Work Text:
6 WEEKS PRE-MUSIKHJÄLPEN
At first Simon had thought he was gonna be fired. The immediate first reaction had been a sort of panicked sense of grief over something he hadn’t yet lost. His boss had approached him after wrapping up his shift on the radio show, expensive coffee in hand and heels clicking quite aggressively on the wooden floors as she’d asked him if they could talk, preferably in private. Simon wasn’t dumb, he knew very well what that was code for.
So he’d tried to compose himself, not let it show on the outside the utter devastation he’d felt thinking his time at the radio show was over. He hadn’t even been the main event, definitely not the biggest host they’d had, but he did think he’d found his audience, that he’d built something of his own here. Maybe he’d been wrong all along.
So when she asks if he has any suggestions on who would be suitable to take over the show for a while, he swallows down his bitterness, shrugs and lists off a few of his colleagues that he knows would take good care of his show, his baby.
”Don’t you wanna know why?” She asks, gives him a little secretive smile before taking another sip of her coffee.
Simon stares at her a moment too long. Does she think he’s stupid? Like he doesn’t understand what’s going on here? Way to rub it in and all, he thinks bitterly, but humors her regardless.
”Okay, sure. Why?”
”Because they just called from the head office, you’ve been chosen to host Musikhjälpen this year!”
What.
The weird staring seems to be his theme for the day but he can’t seem to help it.
What.
She doesn’t seem to take notice of his uncharacteristic quietness. And isn’t that wonderful. The ever so chatty radio host at a loss for words for the first time in his career.
”Of course you would have to agree to it first,” she continues, ”but it’s such a great opportunity, don’t you think? It would be silly not to take it. And for such a great cause as well, did you know that this year they’re going to raise money for women’s health and for no one to die giving birth?” She keeps going, adding something about how this will be just the push his show needs and how it’s the chance he’s been waiting for.
”So what do you think?” She asks, at last seeming to realize how Simon hasn’t said a word for the past minutes. ”Simon?”
What does he think? He’s not entirely sure. He’s always been a big fan of Musikhjälpen, for sure, has done his fair share of starting collections and contributing to the cause over the years. He’d even been a daytime guest a couple years ago. But hosting? Spending 144 hours locked in that small studio placed in some town square, being live on tv and radio for an entire week on end? It’s terrifying. Even for such a noble cause.
But he can’t turn it down, obviously he can’t. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, his chance to finally go from unknown radio host to a known one. And helping the cause, of course.
”Okay, I’m game,” He says at last, shrugs to make it seem like less of a terrifying ordeal than his inner turmoil would deem it.
She lights up. ”Oh that’s perfect! I knew you’d be up for it! So who do you think we should have cover for you in the meantime? I mean there’s Amina but also Johan could be a good fit even if-”
He interrupts her mid-sentence. ”Who are the other hosts this year?” Who will he be forced to spend 144 hours locked in together with? The knot in his stomach turns again.
”Oh there’s Felice, you know the fashion reporter who’s been getting quite famous on social media lately.”
Simon nods approvingly. They’ve met a few times at different events. He likes her, can see them getting along well enough to spend a week together.
”And the second one is a bit of a surprise. Did you know they actually got Prince Wilhelm to agree to host? Well, I guess ex-prince Wilhelm now, but he’ll always be a prince in my eyes. He’s grown up to be quite handsome too,” She gets a dreaming look in her eyes for a fleeting moment before gathering herself and continuing on explaining the details.
Prince Wilhelm? Simon’s previously semi-calmed nerves start working themselves up again, like a twisted cord of faulty wires sparkling underneath his skin.
Oh shit.
4 WEEKS PRE-MUSIKHJÄLPEN
They meet up for the first time in private, just the three of them. A nondescript meeting room on the fifth floor of the Sveriges Radio main building on Östermalm. Beige walls, large windows. Three people around a large table, an awkwardness hanging in the air that they’re bound to do something about if they’re ever going to survive the week together.
Felice Ehrencrona, famous for her work in sustainable fashion, as well as her recent series of interviews with influential people in the industry on the future of fashion. Her followers on social media have more than doubled in the past year and Simon has heard more than once that she will be a new household name in the industry, one to reckon with.
Regardless of all her recent success and accomplishments, she’s lovely in all sorts of ways and her presence puts Simon instantly at ease, makes him think he could actually do this. She’s got ideas for segments, collections to start, guests to invite and the organizational vibe she brings to the table is calming. This, Simon can do, this he’s good at. They’ve got 144 hours to fill and damn well if it isn’t going to be the best 144 hours of charity content this country has ever seen.
Wilhelm (call me Wille please) is a whole other story. He’s seemingly stoic, expression carefully neutral, but fidgety in a way that makes Simon think he’s equally a nervous mess on the inside as Simon himself. Wilhelm-Wille famously known for his discomfort in public situations, for avoiding the public at all costs, is a bit of a wild card to put in a locked cage with cameras on him 24/7. Simon wonders who’s brilliant idea that was.
It might have been an attempt at a genius PR move, getting the previous Crown Prince to raise money, if only someone had actually considered the fact that Wilhelm is not even remotely suited for enduring public scrutiny. That it was the whole reason he’d decided to leave the monarchy in the first place.
It only takes Simon about fifteen minutes in Wilhelm’s company to figure this out and it makes him wonder if anyone has actually attempted to talk to Wilhelm about the requirements of this job beforehand. Maybe they have. Or maybe if you’re royal, you’re above constructive criticism, what does Simon know.
Apart from the obvious discomfort he radiates, he does seem like a nice enough person on the interior though. When he gets talking about his recent work in charity, the way he’s spent his time outside the royal family dedicating his time to trying to make an actual difference, he lights up, loosens some of the tension he’s been radiating and Simon can at last see possibly why he could be a good fit. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.
They walk together down to the coffee shop in the lobby for a little break and Wilhelm is suddenly right next to Simon, close enough for their elbows to brush. He looks good, Simon has to admit. All pressed suit and neatly styled dark blonde hair. Polished on the surface, but with expressive almond eyes giving away how he’s possibly so much more than that.
”You know, I actually really like your radio show,” Wilhelm admits after they’ve walked in silence for a bit, looking down at his shoes. ”I’ve been listening for years now.”
This does take Simon by surprise. He wouldn’t have pegged Wilhelm as his typical listener, especially not a regular one.
