#yall made all these other wilmon universes become real

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Soulmate

day 18 @youngroyals-events

Wille, crossfaded and face down on the football field, realizes some things.

Or, Wille sees his and Simon's lives laid out, intertwining across every universe.

read below or on ao3. (T, 800) cw: substance abuse

Wille can’t move. Well, he could move, he just doesn’t really want to. Despite the cold wetness pressed against his cheek and the grittiness in his mouth, he’s quite comfortable. No bed at a fancy palace could ever compare to this. Not even the bright lights in his half-open eyes bother him. His body feels light and wavy. If he shuts his eyes fully, though, things start to spin. That isn’t as comfortable, so he keeps them partially open, slowly blinking against the cold mist. 

There is a familiar smell about the place he can’t put his finger on. Has he been here before? 

Where is here?

The pointer finger on his right hand twitches. He remembers. He is on grass. No, not grass. Turf. He rolls onto his side and drags a hand through the damp plastic. The lingering rain is probably soaking through his clothes, too. His mamma would be so mad, if she saw him like this. The thought makes him giggle. 

Imagine the headlines, Mamma. 

I’m sorry I can’t be him. 

He doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He is tired. To make sure he still can, he brings both hands to his face and presses his palms into his eyes, inhaling deeply, then letting out the breath in a loud hum. He is so tired. 

A light flickers. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, letting his hands fall back to the ground again. 

He starts to drift. It’s a calm feeling. Distorted colors begin to dance across the backs of his eyelids. Warm purples and reds, then browns and greens. Shapes begin to form, too. The outline of a person, a building, a piano. 

Simon is there, suddenly, in his mind. He looks different, though. Older. He smiles at Wille then grabs his hand, pulling him through a book shop. Wille feels warm and happy. They’ve been here before, this is a favorite place of theirs. Simon wants to see if they have a new book in stock. They’ve just come from breakfast together. They are happy.

The image flickers. 

Simon is still there, but different again. He looks down at Wille from a stage, though he doesn’t know Wille, yet. Wille doesn’t know him either, just likes his music, but wants to know more. They find each other after the concert. Simon is flirty and forward and they quickly fall into each other. 

That Simon disappears, too, then changes into another. 

This Simon is younger, much younger, as is Wille. They’re both five and playing in a park. Wille tumbles off the slide and Simon offers a hand to help him up. They spend the rest of the day playing together, chasing each other around the playground and laughing until Wille’s mother pulls him away. 

Now, Simon looks across a table at Wille with teary eyes, boxes scattered around them. He whispers, I’m sorry, and sounds so broken and Wille wants to jump across the table at him, to beg him to stay, but he can’t. They had their time together and it was good and worth it, but it just couldn’t work anymore. 

Another Simon. Another Wille. This time, they meet in a foreign city. Simon is singing karaoke with friends at a random dive bar. Though he doesn’t normally do this – at least, this Wille doesn’t – he offers to buy Simon a drink, taken by his beautiful voice. They stumble back to Wille’s hotel together, laughing and yelling into the dark and empty streets. 

Wille blinks and he sees a football field at midnight. No, no, that’s not right. He shuts his eyes again. 

They are standing on a beach together, now. Simon has a small band on his ring finger and so does Wille. They are happy. The sand is warm and so is Simon’s hand in his. With a smile as bright as the sun, his husband turns to him and whispers, I love you. Wille presses a kiss into Simon’s forehead. And I love you.

A dozen more images shift across Wille’s mind, too fast to soak them in fully, but long enough to see Simon and to know how right it feels. Every place, every time, they find their way to each other. No matter what, no matter how they find each other, even if only for a short time. They are bound together; he feels the searing mark of it in his heart, hears the word soulmate whispered in his ear. But, too quickly, he feels Simon slipping away, all the little versions of him falling through Wille’s fingers even as he scrambles to keep hold. Grief and pain and confusion are already seeping back into his chest, and he wants to scream in frustration. 

Then Wille remembers, distantly, Simon doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know they’re meant to be together. He doesn’t know how right it is, how real it is. The realest thing Wille’s ever had.

Blindly, movements still slurred and choppy, joints tight from the cold, he reaches for his phone. The number is there, easily, his fingers typing it already before he can even think about it. 

“Hello?”

“Simon.”