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Slowly, Wille was working his way through the crowded room. He stopped to let a guy balancing four beers squeeze past. His back pressed against a stranger as he moved out of the way, and his shoulder grazed another person when he continued on his path, a muttered excuse on his lips. He’d hated this once—being trapped in an anonymous mass of bodies. Random body parts touching him. Too many different smells—perfumes, sweat, alcohol. No escape route.
It was different now that it had become such a rare experience. There was a certain kind of thrill to it. Normally, paths were cleared for him. Interactions orchestrated. Things being fetched for him. If anything, he was suffering from an excess of space. He’d found a new appreciation for being able to completely disappear in a crowd. To become one of many. For being stepped on and shoved and getting drinks splashed onto his clothes. As long as he chose the crowd and the crowd was a reasonable size. Like the one in the jam-packed sports bar tonight.
Growing up, Wille had never really been a sports guy. Mostly because Erik had always been so into it and Wille had felt that he needed to find his own interests. But then he’d made new friends at uni and they’d kind of dragged him into it. He still considered himself a casual follower and there wasn’t one sport he was particularly invested in. To him, it was more about the experience. Watching a game, or the Winter Olympics in this case, among strangers, in a random bar, letting himself get carried away by the rush of emotions, provided a very welcome and exciting relief from his otherwise rather dull life.
To his surprise, Wille had found that it was rather easy for him to stay anonymous. Sure, he’d been recognized a few times over the years and people had come up and wanted to talk to the prince. But it didn’t happen nearly as often as he’d feared in the beginning. Either he was that good at blending in or people really just didn’t give a fuck.
Tonight he was wearing a beanie hat with a yellow ‘SWEDEN’ across it and a knit zip-neck sweater with a Sweden flag stitched onto the breast pocket, which meant he looked the same as about one third of the guys in this place. It was perhaps a little too hot in here for the hat, but Winter Olympics demanded winter wear, so he would have to suck it up. Or sweat it out.
Finally, he’d made it to the bar. He waited until the woman in front of him picked up her drinks and stepped away before he claimed the vacated space. The two bartenders clearly had their hands full at the moment, so Wille perched on a bar stool and turned his attention to the big screen on the wall where the contenders of the men’s biathlon race were still trickling over the finish line. He’d entered the bar just in time to witness Sweden win gold and bronze a couple of minutes ago.
“What can I get you?”
Holy shit, the bartender was pretty. So pretty, in fact, that Wille gawked at him like an idiot instead of ordering a beer, meaning pretty guy had turned away to another patron further down the bar with an annoyed eyeroll by the time Wille had rediscovered his wits.
Fuck!
Wille took a deep breath and carefully chanced another glance at the bartender as he filled glasses at the tap. He had a head of the most beautiful, luscious curls that Wille had ever seen, with one perfect corkscrew curl adorning his forehead. His brown skin was glowing in the light and his full lips looked like someone had designed them just to drive people out of their minds. Or maybe just Wille specifically. He already knew he would think about them for days to come. God, he hadn’t kissed anyone in way too long.
“Ready to order?” the bartender said and this time, Wille didn’t freeze.
“Yes, sorry. Beer, please,” he shouted over the noise. He’d barely managed to follow it up with a smile before the bartender had turned away.
Wille tapped his card, then watched his drink being prepared. The guy also had unfairly pretty arms, he noticed. Elegant hands. He also looked really fucking good in that tight black t-shirt. Realizing that he was being kind of a creep, Wille forced himself to look at the TV again.
“There you go,” the guy said as he set the beer down in front of Wille.
“Thank you,” he said and tried to smile as uncreepily as possible. Not that it mattered, because the bartender had already turned away again. The bar really was insanely busy at the moment.
For no particular reason, Wille decided to hang around for a bit. He moved to another barstool right next to the wall at the edge of the bar where he wouldn’t be in the way of other customers and from where he had a good view. Of the TV of course.
Sipping his beer, Wille watched the medal ceremony. Bronze guy didn’t seem too happy about his third place. While the other two athletes were beaming into the cameras, he was obviously fighting tears. To a certain degree, Wille could relate. He knew a thing or two about never coming first. His compassion evaporated the moment the guy got a microphone shoved into his face and opened his mouth, though.