”Oh really? Thank you.”
”It’s a little weird, this whole thing,” Wilhelm continues, still not meeting Simon’s gaze. ”I kind of feel like I know you already because of the show, but I guess you would only know me from the official story of my life and my abdication.” He laughs a bit uncomfortably.
”I guess that’s true,” Simon says, can feel himself empathizing with his new co-host. ”I will say though that I’ve never cared much for the royal family, which I guess you’d know if you’ve listened to my show,” He winks. ”To be honest, I openly disliked you for quite some time. However, after you left and went your own way, I guess I have to admit I was wrong about some things. I did kind of judge without actually knowing,” he admits, apologetically. ”So I won’t think of you as Prince Wilhelm and you won’t think of me as ’Late Night Vibes-Simon’ and we try to get along being locked up together for a week?”
Wilhelm meets his eyes at last, smiles. ”I’d like that,” he says.
The smile is crooked and reaches all the way to the soft almond of his eyes and Simon can feel the sparkle it sends down his spine in a very non-welcome, intrusive, doomed way.
Oh shit indeed.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 0
”Welcome to Musikhjälpen 2024, with Felice, Simon and Wilhelm. This year we are collecting money for prenatal care in developing countries, because no one should have to give birth without access to healthcare. In order to do that, the three of us are going to be locked in here on the square in Lund for 144 hours, broadcasting live on radio P3 and on SVT Play for anyone wanting to watch the livestream.” Felice is radiating energy as she gets comfortable in her seat, peering out through the glass of their make-shift prison.
The little studio is only about 30 square meters, room for little more than the big table, the little lounge area for guests and the designated music space for live performances. This will be their home for the next 6 days. Simon takes in the red of the decor, the sense of surveillance of the large glass panels making up the walls, the excitement of the crowd outside that they’ve just walked through on their way in. It’s surreal and fantastic and he’s not sure what to make of it yet.
Wille looks equally taken back as he gets settled in front of his own microphone. ”Like every year, we can’t do this without you guys at home, so please get involved in any way you can. Start a collection box, bid on auctioned items, spread the cause to people in your surroundings.”
”Together we can change the world, one song at a time. Your music saves lives,” Simon adds.
The large crowd already gathered on the so-called Love Square, outside the cage, cheers. Simon meets Wille’s eyes across the table, sees the pent up excitement and nervousness, the will to prove everyone wrong, to succeed.
”I promise you, this year will be the best Musikhjälpen has ever seen. We will make sure of it.”
Wille smiles widely at him. The crowd roars.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 2
The first hours of their very first day run smoothly. Felice excuses herself after about an hour to go and catch some sleep before the first night shift.
Wille and Simon keep things up. They entertain a musical guest and get people to bid on his signed guitar, interview two young girls who are going to be swimming across Öresund to Denmark if their collection reaches 100 000 kronor. It’s going smoothly, almost suspiciously so.
Outside the cage the large crowd has disappeared, most probably heading home after the initial excitement of the locking in-process, but people are still gathered in small groups. Dancing along to the music, bundled up in thick coats, parents with small children perched on their shoulders. Some older ladies having brought a large straw goat they’re now decorating with colorful ribbons and pine needles. It’s magical, enough so to give Simon goosebumps, the way that this little community is coming together, an entire country united by a common cause. No differences, no prejudice, just love and support and a whole lot of Christmas spirit.
The relaxed slump of Wille’s shoulders, soft look in his eyes as he gazes out at the square tells him Wille’s equally amazed, that this might not be as terrifying an ordeal as his new friend had initially feared.
The ongoing song fades to an end and Simon checks the screen in front of him for what collection to bring up next. He giggles a little to himself and adjusts the headphones as they’re up again.
”That was ’Svag’ by Viktor Leksell, as requested by Wilma, who wants to thank her sister Alice for always supporting her. That’s very nice. If you too want to request a song and dedicate it to someone, please do so through the Duo app as always. Keep requesting, your music save lives.” Wille says, sends a curious look his way. ”I can see you laughing to yourself over there, anything you wanna share with the group, Simon?”
Simon grins at him over the computer screen. ”Oh nothing, just this fantastic collection I found on the Musikhjälpen website called ’Wilhelm’s sexy butt’. It’s currently at 550 kronor.”
Wille’s cheeks turn a delightful shade of red and he stutters something unintelligible into his microphone.
”What was that?” Simon teases and earns himself a glare. ”I think dear Wilhelm over there is trying to convey that if ’Wilhelm’s sexy butt’ reaches- let’s say 10 000 kronor, there will be a reward.”
There’s a cheer from the other side of the glass and Simon can feel himself grinning even wider.
”Oh dear god no,” Wille groans, lets his head fall down onto the table.
Simon reaches out a hand across the table to poke at him. ”Oh come on, it’s a fantastic butt, wouldn’t you say? I’d even go so far as to say life-saving.”
Wille doesn’t answer, but there’s soon a terribly aimed pen thrown in the general direction of Simon’s head.
Simon grins. ”10 000 kronor and Mr Sexy Butt over there will twerk on live broadcast. Now let’s play our next song request from Karin. This is ’Andas in andas ut’ by Thomas Stenström and you’re listening to Musikhjälpen 2026.
It only takes one and a half song for the collection to reach 10 000 kronor, and to Simon’s delight Wille does an adorably cute attempt at twerking, live in front of the entire square of love and possibly all of Sweden. Simon twerks a little too for good measure. It is for a good cause after all.
Wille’s cheeks are flaming red afterwards and he has to excuse himself for a little bit, goes over to the lounge area to sit with the group of teenagers that have been attempting to build a large gingerbread house replica of the Lund Cathedral for the past hour. Simon gets the gist, thinks that maybe he overdid the public exposure of the previously so camera-shy ex-Prince. Not so much easing into it as might have been appropriate. To compensate he launches into an overly enthusiastic interview with a woman walking her two miniature cows on their video call channel and the cuteness of the little fluffy creatures has soon redirected the audience’s attention.
