Chapter Text
Simon huffed as he bent down to place the stack of books that he’d been carrying onto the floor.
“Those books need to be on a shelf, Simon!” came a mocking voice from around the corner.
“And they will be,” Simon panted, standing back up. “I just haven’t got six hands.”
Rosh appeared around the side of the bookshelf, a smirk on her face. “Apparently we all need to have six hands to get everything ready for His Majesty.”
“It’s ‘His Royal Highness’, and I know you know that; but don’t catch Felice hearing you say it wrong, she’ll have kittens.”
“She could do with loosening up a bit, otherwise she’s going to an early grave before the end of the day. And we’ve got a whole week of it!”
Simon looked over his shoulder to make sure Felice wasn’t in hearing distance before laughing and shaking his head. “I think she’ll murder one of us before she goes herself.”
“If you don’t get those books on a shelf five minutes ago, it’s definitely going to be you,” Rosh said, before slinking off behind the next shelf, away from Simon’s hissed, “f*ck you!”. But he still bent down and started diligently placing the books on their correct shelves.
He heard Felice’s steps before he saw her rushing around the corner. She had her diary in her hand and was looking exceptionally frazzled. “Simon,” she said. “The Crown Prince’s display isn’t finished yet.”
“I know,” Simon said. “I’ll get to it after this. I just thought we probably didn’t want him breaking his neck tripping over piles of books whilst he was here.”
Felice did not find that funny. In fact, Simon was fairly sure she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve just found out that both the princes are coming,” she said. “I didn’t know! Now I have to find another chair from somewhere, and what if Prince Wilhelm needs something different and what if—”
“Felice,” Simon said firmly, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Chill out.”
She glared at him. “I can’t ‘chill out’, Simon! This is such a huge deal. I can’t—”
“Felice,” he said, cutting her off again. “It will be fine. They will come in, sign some books, read a bit, take some photos, and leave. They won’t have time to critique everything. And if they do, they’re not worth your time.”
She bristled. “Simon, they are the princes!”
“Yes,” said Simon. “And I don’t care. You know that. I don’t really understand why you do care. Don’t you know them? Like as people?”
She sighed and shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “I went to preschool with Wilhelm and have seen him at a distance at a couple of events in the year since school. Erik went to Hillerska but he left before we were there.”
“I thought all you rich types went in the same circles.”
She glared at him. “You went to Hillerska too, Simon.”
“Yeah, and they made my life miserable for three whole years. You were one of the good ones, don’t expect me to be looking forward to seeing two of the elitest elite there is.”
Sighing again, she said, “Fine. Just don’t cause a scene. Please? For me?” She gave him a sweet smile.
He rolled his eyes. “For you. Because I love you. But don’t expect me to suck up to them.”
“I don’t,” she said. “Just finish the display and then you can just make yourself scarce if you want to. You’re still leading the craft activity this afternoon though, yeah?”
“Yes,” he said. “I assume we’re not expecting Their Royal Highnesses to be making crepe paper frog pictures with a load of kids?”
Felice laughed at that. “No,” she said. “They’re only here for the first hour. Reading, signing and then going.”
“Okay, then it’s no problem. I will get to the display. And it is all going to be fine. Go make yourself a drink and sit down.”
“I can’t sit down!” she shrieked. “I have to go and make sure the matching mugs are clean in the staff room.” And with that she disappeared again.
Simon chuckled to himself and shook his head. Maybe Rosh was right and Felice was heading to an early grave. He pushed the last book onto its shelf and headed to grab the box of books for the display.
He passed Rosh again as he hefted it to the front of the shop. She grabbed a book out of the box as she kept pace next to him.
“Have you read it?” she said, flicking through. Simon caught sight of the bright cartoon illustrations as he lowered the box to the ground.
“Yeah,” he said. “Have you?”
She made an affirmative noise in the back of her throat before looking up at him and grinning. “Do you think His Majesty Crown Prince Erik knows that he’s written a queer allegory?”
Simon snorted. “I doubt it,” he said. “I think we probably just look for those messages everywhere.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe he’s a secret queer and is dying slowly inside an archaic hom*ophobic institution.”
Simon laughed out loud at that. “Rosh. Have you seen him? He couldn’t exude more heterosexuality if he tried.”
Rosh pointed at him and gave him a faux stern look. “You are judging someone by their appearance, Simon. And that is not cool.”
He rolled his eyes. “I think he can take it,” he said.
“That’s what I’m saying,” she said. “Maybe he does take it.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Simon shoved her as she laughed. “Gross, Rosh. I won’t be able to get that image out of my head when I see him now.” Rosh stumbled into the display and they both panicked before dissolving into laughter.
“Don’t let Felice see you vandalising the display, it’s her pride and joy.”
“Did you see her eye twitching when Maddie did the crown?” Simon pointed to the huge, garish cardboard crown that had been proudly placed on top of the set of shelves.
Rosh grinned. “Yeah. But what else were we supposed to do? We were under strict instruction to not spend any money on it.”
Simon laughed. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get these books out before Felice yells at us again.”
They worked in companionable silence as they filled the shelves with Crown Prince Erik’s debut children’s novel. Simon flicked through the picture book a few times as he arranged them. He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he actually loved the book. Sure, the frog prince theme was a bit on the nose, but the struggles and journey of the little frog in the story was one that Simon recognised.
Not even ten minutes later, the box was empty, and they were standing back, admiring their work. The display was for paying customers next week. This week, the store was only open to children and their families that had been gifted tickets for the special event itself. Simon knew that Felice had worked tirelessly alongside some PR person within the Royal Court to make sure the tickets went to underprivileged families, or families with children that they thought could really benefit from it.
Simon checked to make sure the box of books to be signed and handed to the children for the rest of the week was in place underneath the table that was now set out with two chairs: one for each visiting prince.
“What time are the kids arriving?” Simon asked, as Felice emerged from the back room, looking considerably more put together than she had earlier.
She looked at her watch and then at the clipboard in her hand. “In five minutes,” she said. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes,” Simon said. “Are the matching mugs clean?”
She threw him an unimpressed look, but he could see the edges of a smile, so he knew that she wasn’t completely past hope.
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
“All set for a prince then?”
“Two,” she reminded him.
“Does the spare baby prince really need matching mugs?”
“They don’t match if there’s only one of them.”
He laughed and was pleased to see that she could do the same, although he saw it quickly slip off her face when she saw the queue starting to form outside the doors.
“Ready?” he said, in a much gentler voice than he had been using.
Pursing her lips, she nodded. “Ready,” she said, before pulling on her dazzling smile and striding to open the doors.
The next few minutes passed by in a blur of screaming and tiny feet pounding on the floor. Two shelves got knocked over, one child tripped and banged his head on a chair and needed an ice pack, one had to be coaxed out from under the table and two were sobbing loudly into their parents’ shoulders.
Simon was sent under the table and Rosh was given the task of placating the screamers whilst Felice hurried to grab the ice pack. Simon was pleased when his child joined the others cross-legged on the floor before either of Rosh’s, but gave pity and went to help.
Soon enough, with some gentle encouragement and the promise of no loud noises, and ‘yes it is a real life prince. Two of them in fact’, both remaining unhappy children were tentatively sitting beside their parents, waiting like the rest.
Once the horde were all settled, Felice threw Simon a half excited, half terrified look, which he assumed meant that the princes were about to arrive; and sure enough, a minute later the door swung open to admit a crowd of tailored suits.
It took a moment for Simon to distinguish Crown Prince Erik amongst the photographers, what he assumed was a small PA team, as well as their security, but then the gaggle parted and Crown Prince Erik swept forward, smoothing down the front of his suit jacket before beaming at Felice and gripping her hand in both of his.
“Felice!” he said. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Despite her prior nerves, Felice looked composed and unflappable as she shook his hand and returned his smile. “You too, Your Highness. Thank you so much for coming.”
“No,” he said. “Thank you for having me. What an honour” - he turned to face the group of children with varying degrees of awe, confusion and boredom on their faces - “to be here with all of you today!”
A few of the parents gave a smattering of applause and Simon tried so hard to stop rolling his eyes that he made them water.
Erik was guided to the side by an authoritative woman with straight, dark hair and a long, navy-blue coat. “Hello, everyone,” she said. “The Crown Prince will begin his read-through in ten minutes, if you could all remain seated until then, thank you.”
Simon looked at Rosh with wide eyes. This woman had obviously never had to ask a group of 6 to 10 year olds to sit still for ten minutes before, with nothing to even entertain them. But she didn’t even give them a backwards glance as she swept away with Crown Prince Erik, who immediately engaged Felice in conversation as they walked towards her office.