In complete bewilderment, Wille watched the athlete break down and cry as he told millions of viewers worldwide that this medal didn’t mean anything to him since six months ago he had met ‘the love of his life’ and then proceeded to make ‘the biggest mistake of his life’ by cheating three months later.
“Jesus, what a dick!” he said, out loud. Only now did he notice that the cute bartender was standing right across from him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking up at the screen. Or he had been. Wille’s words had prompted him to turn to him. His expression was hard to read, but Wille stood by what he said. “Right?” he added.
The other man’s lips twitched. “Yeah.”
Encouraged, Wille said, “Way to make this about yourself. Seriously. Your teammate just dedicated his medal to his dead friend and you’re crying because you cheated on your girlfriend after three months?” He shook his head at the screen.
“Boyfriend,” the bartender said.
“Oh. Sorry, I couldn’t really hear what he said and the caption said ‘her’, so…”
Pretty guy was facing the TV again. Wille was desperate to keep his attention. He was also still fucking annoyed with Mister narcissist. So he kept ranting. “Also, if that’s how he treats the ‘love of his life’, I don’t want to know how he’s treated his other partners. Honestly, the fucking audacity of some men!”
The bartender was looking at him again, one of his eyebrows cocked, an amused pull around his mouth.
Suddenly, Wille felt a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I think I got a little carried away.”
The gorgeous lips widened into a smile. “No, no, please. Keep it coming.”
Wille laughed. “I probably shouldn’t.” For several reasons actually. One of them being that he didn’t want to waste his chance of talking to the most beautiful man he’d ever met on that self-pitying asshole. “I’m Wille, by the way,” he said, extending his hand, making the split-second decision to not give a fake name like he often did when he thought he could get away with it.
He received another smile. “Simon.”
The tips of Simon’s fingers were a little cold. His skin was soft. Wille wished the handshake had lasted longer. Before he could say anything else, Simon was called over by a customer and excused himself.
Alone with his beer again, Wille noticed that his heart was racing and he was feeling positively giddy. It seemed that he was being a total cliché and crushing on the bartender. Hard. Which was fine. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if he indulged in this little fantasy for a night. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it. He drank his beer, stared at the screen without taking any of it in while his mind replayed the interaction he’d just had with Simon. What his smile had looked like. How his hand had felt in Wille’s.
Somebody squeezed up to the bar next to Wille and flagged Simon down. Wille tried not to stare too obviously while also trying not to miss a chance to maybe send Simon another smile. The opportunity came when Simon set a bunch of drinks onto the counter in front of the man next to Wille and quickly glanced over at him. Wille smiled and kept smiling even after Simon had turned away again. To make himself stop, he directed his attention back to the screen.
There he was again, bronze guy, at the press conference this time. He wasn’t talking, yet, but Wille sincerely hoped he would maybe stick to biathlon this time. Of course he didn’t. With morbid fascination, Wille watched him say something about not caring if he was committing ‘social suicide’ if it meant a chance that his ex would forgive him.
“Did he just say social suicide?” Simon asked, suddenly back in his previous spot. He seemed seriously upset this time.
“He did,” Wille confirmed. A thought hit him that made him irrationally angry, potentially because it hit a little too close to home. “Wait—is that because he’s talking about a guy and men in sports obviously can’t be gay?”
Simon studied him for a beat. A muscle was working in his jaw. He shook his head. “No, I think it’s because of the pathetic little stunt he pulled ten minutes ago.”
“I don’t know,” Wille objected. “He might mean the other thing too.” Male athletes weren’t the only group of people where openly being anything other than straight was considered either brave or scandalous, depending on who you asked.
Simon shook his head again. “No, everyone around him knows that he’s gay.”
“Oh,” Wille said. “Well, good for him. I guess I’m outing myself as a casual sports fan, because I wasn’t aware that we had a gay biathlon star. Even if he’s kind of an asshole.”
“He’s not… he wasn’t out publicly,” Simon said. Then he frowned and seemed to catch himself. He pressed his lips together and the arms across his chest moved as he took a deep breath.
Wille wasn’t even sure what exactly sparked the realization. If he recognized something in Simon’s expression as he glared at the screen. If it had been something in his voice. “Wait…” he said slowly. “Sorry, this is totally not my place, but… He’s not talking about… you, is he?”
