Work Text:
“Have a nice Christmas” replayed in his head over and over like a torturous loop. Everything is fucked with Simon, and he can’t even blame anyone other than himself.
His legs carried him toward the bathroom before he realized he was moving, his nails clawing at his arms as he tried to block out the thoughts that were consuming his mind. The door clicked shut behind him as he quietly opened the drawer. Inside sat a small box; adrenaline flooded his head as he grabbed it.
His body slid to the ground as he pulled a small blade out of the box. He promised himself last time that he’d stop, but he was good at breaking promises anyways.
Sliding the blade across his skin left him with a strange sense of calm. He relished the way his mind was completely blank. The drops of blood trickling down his arm made him feel clean, like all his wrongdoings were exiting his body.
His eyes traced the old and healing scars. He felt proud of them; the thoughts that plagued him left permanent marks from the wounds they seeped out of. His eyes slowly drifted closed and he slumped down, curling into a ball on the bathroom floor.
As he woke up, he took in where he was. Blood still stained the floor. He slowly sat up, trying to ignore the pit of shame making its way into his stomach.
He turned the shower on and stepped in, letting the water run over his face. The water ran over his arms, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. He finished up his shower, stepping over the pool of blood as he made his way to bed.
His body felt weak as he flopped into the bed. He stared at the roof for a while, just thinking. He picked up his phone to distract himself from his drifting thoughts, only to be met with a barrage of missed calls and messages from Simon.
Another call came in, and his breath caught in his throat as he immediately answered.
Simon broke the silence first, “I’m outside. Can you ask the guards to let me in?”. He was confused as he read all the missed messages from Simon saying he was on his way and they were going to talk. Simon usually wouldn’t just show up somewhere without confirmation? He quickly stuttered out that he would let him in, then ended the call.
He called out to Malin, asking her to let him in while his brain frantically tried to figure out what he did this time. He didn’t have long to come to a conclusion before a soft knock sounded at his door.
“Come in,” he called, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt.
The door cracked open. Simon stepped in, standing shyly in front of Wilhelm.
“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm blurted out.
Simon spoke up, “I hated you. I laid myself open, and you threw the blame onto me the moment you couldn’t handle the pressure.”
Wilhelm started to interrupt, “Wait,” Simon cut in. “I also know you were doing what you thought was right, and while I’m still hurt that you did that, I also love you. I want to be with you. All I’m asking is for you to talk to me before making decisions that involve us.”
Wilhelm swallowed as he looked into Simon’s earnest eyes. He hated himself for hurting this perfect boy in front of him. And after everything he did, Simon’s still willing to give him a second chance.
“I’m so sorry, Simon. I love you. My mom just got in my head. And I know that’s not an excuse, and you deserve so much better than me, but I love you. And I don’t ever want to hurt you again,” Wilhelm says, tears welling in his eyes.
Simon smiles, his eyes crinkling as he steps towards him. Wilhelm wanted to step back, to push Simon away. He knows he doesn’t deserve him. But he’s selfish. He can’t bear to let go of his perfect boy.
Simon wraps his arms around him, and as they look into each other’s eyes, Wilhelm knows he’ll never love anyone else like he loves Simon.
Their lips meet until Wilhelm eventually pulls away. “I hope you plan on staying the night,” he murmurs, pulling Simon into another tight hug.
“Of course,” Simon answered, a smirk playing on his lips.
Simon stepped back from Wilhelm. A sense of loneliness settling over him the moment Simon left his arms. He shot him a wounded look, and Simon laughed before walking toward the bathroom.
As Simon walked away, an immediate feeling of dread filled Wilhelm’s stomach. He quickly grabbed Simon’s arm to stop him, remembering the pool of blood he’d yet to clean up.
Simon looks confused as Wilhelm hurries to explain how dirty the bathroom is.
“I don’t mind a dirty bathroom; it’s probably still cleaner than your room,” Simon jokes.
He walked past Wilhelm and opened the door, confusion flicking across his face as he took in the large amount of blood dried on the ground. Simon turns and faces Wilhelm, a questioning look in his eyes.
His brain races to think of a reason, his breathing becoming frantic.
“I-I got a nosebleed,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact.
His vision starts to blur as he struggles to take a breath. He just made up with Simon; he can’t tell him about this.
Simon approaches him slowly, his hand resting on his arm before pulling him in for a hug. “It’s okay, Wilhelm. Whatever the issue is, you can tell me,” Simon mumbles into his ear.
He steps back, distancing himself from Simon. His chest heaves as he drops to the ground, clawing at his arm as he tries to get some air in. Simon kneels beside him and quietly talks to him, urging him to talk about his surroundings.
Wilhelm finally gets a bit of air in his lungs. Simon’s staring at him with a look of pity. He needs to leave; he just proved to Simon he’s too much work. Simon’s only with him right now because he feels bad for him.
He starts to back away from Simon again, but Simon grabs him and pulls him into a hug. Murmuring how loved he is. They sit on the floor cuddling for a while, Simon still whispering things in his ear.
Eventually, Simon backs up a little so they’re facing each other. He gently asks, “Why is there so much blood in the bathroom? And why were you being so weird about it? I won’t judge you for anything you tell me. I just want to help.”
Wilhelms’ eyes met Simon’s before he looked at the ground, fidgeting with his hands.
“I-I sometimes will hurt myself a bit. It calms my thoughts down, and I feel less dirty when I do it,” he whispered, looking at the ground, scared to meet Simon’s eyes.
A gentle hand on his chin tilts his head up till he’s looking at Simon. Simon’s eyes were full of sorrow and love as he leaned in and gently kissed Wilhelm.
“I’m so sorry, Wille. I didn’t realize you were struggling. I love you though, and I’m here for you, and you can always call me. You mean so much to me, and you’re not dirty at all, I promise. You’re perfect.” Simon says, pulling Wille against him.
“Can I see?” Simon whispers, his voice full of love.
He slowly pulls his sleeve up, looking at the ground so he doesn’t have to see Simon’s face.
“Wille,” Simon says, tracing his finger beside the cuts.
He leaned against Simon, shielding his face with Simon’s chest. He didn’t deserve to feel cared for. Simon couldn’t feel what he felt. Simon couldn’t understand his thoughts. He is dirty, Simon just can’t see it.
Simon seems to sense his hesitation, pulling him closer together. They sat there for a while, neither saying anything. Simon eventually suggests they lie in the bed. They lay down together, Wilhelm still hiding himself in Simon’s chest.
Just before he falls asleep, he hears Simon whisper, “I love you, Wille, and you’re so much more important than you think. I’m always here for you.”
And he might just believe him.