It was then that Simon noticed the other prince. Wilhelm was standing to the side, trying to make himself look as small as possible. He was wearing a smartly tailored (exceptionally well-fitting) suit, just like his brother, but the expression he was wearing could not have been more different.
Prince Wilhelm looked surly and disgruntled. Simon watched as he lifted his thumb to his mouth before clearly thinking better of it and dropping it to his side. Erik squeezed his shoulder as he went past, but Wilhelm just rolled his eyes and shrugged it off, before following his brother and their entourage with Fellice.
Before long, Simon and Rosh were distracted by an increasingly impatient crowd of children and parents alike. One of the upset children from earlier had started crying again and Rosh was roped in to pull funny faces whilst the parent tried to placate them. Simon meanwhile had to mop up two spilt drinks and help to break up a small scuffle between two of the children.
After a few minutes, Felice came rushing out of her office and grabbed Simon’s arm. “Simon!” she hissed under her breath.
“What?” he snapped. He was already fed up with this whole event, and annoyed that the hard work had been left to him and Rosh whilst royalty sipped tea out of matching mugs or whatever they were doing. Simon noticed the group come out of Felice’s office, Erik laughing at something, Wilhelm looking abashed.
“Simon, I need you to go and make Prince Wilhelm a drink in the kitchen. We had a… mishap.”
Simon grinned. “With one of your matching mugs?”
She glared at him. “Please just go and make him a coffee?”
He sighed. “Fine. But they need to start entertaining these kids soon or this bookshop is getting destroyed by a horde of tiny, impatient hooligans.”
“We’re starting now!” she said.
“Good. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Thanks, Simon,” she said, giving his arm a quick squeeze.
He shook his head but tapped her shoulder fondly before making his way to the kitchen. Deep down, he knew this whole thing wasn’t Felice’s fault; he just got wound up when it came to how entitled some people were. And royalty were always at the top of that list.
Dumping the soggy paper towels that had been bunched in his hand in the bin, he started opening cupboards in search of a mug. He reached for one of the plain white staff ones before pausing. Pushed to the back of the cupboard was the mug Rosh had got him as a secret Santa gift the previous year. He considered for a moment, before grinning and pulling it down. But he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see Sweden’s baby prince drinking from a mug with the Converse star logo on the side surrounded by red flags and the words “Socialist Forever”.
Quickly, Simon made the drink before he could change his mind, and pushed out into the bookshop with the mug cradled in his hands.
Erik had already started reading. Surprisingly, the children were listening with rapt attention. Simon couldn’t deny that he was good at this. He had an arsenal of funny voices for the different characters, and at one point even got out of his chair to hop like a frog to the delight of the audience.
One person that did not seem impressed was Wilhelm. Idly, Simon wondered how much media training he must have had to still just be standing to the side scowling at nothing in particular. Simon walked towards him and tapped him on the shoulder. Jumping at the contact, Wilhelm whipped around, looking at Simon with a startled expression on his face.
“Here,” Simon said, handing him the mug. “I made you a new drink.”
“Oh!” said Wilhelm, taking the mug. “Thank you.”
He brought it up to his lips, Simon trying and failing to hide his smirk. Wilhelm frowned and lowered it again. He looked about to ask Simon what he was smiling at, when he caught sight of the image on the side. His eyes widened and he looked at Simon in surprise. Simon just raised his eyebrow as if daring him to say something. Wilhelm looked around to see if anyone was watching him, but everyone’s attention was one Erik.
Looking back at Simon, Wilhelm brought the mug to his lips and took a sip. The smirk slipped off Simon’s face; it was no fun if Wilhelm didn’t take offence at his joke.
But Wilhelm just smiled at him. “Thank you for the drink,” he said, before placing the mug down on the table beside him. Simon noticed him swivel it though, so that the image was facing decidedly away from the audience.
Finding a palace to perch, Simon watched Crown Prince Erik finish the reading. As he closed the book, the audience gave a round of applause and Erik gave a small wave and nodded his head.
The woman who had spoken earlier stepped forwards and instructed everyone to form a queue in front of the table to wait to get a signed book. There was a general flurry of activity, as the parents tried to herd their children into something resembling an orderly line. Unfortunately, most six-year-olds either weren’t aware or didn’t care about queue etiquette, so it was chaos for a while, until Simon and Rosh between them managed to implement some sort of system.
Some of the children had wandered off and their parents were caught between keeping their place in the queue and overseeing the trouble their children might be causing. Just as Simon was cursing Crown Prince Erik and his fancy PA lady under his breath, he caught sight of Prince Wilhelm once more, looking incredibly awkward with a small child perched on his knee. Simon looked over at Rosh, who was far too busy having her hair plaited by two exuberant siblings to notice.
The child appeared to be enthusiastically retelling a story to Prince Wilhelm, who was nodding in the right places, even if he looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Simon snorted. He guessed prince training was good for one thing. Just as he was about to turn away and try to round up some of the drifting children, when he saw the child give an almighty sneeze.
All eyes whipped to the corner where Wilhelm had hastily deposited the child to the ground and was standing staring at the snot on his jacket in quiet horror.
Simon heard some of the parents gasp, and a few others snigg*r under their breath. Erik laughed out loud. The PA lady seemed to be trying to decide whether to stick beside Erik and hurry along all of the effusive parents currently getting their children’s books signed, or to go and fix Wilhelm’s problem. Wilhelm had gone incredibly pink, and seemed to be at a complete loss of what to do when faced with an overly apologetic parent and an indignant child.
Simon decided to put him out of his misery.
“Hey,” he said as he quickly made his way to the front. Wilhelm’s eyes shot up to meet Simon’s, and if possible he blushed even more. “Shall we… erm. Do you want to go and get cleaned up?”
Wilhelm looked down at the mess on his jacket and then back up at Simon. He swallowed and nodded. “Yes,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Yes please.”
“Do you want me to show you… where to go?”
Wilhelm nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
Simon tried not to be too surprised at how meek Wilhelm seemed now compared to the glare he’d thrown his brother earlier and his general surly air. Maybe snot on your jacket humbled people. He threw Rosh a quick look to make sure she had everything under control, but she just wiggled her eyebrows at him. Rolling his eyes, he inclined his head to get Wilhelm to follow him.
They left the room via a small corridor and the hubbub of the children died down almost immediately. Simon walked ahead in silence, Wilhelm followed behind. Simon got to the door of the staffroom first and held it open for Wilhelm to walk through. The prince nodded his head as he passed.
Pulling the door shut behind him, Simon was suddenly met with a stifling silence. Wilhelm started shucking his jacket off his shoulders and Simon was not prepared for the well-fitting shirt he was wearing underneath. Simon didn’t think he’d ever noticed anyone’s shoulders before; but Prince Wilhelm had good shoulders.
Clearing his throat, Simon busied himself with wetting a towel. He handed it to Wilhelm who took it with a small ‘thanks’.
Simon watched as Wilehlm started dabbing at the snot with a disgusted look on his face. Snorting, Simon said, “Not much cleaning of bodily fluids in the palace?”
Wilhelm’s head shot up and Simon realised what he’d said. “Erm…” he said, panicking. “I mean… I bet you aren’t used to doing your own laundry. And… stuff.”
Looking at him for a moment, Wilhelm blinked, as if trying to decipher if Simon was mocking him. Eventually, he gave a sheepish smile. “No,” he said. “Not really.”
Simon’s stomach did a funny swoop at the smile, and he tried to remind himself that he shouldn’t be finding it cute that the princes had a household staff to do their everyday tasks for them.
He looked down at the jacket to try to distract himself. “I think you’re just spreading it round,” he said. “Look.” He pointed at the snot, which was definitely now taking up more space across the material.
Wilhelm made a small, pathetic noise. “Erik’s going to kill me,” he said. “Actually, Erik is going to laugh. Mum is going to kill me.”
Simon knew in theory that the ‘mum’ in question was, in fact, the queen of Sweden, but Wilhelm looked like any other person in line for a roasting for getting something on his best suit.
“Do you not travel with a spare?” Simon asked.
Giving him a funny look, Wilhelm said, “Why would I travel with a spare suit?”
Simon shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what your lives look like. Does this sort of thing not happen often?”
Wilhelm shook his head. “I don’t often have official engagements without mum and dad. And they’re going to kill me. I told them I’d screw it up. I should have just left after I dropped that stupid mug.” Throwing the cloth on the table, Wilhelm brought his hands up to run them frustratedly through his hair.
