okok trans simonâŠâŠâŠ you feel me? [this is just wholesome and soft]
Theyâd never cuddled before.
Willeâs room was dark except for the muted glow of his red LED lights tumbling from his shelf. He was lying against the wall, Simon curled under his arm with his head against Willeâs chest, Willeâs hand resting on Simonâs lower back, occasionally running his fingers softly up and down Simonâs spine. And theyâd never cuddled before.
Their tenuous little whatever it was ship was fragile. A kiss had only just happened, in the dim green-blue-red lighting of the Hillerska hallway. Simon knew he probably shouldnât have just gone and done it like that, but Wille had looked so pretty in the shadows, like a Botticelli angel, his face drawn of beautiful daubs of color.
Wille had kissed him back, at least. Simon had feared heâd get a taste of those perfect princely manners with a gentle, stinging Iâm not interested in you like that.
Wille had kissed him back, not princely, just shy. He was only a kid, like Simon. Every touch was careful, tentative. Wille touched Simon like he might shatter. Which one of them was that he, Simon wasnât sure.
Simon lost track of how long they kissed in the corridor, Wille sitting on the windowsill, bending down to Simon standing between his legs. When Simon closed his eyes, the arch of Willeâs neck and the delicate beauty of his expression, eyes closed, eyelashes feathery on his cheeks, was imprinted in his mind.
When a jumpscare and subsequent shout from the room where the movie was playing jerked them apart, Simon rubbed the back of his neck while he waited for Wille to ask him not to mention it to anybody. Instead of a shamefaced Wille asking him to stay quiet because princes donât kiss boys, Simon got a pink-faced Wille asking him if he wanted to come back to his room. Just to chill.
Simon said yes, because above all he was gay for cute, pretty boys who kissed him sweetly and had to push their hair out of their face every two seconds. Now he was here. In Willeâs room. In his bed. Surrounded by himâ his warm body, his arm around Simon, his leg flung over Simonâs legs, his chin resting on the top of Simonâs head.
Willeâs fingers did another one of those gentle, slow swipes down his back and he tensed.
Not because he didnât like itâ Simon liked it. Simon would love any form of touching if it came from Wille. It was just the issue of a seam of fabric Simon didnât want Wille feeling, with his questing fingertips. Normally Simon just used tape. That way he didnât have to worry about weird lines showing under his shirt if he leaned forward. But he hadnât wanted to take it off and reapply it before leaving, because his skin would hate him for it, so heâd just pulled on his smallest binder and resolved not to take off his flannel overshirt.
Except he did. To cuddle with Wille. And Wille would feel that line, that bump, any second, and Simon didnât know what he would say.
Wille nosed at Simonâs hair. His voice came out a sleepy mumble. God, he was adorable. âYou âkay?â
âMhmm,â Simon mumbled, pressing his face harder into Willeâs chest like he could get away from Willeâs hand on his back. He was going to flatten his palm any second on it. He wouldâ what would he do? Simon didnât want to let his mind go spiraling down that path.
Willeâs fingertips ran up from the small of Simonâs back and he didnât change direction when he got halfway. Simonâs chest tightened. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Willeâs fingers faltered. His hand flattened, big palm resting right where the edge of the binder cut across Simonâs ribcage.
Simon tucked his face out of sight. âMm?â He mumbled, hoping to god that Wille was too tired for his brain to work.
âI donât think you should sleep in that.â
âWhat?â Simon almost pulled away. Then he did, scooting an inch or so away from Willeâs warmth. Wille kept his hand on Simonâs back.
âJust, likeâŠâ his boy was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes tracking over Simonâs face and then shooting to the side. âYouâre not supposed to sleep inâ in binders, right? Itâs bad for your ribs.â
Simon felt hot and cold all over. âI⊠itâs fine, Wille.â He pushed himself up on his elbow, warmth spreading through him when Wille just adjusted so that he was still holding Simon. He hadnât shrunk away, that was good, right?
Wille looked lost, out of his depth. âI donât want you to get hurt,â he said, frowning. Simon badly wanted to kiss the frown. âIâŠâ
âItâs fine, Wille,â Simon repeated, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Willeâs ear, then touching his cheek. Willeâs skin was slightly rough and very warm. âIt honestly is. Iâm used to it.â
âBut itâs bad for you,â Wille insisted. He tightened his leg around Simonâs, inching himself closer. His fingers curled in the material of Simonâs shirt. âI⊠I want you to be comfortable around me.â
He was very sweet, but it didnât work like that. Not for Simon, at least.
He dropped his head to rest in the juncture of Willeâs neck and shoulder. âI know,â he said softly. âI am. But I donât want to take it off.â
Wille didnât say anything. Simon could practically hear him thinking, though, so he added, âI only put it on like two hours ago. Itâs fine, Wille, trust me. I know what Iâm doing.â
For good measure, he kissed Willeâs collarbone.
ââŠokay,â Wille said reluctantly, pulling Simon to lay back down so they were nose to nose. His eyes, dark and bright under the red light, searched Simonâs. âYou promise to take it off if you even think you need to? I haveâ you can wear one of my hoodies, if that would help.â
Simon had to kiss him after that, Willeâs mouth hot and firm. He pulled back, breathing a little bit harder than before. âOkay. I promise.â
Wille tugged him close. âThank you,â he breathed into Simonâs hair, clutching Simonâs body tight to his.
Simon relaxed into Wille, the almost possessive grasp the other boy had on him. He liked it. He had never felt wanted like this before, the flirting and the joking and the looks between him and Wille had been unfamiliar but welcome. Heâd known he was gay for ages, of course, but Wille was likeâ the why of it all. How could he not be gay, when Wille was right there looking at him like that?
Simon really, really liked him. It was kind of scary.
An hour or two passed, after Wille put some quiet music on, and Simon knew he was falling asleep soon. He twisted his neck to look up at Willeâs face, expression smoothed out in almost-sleep. Simon touched the underside of his chin and whispered, âWille?â
âCan I have one of your hoodies?â
It took a couple seconds for Willeâs brain to reboot. He sat up slowly, pulling Simon with him, and covered his yawn with a hand. âYeah, âcourse. In the top drawer.â
Simon stood out of bed and crossed over to where Willeâs clothes were. He picked out the first hoodie he saw, a dark blue one heâd seen Wille wear during PE. He turned around to Wille, who was watching him with sleepy fondness written all over his face.
âDo you want me toâ?â Wille asked, and Simon nodded.
âJust cover your eyes or something,â he said with a shrug, and Wille flopped back down on the bed with his arm flung over his face. Simon smiled to himself and quickly shed his t-shirt and binder, balling it up in the bottom of his bag and pulling Willeâs hoodie on over his shirt.
He lay back down next to Wille, slipping under Willeâs arm and tucking himself as close to the other boy as possible. Willeâs hoodie smelled like him, and Willeâs neck was warm for Simon to press his face into.
Simon really, really liked him.
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