#tomt

“It’s five till six.” 

“Okay?” Simon questioned as he slid into his seat, not understanding Mikael’s meaning. 

“You’re early,” Mikael pointed out, frowning. 

“It happens,” Simon shrugged. It didn’t, really. “On occasion.”

“Wille is late,” Mikael said, in the same tone of voice as his prior observation. Simon narrowed his eyes at Mikael, trying to figure out why their timing was of concern to him. Sometimes they were early, and sometimes they were late. Very rarely were they both on time. Until very recently, Simon had been busy with school more often than not, and Wille’s schedule with royal family bullshit was constantly in flux. 

“Not yet.” 

It was silent for a long time. Maybe minutes. Simon and Mikael just existed together in companionable silence until finally, out of the blue, Mikael said, “Wille is late”. 

Simon tapped his phone. He couldn’t help but flash a smile at his new wallpaper – a picture of him and Wille taken a few weeks prior, singing karaoke together to celebrate his graduation. 

“It’s 6:01,” Simon read.

“Mmm. Late,” Mikael hummed, raising a bushy eyebrow at Simon, wordlessly conveying his concern, before turning away to work. 

Simon considered this along with all the rest of the reasons why he felt uncomfortable. Their arrival times wouldn’t usually be something of concern, but for whatever reason, it was today, when the balance of the universe felt noticeably off-kilter. 

At 6:08, Wille finally appeared in a frenzy, out of breath and looking a little dazed. 

“You’re late,” Mikael declared. Wille shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“Like five minutes, Mikael, jeez. it’s fine.” 

“Are you okay?” Simon asked, frowning deeply as he tried to make sense of Wille’s distress. 

“I met someone,” Wille said, and he broke out into a smile brighter than Simon had seen in a long, long time. 

And Simon’s already fractured heart shattered. 

Mikael instantly lost interest in Wille’s excuse. He rolled his eyes and walked away to address some other patrons. Not before shooting Simon a separate, undiscernible look.

Meanwhile, Simon tried as hard as he could to make sure he was wearing an appropriate expression. He tried to look excited and interested, which was proving to be a struggle when everything inside of him wanted to scream. 

“Oh?” Simon asked, only because he knew he was supposed to ask the follow-up question. Even if he already knew all he cared to know. 

“Mmm,” Wille nodded, excitedly. He was beaming like a kid at Christmas, the type of joy that was usually contagious. Of course, when this was the subject matter, Simon was immune. “They work in the palace. In the kitchen. We were organizing some dinner, and I got to talking with them and… Well, we were both working, but I wanted to keep the conversation going so I gave them my number. They called me later that night, and we talked until the morning.”

“Wow,” was all Simon could manage.

“I know,” Wille sighed. His eyes were practically enlarged cartoon hearts. Simon thought he might be sick. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked with someone that long. Aside from… well, you, I guess.”

“So…” Simon coughed, not wanting to dwell and let himself overthink Wille’s observation. “Are you guys… like, official?” 

“No,” Wille answered, shaking his head a little. “I don’t think so. Well, honestly? I don’t even know if they like guys. I mean. I’m interested. Very interested. But, you know, technically, they work for me.” 

“Right, well. That’s a big conflict of interest.”

“I don’t see them staying with us long, though.” 

“Oh?”

“God, that sounded awful. I just mean that they want to open up a restaurant soon. Like, fine dining, Michelin stars kinda thing.” 

“I guess your Mamma would like that. I don’t know much about the food industry, but it’s a pretty big status thing.” 

“Well. We’ll see. I’m going to hold off telling my mother as long as I can.” 

“Why?”

“Well, I just remember how difficult she was with Daniel. And that only lasted a few months, and we kept things super private.” 

“Oh, so your chef is a guy?”

“No, Sage is non-binary. Which might be worse for my family, in some ways. I don’t think Mamma even knows what any of that means. Let alone the rest of Sweden.” 

“I guess you’re kinda serious about this. If you are already thinking about going public…” 

“I just have this feeling, Simon. I can’t explain it. I just feel so… Excited. I’ve never felt like this with someone before.”

“I’m happy for you,” Simon said, willing himself more than ever to actually mean it.  

“God, I can’t wait for you to meet them. You’ll love them, I just know it.”  

• ────── ✾ ────── •

June 2029

Simon was home in Bjärstad for Midsommar, feeling oversized and out of place in his childhood bedroom. It was a fitting feeling for the immense sense of wrongness he was still trying to fight. 