Simon glances over at Wille, who seems to have regained his composure and is now eagerly attempting to put frosting on the roof of the gingerbread cathedral. He sends a little grateful smile Simon’s way and Simon is momentarily at a loss for words, can’t quite believe that he’s actually getting to experience this.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 4
As Felice eventually emerges from her few hours of rest to get settled in for the first night, Wille bids them and the small remaining crowd on the square goodnight. Simon watches him fondly as he makes his way back to the sleeping quarter, cracking his neck and stretches his arms up in the air as he goes. His shirt rides up a little, exposing a pale sliver of skin and Simon can’t help the way his eyes linger for a second too long. He tries to convince himself to get a grip, that there’s 140 hours to go and he absolutely cannot keep entertaining these intrusive thoughts. His mind is not entirely convinced.
”What did I miss?” Felice asks after greeting him and the listeners.
Simon laughs. ”Oh nothing, just our dearest friend ex-Prince Wilhelm twerking in front of all of Sweden.”
Felice’s eyes grow wide and she grins. ”No way!”
”Giving the people what they want and all, isn’t that what Musikhjälpen is for?” Simon jokes. ”I’ll give all of you a challenge. Start a collection ridiculous enough to catch my attention, donate some money for a great cause and we will be at your disposal.”
This of course takes very little time to backfire. The donation page is within the hour filled with all types of silly collections. ’Simon does a handstand’, ’Simon raps about Lund’, ’Felice does Simon’s make-up’ among many others.
He humors a few of them, leaves some for later because ’his talent is worth more than that isn’t it?’.
Felice gives him a sparkly winged eye-liner and his attempt at a handstand almost causes the thin drywall of the lounge wall to break. He bumps his head a little as he topples over, but they’ve raised almost 3 million kronor so far, so it’s all worth it.
At 2 am he leaves Felice to take the first night shift with their very first nightly guest and makes the short trip backstage towards the tiny bedrooms.
The first door opens to what’s very obviously Felice’s room, crumpled bed sheets and silk pajamas in a pile on the tiny single bed.
The second one reveals a room with a bunk bed and nothing else. The bottom one already occupied by a snoring Wille splayed out sideways, snoring softly. The top one is unmade, obviously his own. He sighs. Of course there would only be two bedrooms. With his luck, expecting anything else would be silly.
He sets his alarm for 6.45 am and falls asleep to the soft sounds of Wille’s breathing within minutes.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2023, HOUR 12
”There’s now a ’Simon’s sexy butt’-collection,” is the first thing Simon hears as he gets settled in his chair at the big table in the morning. He’d given up on trying to tame his curls in the tiny bathroom mirror and has instead resigned to pulling a ’Musikhjälpen’ hat down over his ears.
Wille has already been up for an hour, broadcasting together with one of Simon’s colleagues from the radio station, who’d come in to be a nighttime guest host. His hair looks unfairly good tucked in under the headphones. No bed head in sight there.
”Good morning to you too,” He responds, stifling a yawn with his hand. ”And also, what?”
”Well it was only fair since mine got so much attention yesterday. I’m not the only one with a nice butt.”
What.
Simon could be wrong but he can swear there’s a faint pink coloring Wille’s cheeks.
”Oh is that so? And do tell- who started it?”
Wille grins, eyes twinkling with mirth. ”Well I did, of course.”
It reaches 20 000 kronor within the hour and Simon is coerced into doing the ’Pony’ dance to Wille’s obvious delight.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 18
When he, later in the day, tiredly stumbles into the bedroom, after six long hours of interviews and songs and interacting with their audience and the constant plead for donations, he eyes the wobbly ladder with disdain. It’s only been a day and he can already feel the heaviness of his limbs, that aching tiredness he’s heard of from previous hosts, but had been foolishly led to believe wouldn’t actually happen to him. He’s used to long shifts after all after the years of long nights of hosting ’Late Night Vibes’. Apparently that makes zero difference. At Musikhjälpen they’re all equal.
He’s so so tired. And Wille’s bed is right there. Neatly made, which figures. Suiting for a royal. It’s so close it’s unfair.
He can hear Wille’s laugh from the other side of the thin wall along with a loud cheer from the audience. Thinks maybe Wille won’t mind all that much. It’s good to care about your fellow hosts sleep quality after all. Especially the one who’s up for the night shift. Wille surely wouldn’t want him to break his legs falling from the ladder. It would be hard to broadcast live from the hospital probably.
Eventually he gives in to the possibly slightly over-the-line urge and crawls on top of the covers of the bottom bunk, pulling his soft fleece blanket he’s brought from home over him. He’s gotta be up before Wille is gonna use the bed next anyway.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 23
”Did you steal my bed?” Wille asks him cheekily later that evening, when they’re once again on overlapping shifts. It’s during a song and he’s got his headphones off, hair in a tousled halo around his head.
”Sharing is caring?” Simon suggests, shrugging. ”Top bunks suck.”
Wille laughs and apparently that’s the end of that conversation.
Simon has the next night shift and Wille the long day shift the next day so it’s not like it’s gonna be a problem anyway.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 36
For some reason the term ’Wilmon’ starts making appearances. Along with the hashtag #wilmonMH filling up the Musikhjälpen socials.
’Wilmon’s sexy butts’ is the trending collection as they get Wednesday’s program going. Wille and Simon don’t even bother trying to fight it. They share a look, ask for 30 000 kronor, wait for three songs for it to reach double before doing a new little dance number.
”I think if we keep going like this we’ll be dance pros by the end of the week,” Wille exclaims breathlessly as they end the act with an exaggerated flourish, both executing a synchronized little bow.
”I think for you it might take at least two,” Simon jokes and just barely dodges Wille’s elbow coming at his ribs.
”Shut up,” he laughs. ”I’m not that bad.”
”You’ve got potential.”
”That I do,” He nods resolutely. ”This is Musikhjälpen 2026, if you want to help me and Simon accomplish our very recent dreams of acquiring some actual dance skills, make sure to donate to any of the #Wilmon collections that are requesting more dancing and we will be happy to provide more entertainment like what you just saw! Remember, every single donation helps bring access to healthcare to women in high-risk areas.”
”Yeah come on, let’s do it for the cause!”
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 52
”Do you really think I have a sexy butt?” Simon asks sleepily when he’s woken up from his shallow slumber by Wille slipping into their room late on Wednesday night.
He’s tired after endless hours of constantly being his radio-persona, of mustering up charisma and energy and attempting to raise money for hours on edge. He’s exhaustingly tired and so he’s really not thinking, is only vaguely registering the prettiness of Wilhelm’s lean frame, of how soft the hair hanging into his eyes looks, how he in the faint glow from the hallway looks almost ethereal.
