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say a prayer for me in the dark

Chapter 5

Summary:

* tw this chapter for discussions of child abuse and drug use *

Notes:

“After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?” - Eric Larocca, Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

V

 

 

“Oh, my god. What happened to you? You look like you’ve been attacked by an octopus,” is the first thing out of Felice’s mouth when he enters her apartment. Wilhelm rolls his eyes, colouring at the reminder of the bruises marking the column of his throat. “Thanks, Felice. Thank you.” 

Felice just stares at him expectantly. Wilhelm huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes locked on the floor as he replies. “I fucked Simon.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Wilhelm scowls at her. “I’m not saying it again.” 

Felice blinks in surprise. “What, so— are you together now, or?”

“…No.”

Felice looks at him like he’s an idiot. She scratches at her forehead and then holds a finger up at him — Wilhelm winces in preparation. “Let me get this straight —don’t make the joke I know you want to make right now.” Wilhelm snorts and she barrels on before he can speak. “You, Wilhelm, my best friend, had sex with Simon, who you are head over heels in love with, but you’re not together.” 

Wilhelm sighs and leans against the wall, crossing his arms grumpily. “‘Head over heels’ is a gross over-exaggeration.” 

Felice stares at him. “This might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” 

“I’m sure I’ve done worse.”

She ignores him, bringing a thumb to her mouth and chewing at the skin. Finally she points at him. “Tell me you’re not going to do it again.” 

Wilhelm winces. “…I’m probably going to do it again. The sex was insanely good. I’m talking, like, life changing, Felice. I’m getting flashbacks as we speak.” 

Felice flaps her hands at him. “What— ew! Stop that!” 

Wilhelm snorts at the expression on her face and they break out into giggles for a second, Wilhelm knocking his head back against the wall and sighing loudly. He can’t believe this is his life. After a moment he levels her with a look. “Don’t tell anyone?”

She mimes zipping her lips and locking them. Then a concerned crease appears between her brows and she reaches out, cradling his face with one hand and stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. “He’s gonna break your heart.”

Wilhelm lifts a shoulder. “Maybe.” 

Felice rubs a hand over his shoulder and he feels a sudden rush of gratitude for her constant presence in his life. 

“Is he worth it?” she asks. Wilhelm bites his lip, pondering. Thinks about Simon; the elegant curve of his shoulder, the twinkle in his eyes when he smiles. The way he stretches, long and unhurried, like a cat in the sun. How he works himself to the bone, hiding the ache in his joints and the calluses on his fingertips behind a falsified smile. The pain in his eyes when he talks about Sara. How the light of the swimming pool had turned the edges of him ephemeral, like he was smoke that could disappear at the lightest of touches. How Wilhelm finds himself drawn to him at every turn, whether he wants to be or not. 

Eventually he closes his eyes in defeat. “Shit, yeah. Yeah, he is.” 

 


 

Fate is on his side when he returns from Felice’s, and he turns into their corridor just as Simon steps out of his apartment. Wilhelm sees the moment Simon sees him, spots when he realises he can’t backtrack away from this interaction and slows to a stop, letting Wilhelm make his way over to him. He tries to ignore the flash of hurt that inspires. 

Wilhelm takes him in; curls artfully tousled, swimming in an oversized purple hoodie that hangs off of his shoulder and with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his doe eyes travel across Wilhelm’s face. Wilhelm’s gaze drifts to Simon’s throat and— fuck, there are hickeys smattered across it, matching his own. He feels a flash of possessive arousal kick through him at the sight. 

“Hey,” he offers, swallowing, back to being unsure where they stand. Simon steps closer to him and he feels the movement through his whole body, like all of his cells just stood to attention. 

“Hey,” Simon replies. His gaze shifts from Wilhelm’s face to his shoes, to the wall and back again, like he doesn’t know where best to look. They linger on Wilhelm’s neck for a second, and he swallows before tearing his gaze away. 

Wilhelm shifts his feet. “We should talk, probably.” 

Simon offers him a nod but little more. Wilhelm makes an aborted gesture to his apartment door. “Do you wanna come in?” 

Simon shrugs. “Sure. I can’t stay for long, though. I have class.”

So Wilhelm unlocks the door, feels the heat of Simon’s presence at his back as they enter and purposefully doesn’t look towards the balcony as he heads into the kitchen. 

He grabs a clementine from his fruit bowl, just for something to do with his hands. Leans against the counter as he peels it, watches Simon shift awkwardly, just inside his door like he’s ready to bolt. It’s not sweet, the clementine — doesn’t know why he expected it to be, given the track record of his life, currently — but he chews it valiantly even though it’s turning to ash in his mouth. He flicks a bit of pith off of his fingers and watches Simon watching him. 

“So, uh—“ Wilhelm starts eventually, when the silence gets too much.  

“It doesn’t have to be, like, a thing. We can just be casual about it,” Simon says suddenly, and he looks even more like he wants to run, now. 

Wilhelm swallows the bitter sting of disappointment with the last segment of his clementine as he replies. “What— like friends with benefits?”

Simon shrugs. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Wilhelm says, considering him. “So does this mean I can kiss you?” 

“Right now?”

“No, in a week,” Wilhelm deadpans. “Obviously I mean now.”

Simon rolls his eyes, but then he’s stepping forwards into his space anyways, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You’re not funny.” 

“Okay,” Wilhelm says, his eyes trained on Simon’s lips. 

Casual. He can do casual, if it means getting to watch Simon fall apart beneath his gentle touches, getting to kiss him, feel him. Now that he’s had him once, he’s not sure he can go on knowing what it feels like without still getting to be with him. He tips Simon’s chin up with two fingers. Simon sways forwards. 

They do a lot less talking, after that.  

 


 

Wilhelm shivers as he steps out onto the balcony, October having given away quickly into winter’s chill and leaving his breath clouding in front of his face. It’s nice, in a way — though Wilhelm will always prefer the summer there is something undeniably grounding about the frigid air, the freezing metal beneath his hands. Gives him something to focus on that isn’t the sleeping boy in his bed. 

There are times where he thinks Simon might feel the same. The way he looks at him, sometimes — like he and Wilhelm are the only two people alive. Like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than gazing into his eyes. The way he gasps Wilhelm’s name, skates his fingertips over his shoulder blades, nudges their noses together. 