Simon’s head whipped around to him. “What?” He stared at Wille. Quickly, the shocked expression on his face gave way to one of resignation. He glanced to his left, then sighed. Leaning forward slightly, he said, “Will you think less of me if I say yes?”
“What? No! No,” Wille repeated, a bit softer. “I’ll be even more fucking furious at that asshole though. What the fuck?”
His outburst seemed to amuse Simon. “Thanks,” he said with a small smile. “Oh. I gotta…” he gestured down the bar.
“Oh sure. Sorry for keeping you,” Wille said.
Simon’s smile widened and he shook his head. “No, it was great. I might come back later if I need more cheering up.” With that, he turned away, leaving Wille grinning like a lunatic.
The broadcast changed to bobsleigh and Wille picked up his beer. Over the next few hours, Simon did indeed return to come talk to Wille whenever there was a short lull. They stayed on whatever sport was currently shown on the screen, though. It wasn’t until much later when the day’s competitions had ended and the bar had emptied considerably, that Simon came over, a glass of Coke in his hand and sat down on a stool across from Wille. He looked tired, which was no wonder after the busy shift he’d had, plus having to deal with the whole thing with his ex.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Wille asked carefully.
Simon took a deep swig from his glass, then set it down on the counter between them. “Hey, that’s usually my line.” He grinned weakly.
Wille smiled. “I know. But… I mean, you don’t have to.”
Simon ran a hand through his hair and tipped back his head. He inhaled deeply. When he looked back at Wille, he said, “There really isn’t that much to talk about. I’m over it. I am. It’s just… Ugh.” He pressed his lips together and gave an angry shake of his head. “I guess I mostly hate that I’m still affected by his bullshit.”
“I’m sorry,” Wille said and reflexively reached out his hand. He stopped himself just in time before actually touching Simon, so it came to land awkwardly on the bar between them. He saw Simon glance down at it, before he picked up his Coke.
“It wasn’t even that serious,” Simon said, twisting his glass between his fingers. “Definitely not love-of-my-life serious. Like, he never said that to me while we were dating. He was nice and charming and everything. But, you know, a part of me wasn’t even surprised when I found out about the cheating.”
“When did you find out?”
“Like the day after it happened. It was after a world cup race in Austria. Somebody sent me an anonymous dm that they’d seen him kissing someone at a bar. Maybe the message came from one of his teammates or something. I don’t know. I don’t care. I confronted him and… well. You got a glimpse of how that went down.” He rolled his eyes and raised his glass back to his lips.
“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.” Wille wished he had something more comforting to say. “Have you spoken to him since?”
“Nope.” Simon shook his head.
“So… all of that”—he vaguely gestured at the TV—“came out of nowhere?”
“Yep.”
Wille felt fresh anger well up in his stomach. “What a fucking asshole. Why did he have to drag you into this?”
“Because he’s a sore loser. I know he was hoping for gold. Counting on it actually.”
“Unbelievable.” Wille scoffed.
Simon sighed. “Yeah, well. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll just not go online for a couple of days and put my Insta on private or something.”
“Simon?” Simon’s colleague called from the other end of the bar.
“Sorry,” Simon said and hopped off his stool. “Gotta finish up my shift.”
“I’ll be here,” Wille said with a smile. He didn’t exactly have a plan or anything. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Simon yet.
Simon returned his smile and Wille’s stomach swooped. Oh yes, he was definitely crushing.
While he waited, Wille took out his phone. He opened Instagram and scrolled through his feed. It didn’t take long before he encountered Simon’s crying ex for the first time. And a second and a third time. He was fucking everywhere. Poor Simon. Somewhere underneath Wille’s anger, an idea began to form. He looked up to find Simon talking with his colleague at the other end of the bar. The woman was rubbing Simon’s upper arm, then gave him a hug. Her gaze locked with Wille’s and after she’d released Simon, she leaned forward and said something into his ear. Wille couldn’t see Simon’s face after she pulled back, but he seemed to have momentarily frozen.
His expression was hard to read when he slowly came walking back over to Wille. His eyes flickered across Wille’s face, then widened slightly. “Please tell me you only look like him and you get this all the time.”
So he’d recognized Wille. Or rather his colleague, Wille supposed. “I can if it makes you feel better,” he said.
“Fuck!” Simon covered his face with his hands. “You’re telling me that I’ve spent the night bitching about my embarrassing dating history to a fucking prince?”