”Obviously,” Wille responds raptly. It might have been meant as a joke, a way to keep the banter going but there’s an intensity in his gaze, a sudden heavy tension in the air.
”Oh- I- uh,” Simon stutters unintelligibly, not knowing how to respond. ”I mean- thanks.”
”Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” Wille chuckles awkwardly. ”Uh- just forget it.” He bends down in a swift motion to grab his toothbrush from the bedside table.
He leaves the room, quick as a shadow, and Simon is all of a sudden wide awake, heart pounding heavily in his chest. That had been something, hadn’t it? Was the sleeplessness and hunger slowly driving him crazy or had there been something in the way Wille had looked at him?
Was Prince (ex-Prince) Wilhelm actually on some kind of subconscious level attracted to him? Not even delving into the fact that said ex-royal might not actually be as straight as the royal media had tried to make him out to be, the fact that he might be attracted to Simon, of all people, was enough to get his head spinning.
And Simon might have been comfortable with the teasing and bantering, often on the border of being flirtatious, but that had been supposed to be innocent, a fun way to pass the time between two very platonic co-hosts and to increase donations. The fact that he might have gotten it all wrong is a dangerous new fluttering in his chest.
Wille sneaks back in the room minutes later, hair wet from his shower, a little smudge of tooth paste still at the corner of his mouth. His eyes seek out Simon instantly as he enters, quickly darting away as he notices Simon watching him.
Simon’s heart is pounding wildly, almost enough so to burst out of his chest at any given second from the sheer force of it. This might be the stupidest, craziest thing he’s ever done. And yet, he can’t seem to stop himself. The decision has been made without his involvement, a certified ’doing-it-for-the-plot’ choice, as Rosh would call it.
Wille clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he approaches the bed. This would be the first time they would sleep in the same room since that very first night. He looks up at the top bunk, the only one left, since Simon was currently occupying their shared one. ”I guess it’s my turn to have to brave the heights,” he says, gesturing to the ladder. ”Since someone stole my bed and all.” There’s a little attempted smile that doesn’t entirely reach his eyes.
”Not stealing,” Simon replies quickly, appreciates Wille’s attempt to smooth over the new tension between them. ”Shared custody.”
Wille lets out a little laugh and the warmth in Simon’s belly is a swarming bee hive, a buzzing of anxious anticipation.
As Wille reaches out to grab onto the ladder, Simon stops him. ”Wille,” he says. One word, five letters hanging in the air between them.
Wille stops in his track, looks at him questioningly.
Simon crawls out from under the covers, comes to a hesitant stand. The tension is back and it’s thicker than ever. In the background he can hear Felice’s voice from the speakers, the buzz of people on the square, but his mind barely registers it.
Wille’s almond eyes are still locked on him, curious. ”What?”
”Uh- you’ve got a little something there-” Simon gestures to his own lip.
Wille’s cheeks turn a little red and he reaches up to try and rub the toothpaste off. ”Did I get it all?” he asks.
”Not really, wait, let me.” Simon takes the small step forward and they’re so close now. So so close. He reaches out, lets his thumb gently rub at the corner of Wille’s lips. He can feel soft air on his hand as Wille lets out a shaky breath and oh my god, he really is going to be doing this, isn’t he?
”There you go,” He mumbles, but doesn’t let his hand drop. It lingers on Wille’s cheek and it’s like there’s a vacuum of time and space, as if an eternity passes between them, just waiting for that last pin to drop and change everything.
Wille’s eyes flickers down briefly to his lips before meeting Simon’s. There’s a determination in there that Simon hasn’t seen before and all of a sudden the decision has been made, the equilibrium has been disrupted and Simon’s hand still on Wille’s cheek is suddenly pulling his face closer, his lips closer and then finally finally they’re kissing.
The kiss has an eagerness to it that brings a pleasant tingle of electricity across Simon’s skin, at any and all places touching Wille and oh god is there not enough of those. He’s not sure what will come next, what kind of backlash will be the result of this tired, probably-very-much-a-mistake of a decision, but Wille’s tongue is stroking softly along his bottom lip and there’s really not all that much room for thinking anymore.
Hands tangle themselves into unkempt hair, hands press bodies closer closer closer, hands tug at pieces of clothing lost to the heat of the moment. Whispered moans swallowed into frenzied kisses as they press together, find a shared rhythm that very soon turns into a mindless bliss. The stress and the tiredness fade away for a second and there’s only the pleasant afterglow taking over his entire body.
As Simon opens his eyes, he can see Wille blinking at him, wide almond eyes tainted with disbelief, as if he can’t believe what had just happened. Simon isn’t sure what to make of that, isn’t sure he wants to put words to what has just happened.
”You can sleep here with me tonight, if you want,” he offers, leaves a good portion of the blanket open for Wille as he pulls the rest around himself.
Wille swallows soundly, looks as if he wants to say more but doesn’t, just crawls under the covers obediently. It takes a long time to fall asleep after that, longer than Simon would want to admit. When his alarm goes off two hours later and he reluctantly gets up to go take over from Felice, Wille’s back is turned to him.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR 61
Simon can’t seem to keep his concentration up for his next shift, keeps forgetting his questions and losing track of the schedule. Everyone is nice about it, brushes it off as the glass cage taking its toll on its inhabitants and, while they’re not completely wrong, Simon can’t shake the embarrassment. He hasn’t been this bad at a live broadcast since his first year doing radio and god knows he’s gotten better since then. Supposedly.
But there’s a constant presence of a tall, lanky, floppy-haired friend/co-host/recent sexual partner taking up a not-so-insignificant part of his mind and it’s driving him a little bit crazy.
The worst thing is that they can’t talk about it. It’s like a giant elephant in the room begging to be acknowledged, but there’s an audience of hundreds of thousands and they’re not supposed to know about the actual existence of elephants. Can’t know even, because how the hell would that look?
As Wille gets settled by his microphone after emerging from the bedroom, Simon greets him with a quick ’good morning’ and they talk about classic banger songs and fun collections and celebrities they would like to meet. They interview a famous actress who’s just released a new movie and they do a Swish flashmob to raise money into a stray cat’s collection box. They don’t talk about what had just happened, how could they?