Simon was taken aback by how upset Wilhelm seemed to be. He reached down for the cloth and said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Can’t you just wear the shirt?”
Wilhelm shook his head. “I’ve got the photos before we leave. There’s no way Farima will let me not wear the jacket for them.”
“Is Farima the scary lady who has never met a child in her life?”
Wilhelm gave a small grin. “That’s the one. Only she has, she knew me as a child. Maybe it says a lot about how she is around them…”
Simon wasn’t sure how to take that, so he just carried on dabbing at the mark. After a few more attempts he sighed. “This isn’t going to come off without some real effort, and I think you need to be back out there soon.”
“What am I going to do?” Wilhelm wailed, and Simon was surprised to see that he seemed to genuinely be asking Simon if he would help him.
“Put it back on,” Simon said. “Let’s see if it’s less obvious when it’s on.”
Wilhelm lifted the jacket and pulled it back onto his shoulders. Shame, Simon thought, before shaking his head to refocus. The mark did not look less obvious when on. In fact, it might have looked even worse. Wilhelm gave him a pathetic look.
Simon quickly glanced around the kitchen and spotted the flowers on the table that Felice had set out to impress their guests.
“Felice, why will they even come into the employee kitchen?”
“You never know!”
Simon must remember to thank her for her overplanning. He grabbed a handful of blossoms and turned to face Wilhelm.
Looking at Simon in confusion, he said, “What— what are you doing?”
Simon snorted. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually giving you flowers. But we can attach them to your jacket. To cover the mark.”
Wilhelm looked sceptical.
“Look, they’re Sweden’s colours and everything. See?” Simon stepped towards Wilhelm and pushed a few of the stems into the pocket, making sure the flowers spread out over most of the stain. “You can say a kid gave them to you or something. People will think it’s sweet.”
Simon suddenly realised how close they were and hastily stepped out of Wilhelm’s personal space. Wilhelm's cheeks were a fiery red; he swallowed and glanced down at the jacket, making a noncommittal noise.
“Come on,” Simon said, with more exasperation. “It’s this, no jacket, or a snot stain. Your call.”
Wilhelm looked back up at Simon and studied him for a moment before nodding. Simon snorted, then quickly covered it up at the pained look on Wilhelm’s face.
Looking down at the slightly wilted bouquet in his pocket, Wilhelm sighed. “I look ridiculous.”
“Well, at least you don’t look covered in snot any more,” Simon said. “Surely it could be worse?”
“Worse than having to have photos taken with my perfect brother whilst I’ve got snot on my jacket? Yeah, I suppose it could be worse.” Wilhelm looked dejected for a moment before shaking his head and looking back up at Simon. “Sorry,” he said. “We didn’t get properly introduced. I’m Wilhelm.” He held out his hand to Simon, who carefully took it and shook. Wilhelm’s hand was warm and his grip was strong.
“Simon,” he replied.
Wilhelm nodded. “Thank you for your help, Simon.”
Simon tried to ignore the funny flutter in his stomach at hearing Wilhelm say his name. Something about the way Wilhelm seemed to be testing out how it felt in his mouth. Quickly tearing his gaze away from said mouth, Simon busied himself with hanging the cloth back on its hook. “You’re welcome,” he said, after too long.
“And thank you for the coffee earlier. I… erm…” Wilhelm gave a small laugh. “I liked the mug.”
Simon looked up at him in surprise. Wilhelm was smiling. Searching his face to see if he was joking or not, Simon smirked. “Yeah?” he said.. “I wasn’t sure it would be… your style.”
“We— erm… we’re not supposed to talk about politics,” Wilhelm said, sheepishly looking down at his hands. “But, it’s not like we don’t have opinions of our own.” When he looked back up at Simon, it was with an intense expression on his face.
Simon’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t think a slightly rebellious prince with irritatingly good shoulders would be his type, but apparently he could surprise himself.
Searching around for something to say to break the suddenly heavy air, Simon said, “Well, politics or not, Erik has accidentally written a very queer coded book.”
Wilhelm looked at him for a long moment, sizing him up. “It, uhm, it wasn’t an accident.”
The co*cky smile slid off Simon's face as he watched Wilhelm blush.
“Wait,” Simon said. “He did it on purpose?”
Wilhelm nodded.
Simon gave an incredulous laugh. “Ha,” he said. “I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed he wasn’t one of us.”
Wilhelm opened his mouth to say something but the door swung open. A very frantic looking Felice poked her head in. “Oh there you two are!” she said. “Come on, The Crown Prince has finished the signings. You’re needed for the photographs, Prince Wilhelm.”
Nodding, Wilhelm said, “Okay.”
Simon didn’t miss the fact that his face had fallen and his shoulders had drawn up slightly. “I’ll be right there.” He turned to Simon, a morose smile on his face. “Thank you, Simon,” he said. “For… for your help.”
Simon nodded. “No problem,” he said.
Wilhelm gave him a tight lipped smile before following Felice out of the room. She threw a questioning look at Simon as she let Wilhelm pass. Simon just shrugged his shoulders at her. He had no idea what had just happened either.
The next day, as Simon approached the bookshop, he noticed a crowd of people outside. There were multiple rainbow flags, several different colours of hair, and one giant poster of Crown Prince Erik with a rainbow lipstick kiss daubed on his cheek. As Simon approached, the crowd cheered. He grinned in embarrassment and gave a small wave as he slipped his keys into the door and pushed it open.
The noise was dampened as the door fell shut behind him. Felice was perched on the table with her legs pulled up underneath her, crossed at the ankles, clutching a mug.
“What the f*ck?” said Simon, with a small laugh.
“I know,” said Felice. “Can you believe it?”
“What happened?” Simon asked, depositing his bag and hopping up beside her on the table.
Felice shrugged and lifted her drink to her lips. “I assume they read the book. I mean, it was embargoed until yesterday, so reviews have been flooding in. And the message we all thought was pretty obvious? Apparently so did everyone else.”
Simon snorted. “So what, The Crown Prince is now everyone’s queer hero?”
Levelling him with a look, Felice said, “Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean this isn’t a really big deal for the queer community.”
Bristling, Simon said, “I know that. Just… Why does he get credit for writing some subtle messages into a book when we live our lives every day?”
Felice sighed. “I know,” she said. “But… maybe we should just take it as a win, yeah? Instead of trying to find fault with it. Anyway” - she hopped down off the table and started unpacking today’s books - “they’re going to be sorely disappointed when he doesn't show up today.”
Simon took a stack of books from her hand. “What?” he said. “What do you mean? I thought he was here all week?”
Felice shook her head. “He was only here yesterday for the photos and promo. It’s just Prince Wilhelm for the rest of the week.”
Scoffing, Simon rolled his eyes. “Of course he was only here for the promo. Do these people ever do anything for anyone else?”
“Simon,” Felice said, throwing him a chastising look. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” Simon said. “I’m sure all their fancy meetings and ribbon cuttings and garden openings are way more important than reading to a bunch of kids.”
“He’s visiting a children’s hospital today,” Felice said.
Simon’s stomach plummeted and he shifted uncomfortably. “Well,” he said. “Well— that’s better than nothing I suppose.”
Felice raised her eyebrow.
“Fine,” Simon said, with a huff. “That’s a very noble and good cause and isn’t he such a selfless and amazing person.”
Felice snorted. “Yeah, no one would believe that you think that. And I know you gave Prince Wilhelm that socialist mug yesterday.” She threw him an unimpressed look.
He grinned. “He liked it.”
Looking him up and down, Felice said, “I bet he did.”
That pulled Simon up short; he felt heat rushing to his cheeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, airily as she walked away to go and get the tables ready for their afternoon activities.
Simon gave himself a shake and tried to rid himself of the tingling feeling that Felice’s words had ignited behind his sternum. What did she mean by that?
He knew that the very limited amount of time he’d spent with Wilhelm yesterday had felt… different than he’d expected it to. When he’d first seen Wilhelm, he’d looked sullen and bored and Simon had felt very justified in his opinion that he could never like these people. But then he’d gone and been so… charming. And not in the fairytale prince sort of way; in that awkward, endearing way that had somehow weaselled right into Simon’s heart.
And if Simon had thought about Wilhelm’s disarmingly intense eyes more than once yesterday evening? Well, that was no one’s business but his own. He was annoyed at Felice for putting ideas in his head. And even more annoyed that she’d now made him nervous about the idea of seeing Wilhelm again. What if it was awkward? Had Simon made it weird yesterday? Wilhelm hadn’t seemed to mind; and honestly, royalty could probably do with being ruffled a bit more often.