But then he draws away from him, offers him a tight smile as he’s tugging on his shirt and Wilhelm is left nursing the hole in his chest and staring at the place where he once stood. Hugging himself never seems to replicate the warmth of Simon’s skin against his own. 

He sighs heavily, staring at the vapour as it dissipates into the icy air. It’s rare that Simon stays over, or that Wilhelm has the courage to ask to stay at his. Tonight he was exhausted from his assignments, always working his fingers to the bone and then some; this is the only reason that he allowed Wilhelm to press him to the bed and take his time, drawing shudders and whimpers out of him until he eventually slipped into sleep, warm and satiated. 

Usually they crash together, heated and rushed, because it keeps things somewhat- impersonal. Hurried. Get each other off and then go back to stolen glances and friendly greetings as if Wilhelm’s heart hasn’t ripped itself from his body and thrown itself into Simon’s hands. As if Simon hasn’t winced awkwardly and placed it back between them, wiping the blood from his palms. 

The screen door slides open behind him. Wilhelm stays facing forward, begins to count the lights on the block of flats in front of him, breathing in, breathing out. He hears Simon’s bare feet pad on the concrete, has a flash of concern because it’s cold, he should be wearing shoes, and then Simon is beside him, their arms brushing together. 

“Okay?” Simon mumbles, clearly still half-asleep. He’s starting to shiver, clad in just a hoodie — one of Wilhelm’s, Christ — that he’s obviously grabbed on the way out of the door. Wilhelm aches to reach for him but— they don’t do that. Instead he just nods.

“You didn’t— you know, earlier.” Simon makes a stunted, aborted gesture, sniffing awkwardly. Wilhelm huffs a laugh — how he can be so confident when they’re having sex and yet so uncomfortable talking about it will always be amusing to him. 

“It’s okay,” he replies. Doesn’t know how to explain that he’d rather watch Simon fall apart because of him a million times over than come himself.

Simon looks at him like he’s puzzling, then slowly smiles. “You’re somethin’ special, huh.” 

Wilhelm feels his eyebrows twitch inwards in confusion. He shrugs and turns again, letting his eyes trail the twinkling lights of the city. Simon does the same, then slowly shifts his hand and touches their pinkies together. Wilhelm feels the touch zing through his body like lightning and looks at Simon sharply. Carefully and quietly links them, as Simon watches. Thinks that if Simon will allow him this, then it will be enough. It will have to be enough. 

Simon tilts his head, smiles, looks back out at the city. Wilhelm allows himself a second to just look — the gentle slope of his nose, his long eyelashes, the moonlight in his hair — and then he drags his eyes away again. 

 


 

Wilhelm slams the door to Felice’s apartment and flops face-first onto her couch with a put out groan. When she doesn’t acknowledge his existence he sighs louder, really puts his back into it, shoving his face into the cushions and then rolling onto his back like an over-dramatic Victorian child with a fever. 

“Before you say anything,” she starts, “answer these questions. Is this about Simon? Am I going to say ‘I told you so’? Is there literally anyone or anything else you could be telling this to? Like, I don’t know, your journal?” 

“Yes, absolutely, no, already tried that,” he fires off in quick succession, ticking them off on his fingers. Then he rolls over again and muffles a scream into the cushions. “He’s so pretty, Felice. My heart feels like it’s shrivelling up and dying whenever I look at him.” 

“Okay, well, that is disgusting. And morbid,” she says. After a moment he feels her fingers thread through the hair at the back of his head, her long nails gently scratching his scalp. She smooths her hand down his head and says, “get up.”

Wilhelm sighs. “No, I think I’ll stay here. At least the couch loves me.” 

He feels her stand beside him and tug on his arm. When he doesn’t move, she says, “Wille, I’m going to dump a bucket of water on you if you don’t get up.”

Wilhelm scowls at her but allows himself to be pulled into a seated position. “You wouldn’t do that to the couch.” He grumbles. 

“What did I say?” she implores him. Wilhelm just stares up at her petulantly. 

“No, come on. What did I say? I said, ‘he’s gonna break your heart’ and you said ‘head over heels’ was an overstatement but now look at you.” 

Wilhelm groans. “Felice…” 

He sees the moment she softens in the quiet turn of her mouth — Christ, he must look really pathetic — and she moves forward, hugging his head to her stomach. Wilhelm lets his arms come up around her waist and breathes her in; jasmine perfume and vanilla, just as comforting as it was when they were sixteen and fresh-faced. She pulls back and tips his head back, threading her fingers through his hair. 

“What are you going to do?” she asks. 

He sighs. “I don’t know. I can’t lose him.”

Her eyebrows twitch inwards. “Who says you have to?” 

Wilhelm looks away petulantly. “…Me.” 

“Come on, Wille. Just give it time. Maybe he’s feeling exactly the same as you, and you’re both too shy to say anything.” 

Wilhelm shakes his head sharply — he can’t allow himself to think that. To hope. 

“Well, he’s coming to the lake house, right? There’s only three sleeping spaces including the living room — let me see if I can talk Alex into giving you and Simon a bedroom to yourselves.” Felice continues when he doesn’t say anything. 

Wilhelm glances at her in surprise. “You’d do that for me?”

Felice raises an eyebrow at him. “Who do you take me for?” she replies archly. Wilhelm snorts unattractively at the look on her face. After a moment Felice breaks to, giggling. Wilhelm finds himself overcome with gratitude for her presence, not for the first time this week. They’ve always had each other, and they always will — Felice is the one constant in his life. 

“Well? What do you say?” she asks after a moment. 

Wilhelm finds himself excited at the prospect in spite of himself. He nods. “Okay. Sounds good.” 

 


 

Saturday comes around quickly; Wilhelm spends two and a half days stressing about an exam, aces said exam, and then has half a day to pack before suddenly it’s time to go and he and Simon are standing with the rest of their friends in front of the two cars that will take them to Alex’s parent’s lake house. Simon shifts anxiously beside him and Wilhelm knocks their elbows together; he can tell that there’s something bothering him, but Simon won’t tell him what. Simon sends him a brief smile before pulling out his phone and Wilhelm sighs. 

“Wille, do you know where Felice is?” Alex asks, checking his watch anxiously. 

