just…” hesitating, “It’s Simon, I miss him,” “Oh, Wilhelm, he’ll come around,” And he knows he won’t. He really messed it up this time. Her hand falls onto his shoulder, comforting him. Honestly, there’s nothing he could do; and he doesn’t want to pressure Felice to ask Sara if he’s been okay, let alone happier. The urge is definitely there, but maybe at a later date. 

Suddenly, his drink is nearly gone, “He’s not coming around, Felice.” He says, more angrily than he expected. Maybe it’s the alcohol kicking in, or maybe he’s bitter. He can’t stand having no contact with Simon. Does he still live in Bjärstad? Is he on his own? Does he have a partner? Is he happy? He practically downs his 2nd drink of cider, not remembering that he ordered one in the first place, and Felice looks worried, “Wille, slow down,” she tries taking the drink from his hand but fails due to its emptiness. The bartender is cute. He thinks. His dark slightly curly hair just under his ears with a half bun and his tan golden skin. His arms strong and his memorization impeccable. Studying him, his laugh is like medicine, and his smile reflects on everyone else in the room. He looks like he irons his clothes, “Wille?” Felice snaps her fingers in front of him, “Get your shit together, here, drink some water,” a glass slides to him, he does what she says. Eventually, he drinks the whole glass, and now his plan of getting drunk until he can’t walk is wearing off. The bartender glances at him as he slides him his now third glass of cider. Wille runs his fingers through his hair as he gives him a half smile. His blonde hair is much longer than usual, he needs a haircut, but he can’t be bothered. Looking back at the bartender, he knows why he can’t stop looking. He looks like Simon. And he knows it can’t be him. Simon wouldn’t smile at him like that, not at a bar, he wouldn’t not acknowledge him… would he? He drinks half the cup and puts it down, “Felice, that’s not him, is it?” She looks confused, “Who are you looking at?” “The bartender,” and she glances slightly, it does look like him, she can see that but since they’re both intoxicated there’s no real confirmation.  Taking a sip of her drink, she calls over the bartender to order her third drink as well, “should I ask him?” And he panics, “Wille if you don’t decide I’m going to have to, you have 5 seconds,” and Wille can’t think for any of them. She stops the bartender for a second, “Hey, can I ask you something?” Wille looks away embarrassed, like the man is medusa and he’ll turn to stone if he looks him in the eye. The bartender stops suddenly, turning his attention to Felice, “Yeah, what’s going on? Is something wrong with your drink?” He even sounds like him, “Yeah, everything is perfect, the place is lovely; it’s just,” He raises his brow, “It’s just…?” “What’s your name?” And Felice feels stupid. How could neither of them tell if it’s Simon or not? If it is then there’s no way he’d want anything to do with Wilhelm if he blatantly forgets him. Forgetting him like he forgot to tell people it was him in the video, how he forgot to tell him about August, about how he forgot to do so many things. The bartender looks over at Wille, still hiding his face, “Simon,” and everything clicks.

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