make it easy | young royals ✓

twenty two

Simon

I capture this moment, his head tilted back in a laugh, eyes crinkling at the edges humorously. The photograph freezes the moment in place, candid, raw, unknowingly meaningful when I'll later go on to remember it. It comforts me knowing that the photo is stored concretely on my phone, and I can never doubt its existence when it's alarmingly real under a swipe of my fingertips.

It'll be just as easy to erase its existence just as it has been taken so easily.

"What?" he catches me staring and pauses what he's doing momentarily as if in doubt. I shake my head, letting him know the lightness of my expression when in reality, my heart is a storm of an ineffable swell of love. Lingering above the trapdoor of all the difficult things that have come from the result of us, there's an undeniable and imperative amount of lust, newness, and want.

I think he gets me, really gets me. Someone who's willing to understand and together we blend in a flurry of compassion and patience. There are times when communication is withdrawn, fluffed up with words of affirmation to soften the harshness. Yet through the unending troubles, we find ourselves in a place of careful forgiveness.

***

It should surprise me when I find myself facing the queen of Sweden in the empty confines of my dorm room, but it doesn't. She scrunches her nose at the environment and proceeds to take her eyes all over me in judgement.

I don't let my unease show.

"I have a pragmatic proposal."

I settle on the desk chair, and brush her words off with forced nonchalance. "I don't want to hear it."

I flinch involuntarily as she laughs, it's a cold and splitting sound rending the stillness of the air. When she finishes her dramatic show, she says coolly: "oh no, I think you do."

With my patience running thin, I settle my eyes on her. "Get on with it, then."

"I'll be simple about it," Wilhelm's mother quirks an eyebrow at my petulance. "I'm willing to pay for you and your sister's tuition at Hillerska until you graduate."

"We already have a scholarship and financial support for the housing."

Kristina shakes her head in mockery. "Scholarship and financial support, such - what's the word-" she pretends to think for a second, "-unpredictable circumstances."

"What are you suggesting?" I'm gripping the sides of the chair without thinking, my knuckles turning white at the brute force. Her words are starting to have an effect on me, and I'm beginning to understand what's happening.

"Let's just say, things can happen and you and your sister might not end up with a scholarship next year after all. Wouldn't that be a pity?"

Hopelessness fills up my throat, it's not the anger of unfairness that's taking its grip on me, but the sheer drop to the conclusion that the world will eternally remain unfair to those who aren't advantaged.

"Why are you doing this?" I force myself to speak. "Why do you want to ruin my family's lives?"

"You left me with no choice," she replies simply as if the situation bores her and she would rather be doing something else, perhaps eating dry biscuits and plotting how to make everyone around her miserable. "I have to do this for my son, you know? I'm doing this because I love him."

"Okay," I choke out shakily. "Okay, you are crazy if you think this is love."

My words must have insulted her, because she presses her lips together with distaste and leaves her gaze fixated on a spot on the wall behind me. I watch as she adjusts the ring on her finger repeatedly, and has an overwhelming urge to grab it and throw it out of the window.

"What would you choose, Simon? My son or you and your sister's future?"

I draw in a shaky breath, almost begging in my tone. "Please don't."

She ignores my deteriorating state of composure. "I'm telling you, you left me with no choice."

"Don't do this."

My mom, Sara, people who have been beside me since birth and have unconditionally loved me despite every trouble and flaw. Mom's hard work and assiduous effort linger in the back of my mind, and I can't - won't ruin our lives because of this. Sara's gradual yet surprising blend into the school is significant, and I know she won't forgive me if I stripped us of a place we're starting to belong. Of a reputable and prestigious future, one we could have for studying at the renowned Hillerska.

"I have to, I'm sorry." Yet sympathy and regret are undetectable in her voice.

I stand up, pushing the chair back so abruptly that she flinches back as if I'm going to hit her. I have no doubt the bodyguards are inches from the wall behind the door, so it's no solution to send her home to the palace with a black eye to prove my point. Despite how relieving and refreshing that'll feel, I refrain from resorting to violence.

"Do you know what this will do to Wilhelm? Do you know what he's going to think?" I heave in a breath, "he'll never forgive you if he finds out. Never."

"And you won't tell him," she smiles confidently. "It's your end of the bargain, and I'll hold up mine if you comply. Fully paid tuition until you graduate, room, board and all the supplies you'll ever need."

I fucking hate rich people.

"You're a disgusting person, you know that?" I spit out with hatred that doesn't even run as strong as the ones for August. This is a level that I've never imagined reaching one day, but I do. "You're willing to destroy families, ruin lives just to make your son someone who you want him to be."

"What else can I do?" Kristina shrugs. "So we've reached an agreement?"

"No-" I blurt out, and it disgusts me that I'm highly considering it. I can't risk Sara and my future in jeopardy, or throw away mom's hard work for him. I can't. "Can I just - have some time to think about it?"

"I think you've already made your decision," she smiles smoothly, and it's an ugly thing etched on her face. "I'll let the school know of my help with your assets."

Victory slips out under me like a rug on a slippery surface, and I'm falling. "Wait, I haven't made a decision-"

"I always knew you were a good kid," the Queen stands up promptly and smoothes out her extravagant clothes. "If you want to be moved to a single room, just let August know."

When the door closes behind her, my chest runs out of air, and I collapse face-first into my pillow. Silent sobs rock my body, but tears refuse to fall in defence of my overwhelming loss of control. My head rings light, and I drift out into an abyss of absence and loss.