“Uh, no? I actually haven’t heard from her. She’s probably overslept, or something.” Wilhelm shrugs. 

There are six of them in total, not including Felice (Nils and Vincent are also away this weekend, on a ‘friends trip’ that everyone knows is code for three day sex marathon), and Wilhelm is suddenly grateful he had the forethought to bring his headphones because a two hour car journey spent squished against Simon with no freedom to touch him or kiss him at all sounds like hell without something to distract him. 

“Oh! There she is,” Alex says, looking towards where Felice is power-walking towards them. 

“Who’s she with?” Maddy pipes up. 

“Sara,Simon whispers, horrified. Wilhelm glances towards him in concern and finds him pale and drawn, apprehension marring his face. And, sure enough — there’s Sara, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear and laughing as Felice tugs her along behind her. Wilhelm spots their intertwined hands and feels his chest smart a little — are they dating? Why didn’t Felice say anything? He shoots her a pointed look as the two approach the group and Felice shakes her head imperceptibly at him, eyes narrowing in warning. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Sara was coming?” Simon hisses at him under his breath, eyes still trained on the approaching girls, and there’s a hurt in his voice that raises Wilhelm’s hackles — like he feels betrayed. 

“I didn’t know!” he replies. “I would’ve told you if I did, I swear.” 

Sara’s eyes find the two of them, and the speed at which they harden when they land on Simon has Wilhelm gritting his teeth against a protective flare in his chest. He reminds himself that Simon is an adult, and that this is not his fight — whatever happened between the two siblings has to be dealt with by them and them alone. He brushes their hands together intentionally, hoping to offer silent support, but Simon pulls away, shooting him a warning look, driving that icy shard a little further in — they’re not together, Simon isn’t his boyfriend. Wilhelm crosses his arms. 

Felice and Sara finally come to a stop in front of everyone. 

“Hey, Felice!” Maddy greets her excitedly — godbless them for being so normal when everyone else is so tense — and tugs her into a hug. “Who’s this?” she asks as she pulls back, regarding Sara. 

“Uh, this is Sara,” Felice says, glancing nervously at Sara. “...My girlfriend.” 

Maddy erupts in a squeal, tugging Felice in a circle. “Oh my god!” 

“Oh my god,” Wilhelm repeats under his breath. He glances at Simon, then at Rosh — finds them looking at each other, doing that thing where they communicate with just their eyes again. Then he steps forwards and pulls Felice into a hug. “What the fuck! You finally got your shit together and just asked her out, huh?”

“Actually, I asked her out,” Sara clarifies. “She was never going to do it.” 

Felice gasps. “I would have!” 

Wilhelm snorts. “I like her. I’m Wilhelm, by the way. I’m sure you’ve heard all about me and my dashing good looks.” He tops it off with a theatrical wink, trying valiantly to draw Alex’s keen eyes from where they’d been ping-ponging between Sara and Simon. 

“Oh yeah, I told her all about that time you farted in the cinema and four people had to change seats,” Felice replies. This successfully dissolves any awkward atmosphere as everyone collapses into giggles. 

Wilhelm feels his eye twitch. “Felice! What the fuck!” 

“Sorry, babe. I had to,” Felice manages between snorts, one perfectly manicured hand ruffling through his hair as Wilhelm tries to duck away. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Alex pipes up as the giggles peter out, waving at Sara. 

“I hope it’s not too much trouble that I’m coming along,” Sara says, eyes darting from Alex’s face to a spot off to the side of him and then back again, like she doesn’t know where to look. 

“Not at all!” Alex waves her off. Then he turns to the rest of them. “Shall we get the cars loaded up and head off?” 

As everyone mobilises, dragging their bags over to the cars, Sara steps gingerly forwards until she comes to a stop just before Simon. Now that she’s closer Wilhelm can see where they’re related; in the soft turn of their noses and their dark eyes. She twists her mouth to the side and stares at Simon expectantly. 

“Hi,” Simon says, eyes shining with a resigned sort of hope, like he wants this to go well but half-expects it not to. 

“Hello,” Sara replies, nodding at him and then sniffing uncomfortably. Wilhelm shifts on his feet and then walks away from the siblings to offer Alex his help, wishing not for the first time that he and Simon were actually together so that he could offer more than hurried, hidden kisses in support. He keeps an ear out for their conversation as he starts to pack bags into the car. 

“Sara, could we—” Simon starts and then cuts himself off. 

Sara sighs. “You have to understand I can’t just forgive you like that, right?” 

“Of course, but Sara it’s been—” 

“Look, just- Not right now, okay?” Sara cuts him off and then hurries away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before folding herself into one of the cars beside Felice. Wilhelm looks back as he’s packing away the final bag and finds Simon screwing his heel into the dirt. He tongues at the inside of his cheek, his eyes flashing to Wilhelm as he passes by to open the door to the other car. Wilhelm dutifully follows him in. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, trying to look Simon in the eye, but Simon just hums and stares out of the window, the line of his jaw sharp and tense and his arms crossed stonily. Wilhelm sighs and settles in for the ride. 

 


 

Alex’s lake house is beautiful, with huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that allow the sunlight to stream into every crevice and a creaky wooden porch that overlooks the lake, sparkling in the midday sun. Alex directs each of them to their rooms as they wander in through the ornate wooden doors; Felice, Sara, Maddy and Rosh have the big bedroom, with Ayub and Alex taking the pullout sofa beds in the living room. The second, smaller bedroom is Wilhelm and Simon’s; Alex informs them of this with a poorly hidden wink thrown in their direction and Wilhelm blushes, pointedly not looking at Simon. 

“Are we hungry?” Alex asks. “My parents were up here earlier in the week, so they’ve stocked up the fridge, thank god.” 

In the end they settle on finger food for lunch; sweet fruit and cheese and buttered baguettes layed out in a little picnic on the coffee table, which Maddy and Rosh pull into the middle of the room. They all pile around it like they’re sitting around a campfire, popping open the beers that Ayub brought with him. 

Wilhelm connects his phone to the speaker as everyone settles around him, but Felice snatches it out of his hands before he can put anything on. 

“No sad stuff!” she shouts, easily navigating to her own playlist and shuffling it. 

“I wasn’t gonna put sad stuff on!” Wilhelm protests, grappling with her for his phone. She holds fast and they end up scrapping like children.

