favourite crime| young royals

Free Falling

Floating. That's what Wilhelm did in these dreams. He floated, merciless against the rippling tide that swallowed him whole. Pale and alive, the water rose up from the ground and stole his gravity, his oxygen, his last hold on life. Body weightless within its depths, Wilhelm was taken by the tide, floating in emptiness and peace. And just when he thought he could swim, the hands of the waves dragged him beneath the surface. He would gasp for air, fight the shadows of the sea and scream into the void until daybreak, where he would awake alone and frightened and stuck within the in between. The place called limbo, neither free nor imprisoned, he wandered the depths of his glass bauble. Afraid of looking out, afraid of looking in, Wilhelm was afraid of all the things he could have been.
What if he survived? What if he stopped the water, escaped the darkness? Tap, tap, tap, went his finger on the glass, a gunshot wound to his futility. Wilhelm watched as it shattered, melting like ice into the abyss, his eyes a reflection in the puddles of his prison. Shedding the skin of his fear, he was finally free.   

                                                                                               ***

Like lyrics to a song beloved and nostalgic, the words came naturally to Wilhelm. In a room lightened by the sun encircled by clouds, he made peace with his thoughts and allowed his mind to wander through the days. He saw Simon in his arms and Simon in his bed. He saw his bed empty, his heart too, and drifting between these moments, he unwound the thread of time and vowed to sew it with change. 

Wilhelm wasn't afraid of the water. He was afraid of drowning.
"I think love is something to be celebrated, not ignored."
He was coming up for air now, bravery patching the holes in his lungs.
"In all its forms, love is what brings us together. Love makes us stronger."
Simon was at the water's surface, smiling, his features melting into the waves.
"The fear of that love is what tears us apart. Fear destroys people. It makes them weak and angry and insufferable, until they're nothing."
Wilhelm paused to look at his mother. In his metaphorical world, she was the one fuelling his fear, forcing his head underwater.
"But love can heal a person. They don't have to be weak or angry or insufferable. They have a choice to love and a right to be free within that love."
He felt Simon's hand in his, fingers interlocking.
"Which is why I chose love over fear. For a long time, I was afraid of who I was. The person I was becoming and the person I wanted to be were two different people. The world around me was spinning out of control, and I knew if I accepted this fear, I would be trapped in that world forever. So to answer your question, yes, Simon and I are in a relationship together. And I think he would agree, we are very much in love."

Wilhelm stole a look at Simon and their eyes met for a brief moment. He was beaming, elated with truth and honesty. Sunlight flooded into the room, ricocheting off window panes and unveiling the fine brush strokes detailing the portraits lining each wall. Vibrancy glittered the air and flushed Wilhelm's cheeks pink. For the first time in his life, he felt whole heartedly happy. 

The interviewer smiled at the both of them, her pen scribbling furiously against her notebook paper. She was young, a look of eager intelligence about her, and Wilhelm knew with comfort she would tell his story the right way.
"Given the nature of this situation, it's so refreshing to hear your take on all of this, after staying quiet for such a long time. Excuse me for asking but, how did the video going viral affect your relationship? To go from fear to acceptance takes a lot of strength, of which many of our readers will admire." 

Wilhelm straightened up in his seat, bitterness scratching at his insides, begging to be let out into the world. He swallowed it, he would never let it overpower him. 

"In many ways, the video was the end for us. Our secret keeping was a safe place for me, I could be vulnerable away from prying eyes. But as soon as that threshold was broken, that was where the fear rushed in. All of a sudden, all eyes were on Simon and I, waiting to mark our next wrong move. It was tough, even thinking about that time ties a knot in my stomach. I could tell you who shared it, I could give you their name for the world to destroy. But I know I'm bigger than that person. Power shouldn't be something to abuse, because pain only comes from that.  I think that's something the person forgot, before they chose to share the video. Disappointment is greater than hate, because it means another person's trust was broken. I think that was the worst part in all of this." 

"Do you think things would be different, if the video wasn't shared? If Simon could share some light on that aspect I would be grateful to hear your thoughts." 

Simon cleared his throat and leaned forward. Wilhelm felt Simon's hand tense against his palm and Wilhelm moved his thumb over each knuckle. 

"As much as I hate to say it, without that video we probably wouldn't be where we are today. It was frightening, to suddenly be the centre of attention, to have reporters knocking on your door, your face on magazine covers and tv screens. But I know that fear was very real for Wilhelm, too. It was a comfort to know we could share in that fear"- he raised his fingers to air guns-"we're in this together, but of course we weren't. Wilhelm is royalty, and I'm not. That's what made this difficult for us, the choices Wilhelm had to make for the sake of his family that differed from the choices I needed him to make for me. But in the end that made us stronger, and after a while I found peace in that." 

"And was there a pressure for you to come out, Wilhelm?"

"In a way, yes, because the public wanted to know for sure, they were curious and they have a right to discuss that curiosity. But I think that shouldn't be anyone's business but mine. I love Simon, but why put a label on that love? Why complicate this, when it can just be about Simon and I, and not about who I am?" 

***

With the press of a button, the picture showing Wilhelm and Simon faded and fuzzed from the screen. August sat in the dark, his face lit by a solitary floor lamp. Cardboard boxes were scattered around the room, the padding of bubble wrap strewn sparsely in corners least lit. Bare and barren, August was alone in the solitary room, and as he rose the mattress dimpled with his weight. He opened the top sash of the window, allowing cool night air to sting his skin, the sunset glaze frowning towards his cheeks. The estate was silent, not a creak of the breeze in the trees could utter the slightest secret of movement. August had always imagined inheriting this place, having acres of land to himself and a family to raise within it. He was spiteful of his father and his cowardly acts, the sour taste of his thoughts acidic in his mouth. Call him ungrateful, call him a bully, and with August that is what you see. It was in his face, in his attitude; in the palm of his hands he held hatred. It turns out, a person could inherit more than just land from their parents. 

He shook out a cigarette from its case and lit it with a single flick of the lighter. It sputtered and sparked before August could empty the toxins into the air, smoke drifting far away from this house and its reputation, something August could no longer live up to. No matter what Wilhelm said in the interview, August was already ruined. Apologising publicly does not make you a better person, it shows you admitted defeat to what you did. August's statement didn't read the truth of his jealousy, he dared not show his resentment towards Wilhelm or the life he could have had. August knew in his heart he was sorry, but he was sorry for the wrong reasons. He was sorry he got caught and he was sorry for his own fate. People turned their backs on him, named him selfish and desperate and cowardly, words August had only ever used to describe his father. And now he was alone, in a house himself nor his mother could sell, with no money, no help, his reputation gone with the wind and the smoke from the cigarette he now stubbed against the window pane. He had no where to run to, and it was all because August wanted to prove himself a Prince. He made a name for himself, but not the good kind. Listening to the silence, he hoped Sara would be happy at Hillerska. The guilt against his shoulders shifted knowing with the rise of the sun Sara would find the money August had been paid for the interview. She needed it more than he deserved, and it satisfied August to know his heart was made of other things than stone.