He invited Rosh and Ayub to come over to Linda’s. When they finally appeared together in Simon’s doorway, they found Simon in a state of total distress. Simon knew he looked like shit. He had been rotting in this bed since he arrived home, yet he still looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Simon?” Rosh called, walking into Simon’s bedroom. Simon looked up to meet her eyes, and Rosh’s expression shifted from excitement to concern in record time. “Jesus, are you okay?”

“It’s official,” Simon choked. “Wille and Sage are going public with their relationship. They’re going through all the official channels to make sure the royal court is okay with it and everything.”

It was quiet for a minute before Ayub let out a breath. “Damn.”

Simon was quiet for a bit longer while Rosh just stared blankly at him before suddenly Simon started to break out into hysterical sobs. 

Rosh and Ayub exchanged a look, and then they each sat on either side of Simon on his bed. 

“Simon,” Rosh sighed. This behavior wasn’t new for Simon, but it had been a long time since it’d been this visually bad. “Simon, come on. You’re being dramatic.” 

“I think I’m allowed,” Simon managed, indignant between sobs. “I mean, how long has it been?” 

“Look, I feel for you. I do. But…” Rosh shifted to face Simon head-on, frowning. “I mean, he’s not your boyfriend. He never has been, he’s just…” 

“I know,” Simon said, standing up to pace in front of where Rosh and Ayub sat. “Fuck. I know.” 

“Seriously, Simon,” Ayub said, voice tired. “You know you should have told him how you felt eight years ago.” 

“I did,” Simon whined, covering his eyes with the inner sides of his palms. 

“Kissing him once right after you met him is not the same as telling him you’ve been stupidly in love with him for the better part of a decade,” Rosh pointed out.

“He has to know, though. Right?” Simon spun on his heels to look at where Rosh and Ayub still sat on his bed, a Simon-sized gap between them. “It’s not like I’ve ever been subtle.” 

“Even if he does know…” Rosh said, slowly, clearly choosing her words very carefully. “What is it that you’re expecting him to do? He’s in a relationship. I know that’s upsetting, but if he doesn’t feel the same about you, he has the right to pursue other people. You have to be okay with that.” 

“I am.”

“Then why are you crying?” Rosh deadpanned, seeing all the way through Simon’s bullshit.

Simon let out a long sigh, pushing any remnant tears off his cheeks with his sleeve. He had to be honest now. No more beating around the bush. 

“I’m just… I’m so damn tired of having my heart broken. I don’t want to be, but I’m still letting him get to me while I’m stuck clinging onto this impossible thing… And I want to stop loving him, I swear I do. I want to let him go, let him be happy. And be happy that he’s happy! He’s my best friend. I want that for him, I want everything for him, I really do. I just… God, it’s so selfish. But there is always going to be a part of me that hopes.” 

“Simon…”

“Sometimes… Sometimes I’ll be talking with him, and he’ll look at me a certain way or say something attentive to me that makes it all seem so… I don’t know. So real. Even now. Every time I tell myself I’m done, he’ll say something that gives me stupid little butterflies and he pulls me right back in.”

Rosh was giving Simon a look. She was probably trying for sympathy, but Simon knew he’d dragged her down that road one or a thousand too many times. She just looked tired. 

“Maybe… Maybe you should take a break, for a bit. Take a few weeks off from Geronimo’s, you know? To tell you the truth, I think Mikael could use the break as well.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, look. He needs me. He’s going to go public with his relationship, and we all know how that’s going to go. It’s going to be an absolute nightmare for him and he needs support. I’m not walking away from him now.” 

“It’s nice that you want to be supportive, but… Simon, you gotta look after yourself now and again.”

“I know, I know. But he’s still my best friend. I got to… I got to be there for him. So I need to put my feelings aside.” 

“Well, in a roundabout way, that’s what we wanted,” Ayub commented directly to Rosh, who was shaking her head vehemently. 

“He’s holding you back, Simon. You’re not letting yourself really consider seeing other people. You hardly give them a chance.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve gone out with every single guy you’ve introduced me to. It’s not my fault it never works out.”

“Isn’t it, though? You’re always the common denominator. They can’t all be duds.”

“What was wrong with Leon? He still asks about you when I run into him at the gym. And not in a weird way!” 