He tried to keep himself busy as Rosh arrived. In the time since Simon had got there, the crowd outside had grown even bigger. There was now music and dancing and Felice was starting to get antsy. “What if Prince Wilhelm doesn’t come because of the crowd?”
Rosh scoffed. “If he’s scared of a few queer people celebrating being represented in a children’s book, then he’s got bigger problems than a book signing,” she said.
“But what if his team thinks it’s a security issue?”
“Security issue? What the f*ck, Felice. It’s just people dancing in the street. Why would he be threatened?”
“I’m not saying he should be!” she snapped. “I’m trying to be realistic. What if—?” But she was cut off by a commotion outside.
Simon could see some of the black-suited individuals from yesterday asking some of the crowd to move to the side to allow Wilhelm to pass. Farima came first, shoes clipping a staccato on the ground. She held the door open whilst Wilhelm followed behind her. He gave a smile and small wave to the people on either side as he walked past. One girl gestured him over, he glanced at security before moving closer; the girl spoke to him for a few moments before Wilhelm nodded. She grinned and handed him something, before pressing up on tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Looking momentarily surprised, he paused before returning her hug.
Farima stepped forwards and said something to the girl, who nodded and moved back. Wilhelm smiled at her one last time before following Farima through the door. As it clicked shut, the noise was once more sealed outside. Wilhelm looked a little shell-shocked, but still had a small smile on his lips. Simon couldn’t help but mirror it, and then blushed as Wilhelm caught his eye. Watching him carefully as he was, Simon noticed Wilhelm slip something into his pocket.
Farmia strode up to Felice and inclined her head towards the office. Nodding, Felice followed her, leaving Wilhelm to hover awkwardly whilst Simon and Rosh finished setting up the room. Rosh gave Simon an amused look before making up an excuse and leaving to lurk in the stacks before the doors were opened to the public.
“Hi,” Wilhelm said, once they were alone (the security officers were both posted beside the doors).
“Hi,” Simon said, unnecessarily straightening a pile of books, suddenly nervous.
“How are you?” they both said at the same time.
Giving a shy laugh, Wilhelm ducked his chin to his chest.
“I’m good,” Simon said. “You?”
Wilhelm nodded. “Good,” he said. There was a beat of silence. “I—”
Felice’s office door swung open and Farima strode out.
“Prince Wilhelm,” she said as Felice hurried after her. “We are monitoring the situation outside. If the threat level increases, we will remove you from the premises. Felice tells me there is a goods entrance at the back, a car will be able to collect you from the alley behind the building.”
Wilhelm nodded. Felice looked nervously at the growing crowd outside.
“Threat?” came Rosh’s voice from behind Simon. “What do you mean ‘threat’?” She appeared around the corner of the shelves, a scowl on her face. “It’s just a bunch of people with banners and music. Or are queer people not allowed to touch our precious prince?”
“Rosh,” Felice said, warningly.
“What?” Rosh snapped. “They’re doing nothing wrong. I think you’re just worried about one of them getting too close to a rainbow.”
Farima shot Rosh a hard stare. “I understand that it isn’t ideal, but we cannot risk harm to The Prince. We will continue to monitor and react accordingly.”
Rosh opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again after another warning look from Felice.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Farima turned away and lifted her phone to her ear as she walked away.
Rosh took a breath, but Felice held up her hand. “Rosh,” she said. “You’re just going to get wound up, and it won’t change anything.”
Huffing, Rosh shrugged and turned to busy herself with work avoidance again. Sighing, Felice shook her head. “Sorry about her,” she said to Wilhelm.
“I heard that!” Rosh yelled.
Rolling her eyes, Felice said, “I’m still sorry.”
Wilhelm gave her a tight smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “I get what she means.”
Felice returned the smile. “Can I get you a drink before everyone arrives?”
“Erm… yes please,” he said.
“Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“Coffee would be great, thanks.”
“He likes the star mug,” Simon said.
Wilhelm’s head whipped round, an incredulous smile on his face. Simon grinned at him. Felice huffed. “Nice try, Simon,” she said, and turned to leave.
Wilhelm laughed. “You’ll end up getting me in even more trouble,” he said.
Shrugging, Simon hopped up onto the table. “Seems like trouble finds you. I’m just trying to lighten the mood since Farima seems exceptionally good at ruining it.”
Wilhelm nodded. “She is,” he said. Sighing, he lifted himself onto the table beside Simon.
They were at least an arm’s length apart, and Simon’s heart had no business speeding up the way it did, but he felt a little giddy thrill at Wilhelm seeming comfortable enough to let his princely persona slip slightly. “She means well, she really does. She just cares more about The Crown’s interest than anyone else’s.”
Nodding, Simon paused for a moment, unsure if he should say the next thing. “Is— Do you think she’s actually worried about you being associated with— with a queer demonstration?”
Wilhelm turned to look at him. “Almost certainly,” he said, his expression grim. “I mean, I do think her primary concern is safety, in case anything gets out of hand. But they’ll definitely be thinking about image. And Rosh isn’t far off. Although…” He looked around to see if Farima was hovering nearby. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he held something out to Simon. “They didn’t stop me from getting too close to a rainbow.”
Simon looked from the small rainbow pin in Wilhelm’s hand, up to the giddy smile on his face. Heart melting a little bit at Wilhelm’s glee, Simon couldn’t help but return the grin. He reached out to touch the pin just as Felice reappeared. “Here you go!” she said.
Wilhelm closed his hand quickly over the badge, his fingers brushing Simon’s as he did so. Whipping his hand back, Simon felt his finger’s tingling where they’d touched Wilhelm’s.
Felice shot him a questioning look, but he just shook his head minutely, hoping she’d drop it.
“Thanks, Felice,” Wilhelm said, taking the mug (one from the matching set, Simon noticed). Simon also noticed a slight pink tinge to Wilhelm’s cheeks. He wondered if it was left over from his excitement about the pin, or if Wilhelm’s body was also having an exaggerated response to some brushing of skin.
Looking suspiciously between them one last time, Felice shrugged and turned to the doors. She looked at her watch. “I should probably let them in a bit early today,” she said. “Just in case the kids are overwhelmed by the crowd.”
Simon nodded. “It might be a good idea. If we’re ready.”
Felice turned back to Wilhelm. “Are you ready, Prince Wilhelm?”
“Wilhelm is fine,” he said quickly. “Please. Or Wille. You don’t need to use my title all the time. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Felice blushed. “Of course,” she said. “Wilhelm. Are you ready?”
Taking a deep breath through his nose and blowing it out through his mouth, Wilhelm nodded, his posture much more taut than it had been two minutes prior.
Giving him a slightly concerned look, Felice turned to go and unlock the door.
Simon watched as Wilhelm - Wille - slid off the table and walked around it to take the seat, shaking his hands slightly as he did. He painted a very different picture to Erik the previous day, who had oozed confidence and charisma. This also seemed like a different person than the one who had been proudly showing Simon his rainbow pin moments ago.
Pushing himself off the table too, Simon hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to say anything to Wille, before deciding against it and going to help Felice usher the families in.
The hubbub was slightly different today, most of the talk was about the crowd outside, rather than the prince inside. A few of the children had also been gifted rainbow pins on their way in and were proudly showing them to anyone that would stand still long enough. One little girl was crying because she hadn’t wanted a rainbow, she’d wanted the dinosaur pin on one of the demonstrator’s bags, but they’d been unwilling to part with it.
Once all the children were inside and vaguely seated in front of the table, Felice cleared her throat and introduced Wilhelm. He gave the crowd a tight smile and Simon’s heart dropped slightly. It was obvious that Wilhelm did not want to be here, and he seemed to be struggling to unearth any sort of enthusiasm for the event. Part of Simon felt bad for him, but another part simmered with frustration.
He knew that these kids were so excited for this, and it was such a huge deal for these families to be able to have access to something like this. Felice had worked tirelessly to make it happen, and Simon had kind of taken for granted that it would be taken as seriously by the royal family.
Clearing his throat a couple of times, Wille greeted the crowd and started reading. Simon’s nerves loosened slightly as Wilhelm went on. He definitely wasn’t as much of a natural as Erik was, but Simon could tell that he had read the story before; and whilst he didn’t do all the funny voices and actions that Erik had, he still injected some warmth into the prose, and Simon found himself laughing along with the children at some of the funnier moments.
Wille was about half way through the story when Simon noticed the tensions in the room change somewhat. Twisting in his seat, he looked at where the security staff were listening intently to their ear pieces. Farima had disappeared to take another phone call. Simon looked over at Felice who shrugged her shoulders before heading over to the doors to see what was going on.