“I didn’t hear any bitching or anything embarrassing on your part,” Wille said. His fingers were itching to take Simon’s hands. “However, you just heard the prince of Sweden call your ex a pathetic loser. So, you know, you might have some leverage on me.”
Simon dropped his hands. A smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, so you’re saying I can blackmail you now or something?”
Wille grinned. “Well. I mean… If, for example, you would… like to make an Insta post to show that loser ex how very unfazed you are by his bullshit. And… you needed a face that would… cause a bit of a stir… And you had a way of getting a person with a face like that to do… whatever you need…”
Simon’s jaw had slowly dropped open while Wille had talked. “You… you would take a picture with me and let me post it on Instagram, suggesting we’re… dating?”
Wille felt blood rush into his cheeks. “Sure,” he said with an ease he didn’t feel. At all. His heart was hammering against his ribs like crazy.
“But… you’re not…”
“I’m not out, no,” Wille said.
“And you’d still…”
“Commit social suicide?” Wille teased.
Simon pulled a face, then he laughed. Wille joined in. It felt like a relief to finally release some of the giddiness that was trapped inside his chest.
“You don’t have to do that,” Simon said, serious again.
“I know. And of course, you don’t have to do anything either,” Wille said quickly. “It was just a stupid idea and I might not be entirely sober.”
Simon smiled. “I like your idea.”
Wille grinned. “Well, then let’s do it.”
He winced when Simon suddenly shouted, “Hey, Mara!”
His colleague came over and Simon took his phone out of his pocket. “Can you take a picture of us?” he asked.
Wille could only gawk as Simon suddenly jumped up and elegantly swung himself over the bar, landing next to Wille. “Hey,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Hey,” Wille breathed.
Simon tilted his head and looked at him. “So, uhm, how do we…?”
“Uh, maybe just, I don’t know, put our arms around each other or something?” Wille suggested.
“Or…” Simon said and stepped up behind Wille, looping his arms around his neck. “Is this okay?” His cheek was touching Wille’s right temple. His chest was pressing against Wille’s upper back.
Wille couldn’t do much more than hum and nod.
“Ready?” Mara asked.
No. Fuck no. Wille was kind of busy having a little crisis over here.
“Yes,” Simon said.
“Okay,” Wille managed. ‘Pretend this is your boyfriend hugging you from behind and you’re taking a picture after a fun night out,’ he told himself and smiled.
“Aw, that’s cute!” Mara cooed. She smiled and handed Simon the phone. “I took a whole bunch.”
“Thank you!” Simon said and stepped away from Wille’s back, moving to the bar next to him instead. “These are great,” he said and showed Wille.
And they were. They both looked happy, Wille a bit flushed. They could totally be boyfriends, but the pose was ambivalent enough to explain it away as friendly later, in case certain people at court decided to kick up a fuss over it. But Wille didn’t want to think about that now. He also didn’t want to think about that event in a couple of weeks where he and his family would be holding a reception for Sweden’s entire Olympics team. Future Wille had proven to be quite adept at sorting out past Wille’s messes and Wille had blind faith in him.
“This one?” Simon asked and held the phone out to Wille.
“Sure. You can choose whichever you want,” Wille said.
“I already have the perfect song,” Simon said, opening Instagram.
Wille tried, inconspicuously, to look at his handle.
“Listen,” Simon said. ‘Ballad of a homeschooled girl’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing. “Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide,” Simon sang along with a grin.
Wille laughed out loud. “Oh, that’s perfect!”
“And now for the caption,” Simon muttered. He tapped a finger against his lips, rendering Wille’s mind effectively useless. Not that he would have been much help anyway.
“What do you think?” Simon asked and angled his screen so Wille could see.
POV: He won a bronze medal, but I won the breakup
Wille grinned.
“Is that too mean?” Simon asked.
“No, it’s perfect.” Wille chuckled. He loved the pettiness. Simon deserved to be petty.
“Okay then.” Simon found Wille’s gaze. “And you’re sure about this? Because this will probably get out.”
“Oh, I hope so. He’s fucking everywhere right now,” Wille said. “Sorry,” he added when Simon grimaced.
“Well, let’s steal his moment,” Simon said and tapped the ‘post’ button.