“Felice— do you mind— wha— hey! Ouch! Can you fucking—“ 

Felice tries to throw his phone towards Simon but Wilhelm — rather impressively if you ask him — grabs it out of the air as it whizzes past him. He settles back on the floor, huffing his hair out of his eyes and shoving his phone back into his pocket, glaring petulantly at Felice as she grins.   

“Wille, I’ve seen your playlists, at least ninety percent of it is sad music,” Simon pipes up, shoulders still shaking slightly at their antics. Wilhelm scowls at him. 

“Traitor,” he mutters as the rest of the group dissolves into laughter. 

Slowly they all settle into a rhythm, any prior awkwardness evaporating in the presence of alcohol — though he notices Simon sips on a Coke where the rest of them have beer — and Wilhelm leans back on his hands, letting the chattering of his friend’s voices wash over him and smiling. 

“What are you so happy about?” Simon asks. The sleeves of his flannel shirt have been rolled up, revealing his forearms and framing his shoulders in a way that makes Wilhelm want to kiss him senseless. 

Wilhelm shrugs. “It’s nice to have everyone together.” 

Simon bites his lip and Wilhelm has to physically force himself to drag his eyes from that maddening dip in the reddened flesh. Simon snorts softly. “You’re cute.” 

And oh, that’s bad. Wilhelm feels something inside him leap to attention like a puppy dog. Mortifyingly he finds himself starting to blush. 

“Shut up?” he manages, his voice coming out reedy and flustered. Simon snorts harder, bright peals of laughter spilling from his lips and making Wilhelm smile in spite of himself. Wilhelm jostles him as Simon doubles over. 

He catches eyes with Sara across the group over Simon’s hunched back, finds her looking between the two of them, a crease appearing between her brows. She stands abruptly and heads outside, waving Felice and Alex off when they ask her if she’s okay. Wilhelm frowns; he has no idea what could have sparked that particular move, but he’s not entirely sure it sits right with him. He stands, leaving his beer on the floor, and tries to follow her, but then Maddy is asking him to pass their vape from their bag and by the time he gets outside Sara is nowhere to be seen. 

He sighs — but, really, he has no idea what he would have said to her if he’d caught up in time. He can’t get a read on her the way he can with most people — couldn’t with Simon either, initially. He wonders if that’s a coincidence or not. 

It’s a beautiful day, the sky a rare, clear blue above him. Wilhelm breathes in deep, watching a flock of ducks swimming across the lake and letting the cold, crisp air stretch his lungs. The door swings shut behind him and the thrum of music and his friend’s voices fades to a gentle hum. Wilhelm wanders forwards until he reaches the end of the deck, sliding his hands along the smooth wood and letting himself zone out. 

He starts out of his reverie as Ayub appears beside him — he hadn’t heard the door opening — taking a slow pull of his beer and leaning against the wooden railing. 

“Hey,” Ayub greets him.  

“Hey. What’s up?” Wilhelm asks, mirroring him. Ayub is someone he hasn’t had much of a chance to get to know — the guy is quiet, most of the time, tends to tack comments onto conversations rather than start his own — but Wilhelm’s found he appreciates his easygoing presence anyways.  

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you,” Ayub says, and that sparks alarm bells, because when has I wanted to talk to you ever been about good things? 

“Okay?”

“Simon is my best friend,” Ayub starts after a moment. “He means a lot to me.” 

“I can see that,” Wilhelm replies, feeling oddly like he’s about to be chewed out for something but unable to think of what. 

“It’s been me and him and Rosh against the world for a long time,” Ayub continues contemplatively. “Obviously it’s awesome that we have all of you guys, now, but it’s been an adjustment. For all three of us, I think.”

“Right,” Wilhelm says, wondering where this is going.

“And, I mean, I guess I have you to thank for bringing us all together.” Ayub gestures at him with the neck of his beer. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I feel like it would’ve happened eventually anyways,” Wilhelm says, shifting his feet. He feels himself growing anxious at the uncertainty of it all; Ayub is here for a reason, he’s just not sure what it is. He starts to catalogue things; the soft music floating from the just-cracked door to the living room, the grain of the wood beneath his fidgeting fingers, the tug of cold air at his hair, now long enough for him to tuck behind his ears again. 

“Listen,” Ayub finally says. “Simon… he’s been through a lot. I won’t say anything because he should be the one to tell you, if you’re together, but he deserves someone who treats him right.” He leans against the balustrade and turns surprisingly intense eyes on him. The warning doesn’t need to be spoken aloud for Wilhelm to get it; the shovel talk, really, when they’re not even— 

He looks away guiltily. “We’re not together.”

Ayub just gazes at him. It’s a little unnerving. 

“It’s— I mean. He wants it that way.” 

Wilhelm brings his thumb to his mouth, tastes the salty remnants of the cheese they were eating, drags his eyes away from Ayub and out to the glittering surface of the lake. Stares at the weak winter sunlight glinting off of the water and wishes he could be anywhere else — somewhere far from the admission that they want different things, he and Simon. 

“I think you’re good for him,” Ayub says. Wilhelm looks at him sharply, something dangerously akin to hope flaring behind his breastbone. 

“Really?” Hates how pathetic it sounds but says it anyway, clings desperately to any slim chance that Simon might— 

Ayub hums. “Yeah, bro. He smiles more now. Even after Sara…” 

Wilhelm nods, understanding. They lapse into silence broken only by the lone whistle of a robin in one of the trees surrounding the lake. Wilhelm tugs absently at a loose thread on his jumper as he turns the information over in his mind, accidentally pulling too hard and unravelling a whole stitch. He pokes his thumb through the hole. 

“He has a tendency to self-sabotage,” Ayub says, pushing away from the edge of the porch. He gives Wilhelm a final glance as he starts to head back inside. “Give him time.” 

And then he’s gone, disappearing inside and leaving Wilhelm to mull over what he’s said. 

Time. Wilhelm supposes he can give him that. Thinks that, really, he would give him anything, if only he’d ask. 