Just as she got there, the two security staff turned and headed to Wille with purposeful steps. Wille trailed off and looked up into their intimidating faces. “Prince Wilhelm, you need to come with us,” one of them said.
“What—?”
“Now, Prince Wilhelm.”
Nodding, Wille stood up. Felice hurried over. “What’s going on?” she whispered. The two security staff just looked at her without answering. She turned to find Farima striding towards them, gesturing for Wilhelm to follow.
“This way, Prince Wilhelm,” she said.
Wille allowed himself to be guided away and Simon heard Rosh huff out an annoyed noise. “What are we supposed to do now?” she said in a carrying whisper. Wille looked over his shoulder, an apologetic expression on his face. Simon tried to send him a smile, but his face felt tight.
Felice shot Rosh a chiding look before standing up to address the crowd. “Apologies for that interruption, my colleague will finish the reading. Please just bear with us whilst we work out what is going on.”
Felice gave Simon a meaningful look and handed him the book.
“What—” he said.
“Please, Simon,” Felice hissed. “Please just keep reading.”
Sighing, he nodded, opened the book to where Wilhelm had stopped and carried on the story.
That afternoon was one of the strangest Simon had ever had. Once he’d finished reading the book, Felice still hadn’t returned, and the group started to grow restless. Simon knew that they were supposed to be given signed copies of the book, but with neither Wilhem nor The Crown Prince on the premises, that could no longer happen.
Just as he was about to suggest they move on to the next activity, he heard a commotion outside. Felice came rushing out of her office just as Simon saw a large group of people approach the shop. Taking a tentative step forward, he wondered whether they were going to come in, but they stopped just in front of the crowd that were already gathered there.
Heart beating faster in his chest, Simon glanced over to Rosh who was also looking nervous. He swallowed hard. If Rosh was on edge, then it was more than just a small concern.
“Excuse me.” One of the parents tried to get Simon’s attention. “Do you know when Prince Wilhelm is coming back?”
“Erm…” Simon trailed off, knowing that the answer to the question was ‘not today’, but not knowing how to deliver that news. “I, uhm, I’m not sure. I’ll just see if I can check with my colleague.”
Ducking away, Simon tried to find Felice among the increasingly restless patrons. He found her hiding behind one of the shelves, her phone pressed to her ear and waited whilst she uttered a few more ‘uh huh’, ‘yes’, ‘okays’. She eventually hung up and sighed. “They don’t want him to come back tomorrow.”
“What?” Simon said. “That’s so unreasonable!”
“It’s unfortunate, but I kind of get where they’re coming from.”
“Why, Felice? Literally nothing bad has happened. Why can’t—” But he was cut off by a clatter outside the shop.
Hearing a loud shout, they watched in horror as one of the newcomers shoved the girl who had given Wilhelm the rainbow pin. She stumbled back and fell to the floor. People from the crowd moved to stand in front of her.
“What the f*ck!” Simon exclaimed.
“Simon!” Felice hissed. “The kids!”
Whipping round, he raised his arms. “That guy just assaulted her!”
“I know, Simon,” she said.
“What do we do?”
“We keep these kids safe is what we do.” Her expression was serious and Simon knew that much as he wanted to go out and retaliate, it wouldn’t help. “Look,” she said, gently pushing his shoulder to point out of the window. “The original crowd is dispersing.”
Scowling, Simon crossed his arms. “They weren’t doing anything wrong. Why are they leaving?”
“Because they clearly have a good sense of self preservation,” Felice said, patting him on the shoulder.
“It’s not fair,” Simon said, finding he had tears prickling at the back of his eyes. “Why are we always the bad guys?”
“You’re right,” Felice said. “It’s not fair.”
“So how do we fix it?”
Felice smiled and pressed a calming hand to his arm. “We come back tomorrow, and we read a queer coded story to a bunch of kids, and we live our lives loudly, yeah?”
Huffing, Simon sniffed to try to force the tears back into his eyes.
“And on a more practical level, we entertain these families as best we can for the next two hours, and we offer them a repeat book signing on Saturday.”
“Will either of the princes come back?”
“Well, we’ll just have to convince them, won’t we?”
Felice smiled with a look of quiet determination, so he nodded his head and followed her back out into the fray.
Simon was anxious the next day. His bus had been rerouted and he found himself barrelling through the doors of the bookshop after the families had already been let in. Sending a quick apology grimace to Felice, he rushed to dump his bag and coat in the employee cloakroom. It looked like they hadn’t started yet, so he assumed he had enough time to nip to the bathroom too.
He was in such a hurry, he didn’t notice the besuited woman outside the door until he’d already pushed his way in.
The door bounced hard off the wall and the other person in the room gasped.
“Oh! Sorry!” Simon exclaimed. “I didn’t—”
That was when Simon saw the figure, crouched in the corner underneath the sink.
Wille looked small and terrified.
“sh*t,” Simon said. “I’m so sorry. Did I make you jump? I was just—”
But Wille was wildly shaking his head, pressing a hand alarmingly hard against his sternum.
Taking only a moment to think about it, Simon dropped to his knees and shuffled carefully towards Wille.
“Is this okay?” he said, trying to make his voice as calm as possible despite the fact that his heart was beating erratically against his ribcage.
Frantically, Wille nodded.
“Okay then,” Simon said, settling down onto his heels and folding his hands in his lap. “Do you… need me to get someone?”
With frenzied movements, Wille shook his head again, eyes wide.
“Okay,” Simon said. “Okay. That’s fine. I— I can stay. Do you— Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes!” Wille gasped. It sounded like the air was being wrenched from his lungs, and Simon felt very unprepared for a prince having a panic attack in the employee bathroom. But he stayed nonetheless.
A minute passed, maybe two. Or maybe it was ten seconds and Simon was just so out of his depth that time moved like treacle.
“Should I talk to you?” he said. “Will that help?”
Simon thought it sounded like Wille’s breath was coming a little easier when he answered, “Yes.”
Nodding, Simon settled himself cross-legged. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t really know what to talk about. So just stop me if I’m not helping, okay?”
Wille nodded his assent and started rubbing soothing circles onto his chest.
“My bus was late,” Simon said. “That’s why I was running around like a headless chicken by the way. Sorry for barging in on you, I suppose you thought it would be empty since everyone is out there?”
The corners of Wille’s mouth twitched slightly, but he didn’t say anything.
“I assume the roadblock is your thing?” Simon continued. “And my bus being diverted?”
Wille closed his eyes and nodded. “Sorry,” he said, the word coming out slightly strangled, but still less forced than his previous attempts at speech.
“That’s okay,” Simon said. “Felice was worried you wouldn’t come back at all. I suppose that was the compromise?”
Just a short nod this time.
Simon watched Wille carefully. He now had his eyes closed and was concentrating on breathing. Under his breath, Simon could hear him counting steadily.
“We’ve been making crepe paper frogs and frog paper chains in the afternoons. I’m not sure my artistic skills are up to much. But I’ve got to be at least as good as a bunch of eight-year-olds, right?”
Wille’s mouth definitely turned up at this. Okay, so self-depreciation worked.
“I nearly cut my finger off yesterday, maybe they should give me the child safety scissors today.”
A slight chuckle, and a crinkle at the corner of Wille’s eyes.
“I had a disgusting film of glued-on crepe paper on my arms by the time I got home. Had to spend half an hour in the shower trying to clean it off.”
This had the opposite effect that Simon was trying to achieve. Wille suddenly looked much more flushed and his breathing had picked up again.
“Oh sh*t,” Simon said. “Sorry. I— are you okay?”
Wille shook his head then nodded in quick succession. “Yes!” he gasped. “Sorry, yes! No, I’m fine. I—”
Simon waited for him to elaborate, but no explanation came. Huh, he thought. Maybe coming down from a panic attack didn’t always look like it was getting better. Wille certainly looked significantly more flustered than he had two minutes ago, but was definitely managing to talk more.
Unsure, Simon said, “Do you want me to carry on, or—?”
“No, it’s fine.” Wille definitely sounded better now, even if his cheeks were an almost alarming shade of red. “Thanks. I’m— I think I’ll be okay now.”
Pushing on his knees, Simon stood up. He hesitated for only a moment before holding his hand out for Wille.
Wille shuffled out from under the sink before taking Simon’s hand and wrenching himself upright. As soon as he stood up, Wille dropped Simon’s fingers and Simon watched as he flexed his hand slightly. Simon would be lying if he said his own fingers weren’t tingling from the touch. What was going on?
Giving a nervous laugh, Simon took a step away from Wille. “I was just going to…” He gestured vaguely towards one of the cubicles.
