Chapter Text
“Wilhelm.”
“Simon.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, staring Wille down from across the table. He leant forward in his seat, the wood creaking under him as he shifted to get a closer look, to check for tells. It had gone completely silent, as if it was just the two of them in the room, or perhaps in the universe. Everything came down to this. This game, this game right here meant everything.
The side of Wille’s mouth twitched up into a smirk, and Simon zeroed in on the freckle on his top lip. Even in the dim yellow light of the lamp dangling above them, he could see it.
“Do you,” Simon asked slowly, watching Wille’s fingers tap three times against the back of his cards, “have any… kings?”
“Ha!” Wille threw his head back in a laugh and at the same time kicked out his leg under the table. “Go FISH!”
“NO!”
The rest of the group broke out into raucous laughter and shouting and chaos—Rosh chucked a handful of popcorn at Wille, Henry nearly toppled over backwards in his chair, and Felice pretended she wasn’t laughing as she gave Simon a commiserating pat on the back.
“Suck on that, you curly-headed geek!”
Simon whined and shuffled his cards. “Whose side are you on, Ayub?!”
If he weren’t so dejected by the fact he’d probably just lost the game for himself, Simon might’ve been more distracted that Wille’s foot hadn’t retreated to his side of the table. His calf rested against Simon’s, still, the warmth seeping through his jeans, mixing with the tingling from where Wille’s foot hit his shin.
“Alright, fucker,” Maddie shouted, pointing at Walter. “Gimme your threes!”
“Damnit, Maddie,” he grumbled, sorting through his dwindling handful of cards. “Stop targeting me.”
Maddie cackled and received her threes, humming, “Not my fault you suck at Go Fish.”
The game continued on, and Simon looked up again to find Wille staring at him, a small smile on his face.
He mouthed, “Sorry,” eyes twinkling with mirth.
Simon rolled his eyes good-heartedly and shook his head slightly. “It’s fine,” he mouthed back, ignoring the loudness of their friends around them.
Wille’s smile grew a little bit larger, revealing more of his adorable, crooked teeth, and Simon once again found himself fighting the urge to jump across the table and kiss his best friend.
When, five years ago, his sister had told him that she’d made a new friend called Felice, Simon hadn’t expected to become suddenly roped into weekly game nights with the loudest and most competitive group of people he’d ever met. That first night, he’d brought Rosh and Ayub as buffers, but they’d all found themselves quickly pulled into the fold of idiotic rich people who also seemed to have good hearts, if a little misguided sometimes. (Except when playing card games, in which they immediately became the dirty, cheating liars.)
Amongst said group of idiotic rich kids with hearts of gold, was one especially idiotic, especially rich kid named Wilhelm.
“Uh— Wille,” he’d said, that first night, when Simon introduced himself. “Just Wille is fine.”
Simon had smiled up at him, with his floppy hair and crooked smile, and very quickly decided that once a week would never be enough time to spend with Wille.
Do you know how many weeks are in a year? Simon didn’t, until he did, and it wasn’t enough. A few hours, fifty-two times a year was not enough time to hear all of Wille’s stupid jokes and see all the silly faces he made and watch him consistently and unfailing trip over his own feet, drink way too much grape soda, and absolutely dominate at Monopoly. Wille was so incredibly stupid and frustrating and endearing that Simon was head over heels in love with him within the first four of fifty-two weeks.
So, Simon sought him out outside of game nights. They did lunch once. Then coffee. Then Wille helped Simon pick out a birthday gift for his mom. Then there were the movie nights and the diner breakfasts and suddenly they were spending all their time together and living next-door to each other and still—still, after five years, they were nothing more than best friends.
It was fine. It was super fine and totally normal and didn’t bother Simon one bit. He loved being friends with Wille. He was more than okay with this thing they had going on. This thing being, Wille stared at Simon and smiled, and Simon stared back and pretended it didn’t make him want to scream. Like this, now, with Wille’s leg pressed up against his under the table, and Wille playing with the straw in his can of grape soda between those perfect lips of his, and—
“Simon!”
He tore his eyes away from Wille’s mouth and looked over at Sara.