It’s Thursday, they’ve been in the glass studio for roughly half of the week and their dynamic has all of a sudden shifted into a new and possibly dangerous territory. But it can’t affect the cause, can’t get to have an impact on the show that is going to be the turning point in Simon’s career. So he turns up the banter and pretends it’s any of the previous three days, that they’re just colleagues who engage in fun banter and don’t know the taste of each other’s lips.
Simon learns to crochet in the lounge corner and Wille interviews an obstetrician volunteering for Doctors Without Borders. In the Love Square there’s a group of horses and riders dressed up for Lucia. In the studio a never-ending queue of requests to play ’Feliz Navidad’. And they don’t mention the elephant once.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR 68
The next time they end up on the same sleeping slot, Wille is awake as Simon enters the room. He’s felt a sense of dread the whole short walk from the glass studio to the bedrooms, not knowing where they’ll go from here, not knowing how to talk about what they very much can’t talk about. But Wille doesn’t seem to want to talk either.
Instead he wordlessly reaches out a hand towards Simon and he accepts it, because maybe that is what this can be and the only thing it ever should be. He can’t help the panicked thoughts racing through his mind, but when there’s an impatient tug at his jeans and Wille’s head swiftly start moving south, soft lips caressing any skin within reach on his way down, his mind goes blissfully blank and the past 68 hours locked in a cage don’t seem too overwhelming after all.
He wakes up to an empty bed, pretends to not feel the urge to sniff Wille’s hoodie draped over the bunk bed ladder as he gets up to get dressed. He’s on the live broadcast with Wille for a couple hours before Felice joins Simon for the day shift, and they keep up the banter, even between songs when the mics are off. And they still don’t talk about it. Hours go by in this strange way of living that is the cage and they don’t talk about it.
But when would they? They’re never alone, all waking time is spent in front of cameras and an audience and guests and Felice. And the precious few moments behind a closed door is spent with frantic kisses and muffled noises and stars dancing behind closed eyelids.
Simon’s never had a casual relationship before, has always thought himself more a relationship kind of guy. But maybe that’s not what one wants to have with ex-royalty, he decides. Maybe what he wants and what he needs right now is good sex and no strings and friendly banter when there’s people watching. Easy. Maybe easy is what’s right.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 75
Maybe Simon isn’t as good as feigning easy and casual as he would want to or maybe the public knows something he doesn’t, he’s not sure.
It doesn’t end with ’Wilmon’s sexy butts’ and the little dance. Of course it didn’t. No, now there are suddenly an endless amount of requests, of signs, of cheeky remarks thrown their way.
”Oh, I see now we have yet another sign talking about Wilmon, which for those of you who don’t know is of course what you get when you put Wilhelm and Simon together. Quite clever, and oh so time-saving!” He laughs, tries to cover up the unsettling feelings simmering on the inside. ”This one says ’Wilmon is real’, which I would have to agree on. We are very real, as two people and co-workers currently trapped in this little glass beauty.”
”I don’t think that’s what they mean, Simon,” Felice rolls her eyes at him from across the table.
”Oh, I know what they mean, they’ve got quite the imaginations, these lovely people,” Simon laughs again, hopes the listeners won’t catch how fake it sounds. ”But I’ll give you this, if you guys go onto the Musikhjälpen web page and search ’Wilmon’, you will get this lovely person’s collection. As I’ve said before, we are at your disposal for charity. If we can get this collection to 50 000 before our dear Wilhelm wakes up, I will quite literally sweep him off his two left feet for another little dance.”
There’s an apprehensive look on Felice’s face as she eyes him carefully, but she doesn’t say anything, instead opts for introducing the next musical guest and their auction. ”Don’t forget that every single krona raised goes towards providing a safe space for childbirth for women in developing countries”, she says and Simon thinks about how it might all be a game, a warped version of reality they’re living but hey, it’s absolutely for a good cause.
As Wille saunters into the studio a couple of hours later, Simon greets him by the door, taking an exaggerated bow and offering his hand out. Wille looks at him like he’s grown two heads. ”For charity,” Simon explains and wiggles his fingers. Wille looks even more confused but shakes his head and takes it with a small smile.
The music changes to a soft version of ’Tale as old as time’ from Beauty and the Beast, Benjamin over at the piano generously having agreed to stay behind a couple of minutes longer. The melody flows out through the speakers, out into the studio, as well as on the square and Simon carefully spins Wille around the compact space in an exaggerated attempt at ballroom dancing. His hand on the small of Wille’s back, their fingers intertwined and his heart annoyingly doing that silly galloping thing again.
Wille stumbles and Simon accidentally steps on his toes and, all in all, it’s not very graceful at all, but the moment is still one that could have stopped time, could have made him believe in magic if it hadn’t been for the fact that 200 000 people are watching and it is in fact all an act.
As the music stops, Simon takes a bow, pulling Wille with him and then leans down to talk into the mic. ”That was the reward for the fact that the collection ’Wilmon waltzing’ amazingly reached 50 thousand kronor. Thank you so much to everyone for donating, please keep going. And as promised, we will keep dancing. All for the good cause!” He winks at the camera before squeezing Wille’s hand briefly on his way out for his break.
It does not end there.
The Wilmon collections take over the website, the cardboard signs slowly but surely filling up the Love Square. Wilmon is this year’s duo and the public is eating it up.
Simon wishes they would just talk about it, that they could have a conversation about what the hell it is that they’re doing here, but there’s never a moment and they don’t have any shared sleeping shifts during neither Thursday nor Friday.
Every moment they share is in front of a crowd and it’s the most bizarre thing he’s ever experienced. He knows Wille is used to being in the watchful eye of the people like this, know how much he has despised it, enough so to leave his previous life behind even. And despite this, he’s now locked here like a zoo animal, for any- and everyone to watch and have an opinion on.
Is it driving him equally insane? Simon wants to know, almost desperately so. Needs to know if he’s crossing a line or not, if this very public bantering bordering on flirting that they’re doing is something Wille is playing along with because he feels like he needs to or because he actually wants to.
It’s hard to see through the barrier, hard to know what’s real and what’s the Musikhjälpen host persona but he guesses that would apply to himself as well.
”Are you doing okay here?” He asks, speaking into the microphone. ”We’re currently at 97 hours and counting, how’s your sanity doing?”
Wille laughs and his eyes go soft. ”It’s not my sanity as much as my personal hygiene,” he informs the people on the square. ”You should all feel very bad for Simon who has to share a room with me.”