“Oh!” Wille said. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I— thanks. I’ll just—” Wille made an awkward nodding motion and stepped around Simon to the door. One hand on the handle, he turned and raised the other. “See you out there.”
Simon didn’t get the chance to respond before the door had closed. He stared at it for a beat, before shaking the strange moment away and heading into the cubicle.
When Simon returned to the shop, Wille had already started his read-through. Despite a slight shake in his voice, there was nothing to indicate that he had been crouched under a sink not ten minutes earlier. Simon slipped round the back and took a seat beside Felice.
“Where were you?” she hissed.
“My bus was late. The diversion…” He gestured vaguely to the window.
“No, I know that. I got your text. What took you so long earlier?”
“I needed to use the bathroom.”
Stubbornly, he kept his eyes on the heads of the audience, not wanting to give Felice the space to question him. It wasn’t his place to tell her in what condition he’d found Wille. He could feel her frown boring into the side of his head, but she must have decided to drop it, because the next thing he knew, she was hopping down from the table and moving to the front to thank Wille and move them on to the next activity.
Wille sent Simon a small smile and a warmth spread out from Simon’s sternum all the way through his chest and down his arms, making him feel the need to stretch out all his fingers.
Damn.
Simon knew fairly well how his body felt when he was harbouring a crush on a cute boy. Unfortunately his body hadn’t got the message from his brain that this particular cute boy was a prince and therefore completely off-limits, even for fantasies. And probably straight. Definitely straight. Right?
Helpfully, Simon’s brain supplied him with the image of Wille’s pink cheeks after Simon had helped him up, and of the little pleased smile on his face when he’d shown Simon his rainbow pin. Huh. Maybe not the most out-there conclusion to draw.
Steadily, the crowd began to form a queue at the table, clutching their books to their chests to get Wille to sign them. After a moment, Felice came back towards him.
“Do you mind getting Prince Wilh— erm… Wilhelm a drink? I couldn’t find him this morning to offer one before he started.”
Nodding, Simon made his way over to where Wille was signing the first book. He hung to the side until he was done and then crouched down by the table to get Wille’s attention. Wille jumped when he saw him, and Simon saw the same blush from earlier colour his cheeks.
“Hi,” Wille said. “What— er… is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Simon replied. “Fine. Do you want me to get you a drink?”
Wille looked towards the line of people ahead of him. “I— uhm. Water please. That’d be great.”
Noticing Wille’s breathing picking up at the sight of the queue, Simon placed a steady hand on his arm. “Hey,” he said. “Are you okay? Do you need me to postpone the signing again?”
Turning to him with wide eyes, Wille exclaimed, “No! No. Sorry, I just— thank you. But we can’t cancel it again. My mamma will kill me.” He gave a humourless laugh. “I just don’t think many of these people will be very pleased to be getting my signature rather than Erik’s.”
He said it so nonchalantly that with a sinking heart Simon realised that he actually believed that. With nothing else he could do, Simon just smiled and said, “I’m sure they’re all really excited.”
On his way to the kitchen, Simon wanted to smack his palm to his forehead. Hey, I know you just had a panic attack and feel inferior to your overachieving brother. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s fine.
It wasn’t that Erik didn’t seem nice, he did. But there was something about Wille, something that made Simon want to talk to him, know him, wrap him in his arms and keep him safe forever. Maybe not that last one… well, maybe.
Simon delivered the glass of water to Wille without making any more of a fool of himself, and was rewarded with a shy smile. Trying not to trip up over his feet on the way back, Simon made himself scarce whilst the signing finished.
Felice announced a short 15 minute break whilst they got the next activity ready and gestured for Simon to come and help her set up the tables.
Reluctantly, Simon walked slowly past Wille, not at all hoping that they could have another awkward conversation before Wille had to leave. Farima was already looking antsy as Wille finished his current conversation with an exceptionally talkative little boy, who was clutching his frog book to his chest like it was his most precious possession.
“...and then I said that I couldn’t do that because I didn’t want her to be my girlfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?”
Simon tried not to make it obvious as he slowed his steps on his way to Felice.
Clearing his throat, Wille lowered his voice to a more indoor-appropriate level. “I don’t, no.”
“Do you have a boyfriend? I have a boyfriend. His name is Lars and he let me borrow his purple glittery pen yesterday.”
Sneaking a sideways glance, Simon pretended to straighten some books on a shelf. He saw Wille giving the boy a small smile and said, “No boyfriend either.” Then he leant over and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Maybe I’ve just not met the right boy yet.”
Simon knocked a stack of books over with his elbow and scrambled to right them. A room full of eyes were drawn to him as he stood back up, cheeks burning. Felice raised an eyebrow and he gave her an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Rolling her eyes, she returned to her task.
By the time Simon’s pulse had returned to a less worrisome rate, he snuck another glance towards Wille, who was now listening to the small boy tell him about his new kitten and what he’d had for lunch today and why he was wearing his socks inside out. Wille’s face was also an interesting rosy colour, and Simon would have mostly held it together if at that moment Wille hadn’t raised his eyes and sent Simon a sweet, private smile.
Swallowing the butterflies that had suddenly tried to make a break for it out of his stomach, Simon hurried over to Felice. She huffed as she lifted the box of craft supplies onto the table.
Glad of a distraction, Simon started laying out the paper and scissors whilst Felice decanted glue into small pots. He almost missed her words as she hissed in his direction, “You know you’re in public, right?”
The paper slipped from Simon’s hand and fell to the floor. He hurried to pick it up again, trying to avoid meeting her eye. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
At that moment, Farima bustled over and tried to firmly but politely extricate Wille from the hold the small boy had on him. Once he was safely removed, Wille looked up, eyes meeting Simon’s, and sent him a small wave.
Simon returned it, scissors in hand, and - given the snort Felice gave - a dopey expression on his face.
The warmth rippling across his skin stayed until well past Wille had left and the children were cutting out frog paper chains with varying degrees of success.
“What the f*ck was that?” Felice hissed under her breath, passing by to get a child their fourth piece of paper after they’d ‘ruined’ the other three.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simon said, busying himself with trying to find the last pair of left-handed scissors in the box. “And there are children here. Watch your language.”
Felice huffed and glared at him. “Fine. But it’s Wednesday night drinks tonight and you owe me gossip.”
Simon made a non-committal noise, and spent the rest of the afternoon thinking up excuses to get out of Wednesday night drinks.
None of Simon’s excuses were good enough for Felice, who was unfortunately very persistent and wasn’t buying any of it.
“Wanting to be alone to lament your tragic crush on a prince isn’t a good enough excuse to not come,” Felice said, turning off all the lights to the shop.
“Excuse me, what?” said Rosh, rounding the corner as she shrugged her jacket onto her shoulders.
“Simon’s massive crush on Prince Wilhelm that he’s going to tell us all about in less than fifteen minutes.”
“Oh that,” said Rosh. “It’s a bit sad really.”
“f*ck off,” Simon said, scowling.
Rosh slung her arm over his shoulder and pulled him into an awkward sideways hug. He tried to push her away but she just chuckled and pressed a loud kiss into his hair.
“I don’t have a crush on the prince,” Simon said, managing to duck under Rosh’s arm and out of reach.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Rosh said, making Felice laugh as the three of them stepped out into the night, locking the door behind them.
Maddie was already waiting at their usual table when they got there, but she still waved enthusiastically as they entered the bar.
Simon heard Rosh take a deep breath behind him and threw a grin over his shoulder. “f*ck off,” she said under her breath.
“Hey, if you’re allowed to tease me about Wille, I’m allowed to tease you about Maddie.”
Rosh raised her eyebrow. “Wille?” she said, with an almost disgusted look on her face.
Stopping, he threw her a pointed look. “Maddie,” he retorted.
Pressing her lips together, Rosh huffed a breath out of her nose. “Fine,” she said. “Truce. For tonight at least.”
Knowing it was the best he was likely to get, Simon didn’t argue as they took their seats in the booth, letting Maddie enthusiastically hug him before flinging herself at Rosh. Simon raised an eyebrow at Rosh, but the scowl she sent him over Maddie’s shoulder was enough to make him press his lips together and resist, instead just sharing a knowing look with Felice.
Wednesday night drinks had only become a thing when Maddie had started doing some freelance work for them. Simon had always got on with Felice, he’d known her vaguely well at Hillerska, and she’d then gone up in his estimations when he realised she was willing to put her ludicrous amounts of money to good use. She’d practically begged him to start working for her when she’d set up the shop fresh out of school last year, knowing that his local knowledge and social interest would be invaluable. Rosh had joined not long after, with slightly less enthusiasm from both women, but they’d found that their unusual dynamic worked exceptionally well to help get things done.