“Nothing was wrong with… Look, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do here, okay? I’m just… I’ll be fine. Just needed to cry it out. I’ll get over it.”

“Simon, I’d have a better time believing that if you haven’t said it to us hundreds of times already.” 

“Things with Sage are clearly… This is serious. It’s time I treat it seriously, too.” 

• ────── ✾ ────── •

July 2031

It started as just another Taco Tuesday at Geronimo’s…

Simon finished shuffling the deck of cards for gin rummy and he handed the deck to Wille to deal. Wille took the cards from Simon but didn’t deal them out right away. Instead, he toyed with the cards, siding them together without displacing them, as if simply to keep his fingers busy. He looked uncomfortable, which made Simon nervous. These days, there was only one topic of conversation Wille was uncomfortable having. 

“I need to ask you a question and I need you not to be weird about it.” 

“Weird about it?” Simon questioned, raising an eyebrow at Wille. 

“It’s… It’s about Sage, and I know you have been less than enthusiastic about them lately.” 

“Feel like that’s justified at this point, but go on.”

Simon found himself biting back most of what he wanted to say. Especially in the last few months, Sage and Wille were getting into more and more explosive fights. Wille had crashed on Simon’s couch more times than Simon felt good about. 

Wille paused for a long time before letting out an annoyed puff of air. “You know what? Forget it.” 

“What?” Simon squawked. “Come on. Stop being difficult, just tell me.”

“You’re going to be weird about it,” Wille pouted.

“No. No, I’ll be reasonable, I promise.”

Wille sighed. Paused. Simon could feel his skin crawl.

“I wanted to know if it would be like… in bad taste if I proposed to Sage with my grandmother’s ring.” 

Simon blinked. He was shocked. This was the last place he pictured the conversation going. He expected Wille to ask to take up his spare room for a day or two again. 

“Oh. You’re thinking of proposing?” Simon asked, fighting for his life to keep his facial expression neutral. 

“You think that’s a bad idea,” Wille stated plainly.  

“I didn’t… I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’ve got that weird look on your face.” 

“That’s just my face, Wille.”

“I know we’ve been fighting more often, but it’s not like… Look, I love them. They love me. It can only make things between us better. Right?”

Simon cringed at the question. Wille should have known Simon would object. Anyone who knew Simon even a little would know that he still carried baggage from his own parent's divorce. More than anyone, Simon would have opinions on considering marriage to fix a rocky relationship. 

Wille instantly realized his mistake and winced. “I didn’t mean… It’s…” 

Simon let out a slow exhale, biting back everything he wanted to say but knew he shouldn’t.

“I get where you’re coming from. I do. It’s just hard not to see it as a bandaid on a sinking ship.” 

“A sinking ship?” Wille’s eyes widened, properly angry at Simon’s words. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, defensive. “My relationship is fine, Simon.” 

“I know. I know, I’m just…” Simon squeezed his eyes shut, realizing that he was making things worse the more he talked. “Look, you know I don’t really believe in marriage. I’m not the person you want for this conversation. Ask Margot. Or Alve. They’ve been engaged for eons.” 

“My question wasn’t whether or not I should get married. My question was about the ring. I’m not asking you for your blessing or anything.” 

“It’s not just getting married, though. With you. It’s a royal wedding. You’re supposed to be king one day.”

“I don’t–”

“I’m just saying. If there is even a seed of doubt… You can count on your family to expedite the shitshow.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay.” Simon frowned. 

It was silent for a long beat.

“Jakob told me that it was Rosie’s birthday yesterday.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Laurel made cupcakes for the office.” 

Both giving a valiant effort to fight off the awkwardness, Taco Tuesday at Geronimo’s continued. Not quite as normal, but the show must go on. 

• ────── ✾ ────── •

October 2031

Wille and Sage broke up. A week and a half ago. Simon thought that he would feel better about that fact.  

It was a Sunday. Simon had been staying at Wille’s place for the weekend to comfort him. And man, he needed comfort. 

Simon was sitting on Wille’s couch (surrounded by as many throw pillows as he could gather because Jesus fuck this must have been the worst couch ever constructed) with his laptop on his knees, sorting through Spotify. He was busying himself making Wille an “empowering” breakup playlist to hopefully change Wille’s tune from the weepy ones he had been cycling through all week.

Simon stilled when he heard the doorbell ring. Simon took an earbud out to listen, and he heard Wille’s muffled voice shout from his bedroom.