 


 

It’s too cold to go swimming, so as the afternoon progresses they crank up the music and get the drinks flowing. They order pizza, which prompts a fifteen minute long argument about whether olives on pizza is disgusting or not (Simon insists that olives add a depth of flavour, whatever the fuck that means), and scatter themselves across the living room. Wilhelm, Simon, Felice and Alex sit in a little circle to play cards, while Ayub sprawls across one of the armchairs and Rosh and Maddy settle onto the couch, the latter quickly falling asleep with their head on their girlfriend’s chest. Wilhelm smiles and snaps a quick picture of the couple, snorting privately as Rosh glares at him, unable to get up because of her sleeping partner. 

Sara returns a little while into their first card game but quickly excuses herself to the bedroom, shooting a furtive glance at Simon as she does so. Felice flashes them an apologetic smile and quickly gets up to follow her. 

“Hey, Simon, I don’t want to overstep, but I was wondering if you already knew Sara?” Alex finally asks, his voice hushed as he watches Felice’s retreating back. Simon stiffens, the movement so slight that it’s imperceptible to everyone other than Wilhelm, who’s hyper-attuned to Simon’s every breath. Then he shrugs. “She’s my sister.”

Alex’s mouth drops open — he definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Oh! Really?” 

“Yeah. It’s kind of complicated, but, uh, please don’t think she’s being rude,” Simon replies. “She’s just dealing with some shit right now, and she probably just doesn’t want to make anyone else feel awkward, or whatever.” 

“No, yeah, for sure,” Alex replies. “I figured something was going on with her, so don’t worry.” 

Simon smiles appreciatively and the conversation drifts to safer territory as they continue playing — three of one, four of the other, a game which Simon is unbelievably bad at. He frowns as Wilhelm throws down his hand, proudly displaying the three kings and four queens he’s managed to acquire, and Wilhelm has to take a bite out of a slice of pizza so that he doesn’t lean forwards and kiss the pout off of his lips for everyone to see. Being drunk around him was decidedly a bad idea — he’s this close to giving in to the urge to kiss him in front of everyone at any given moment. 

As they pack away the cards Wilhelm digs out his phone and heads outside to take a few pictures, wobbling only a little as he crosses the threshold to the porch. He had a brief stint with photography in his late teens that never really stuck, but he still likes to snap a few photos when he can — something about being too sentimental to let the memories to fade to nothing, he suspects. 

Alex’s parents have strung fairy lights around the porch, and they glow faintly like tiny fireflies in the approaching dusk. The setting sun paints the sky behind the treeline in blistering orange and red, and Wilhelm just stands for a moment, stubbornly ignoring the slight chatter in his teeth as he leans against the balustrade and takes it in. His fingers itch to write, suddenly — half-formed sentences and descriptions flit across his mind like songbirds as he watches the crimson hues fade in the burgeoning twilight. 

He feels him before he hears him; something about Simon dials his every sense up to a hundred, his heart picking up as Simon’s footsteps approach him. 

“Aperol spritz?” Simon asks as he appears in his field of vision, holding out the orange drink with dainty fingers. His own drink appears to be a virgin Cosmopolitan; Wilhelm snags it and takes a sip, humming appreciatively at the tangy flavour. Simon scowls at him and steals it back. “What is it with you and stealing my stuff?” 

“I wanted to see what it tasted like!” Wilhelm defends. “It’s so red.” 

“Okay, and yours is orange so drink it, stupid. Leave me out of it.” 

Wilhelm exhales sharply, smiling and knocking their elbows together. They stand in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks, elbow to elbow in the dark. Simon’s profile glows golden beneath the fairy lights, his eyes shining like tiny galaxies swim in them. Wilhelm is caught up in him then, suddenly but not unexpectedly, and it’s here — on Alex’s porch, shivering a little against the frigid night, that the thought finally comes to him. 

I love you.

 


 

Somehow, Simon and Sara manage to avoid each other for most of the rest of Saturday; Sara disappears with Felice to go explore and Simon stays holed up in their bedroom writing for the evening until Wilhelm can coax him out with promises of Alex’s homemade muffins and card games. Eventually he caves, mumbling something about puppy dog eyes as he allows Wilhelm to gently tug him by the wrist until he’s standing and following him out into the lounge. 

He settles against Wilhelm, their backs to the couch, the line of him warm and solid at Wilhelm’s side. Wilhelm tries not to think about it, focuses intently on the cards in his hand and eventually he’s able to lose himself in the game again, stubbornly not letting his thoughts drift to those three little words that seem to be intent on turning his life upside down. 

After a while the game ends and people begin to drift; Rosh and Maddy turn in early while Alex and Ayub migrate to the kitchen, leaving Simon and Wilhelm to play a sleepy game of blackjack. 

“Where’d you learn all these card games?” Wilhelm asks. 

“My Dad,” Simon replies easily. “He used to run poker tournaments out of our basement.” 

Wilhelm huffs a surprised breath from his nose — whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. 

The front door swings open before Wilhelm can reply and Sara and Felice appear out of the dark, shaking rain water from their hair and pulling off their coats. Simon catches Sara’s eye and they both stiffen and, Jesus, Wilhelm wishes they would just sort out whatever’s happened between them because this whole awkwardly-avoiding-each-other thing is getting really old. 

“Maybe I should go,” Simon says, letting his cards land on the table and standing up. One of them flies from the hand and lands on the floor — Queen of Hearts. Wilhelm takes one look at Sara’s expression and doesn’t dare move to pick it up. 

“No,” Sara says, squaring her feet. “I’m tired of you running, Simon.” 

“Sara, please. I don’t want to do this in front of them,” Simon tries, gesturing vaguely to Wilhelm and Felice. 

“You don’t want to do this in front of him, you mean,” Sara says, and, okay, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Wilhelm frowns and stands so that he’s at Simon’s shoulder. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Simon asks. 

“I see the way you look at each other. You could’ve told me you’ve got a new boyfriend.” 

“Uh, hello? Pot, meet kettle?” Simon replies, gesturing between Sara and Felice. 

Sara frowns confusedly. “What? Simon, you know I don’t get what stuff like that means.” 

“You didn’t tell me about Felice, either,” Simon explains. 

Sara snorts derisively, her eyes flashing. “Well, maybe you would’ve known about her if you’d actually been in my fucking life!” 