Maddie had always been more of a loose cannon, and had turned down Felice’s offer of a job, claiming to not want to be tied down. But somehow, she had ended up staying local and had never turned down a project when Felice had asked her.
Claiming that social events were what held a team together, she’d dragged them to this dingy bar that she claimed was a local gem that she’d discovered. Rosh and Simon didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was the very same bar where they’d all witnessed their teen friends get drunk for the first time and where Rosh had found and lost her first love behind the bins out the back.
“So how have our lovely princelings been?” Maddie asked as their first round of drinks arrived.
Without missing a beat, Rosh said, “Ask Simon.”
Simon aimed a kick at her under the table but missed and hit Felice.
“Sorry!” he exclaimed as she winced.
Felice rolled her eyes. “Really subtle, you two. Very mature.”
Simon blushed into his co*ke Zero.
Maddie’s eyes bounced between them all. “What have I missed? Is there some gossip?”
“No gossip,” Felice said, eyeing Simon as he resolutely avoided her gaze. “Nothing juicy I’m afraid.”
Maddie turned to Rosh. “You’ll tell me, won’t you?”
Rosh looked pained with the amount of effort she was putting into keeping quiet.
“Fine, if you won’t tell me, I’ll guess. Did Simon… Did he spill coffee all over Crown Prince Erik and get banished from Sweden forever? Did he inappropriately dab all the coffee off Crown Prince Erik’s chest? Did he… remember that being stoically anti-monarchy does not protect him from how chronically gay he is? Did he… ask Crown Prince Erik to sign his—”
“Thank you, Maddie,” Simon said loudly. “No coffee mishaps with Crown Prince Erik. No inappropriate… dabbing. No signing.”
“But Simon has realised he’s chronically gay,” Felice said, giggling. “Wrong prince though.”
“Felice!” Simon exclaimed.
“What?” she said, shrugging. “You only swore Rosh to secrecy.”
“Ooh, baby prince? Really, Simon? I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”
“He’s not!” Simon exclaimed, potentially too vigorously if the sly grin on Maddie’s face was anything to go by. He scowled at her. “Can we talk about something else please?”
“Fine,” Maddie said leaning back - he watched as Rosh shuffled almost imperceptibly and Maddie’s arm brushed hers - “But I think our baby prince could do way worse than you, Simon. You’re a catch.”
Simon’s cheeks felt warm. “Thanks, Maddie,” he mumbled, as she turned to strike up a conversation with Rosh.
Felice leaned into Simon’s shoulder. “You’re blushing,” she said, her eyes twinkling at him.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“Sorry,” she said. “We’re only teasing. But if you really want us to stop, we will.”
Simon pursed his lips at her.
“Okay,” she said, holding her hands up. “Prince teasing off-limits for the rest of the night.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not promising I won’t carry on tomorrow. Especially if I get any extra ammunition.”
The glare he gave her only seemed to make her laugh harder, dragging Maddie and Rosh’s gazes away from each other.
And they, Simon thought, sulkily, should be way more fun to tease about harbouring obvious crushes.
By the time Thursday rolled around, Simon was nervous about seeing Wille. Heart rabbiting, palms sweating, mouth dry, nervous. And he almost entirely blamed Felice and Rosh for getting in his head yesterday.
He avoided the pair of them as much as possible as he feverishly walked among the stacks, finding busywork to occupy his hands until the entourage arrived.
Today, Wille arrived at the goods entrance, the road block having been lifted, and extra security stationed at the front doors.
When he walked into the room, he looked around before spotting Simon and grinning. Simon tried to ignore the way his already elevated heart rate picked up at the twinkle in Wille’s eyes.
Lifting his hand in a small wave, Simon steadfastly ignored Rosh’s poorly concealed snort from the end of the row.
Wille made his way over to Simon. “Hi,” he said. Simon chose to ignore the way Wille sounded slightly breathless and the spread of pink on his cheeks.
“Hi,” Simon replied. “How are you?”
“Good,” Wille said. “Better than yesterday. I— thank you. For that. I never got a chance to say yesterday. I— yeah. Thank you.”
“No problem,” Simon rushed out. “It was no problem. Don’t worry about it. But you’re— you’re okay now?”
Wille nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I had a therapy appointment after the session yesterday, and she convinced me to talk my mother into dropping the ridiculous security.”
“That was you?”
“Yeah,” Wille said. “I— Me being here creates enough of a spectacle as it is, I didn’t want roads being closed just so I can read a kids’ story. It seemed silly.”
“And you feel… safe?” Simon said.
“Of course!” Wille said. “I never felt unsafe. It’s all the extra protocols and…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a lot. And I’m not even Erik, no one—”
Simon cut him off with a hand on his arm and a soft “hey”.
When Wille looked up at him with wide eyes, Simon suddenly felt like they were underwater. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he had more things he wanted to say to Wille. How glad they were that he was here, how much… the kids were looking forward to seeing him each day, how Wille was making… the kids’ days better. But the words had got lost somewhere on the way from his brain, caught up in the flood of emotion currently rushing through his body. Wille was so close. Simon could see a small scar under his left eye and vaguely remembered… something, but that thought was washed away in the rapids too. Wille’s eyes were a mesmerising shade of brown, warm and deep and currently staring deeply into Simon’s very soul.
A loud crash made Simon jump. He whipped his head around to find Rosh standing beside a toppled pile of books. “Oops,” she said, with a spectacularly smug look on her face. “Clumsy me.”
Without looking back at Wille, Simon rushed to pick the books up and replace them on the stack. Rosh snorted. “Shut up,” he muttered.
When he turned back around, Wille was gone.
Simon took a moment to collect himself before reemerging to help Felice organise the families they’d just let in. Trying to busy himself, it was several minutes later before Simon snuck a glance at Wille, who was currently sitting behind the table, picking at his thumbs nervously. When he saw Simon looking, he sent him a sheepish smile, which Simon returned, glad he’d not completely freaked Wille out with… whatever that had been.
If he was being honest, Simon was a little bit freaked out. Despite his pathetic protests the night before, Simon knew full well he was harbouring an unfortunate crush on the youngest prince. He’d hoped to be able to just keep it under wraps for the next couple of days and then forget all about it. But Simon knew that whatever had just happened had inconveniently sent his crush out into the world, to be perceived by anyone who was paying close enough attention, to be perceived by Wille.
Oh God, what if Wille thought he was really weird? What if he’d overstepped? Would he forever be a funny story Wille told about this pathetic bookshop employee who’d fawned all over him? What if—
“Hey,” Felice said, quietly, sidling up to him as Wille started to read. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” Simon squeaked.
Felice raised an eyebrow. “Yeah,” she said. “Because that’s exactly how you normally speak.”
Simon didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“What happened?” The smile in Felice’s voice was obvious without him having to turn to face her.
Pursing his lips, Simon didn’t say anything.
“Oh my God, did something actually happen?”
Simon was glad that Felice had dropped her voice to a whisper, but they were still surrounded by people, so he sent her a glare.
“No, Felice,” he hissed. “Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. There is nothing happening.”
“But you like him.”
“Felice, please can we drop it.”
“But—”
“You’re always on at us for talking about our personal lives at work.”
Felice huffed a breath out of her nose. “Fine,” she said. “But for the record, he’s looked over at you about twenty times since he sat down. He thinks he’s being subtle, but he’s really not.”
With that, she slipped back down off the table and walked to the front, ready to step in once Wille had finished his read-through.
Closing the book, Wille took what looked like a steadying breath before he looked up, eyes finding Simon’s immediately. They looked at each other across the room for probably more seconds than was appropriate. Luckily Felice was busy explaining the next steps and starting to organise the families into a line. Simon sent Wille a small smile, which Wille returned immediately, causing heat to rise to Simon’s cheeks.
This is ridiculous, Simon thought to himself, before giving his head a shake and going to help Rosh set up the afternoon’s crafts, whilst Felice wrangled the signing.
Continuing to sneak glances at Wille, and only catching his eye twice, Simon tried to get through the rest of the time until Wille’ departure without making more of a fool of himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when the signing finished and Felice announced the next activities.
Simon stationed himself at the table with the scissors to make concertina frogs, as he had done the previous days, and waited for the children to gather round to listen, with varying degrees of attention, to the instructions. Out of the corner of his eye, and definitely not because he was suddenly acutely aware of where Wille was at all times, Simon saw Wille go and talk to Farima. They had a short, slightly heated discussion, which Wille seemed to come out of triumphant if the pleased grin on his face was anything to go by.