The mood is light and they’ve just reached 42 million kronor and there’s a parrot singing Rihanna on the live cam. The parrot only has just over 800 kronor in its collection so far and Simon feels the need to intervene, launches into a full-blown speech about the superiority of Rihanna and how all kinds of tributes should be appreciated, no matter the species. The parrot collection quickly both doubles and triples.
Wille has a fond look on his face as watched Simon quietly, before he eventually chimes in, adds that maybe the parrot’s owner could be so gracious as to donate tickets to a future live show to a lucky winner if only people would keep donating.
They laugh and it’s so comfortable and companionable that Simon almost wishes he could stay locked in this broadcasting prison forever, if only to get to keep looking at the man across from him.
”How are you, really?” He asks quietly during the next song. ”I feel like we never get a chance to talk even though all we do is talk.”
”Tell me about it,” Wille lets out a little laugh, rubs the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. ”I- uh- honestly I don’t even feel like I know what’s going on anymore, you know? It’s such a whirlwind being here, I don’t even have time to stop and think about how I’m feeling because I always have to be kind of available and turned on. And like- not the dirty kind.”
”Yeah,” Simon agrees, throws a glance out through the glass. There are so many people there, how are there always so many people there? ”It’s a lot different than just doing radio, that’s for sure.”
Wille looks like he wants to say something else, but the song ends and there’s a new guest at the door and so they’re once again relegated to the quest of trying to maximize donations and provide entertainment.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 124
The thirst for Wilmon content remains the biggest money maker of Musikhjälpen, still as they’re heading into Saturday night, the last ever night of the week.
It’s all for a good cause, so what if Simon lets himself play the charade a little too well, is a little too eager when browsing through requests and collections. If it makes them money, that’s what matters, he resonates. And Wille doesn’t argue, follows Simon’s lead on his self-proclaimed mission of ’being at the public’s disposal, all for the right price’.
When Simon mentions how he’s been doing some singing of his own on his radio show on the quiet nights, that he enjoys playing music almost as much as he does broadcasting radio, there’s a quick uprising of the hashtag #wilmonserenade on all their socials.
Simon is not one to turn down a chance to sing, even if it’s a bigger audience than he’s ever played before and before they know it he’s pulled a stunned-looking Wille over to the little music area, pulls him down on the piano bench next to him. He takes a deep breath, wonders briefly how he’s ever going to emotionally recover from this before looking Wille straight in the eye and belting out ’La Incondicional’ in such a heartfelt manner that he’s sure his mum will be moved to tears when the performance eventually makes it back to her.
In reciprocal Wille makes his way through a rendition of ’Feliz Navidad’ so ridiculously off-key that Simon barely can contain his laughter and feels the need to step in about halfway to save the day. It’s slightly better when they do it together and it doesn’t hurt the way Wille’s cheek brushes his own as they share the same microphone.
”Did you really attempt a serenade with ’Feliz Navidad’?” an astounded-looking Felice questions him afterwards as she’s taking over for Simon.
Wille shrugs. ”It’s cheerful, fun, all the things I wish Simon in life. So yeah.”
Felice rolls her eyes. ”Or maybe you’re just too lazy to come up with something better and you’ve heard that song about ten thousand times during these past days?”
Wille shakes his head stubbornly but grins. ”Nope. Definitely not it. If I say that I wanted to return the favor and sing a song in Spanish, would that help my cause?”
She laughs. ”Sure thing buddy, you did a great job. Don’t you think so too, Love Square?” Felice asks the square and is met with a round of applause and loud cheers.
”We’re very lucky to have such talent among the hosts this year,” She continues and sends a wink Wille’s way. ”And then there’s Wille of course. Pure golden retriever energy there, always puts the effort in and tries his best.”
Wille rolls his eyes playfully.”Okay sure, if you say so! Let’s keep going, we have a lot of things left on the program for this year’s Musikhjälpen, where we are raising money to provide safe prenatal healthcare for pregnant women in high-risk areas. Because everyone deserves the fundamental right to give birth safely. We are currently at 48 million kronor but I know we can do better, so please keep donating and requesting songs. Together we can change the world.”
”This is ’Everywhere’ by Fleetwood Mac,” Felice continues, ”as requested by Mona for her lovely grandchildren in Falköping. Let’s give Simon another round of applause for his beautiful performance first and wish him a nice couple of hours of sleep.”
Simon waves to the crowd from where he’s still standing over by the window, then turns to blow a little kiss Felice and Wille’s way before leaving for his well-deserved nap. The hint of red on Wille’s cheeks as well as the loud cheers follow him all the way to the bottom of the bunk bed.
He’s woken up by Wille crawling his way in under the covers, doesn’t even question it in his half-asleep state. Instead he tiredly untangles himself from the blanket to make space for messy hair and tired eyes and warm skin perfectly melting into the space next to him.
”50 million,” Wille mumbles excitedly and his eyes sparkle in the faint light coming from under the closed door. ”Isn’t that insane?”
There’s an excited tingle down Simon’s back, a warm sense of accomplishment. 50 million kronor. That they’ve managed to raise, that their little community has together accomplished. It is insane.
”I- wow. That’s so great,” He whispers back.
Wille’s eyes are still locked with his own and Simon waits for the usual tension to arise, for the conversation they probably should have had days ago to be swept away by kisses and pent-up frustration only allowed to be expressed through touch and desire.
It doesn’t.
Instead there’s a softness there, in the face of the other man, a hint of silent admiration, of fondness.
”Simon- I,” He starts, seems to be trying hard to find the right words. ”I want to- tonight- could we just sleep?”
That’s not at all what Simon had been expecting but, to be fair, he’s not entirely sure what he had been expecting either. He stares back. ”Sleep?” He echoes dumbly, before it dawns on him what Wille’s actually saying. That he doesn’t want this anymore, that maybe the casual-easy has run its course and the benefits of this ’friends with benefits’ kind of thing they’ve been waltzing around have run out.
”Oh,” He says at last. ”Oh- uh yeah. Do you want me to sleep in the other bed?” He offers, doesn’t want to make Wille uncomfortable if being friends without benefits is what he’d rather do.
”No- Simon- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just kind of tired, you know?” He admits sheepishly. ”I would just really like it if you would hold me?” His face is open and vulnerable and he seems to be struggling not to avert his gaze.
Simon can feel himself soften, feel a sense of relief wallowing over him.
”Of course,” he whispers. ”Anything you want.”