“I’m trying, Sara! I’m trying to fix things but you won’t let me!” Simon argues. Sara looks away, chewing on the inside of her cheek as tears spill over her lash line and travel down her face. Simon wipes a hand down his face, weariness suddenly wracking his frame. “Look, can we just— I don’t want to fight with you. I want us to be okay again. I love you, Sara. Mamma, too.” 

“Jesus,” Sara says. “You know I really could’ve used that when I was sitting at home all night, wondering if you were hurt, or dead, or whatever! You didn’t seem to care all that much back then.”

“Sara, you have to know by now how much I hate myself for doing that to you. I’m sorry,” Simon replies, his voice raw and pained, and Sara reels back like she’s been slapped at the look on his face. She stumbles back a step, tears staining her cheeks, and then she screws her eyes up and clenches her jaw. 

“I just— I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know if I can forgive you, Simon.” 

And then she’s gone, storming out of the lake house, Felice racing to catch up with her. Simon sits heavily on the sofa, like all of the energy has drained out of him. Wilhelm gingerly takes the seat opposite him. Alarmingly he finds Simon with tears streaming down his face, his breath hitching as his chest shudders with the force of his sorrow. He wipes at his eyes furiously and then glares up at Wilhelm, his red-rimmed eyes full of dejected fire. 

“I didn’t want you to find out like that,” he spits out, like the words burn too much to keep them in. “God, you should— I should just fucking go.” 

“Hey, hey, no,” Wilhelm says, alarm filling his chest. He grips onto Simon’s arm, pulling him back onto the couch. “Please don’t go.”

“Would you, um, would you explain what she was talking about?” Wilhelm tries, letting his hand circle Simon’s wrist loosely. Strokes a thumb over the underside of it, feels the tendons shift, the blood rushing beneath his skin. Simon rubs a hand over the back of his head, and in that moment he looks so terrified — like a caged animal — that Wilhelm almost lets him go completely. 

“God— uh.” He breathes in, breathes out again. Swallows and looks at him. “Okay.” Gently pulls his wrist from Wilhelm’s hand and shifts on the couch. 

“Mine and Sara’s father, he- he was an asshole. Uh— abusive. You know the deal. Drank, did drugs, smacked us about.” He gestures vaguely, sniffing, and Wilhelm can see him putting a face on but is grateful that he’s speaking at all, so he doesn’t say anything. Just sits, and watches, and listens. 

“For a while it was me and Sara against the world. When we were kids. We’d try and make a game out of it — you know, make as little noise as possible, or whatever, hide from Pappa like he was some big scary monster and not our fucking—” 

He cuts himself off angrily, pulling a hand down his face. “Anyways, that all changed when I met Marcus. I was, um, fifteen? He was— older. His friends, they weren’t good people, but they quickly became my friends, too, and all of it — the drugs, the drinking, the parties, it offered a convenient escape from the shit-storm that was my life.”

He sighs. Shifts. Rolls his shoulders like he’s putting on armour.

“I did some really stupid shit. Stayed out until four in the morning — sometimes I didn’t come home at all. I left Sara to deal with our Dad on her own. Most of the time I couldn’t bear to come home and see her, to see what I’d allowed him to do to her and Mamma by being gone. It was— it was bad. And Marcus made it worse, because he liked doing all of that stuff. He wasn’t doing it to escape anything, he just fucking enjoyed it, so I had to enjoy it too. I don’t know.” 

Simon sighs shakily. Brings a trembling hand to his mouth and swallows on a sob. “And then—” He breaks off, the words choking out of him. Screws his eyes shut and tries again.

“Our Dad. He, uh— he put Sara in the hospital. By the time I found out what happened she’d been out for hours. I turned up just after she woke up, made Marcus drive me over there even though we were both high out of our minds, almost crashed into a fucking tree, god—” He laughs hollowly, twisting his hands together. 

“Sara caught on that I was high straight away. Her and Mamma, god, they chewed me out. Rightfully so. And I felt so guilty about it that I went home and I packed my shit, broke up with Marcus and just left. Didn’t leave a note. Eventually I ended up next door to you. That night, at the diner? That was the first time I’d seen Sara in two and a half years.”

Silence reigns in the wake of his admission, like all of the energy has been sucked from the room. Simon laughs self-depricatingly. “So, yeah. That’s— that.” 

Wilhelm sits for a second, processing. Then he says, “your Dad, is he…?” 

“In prison. Or dead, maybe. I don’t know. He’s gone, either way.” 

Wilhelm nods. “Okay. That’s good.”

He reaches out and takes Simon’s hand, stroking a thumb over the downy skin on the back of his knuckles, his chest a gaping hole at the knowledge of what Simon has been through. He squeezes his hand and says, “thank you for telling me.” 

Simon swallows, his eyes filling with tears again, and his lip quivers before he replies.

“You don’t have to do this. Please don’t. I’d rather you just get it over with, break up with me, whatever. I’m not worth it,” he says, his voice a small, broken thing, and Wilhelm’s heart cracks in his chest at the weight of those words. At what they imply about how Simon feels about himself. 

“Hey,” Wilhelm murmurs. “Would you look at me?” 

Simon does, his eyes guarded and his lower lip trembling. Wilhelm takes a breath, trying to think about how to word what he’s thinking so that Simon doesn’t try to run again. 

“I think that you were a kid. I think you were in an impossible situation and you dealt with it the only way you know how. Probably not the healthiest way, sure, and maybe you hurt people as a result, but I don’t think any of that makes you a bad person,” he settles on, his eyes trained on Simon’s face, imploring him to understand. To believe it. “You’re a victim, too.” 

Simon glances at him and then away, and then he chokes on a sob, drawing away as his face screws up and he hides it behind his hands. He slides onto the floor, back against the couch, and he draws his arms up around his knees and just cries into them. 

Wilhelm follows him down, sitting cross-legged on the floor a little ways away from him, watching with increasing alarm as Simon’s shoulders begin to rise and fall quicker and quicker. Simon’s fingers dig into his arms in a way that Wilhelm knows is painful. 

“I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me, Wille— I— she said she hates me— I just— I’m so scared— I—“ Simon pants, his shoulders heaving with the force of his panic.

“Baby. Look at me. Can I touch you?” Wilhelm asks, feeling useless, needing to comfort him, desperate to piece him back together. 

