REVOLUTION: young royals

Hangnails

as part of newwwwusername's autism acceptance month prompts on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/autismacceptancemonth2023/

just a quick little drabble bc i found out about this prompt meme

i meant for this to be an autistic!wille fic, but then it wasn't. so. oops? next time, i promise

—

Wilhelm bites his nails too much.

That's the first thing Simon notices when he wakes up and watches Wille pace around the room during a heated phone call. Simon's brain hasn't quite registered what's happening, vision still blurred in a half-asleep haze. The one thing he focuses on is the way Wille harshly rubs at his chest and lifts his thumb to his mouth. Wille's face scrunches in annoyance, and he has to pull his phone away from his ear as his mother yaps on the other end of the line. Simon wouldn't be surprised if Wille straight-up hangs up on his mom, but he's done that too many times at this point, and it's probably best that he doesn't irritate her any further.

"I've gotta go, Mamma. Classes start soon, and Vincent will be on my ass if I don't show up for rowing," Wille murmurs, even though classes don't start for another hour, and Wille has been ditching rowing since the jubilee. Kristina doesn't need to know that — it's not like she cares enough to memorize the Hillerska schedule. He hangs up before she can say anything else.

He throws his phone on the other bed and sits next to Simon, who's now more alert. Simon sits up, observing Wille as he continues to chew away at his thumb. His face is flushed with exasperation, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance. It isn't until a particularly tough bite breaks him out of the daze and leaves him waving his hand in pain. "Shit."

"You okay?"

Wille grunts and stumbles to his desk, throwing open one of the drawers and blindly grasping for something. Eventually, he pulls out a Band-Aid and wraps it around his thumb.

"You should stop doing that," Simon tilts his head as Wille flops back on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, whatever."

"I'm serious. It can't be good for you," he takes one of Wille's hands and inspects it. His nails are jagged and short, nearly all his fingers are tough with callouses and scabs, and there are hangnails galore. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"A little. It's fine, though."

"Maybe I can ask..." Simon hesitates. "I could ask Sara if I can borrow some of her fidget toys. I don't know if she even uses them anymore."

"Fidget toys?"

"She has a bunch. They used to really help her." In fact, Simon vaguely remembers a time back in grade school when Sara had a similar problem: when she was stressed and overstimulated, she would end up hurting herself. It was never on purpose, but she always ended up biting, peeling, ripping, or hitting. In the middle of a meltdown or panic attack, the only things that could calm her were her soft plushies, squishies, or stress balls. Not to mention her fidget cubes and spinners, which always helped her focus in class.

Last year was the last time he had seen any of her toys. The last one she bought was a horse-shaped Pop-It, which always made her smile brightly when she heard the satisfying pops. But at that point, the kids at school were beginning to catch on that Sara was "weird," which led to them having to switch schools. By then, Sara had decided she was too cool for her juvenile toys and had dumped them in a box, never to be seen again (sans her favorite horse plush, which followed her to Hillerska even when she became a boarder).

Simon almost smiles at the memories — almost. It's true that he misses seeing his sister happy and herself, not caring what stuck-up rich kids think of her. But everything's different now, so what's the point of dwelling on the past?

Wille is watching Simon intently, almost flashing a smirk as well. Simon knows that Wille is yearning for the Eriksson siblings to mend their relationship, but it's just hard. And Simon yearns for it, too, despite his best efforts not to care. He can't not care. Sara was right all those months ago. That's your problem!

Wille lost his only sibling. Against his better judgement, Simon doesn't want to lose his, either.

"I'll ask, okay? I think it'd be helpful," Simon kisses Wille's hand. Wilhelm smiles and relaxes back into the pillow, a lazy smile on his face.

—

can you believe it's been 4 months since i posted a yr fic? i promise i'm still here and have about a bajillion wips, including some autistic headcanons! keep an eye out :)

* 722 words (April 2, 2023)