make it easy | young royals ✓

sixteen

Simon

I must have fallen asleep in his arms, because I woke to a suffocating darkness. The only source of light in the room is the unfamiliar lava lamp glowing placidly on the desk. Turning over ever so gently as to not wake him, I rest my gaze on his sleeping figure, one arm draped across my chest. He's in complete vulnerability in the dim light, overwhelmingly real and alive.

It comes flooding back, the past few hours like an ebullient wave. Our night consists of fleeting glances of flirtation, brief touches of warm skin, and it's an undertow of esoteric fondness. With the curtains drawn close, our intimacy is a secret within these four walls.

Pulling myself away from his body, I scroll over to the window, and shift the curtains to reveal a canvas of midnight blue under the moon. Tugging on the latch, I let the autumn breeze drift in. Everything is silent in the night broken only by the steady breathing from the boy on the unmade bed in a tangle of blankets. My racing heart, cruising with yearning and ache, drums in my chest.

My body moulds with his effortlessly, and I find myself drifting into the dark abyss of untroubled sleep when he mumbles against the softness of my neck, sending ineffable tingles down my spine.

"Where did you go?"

"Just went and got some fresh air."

"I thought you left," Wilhelm whispers. "Please don't do that, okay?"

In the morning, it's him who stirs against me, dragging me out of my slumber of nonsensical dreams. The room is just light enough for me to make out my surroundings, and I rub my eyes clumsily, still half trapped between the door of unconsciousness and reality. The seconds before we slip into comprehension are deathly peaceful, unaware and unknowing of the burdens of the present.

"Morning." His morning voice is raspy, and deep in his throat. I can't count how many times I've woken up, reached over to the bedside table only to see my phone empty of his presence. Hoping there would be a text or missed a call because maybe he'd realised he made a mistake. Not being able to get rid of the foolish guilt, because even after months, I'm still finding ways to forgive him.

"I'm sorry for waking you up last night."

"It's alright," Wilhelm scoffs, burying his head into me. I flip over so I can admire him in the mellow ambience, taking in his sleepy eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips with affection.

"I don't want to get up."

"Me neither."

I pause. "Let's say here forever."

"Okay," Wilhelm agrees softly. He takes my left hand in his, and begins to trace the lines on my palm.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if you're real," he says a matter-of-factly.

A chuckle rises in my throat. "Why wouldn't I be real?"

"Because for so long, I imagined laying next to you, only to find the bed cold and desolated of your presence."

His words are overwhelming that I can see it now, his existence radiating of old-school love, handwritten letters, random notes on the fridge, slow dancing while making breakfast, and my back against the grass while he flips over pages of a thrifted book. Cups of warm coffee, oversized sweaters, hours wandering around museums in some quaint countryside.

"Me too," I manage to whisper. "Why did we stay away from each other for so long?"

"Because we couldn't-" Wilhelm starts, but retracts his words. "I was so afraid, Simon. I was scared out of my mind after I left that I didn't know what to do. Coming back here is a bitter reminder that things are different now, but new. A good kind of new."