Wille realized that he’d been holding his breath and slowly let it out. Simon did the same thing at the exact same time and their exhales turned into chuckles.
“Okay,” Simon said finally. “I’m done here. Would you… wait while I get my stuff from the back?”
“Yes,” Wille said without hesitation.
Barely a minute passed before Simon returned, wearing a thick puffer jacket and a backpack slung over one shoulder. Together, they left the bar and stepped into the night. A fine mist was hanging in the air which actually felt quite nice on Wille’s heated face. They stood in front of each other awkwardly for a moment, taking each other in. Maybe Wille wanted to do something about this crush after all. Maybe he—
“I have tickets,” he blurted out. “For the Olympics, I mean. For the last three days plus the closing ceremony.”
“Okay…?”
Fuck. This was too much, right? But he’d started it now, so he might as well ruin everything. Wille took a calming breath. “I mean… I am flying to Milan and I have a plus one. Or rather, I have spare tickets and no plus one. So I guess what I’m saying is… Would you be… interested in watching the games… with me?”
Simon was staring at him, mouth open. He blinked a few times. “You’re… inviting me to Milan? To the actual games?”
Wille resisted the urge to cringe. There was no way he could make that sound less insane. “Uhm, yes?”
Simon huffed out an incredulous laugh.
“You… you don’t have to decide now. You can… sleep on it or something,” Wille rushed out.
“Okay,” Simon said.
“Okay you’re gonna sleep on it or—”
“Okay, I wanna go. I think.” Simon laughed.
A thought occurred to Wille. “Shit, but… people will think that… we weren’t joking. Like, there’ll be media there and they’ll think we’re dating.”
Simon’s smile faded. “Oh. Yeah. I mean… would that be a problem for you?”
“What? No! No.” Wille shook his head. “I’m used to dating rumors, I honestly don’t give a fuck anymore.”
Simon’s face lit up. “Well, then neither do I.”
Wille suddenly felt like he wanted to hug the whole world. He breathed deeply. “Okay. You can still… sleep on it. And tell me tomorrow. Or the day after.”
Simon nodded slowly. “Okay. But… I think I’m still gonna say yes.” His eyes flickered across Wille’s face, before he turned his gaze skyward and huffed out a laugh.
“What?” Wille asked. His heart was suddenly going crazy again.
Simon met his gaze. “I’m trying to figure out if I’ve lost my mind of something.”
Wille smiled. “Yeah, same. I think it might be a yes for me.”
Simon returned his smile. He took a step forward. Now he was so close, that he had to tilt his chin up slightly to meet Wille’s gaze. “This is… kinda crazy, right?”
“Totally crazy,” Wille whispered.
And then their lips touched. It felt like all the tension that had built between them over the course of the night unfurled in Wille’s chest, all at once, making his entire body buzz with an electric energy.
They drew back after just a second or two. Wille still felt dizzy. Maybe he was drunk after all. He drew in a shaky breath, then said, “Would you, uhm, want to come home with me?”
Simon’s smile looked as dazed as Wille felt. “Yes.”
Wille’s heart flipped in his chest when he smiled back.
“Uhm, by home you mean…” Simon said.
“Oh, I have an apartment.”
“Oh, okay. Good.” He sounded relieved.
A giddy laugh escaped Wille.
“What?” Simon asked.
Instead of answering, Wille took his face into his hands and kissed him again. This time, Simon opened his lips and their tongues slid against each other, hot and sweet and perfect. When they parted, Wille was swaying on his feet.
“It’s, uh, only a short walk,” he said.
“How short?” Simon asked. His dark eyes were roaming Wille’s face with a hungry expression.
Wille suppressed a shiver. “About eight minutes? Five if we hurry.”
Simon stretched and pressed his lips to Wille’s again. “Let’s make it five then.”
Grinning, Wille reached for his hand and started walking. “Is this a race against the clock then?”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe?”
“What’s the prize if we win?”
Simon bit his lip and dragged his gaze down Wille’s body. “I have a few ideas.”
“Really?” Wille sped up his steps.
Simon hummed and almost slipped on a patch of frozen snow as he tried to keep up.
“What if we don’t make it in time?” Wille asked, breathing heavily. Only partly from how fast they were walking.
Simon shot him a grin. “Then you can cry about it on live TV.”
Giggling, hands entwined, they continued speed-walking through the night.