#theres so much abt wille i'd love to explore when it comes to his parents

[caramelpenguin]

Simon is soft. Simon is warm. Simon is golden and he is safe and he is love. These are simple, solid facts that- at this very moment- makes Wille want to cry a little bit. It is the opposite of the icy atmosphere in the Palace, where his mamma criticises his every thought and move and decision, and his pappa stands there to watch.

It's early autumn. Outside, the cold is beginning to seep into their bones, biting at the edge of the world. Simon is tracing lazy patterns onto his collarbone, curled up next to him on his bed, bathed in the orange glow of the fishtanks. They fit together. Wille doesn't know who he'd be without this.

"Do you want to talk about?" Simon asks. He whispers it as if the world will steal his question from him if he's too loud. He's had too much taken from him already.

Wilhelm shakes his head. He cried enough before texting Simon asking if he could come over. He really doesn't want to cry again.

"Okay. That's okay." A kiss on neck. Lips pressed onto his cheek. Onto his forehead. Fingers combing through his hair, over and over, like they're stitching him back together. He is surrounded by warmth. His chest is stirring, he hears his heart thumping in his ears and something weird is welling inside and it might tip over but he can't let that happen because then he'll think about his mamma and that look on her face and the way she says her words so that they cut cleanly through him, so that they drip with disappointment and how she won't let him be himself and how controlled his life has been and will always be and he really doesn't want to cry.

"Thank you, Simon," he says instead of falling apart. Wilhelm swallows hard, he breathes deep. He clenches his jaw.

"Don't thank me."

"I just did."

Simon tuts playfully. He draws a heart onto Wilhelm's cheek with his index finger. "I hope you know that I am so proud of you. All your friends are. Parents aren't always right, you know." Simon threads their hands together. "They don't get to decide who you are, or who you'll become. That's yours." Wilhelm shuffles to wrap an arm around the body next to him. He's clingy and desperate and aching. He's a little boy again. Starving for hugs. Starving for a love he doesn't have to earn.

"One step at a time," Simon murmurs, holding Wille tightly against him.

He nods. "One step at a time."