“What?”
“It’s your turn, dumbass,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh.” He looked dumbly down at his cards. He hadn’t been paying attention, again, and it was Wille’s fault, again, and now he was going to lose the card game— Again! “Shit.”
Wille’s foot tapped against his leg. Simon glanced up through his curls, pretending to still be looking at his cards, contemplating. Wille glanced surreptitiously at Henry, then tapped Simon’s leg five times.
Simon grinned.
“Henry… Got any fives?”
“Shit!”
He and Wille shared a little knowing grin, and Simon pointedly ignored the look he was receiving from Ayub. Maddie was looking at him the same way, if a little more smugly. Honestly, they spent way too much fucking time together. Maybe fifty-two weeks a year was too many.
Anyway, it wasn’t like everyone knew Simon was completely gone for Wille. He was almost positive Henry and Walter didn’t know, but then again that was mainly because they were too busy mooning over each other to notice. Sara only knew because she was his sister, and they didn’t really keep secrets like that anymore. Felice knew because she was smarter than anyone there and figured it out almost immediately. Simon folded and told Ayub because he just had to tell someone, and Rosh practically beat it out of him because she’d been at his place when Wille showed up with homemade cupcakes and had been witness to Simon’s red-faced breakdown over it.
Okay, so, maybe Simon wasn’t super secretive about it. Maybe that just made it all the more clear that he and Wille would never be anything more than friends, because surely if Wille was interested, too, something would’ve come of this already.
But, it didn’t. Nothing had happened between them—save for a few almost kisses and the fact that they often held hands and cuddled on the couch, but that was just them. The standard Wille and Simon settings were to be close to each other. They both enjoyed physical touch and it was a totally normal and platonic thing between them. If, perhaps, for Simon, it was a little bit more than that— Well, that was no one else’s business.
“Simon.”
This time, it was Wille saying his name, and nudging him under the table to get his attention.
“Hm?”
Rosh said, “What’s up with you tonight?”
Simon ignored her.
Wille grinned devilishly and sorted through his cards. He asked, “Got any twos?”
With that smile, and Wille’s cheeks blushed with excitement, Simon couldn’t even be mad. He reached into his stack and handed the card over to Wille: a two of hearts.
***
Later that evening, they stopped on the landing between their apartment doors, as they always did. The light flickered above them, and someone in an apartment above them was playing classical music. Strings shimmered down the stairwell, filling the air around them.
“Thanks for the tip,” Simon smiled. “About Henry.”
Wille returned the sleepy smile. “It was the least I could do, considering you were floundering.”
“Hey!”
“Get it? Fish joke.”
Simon shoved his shoulder gently. “You’re an idiot.”
“Come on!” Wille laughed and swayed forward into Simon’s space. “That was a good one.”
“I’ve heard better,” Simon said, feigning indifference. “Besides, I’m still mad at you for stealing my two.”
The music swelled, and they fell into each other a little bit as Wille reached out to shove him in retaliation, and together they tumbled into the wall, then almost to the floor, dissolving into giggles.
Eventually, the laughter faded, as did the music, and it got quiet between them. Wille’s face shifted into something unreadable. Maybe he was just tired.
“Hey,” he said, “how was that lunch with the guy?”
Simon tilted his head. “What guy?”
“The one from the cafe. Didn’t you say he left his number for you? Gym-bro guy?”
“Oh, him.” Simon looked down at his shoes. “Yeah, I didn’t go.”
“No?”
Simon ignored the way his brain tried to interpret Wille’s tone as hopeful.
“Nah,” Simon shook his head and toed at a scuff in the wood. “Not really my type.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
He told himself, when he looked up, that the way Wille was looking at him meant nothing. He told himself that their friend group was a delicate balance, not to be disturbed. He told himself that if it meant any more, Wille would’ve said something by now. Wille was brave like that. Simon was brave, too, but apparently not when it came to Wille.
“Well,” Simon glanced over his shoulder. “I should go to bed.”
Wille nodded in that way that he did, bottom lip half tucked in between his teeth, hair flopping.
“Goodnight Simon.”
“Night, Wille.”