make it easy | young royals ✓

fifteen

Wilhelm

In the cool autumn twilight, the wind ruffles gently against our silhouettes, scattering maroon and amber leaves in a whirlwind. The moon hangs bright, the air smelling of wood and earth. My hands trail over the shape of his knuckles, the softness of his skin tender against my touch, the warmth of his body is a comfort in the chilly night. From where we sit, we're alone in the world.

"Did you have to kiss her?" Simon asks. His voice drips with disappointment instead of anger, and I stop tracing shapes on his hand.

"I didn't want to," I reply truthfully, but who knows if he's going to believe anything coming out of my mouth. "My mother... she's threatening me."

He tucks his knees to his chest, and I start pacing by the balcony's edge, the curtains billowing behind us. In the dim light, Simon turns to me. "What did she say?"

"She threatened to take me away from here. She threatened to take me away from you." My mouth goes dry, and I swallow twice to regain my voice. "She's done it before, I just - don't want that to happen."

"Did you kiss Felice last year?"

"She kissed me, Simon, and I told her I don't see her like that." I hesitate to add, "I know I'm still struggling to understand who I am, but I know it didn't feel right at all. Not with her back then, and not with her tonight. It's nothing compared to what we have."

He stands up, and for a split second, I think he's going to leave, but Simon comes to my side and leans against the ledge. "I understand."

I take a breath. "I'm sorry I keep messing things up."

"You're not."

"Be honest, I am."

He toys with a lock of my hair absently. "Sometimes you're a little despicable."

"Only a little?"

We exchange glances.

Simon looks away first, flustered. "A lot, and I hate it."

"You hate it, huh?" I laugh, clutching my chest with hurt as if his words aren't jokingly executed. "And do you hate this?"

His eyes are shocked after our brief kiss, at first, unsure, then growing confident and in sync.

"Okay, now I definitely hate you."

"Fine," I tuck my hands back into my pockets. "Whatever you say."

He seems conflicted, but decides to rest his head against my shoulder as we take a seat against the marble railings. I cherish this moment; uneven breathing, heat on our cheeks, the distant sound of classical music still in the great hall of the school to be envisioned with dresses that twirled endlessly and suitors with opulent masks.

"Do you ever wanna just run away sometimes? Just like, away from reality, away from expectations?"

"There are moments."

I think of Felice without me in the ballroom, smiling with her friends, not a second doubting herself for who she is. She won't miss me, I know, we're in a mutual understanding. I have asked her beforehand whether she thought it would be appropriate if I kissed her, and she agreed, saying: just do what you have to do, Wilhelm. I didn't want to take her by surprise or without consent, but I can only imagine how Simon must have felt when I did it unannounced.

"Why don't we do that?" Turning to him, there's a mischievous glint in my eye, and I feel giddy with exultation surging through me. "I mean, ditch the dance."

"Where would we go?" Simon lifts his chin as if he's considering my idea.

"Anywhere that's not here."