Simon nods desperately, breath still coming in sharp gasps, and Wilhelm reaches out, drawing him into his arms. He goes easily, limbs folding beneath him like they’re too weak to hold him up, head tucked beneath Wilhelm’s chin. Wilhelm feels his tears start to stain his shirt, smooths a hand up his trembling back, and wishes he could go back in time and change things. 

“You’ll be okay, Simme. You will. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here,” he murmurs, drawing him closer as he shakes. 

“Why don’t you hate me?” Simon whimpers against his collarbone. “You should. I’m a horrible person.” Wilhelm’s chest smarts at the fragility in his voice.

“Are you? Simme, to me it just sounds like you’re scared.” 

Simon just sobs in response, gripping hard onto his shirt as Wilhelm soothes him. Eventually Wilhelm gently tips his head back so that he can look him in the face. “Simme. Sweetheart. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened.” 

Simon shakes his head, screwing his eyes up against the words. “But it is my fault. If I’d been there it wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that, love. Maybe if you’d been there you both would’ve ended up in the hospital.” 

Simon sighs, and Wilhelm can tell he doesn’t believe him but he doesn’t push it. Instead he rubs a thumb under his eye, wiping away the tears that fall and cradling his face. “Do you want to go to bed? We’re a little exposed out here.” 

Simon nods, sniffing, and allows Wilhelm to support him as they stand weakly and make their way into the bedroom. Wilhelm finds their pyjamas and hands Simon’s over to him before changing into his own. Simon glances at him furtively once he’s settled on the bed and draws his knees up to his chest protectively. And Wilhelm realises that he knows exactly what he’s doing — can see Simon beating himself up in his head for being so vulnerable with him. It makes something sharp and painful unfurl in his chest. 

He reaches out and strokes Simon’s cheek, rubbed red raw from Simon wiping away his tears, and tries to project how grateful he is that Simon opened up to him through his gaze. Simon’s eyelashes flutter and he presses his cheek a little closer into Wilhelm’s hand. 

He yawns suddenly, his shoulders shuddering with the force of it, and Wilhelm cracks a smile. 

“Sleep. I’m here.”

 


 

Sunday dawns bright and cold; Wilhelm wakes as the sun is just beginning to peek above the horizon and decides to take himself on a run before the others get up. He presses an absent-minded kiss to the meat of Simon’s shoulder as he pulls himself out of bed, takes a second to watch as Simon stirs and his nose twitches before he falls back into sleep and then forces himself out of the door before he gives in and climbs back into bed. 

He throws on a faded old hoodie he always wears to work out in and tugs on his trainers before quietly padding outside, pulling the lake house door shut behind him. His workout playlist consists mostly of Hip Hop, and he’s pleasantly surprised to be greeted by the newest Childish Gambino song when he shuffles it. He takes a second to inhale the crisp air, letting it stretch his lungs, and then he takes off down the path by the lake. 

It’s a beautiful day; the sun is just beginning to rise above the treeline, burning a sparkling line down the centre of the lake, and the sky is a clear, vibrant blue above him. Wilhelm quickly gets lost in the rhythmic push and pull of his muscles, his thoughts beginning to wander as he rounds the corner of the lake and enters the woods. 

Simon and Sara… He didn’t know what he expected them to be fighting about, but now that he knows his heart aches for the both of them. He thinks about a fifteen-year-old Simon turning to drugs just to cope with his father’s abuse and his chest smarts with anger. He can’t believe their Dad put Sara in the hospital. Simon’s tear stained face flashes across his mind and he pushes forwards a little harder, a little faster, his feet smacking against the gravelled path and his lungs burning. 

The path beneath his feet slowly changes, become more muddy and uneven, and branches snap as he pushes over them, the muscles around his knees bunching as he works his way over the terrain. He ducks under an oncoming branch, just barely avoiding being whipped in the face by the leaves, and rights himself just in time to avoid tripping over a gnarled tree root. 

He hasn’t gone running in a long time; always too busy with school or work or partying to keep to a consistent schedule, and he feels it in the way his lungs ache, in the way his muscles burn as he pushes onwards. He’s coming up to the twenty-minute mark, now, about ready to turn left onto the road and head back to the house. 

He thinks of Simon again as he jogs onto the tarmac, keeping close to the treeline to avoid any oncoming cars — though he doubts there will be many, given that it’s so early. There’s something about the way Simon hides himself that scares Wilhelm. He feels a flicker of emotion and immediately sprints in the opposite direction, like he’s afraid that being open about things will kill him, or something. The way he closed up as soon as he calmed down last night, threw his walls up like Wilhelm knowing how he was feeling was somehow dangerous — it makes Wilhelm’s chest hurt just thinking about it. He wishes he knew how to help, but he suspects it’s a long-scarred wound from childhood that can’t be healed by anyone other than Simon himself. 

He starts to slow his pace, eventually coming to a stop just outside the lake house. He’s surprised to find Sara outside the front, smoking a cigarette as she leans against the front door. He lifts a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She regards him contemplatively. Then she flicks the ash from the end of her cigarette and asks, “are you and Simon together?”

Wilhelm blinks. “No.”

“But you’re sleeping together.”

Wilhelm falters at her bluntness, then remembers himself and nods awkwardly. “…Yeah.”

“Be careful,” she says. “He’s not good at feelings.” 

Wilhelm feels something protective flare up in him and he narrows his eyes. “I think I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Sara looks at him for a second and then softens, sighing. “It’s not… I love him. He’s my brother. But he really hurt me when he left. I had to heal from my injuries and from the trauma completely alone. He’d always been my rock, and then he was just… gone. No explanation. I don’t know how to forgive him for that.”

“Just— let him try?” Wilhelm offers. “You don’t have to forgive him in order to have him in your life. You both obviously need to talk, a lot, to understand each other, but just because that talk needs to happen doesn’t mean that you can’t see each other until it does.” 

Sara considers him for a moment, surprise lining her face. Then she smiles. “You’re gonna be good for him,” she says, stepping aside to allow him to enter. 

“I’ll think about it,” Sara calls after him as he walks into the living room, taking a drag of her cigarette. Wilhelm nods — he supposes that’s all he can ask for, really. 

When he enters their bedroom Simon is already up, looking at something on his phone with his knees drawn up to his chest. He glances up as Wilhelm walks in, his dark eyes following him as Wilhelm tugs off his hoodie and wipes the sweat from his brow. Eventually he says, “you were gone when I woke up.”