Wille’s movements are slow, tentative as he rolls over, curves his body to fit along the lines of Simon’s own, like puzzle pieces falling into place. Simon snakes an arm around Wille’s waist, enjoys the way Wille seems to melt further into him, how the softness of his skin feels under his fingertips. He presses a kiss to Wille’s shoulder blade before leaning in to let his face rest on the pillow next to Wille’s. There’s a little shiver running through the other man at the soft brush of lips and it could have been the ignition of something more, of a more feverish urge taking over, but the moment is too precious to let slip, isn’t worth ruining.
Wille seems to be on the same page because he lets out a soft sigh and places his own hand gently on top of Simon’s.
Maybe it’s easier to talk like this, when you’re close enough for the words not to have to travel so far, when they won’t have the opportunity to get warped and twisted on the way. Maybe it’s easier when you can’t see someone’s face, when it’s only soft words spoken into the darkness. Maybe that’s why words that should have been said ages ago are now finally being said.
”I like this,” Wille breathes. ”I’m not gonna miss the cage and the insane hours but I am gonna miss this.”
His words echo the exact ones that Simon himself have been feeling, have been afraid of expressing because maybe this has only been something impossible and temporary, created by being locked in together for these 144 hours.
”Me too,” He says quietly. ”I- Wille- I like this, I like you.” It feels like a shot in the dark, even as they’re so close, seemingly so on the same page. Still, it feels impossible, feels like maybe this is something only existing in between the glass walls of the cage. Because Wille is Prince Wilhelm and he’s The Vibe-Simon and in what universe would those two end up together?
”Me too,” Wille agrees and there’s an audible smile in his voice. He brings Simon’s hand up to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles and Simon could faint there and then by the goddamn romance of it all. He’s so very much not the type to get to live the crazy meet-cute Hallmark-esque Christmas romance thing, that’s not him at all. Never in a million years. And yet, here he is, swooning over an almost-Prince having completely changed his life in a matter of days. Typical.
”Simon?” Wille whisper again after a moment’s silence.
Simon hums in response, face pressed closed to Wille’s hair. It tickles his cheek.
”Do you think that we- like that we can- after Musikhjälpen ends tomorrow-”.
Simon presses a soft kiss to his hair. ”If we reach 60 million I’ll take you on a date,” he promises.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 130
The last day brings about an entire new kind of energy, Simon can feel it the moment all three of them are gathered around the table early on Sunday morning, the last 14 hours of Musikhjälpen 2026 ahead of them. The crowd is bigger as well, full of people equally excited to bring the show home, to keep trying all the way to the end.
They pull out all the stops, bring back favourite segments from the past, known characters from the week, all the biggest musical acts having been saved for last.
And all through the day he can feel Wille’s eyes on him, feel the radiating electricity somehow managing to exist between them even in the little glass room, even in front of the whole of Lund. He constantly has to stop himself from reaching out to touch, to keep a respectful distance. Because now that he’s been granted with this wonderful gift for Christmas, have the seemingly impossible, it seems private, delicate. He’s not sure it’s something Wille would want to flaunt for the whole country, isn’t sure what the rules are anymore.
Wille, on the other hand, did not get the same memo.
”This week we’ve learned about, and taken advantage of,” he grins cheekily, ”Sweden’s love for me and my dear co-host Simon, now also cleverly nick-named Wilmon. We’ve contributed to the cause with various attempts at dancing as well as blessing you, and each other, with wonderful singing for the collection ’Wilmon serenades’. There are a bunch of Wilmon collections yet unexplored though so let’s start with the ’Wilmon clothing swap’ one.” He looks expectantly at Simon, who’s quick to regain his composure.
”Oh that could be quite the scene,” he agrees. ”Especially since our darling Wille has already informed us about his lack of personal hygiene,” he jokes. ”Tell me Wille, when was the last time you washed that sweater?”
Wille laughs and shakes his head. ”Let’s not discuss that. But do donate to the collection! Let’s get it to 15 000 and we’ll be more than happy to oblige. Now let’s play a song. This is ’Feeling good’ by Nina Simone, requested by the ninth graders of Ängaskolan.”
Of course it doesn’t take too long for the collection to reach the set amount and then some. Wille politely excuses the two of them, leaves Felice to interviewing the famous comedian currently visiting. She looks warily after them but doesn’t say anything.
They’re barely in their room before Wille’s lips seek out his own, hands coming up to rest on either side of his face. Simon can feel himself melting into the kiss, knees turning into jelly from the sudden surge of affection washing over him.
”I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” Wille whispers against his lips, smiling into the kiss. ”Do you have any idea how good you look in that beanie?”
”Probably nothing compared to how you will look in it,” Simon informs him, slowly pulling it off his own head to place it on top of Wille’s. ”Clothing swap, right?”
”Any excuse to get to do this.” Wille presses another soft kiss to his lips and Simon lets out a little content sigh, wonders yet again what he’s done to deserve this.
Eventually they do have to break apart, quickly rush out of their clothes to not leave Felice alone for too long.
They re-enter the studio together, Simon now sporting Wille’s creamy sweater, Wille’s bare ankles exposed in Simon’s way too short pants. Felice’s eyes flicker between the two of them and she grins as if she knows something she shouldn’t.
”Gotta say I’m loving the look, boys.”
”You ask and you shall receive,” Wille states proudly, tugging a little at Simon’s shirt sleeves.
”How’s the odor?” Felice asks Simon.
Simon sniffs the collar of the sweater and makes a fainting gesture. Wille sticks his tongue out but he looks so ridiculously soft in Simon’s hoodie and beanie that he can barely keep up the joking mood.
”Keep donating to the Wilmon collections and let’s see what we’ll do next! This is Musikhjälpen 2026 and we’re only hours away from the grand finale.”
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 139
They get Ola Salo in the studio, talk about his latest musical and are blessed with a heartfelt acoustic version of the old ’The Ark’ hit ’It takes a fool to remain sane’.
The people on the square are hugging and dancing, soft smiles all around. Simon can feel himself getting emotional, almost nostalgic for the moment that’s still going on. He just knows this is something he’ll never get to experience again, tries to paint as much of it to memory as possible.
Wille, who has been over in the craft corner helping out with some Lego building, comes up behind him on his way back to the table. He seems to make a swift decision in the magic of the moment and suddenly wraps his arms around Simon from behind. He’s warm and soft and Simon lets himself relax into the embrace as Wille lets his chin rest on top of his head.