“Can you get it?” 

“Sure,” Simon called back, setting his laptop on the coffee table before making his way to the door.

Reaching the panel by the door, Simon realized that he didn’t know what to do with the whole doorbell situation. He’d seen Wille use something around the door to talk down to the staff of his building. (Wille calls where he lives his “apartment” so it can feel more normal but to be clear, it’s a living area built into some sort of official building. It’s still totally protected and staffed by the royal family.) Simon pressed a button on the intercom, hoping and praying it was the right one, and attempted to talk into it. 

“Uh, hey. Who is it?” 

Mercifully, it must have worked, because the little speaker lit up again. Simon recognized the doorman's voice, who answered with a hushed tone. “It’s Sage again.” 

“Fuck,” Simon cursed to himself. He turned around to look to where Wille’s bedroom door was ajar. He could sort of make out the mountain of blankets the Wille was cocooned under. Now was clearly not a good time. “Um…”

“Should I send them up?” 

“No. No, I’ll come down.” Simon decided, whispering into the speaker so Wille wouldn’t hear. 

Simon wished he had taken the moment to put on some proper clothes. His sweatpants and hoodie were fine, usually, but something about Sage always made him feel like he needed to have all his ducks in a row. They were so cool, always fashionable and suave and successful. So many things that Simon was not and never would be. He had spent years feeling so insecure about that. So much of the past decade was spent agonizing over what these other people Wille dated had that he lacked, what made them so special that Wille chose to love them when he continuously overlooked Simon. 

It was a little comforting, though, when he arrived downstairs and finally did get a glimpse of Sage, who he found sitting on a chair in the lobby. They looked like shit. They still wore decent, presentable daytime clothes, but Simon noticed the wrinkles on their button-up shirt, the bags under their eyes, and the way their hair hadn’t been styled at all, messy strands sticking out every which way.

It made Simon feel a little good, in a kind of fucked up way. Of course losing Wille hurt. Sage should feel like shit about fucking up something so good. 

“Wille can’t come down himself?” Sage grumbled when they spotted Simon. 

“He’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him,” Simon lied. “Did you need something?” 

“To talk to him.” 

“He doesn’t want to see you.” 

“You just said he’s sleeping. You didn’t even ask him.” 

“He’ll say the same thing he said the last five times you’ve shown up here. He doesn’t want to see you. Can’t you just take the hint? You have to stop coming here.”

“He blocked my number.”

“Of course he did.” 

“Simon…”

“You know what? I don’t have to be nice to you anymore. I hate the way you’ve treated Wille. I know things haven’t been easy for you guys. But you went through all that, fought so hard to be together, and you still took him for granted. You know he sacrificed so much to be with you? Do you know how hard that was for him?”

“It was hard for me to0! But you don’t get to accuse me of not knowing Wille. I was with him for years, I know Wille.” 

“But you left him.”

“Simon, can you just cut the crap? Everybody and their mother knows you want to jump Wille’s bones, but you aren’t his boyfriend, okay? I was his partner. Not you. I knew him like that. You don’t.” 

“I was by Wille’s side long before you showed up. And I will still be here long after you’ve forgotten his name. As long as I am his friend, I will be sure that you don’t get to say a word to that man to hurt him. I will always be here to stand in between you and him.” 

“You gotta stop putting him on a fucking pedestal. Doesn’t his whole existence go against your whole schtick? Mr. Fuck-the-Rich, abolish the monarchy and all that?” 

“You want to talk ‘fuck the rich’? You? The one who famously fucked their way to a Michelin star. All your success is because of him. And you didn’t even have the decency to stick around after he handed you exactly what you wanted.”

Sage narrowed their eyes at Simon darkly. “...If you don’t think I spent every waking moment making sure Wille knew how grateful I was for his support…” 

“The ends justify, don’t they?”

Sage just glared. They looked at each other with so much pent-up anger and pure hatred. It was, in a word, terrifying.

“You really don’t know anything,” Sage said slowly, furiously. 

“Don’t come back again, okay?” Simon said, and then turned around and headed back upstairs, not waiting for a response. 

Back in Wille’s rooms, the mound of blankets vaguely representing the shape of Wille shuffled at the sound of the door closing. 

“Who was it?”

“Sara.” Simon lied. “She was dropping off my laptop.” 

Wille made a noise of acknowledgment before going still again.