There’s something petulant about his tone, like he’s looking for a fight. Wilhelm bites his lip. 

“Sorry,” he replies. “I went for a run.” 

Simon shakes his head. “No, it’s— fine. It’s not like we’re together, you’re not obliged to look after me, or whatever.”

Wilhelm frowns, his chest splintering at it’s not like we’re together. “I like looking after you.” 

Simon looks at him for a long moment, and it’s like the fight slowly drains out of him. He swallows and then looks away again, rubbing at his nose. “Sorry. I’m embarrassed about crying, and I’m taking it out on you.” 

Relief crests over Wilhelm and he smiles gently. “It’s okay.”

He kicks off his trainers and sits down next to Simon on the bed, surprised when Simon climbs up onto his lap without a second thought. The warm weight of him is a welcome one, and he lets his arms come up around him as Simon presses the sides of their heads together and just hugs him. They stay there for a while, not talking, just basking in each other’s presence, and — god, why does Simon make it so goddamn easy to fall in love with him? Wilhelm doesn’t know how to stop himself from feeling this way. Selfishly, he squeezes Simon tighter against him. 

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs. 

Simon sighs. “Better,” he mumbles. “Thanks for being so good to me.”

Wilhelm splays his hand over Simon’s ribs, feeling them shift beneath his skin. “Of course,” he replies. 

After a moment he feels Simon nuzzle into his neck, pressing his nose to Wilhelm’s skin and inhaling. 

“What are you doing?” Wilhelm murmurs, confused. Simon freezes and pulls back. “Uh, nothing.” 

“No, you were— were you smelling me?” Wilhelm asks, laughing. 

“No!” Simon exclaims, but the tops of his cheeks are starting to glow a deep red, so Wilhelm knows he’s lying. 

“You were!” 

“I mean, okay, sure, I guess I was smelling you. But you smell good! Like, what cologne do you use because I want it.” 

Wilhelm sobers, smile fading as his eyes flit between Simon’s. “…I don’t.”

Simon’s eyebrows twitch inwards. “What?”

“I don’t use cologne.”

Simon’s eyes widen in a way that’s almost comical. “Oh.”

Wilhelm rolls his lips and tries not to feel smug about Simon apparently liking the way he smells. “Yeah. Actually, I’ve just been on a run so I should stink.”

“Well, you don’t.”

Wilhelm snorts. “Thanks. I’m gonna go shower anyways.”

Simon smirks at him. “Can I join you?” 

Wilhelm surges up, picking Simon up as he does so and carrying him towards the en-suite while the other man yelps and clings to him. 

“Yes, please.”

 


 

and you’ll let him touch you, because his eyes are full of stars and you’ve always looked up to the sky in wonder—

“What are you doing?” Simon mumbles, his voice husky from disuse. It’s the evening of their second day at the lake house, and they’ve  mostly been co-existing in silence for the past hour or so. Wilhelm shuts his notebook as he feels Simon’s chin come over his shoulder, the bare skin of his chest warm where it presses against his back. Wilhelm leans back into him unthinkingly. 

“Writing.” 

“Can I see?” 

Wilhelm thinks about it; taking his bleeding heart in his palms, handing it over. Here. This is all I have. This is all I am. It’s yours. 

Simon jostles him out of his reverie. “Please?” 

Fuck. 

“…Fine.” 

Simon smiles, slow and real, and then he sits up properly and takes the book from Wilhelm. Wilhelm directs him to one of his older poems; all of the new ones are about him. He watches with baited breath as Simon’s eyes travel over the words. 

After a moment Simon looks back up at him, something akin to wonder in his eyes. “…Wow.”

“That bad?”

Simon shakes his head, and his eyes are earnest, wide and sparkling beneath the overhead light. “It’s beautiful.” 

Wilhelm looks at him, at his sleepy, sex-ruffled hair, at his pretty doe eyes filled with emotion, at the way he holds Wilhelm’s notebook with such care, and he almost says it. I love you. 

Instead he asks, “what are you doing for Christmas?” 

If Simon is confused by the change in topic he doesn’t show it. “Uh, nothing, probably. I haven’t been back home in over a year, so I don’t even know if I’m welcome there this year.” 

“Come home with me for Christmas,” Wilhelm blurts before he can think about it. Now Simon looks confused, his brows turning in. 

“What? Like I’m your boyfriend?” he asks incredulously. There’s something guarded about his eyes, like he wants Wilhelm to say no. Like he expects it. 

Wilhelm shrugs. “However you want. Can't stand the thought of you all alone in that apartment while I’m at home. Just— come with me? Please?” he implores, begging Simon with his eyes. 

Simon looks at him like he can’t believe Wilhelm exists, his eyes softer than they have any right to be as they flick between Wilhelm’s own. Eventually he smiles — a tiny, private thing that Wilhelm can’t really make sense of, and he says, “okay.”

Notes:

woof. big chapter.

i’ve been thinking about writing a lil oneshot of how felice and sara get together once this fic is done, mostly because i feel like i’ve sidelined felice a little bit this chapter, even if it was necessary in order to talk more about simon, sara and wille. it’d allow me to get more into both felice and sara’s heads, i think. would that be something people are interested in?

btw when simon says ‘she said she hates me’ he’s referring to a previous argument he’s had with her, not this one obviously haha
i tried to write sara in a way that was still true to her character but so that (hopefully) people wouldn’t hate her. she just doesn’t forgive easily and simon really hurt her and their mother, so. that isn’t to say that simon is necessarily at fault - he was young and traumatised and definitely being manipulated by marcus, but sara’s feelings about the situation are also valid even if she doesn’t go about things in the best way.

hopefully you can see a little better why simon tries to keep wille at a distance; he sees himself as someone who’s flawed/damaged and as someone who hurts people, and he doesn’t want wilhelm to find out about what happened with sara. in his mind, if he and wille start dating, wilhelm is eventually going to find out and he assumes wille would reject him so he intentionally pushes him away.

pls pls pls pls gimme comments they sustain my life force

also, tentatively: chapter six is being a bitch and probably will take longer to update. i'll say definitively on my twitter next wednesday.

love y'all!

you can listen to the playlist for this fic here

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