’Cause they’ve forgotten how to play. Or maybe they’re afraid to feel ashamed’ Ola sings softly from next to the window. There are phone lights swaying from side to side out on the square. Wille rocks them gently side to side but doesn’t let go, not until the last tone is hanging in the air and the loud cheers of the crowd replaces the soft tones of the piano.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 143
They’re heading in to the very last hour. The magic exponentially increasing, intensity soaring through the roof. They could very well be breaking a record, could be writing history.
As Wille lists the top collection boxes right now there are very few surprises; the stray cat, the football team donating VIP seasonal tickets, a day with Zara Larsson, the Rihanna parrot. But then on #5 there’s a surging newcomer. ’Wilmon kiss on broadcast. #wedonatewilmonperform’.
Wille’s laugh is a little uncomfortable and he tugs at Simon’s hoodies sleeves. Fidgety in a way he hasn’t been all week, the previous comfortableness in the spotlight suddenly nowhere to be found.
”Wow, that’s quite the request,” he says. His eyes on Simon are nervous, voicing the silent question. Should they do it? Does Simon want to?
And Simon thinks, to hell with it. They’re breaking all the records right? They’ve already shared the entire tentative formation of whatever this is with the public, why not this final one as well? He nods and Wille’s face softens.
”We certainly are quite the performers but that requires some serious funds, my friends,” he says seriously, looking straight into the camera. ”200 000 in the collection box online and you’ll have it your way. Remember, every krona goes into providing safe births for women in high-risk areas. And we only have an hour left.”
There’s no way for it to happen, Simon reasons, so even if he’d hypothetically be fine with, possibly even excited for a chance to kiss Wille in front of the whole square, it’s not going to happen.
And if it does? Well then maybe it would help break the record and it that case nothing else matters, does it? All for the cause and all.
The excitement hanging in the air is intoxicating, all these past hours of non-stop broadcasting, of endless little contributions, of dancing and laughter and meeting people he never thought he would, boiling into its last feeble attempt at bringing people together. Apparently in more ways than one, he thinks, looking fondly over at Wille.
Wille and Felice are standing facing the glass and the people out there, arms wrapped around each others as they’re chanting the Swish number for a final rush of donations, the most final Swish flashmob of the week. The people on the square are joining in, an almost cult-like chanting of numbers and it would be ridiculous if it wasn’t so beautiful.
There’s the sound of the alarm going off in the studio, the not-yet heard siren signaling an entire million has been donated and the excitement reaches a new entire level.
Simon feels almost like he’s watching himself from the outside as they get through the very last minutes. Like he’s there but not really. It’s a surreal sort of feeling.
MUSIKHJÄLPEN 2026, HOUR: 144
And then all of a sudden it’s over. The past six days coming to an end and they’re let out of their glass cage, get to feel the crispy air on their faces after a week of the stuffy air in the studio.
Simon is still in Wille’s sweater, barely having had time to pull his puffy jacket over it as they’d been rushed out of the studio.
Wherever he looks he’s met with smiling faces, with phones pointing towards him, with excited cheers. Lund is even more beautiful now that he finally gets a proper view of it. Christmas lights adorning the narrow cobblestone streets, the ever-present faint shadow of the Cathedral in the background.
Wille and Felice are right next to him, looking equally amazed.
”We did it!” Felice exclaims delightedly. ”I’m so happy I got to experience this with you guys.”
They hug tightly and Simon knows that this bond, formed by an experience like no other, will last a lifetime.
As they part, they’re urged forwards by members of the production team to the very center of the Love Square, a sea of people parting for them to allow them up to the little stage with it’s large red button placed in the center.
Their outside correspondent Mira is narrating, does a little recap of the week’s highlights and Simon is once again feeling the nostalgia washing over him, can’t quite believe everything that the past 144 hours have brought him.
”Felice, do you have any final things to say?” She asks.
”Thank you so much for this week!” Felice starts. ”No matter the final amount, you have helped us achieve what we thought would be impossible. Thank you to everyone involved in the production, to every guest, every collection, every donation. And of course, the biggest thanks to my wonderful teammates through all this: Simon and Wilhelm!”
She looks over at Simon. ”Ready to bring this home?”
He nods. Wille’s right next to him, smiles as Simon glances over, so soft and genuine that Simon’s knees feel a little weak. All of a sudden he’s not so nostalgic anymore, instead he can’t wait for this week to end so a new chapter can begin. The one of him and Wille.
”Okay, Love Square!” He exclaims. ”Ready to find out how much this year’s Musikhjälpen have raised?”
The cheers from the crowd are deafening.
Simon looks over to his co-hosts, nods and they each reaches a hand forward to press the button, to find out the final amount.
The numbers on the screens of the glass cage start rolling, counting. Quickly, then slower and slower, at last ending up on-
"60 million two hundred and sixty-four thousand five hundred and fifty-four kronor!"
60 million.
The cheers impossibly get even louder and they’re all once again hugging, celebrating.
”Any last words before we finish?” Mira asks them.
Wille nudges his shoulder, raises a questioning eyebrow. Simon briefly wonders if this was such a good idea after all, if maybe he should just take the win and be done with it. But he’s currently feeling like nothing can touch him, like he’s soaring ten feet above ground and Wille’s presence next to him doing very little to bring him back to earth.
A promise is a promise after all. Especially for a good cause.
”You guys raised a little over 240 000 kronor for the ’Wilmon kiss’ collection,” he starts. Looks Wille in the eyes again, a final chance to back down. We don’t have to do this, just say the word. Wille doesn’t, instead nods in encouragement.
”And as I’ve said before, you ask and we perform. For a good cause. And also possibly a little bit for my own selfish reasons. Thank you again Musikhjälpen, for everything. Good night!”
And with those words he carefully puts down his microphone. There’s only half a step needed to reach Wille and he does so, quickly. Grabs the other man’s face with both of his hands and pulls him into a kiss.
It’s not urgent and feverish like their first ones, not emotional and intimate like the last night-ones. This kiss is gentle and innocent, merely a brush of lips, but even so it’s enough to bring his heart into a familiar galloping frenzy. Wille smiles into the kiss before pulling back.
He takes Simon’s hand as they leave, intertwines their fingers. They don’t turn back to look. The next chapter is only for them.