The next thing Simon knew, Wille was standing at the table beside him and reaching for a pair of scissors.
“What—” Simon looked up at Wille in confusion.
“I thought I might stay for a little longer today. If— if that’s okay with you?”
Simon didn’t really know what to say to that. Luckily Felice had been hovering somewhere nearby and swooped in to save Simon from opening and closing his mouth gormlessly a few more times. “Of course, Wilhelm!” she said. “Simon was just about to start the demonstration. It’ll be handy having an extra pair of hands to help out. Right, Simon?’
“Hmm? Oh yes. Right. Yes.”
Trying to gather the scattered remains of his dignity, Simon launched into his explanation, very pleased that he had perfected it over the last four days so he could do it without thinking, meaning that he didn’t lose his flow every time Wille’s elbow brushed against his, or their shoulders bumped together, which happened more often than it probably should have done.
By the time he’d set the children off with their scissors, paper and crayons, Simon was a jittery mess. Seeming to notice this, Wille threw him a mischievous smile.
“Everything okay?” he asked, starting to fold his paper.
“Yes,” Simon said. “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You just seem” - fold - “a little bit” - fold - “flustered.” Wille pressed down the last crease on the paper.
Tearing his eyes from Wille’s long fingers, that had no right to look that good simply folding paper, Simon swallowed and shrugged. “I’m fine. Just surprised you’re staying.”
Wille’s smile faltered slightly. “Is that… okay?” he asked.
Simon nodded, and used all his energy to not blurt ‘more than okay!’, instead opting for a far more cool and collected - “Sure. That’s fine.”
Simon’s job for the next twenty minutes was wandering around the table and intervening before horrendous mistakes were made, replacing paper before there were too many tears if there were mistakes, and trying not to spend the whole time watching Wille.
For his part, Wille seemed absorbed in the task at hand, carefully decorating his frog chain with little crowns, Simon definitely did not get even more flustered at the sight of Wille’s tongue poking out as he concentrated.
Once the children started getting antsy, and Simon was just about to usher them across to the other table for the next activity, one of the small girls burst into tears. It appeared that she’d coloured a little bit too exuberantly in her haste to finish and had torn the chain. Everything her mother said seemed to be the wrong thing and the sobs just got louder and louder.
Wille looked slightly alarmed, but recovered quickly enough to drop down beside her and hold out his chain.
“Here,” he said. She paused her wailing temporarily, eyeing him suspiciously. “I know it’s not the same as having your own, but if you give yours to my friend Simon here, he’ll tape it up for you, but in the meantime, you can have mine if you want.”
She stood up on tip toes to peer at his creation. “You’re not very good at colouring,” she said. “You’ve gone all out of the lines.”
Simon saw Wille’s smile falter slightly, and the mother about to jump in to apologise, but Wille held up his hand. “No,” he said. “You’re right. Maybe you can help me at the next table and I can get a bit better?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “But I will have this.” She snatched the frog chain out of his hand, and turned to Simon. “Will you fix mine?”
Simon assured her that he would and took the precious pieces as she turned to the next table.
Watching her go, plaits swinging, Wille pushed himself up to standing. “Kids are brutal,” he muttered under his breath.
“Well,” said Simon, “she’s not wrong. Maybe you need to focus more on your colouring.”
Wille sighed dramatically. “That’s what my mother always used to say.” But he shot Simon a small grin before heading off to the next table.
Simon stayed behind for a moment to tape up the broken paper and gather his wits before following Wille.
This time, he positioned himself opposite so he didn’t have to contend with their bodies touching constantly. He realised his mistake two sentences into his explanation of their crepe paper frog pictures, when he caught Wille gazing at him with a soft expression on his face. If Simon wasn’t careful he’d forget himself and just launch across the table and kiss that look off his face, but he somehow didn’t think that would go down very well.
Patting his back at having got to the end of the instructions without doing that, Simon occupied himself with handing out the glue and the crepe paper, making sure to never pass too close to Wille.
After a few minutes, he felt a tap on his shoulder whilst he was helping a little boy tear up his paper (“No! Smaller pieces!”) and turned to find Wille standing behind him with a pleased smile tugging at his mouth.
“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. In it, he was gripping a small bunch of blue and yellow flowers, made entirely from crepe paper.
Simon stared dumbly at them for several seconds before stumbling to his feet. He was vaguely aware of the protest from the small boy he’d been crouched beside, but he couldn’t hear much over the ringing in his ears.
Carefully, he reached his hand out and took the tiny bouquet from Wille, their fingers touching and sending a zap of electricity up Simon’s arm. “Thank you.”
Wille’s eyes were suddenly serious, darting around Simon’s face. Simon thought his heart might beat out of his chest with the intensity of the gaze. “Simon, I—”
“Prince Wilhelm,” Farima cut across him.
Fury bubbled under Simon’s skin. Surely there was some sort of rule where people weren’t supposed to interrupt royalty? Well, if there had been, Simon would have hated it. But at this particular moment he wanted nothing more than some hulking suits to come and bundle Farima away for breaking this made-up law so that he could hear the end of Wille’s sentence.
“We have to leave,” she said.
“Can I just have a moment?” Wille asked, a pleading look in his eye.
“I’m afraid not, Prince Wilhelm. We have already stayed longer than planned. The car is waiting.”
Turning to Simon, Wille sent him a sad smile. “I— I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” The hope in his voice was enough to make Simon’s insides melt.
“Mhm,” was all he managed to say.
Wille looked like he might say something else, but then he pursed his lips together, gave Simon a small nod and turned to follow Farima.
Vaguely, Simon was aware of the sounds of the craft session coming back to his ears as Wille walked away. He was still clutching the flowers and watching his retreating back when Felice appeared at his side, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
“Simon…” she said.
But Simon didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t,” he said. “Just… let me finish here and then go home. Please.”
Nodding, Felice slipped away to let Simon continue working in peace, a small bunch of wilting paper flowers tucked carefully in his pocket.
That night, Simon was lying on his bed, holding his crepe paper flowers above his face and twirling them. His phone was standing propped against his lamp on his bedside table, Ayub’s face sideways where he lay in his own bed.
“f*ck, Simme,” he said. “Dude’s down bad.”
Dropping his hands to his face, Simon sighed; the flowers fluttered in the breeze from his breath.
“He gave you flowers. Like, that’s date date stuff.”
Simon spoke through his hands, his voice muffled. “It was only because I gave him flowers, to cover the stain on his jacket. It was just a joke.” He didn’t believe the words even as he said them.
Neither, it seemed, did Ayub. “Bullsh*t,” Ayub said. “Even I’ve never made you crepe paper flowers, and until perfect prince came along, I was the love of your f*cking life.”
Snorting, Simon turned to face his phone. “Tomorrow is going to be so awkward,” he said.
“Why?” Ayub asked.
“Why? Because he gave me handmade little crepe paper flowers, Ayub! What do I say to that?”
“Thanks for the flowers. Hey, are you maybe also in love with me?”
Simon spluttered, wordless for a moment. “I can’t—! Why would I say that to him?”
“Bro…” Ayub’s eyebrow was raised and he was looking at Simon with an incredulous expression.
“I’m not in love with him,” Simon said, quickly. And when there was no response from Ayub, he doubled down, “I’m not! It’s just a stupid crush, and it’ll go away once I never see him again after tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Ayub said.
“Okay? What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”
Ayub shifted and sighed. “I don’t know, Simme. Just— what do you expect here?”
“I don’t know!” Simon wailed. “I didn’t expect to develop a really annoying crush on the f*cking prince. And then I didn’t expect him to be all sweet about it and give me flowers. And I didn’t expect to be sad that I’m literally never going to see him again after tomorrow.”
“So ask if you can see him again after tomorrow.”
“Not helpful, Ayub,” Simon said, glaring at his best friend through the screen.
“I don’t know what you want from me here, Simon. You’re obviously obsessed with the guy, just ask him out.”
“As if he’s not the f*cking prince?”
“Yeah,” Ayub said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“That he says ‘no’ and I feel like an idiot? Or that he says ‘yes’ and I go on a date with the f*cking prince.”
Ayub shrugged. “You won’t know if you don’t try.”
Sighing, Simon looked at the flowers again, twirling the delicate stems in his fingers. “Maybe,” Simon said.
Ayub hummed and Simon turned to say goodnight. He placed the flowers in a glass beside his bed knowing that he wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon, when there was a pair of warm brown eyes and a sweet smile filling his every thought.
