The Cut That Always Bleeds

The sun didn't touch Wilhelm's bedroom until well into the next morning, seeping through the shuttered blinds to illuminate Simon's skin. He longed to wake him up so that he could experience this moment with him, and so he could convince himself that he was really here, that last night wasn't a dream. But he looked so peaceful, Wilhelm didn't want to ruin it. So instead he just looked, reflecting on what they'd shared the night before, and thinking of ways they could prolong their time in this room, in their private bubble where other people and consequences were nothing but distant memories. He fantasized about barricading the door, or slipping out the window and disappearing into the night, adopting new identities in some distant land. Why not? Right here and now, anything felt possible. 

He didn't know whether to be elated or disappointed when Simon began stirring. It was like the first bit of reality creeping in, and yet right now reality was perfect, and he'd be able to properly share it with him. When his eyes opened, the first thing Simon saw was Wilhelm's smiling face.

"You look happy," he croaked, his voice out of practice.

"I am," Wilhelm said simply. There was nothing more to it, no explanation needed. For the first time in months, he felt genuinely happy. "Aren't you?"

"Give me a second. I was having a really weird dream."

"Oh? What about?" He ran his fingers down Simon's arm as he asked.

Simon spoke slowly, "Well, there was this dragon, and it was guarding a castle, and I was supposed to slay the dragon, but I didn't want to because dragons are awesome."

"And endangered."

"Right. So I decided that the best way to get past the dragon was to earn it's trust, befriend it."

"Okay, but why did you to need to get past the dragon? What was in the castle?"

Simon smiled mischievously. "You."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I had to get past the dragon to get to you."

Wilhelm raised his eyebrows. "And how did that work out?"

"Well, I simply reasoned with the dragon, and once I explained to him that I just wanted to get to you, he let me through."

"And then?"

"And then we admired the dragon together through the window." Simon held Wilhelm's gaze, trying to hide his smile.

"You're making all of this up, aren't you?"

"Yes," Simon managed to get out before his laughter overpowered him. 

Wilhelm punched him on the arm. "Dumb ass."

"I love your terms of endearment."

The words Wilhelm wanted to say died on his tongue, and he felt that falter like a tiny shard of glass in his skin. Even when it was just them in this room, when they escaped from every prying eye, they couldn't escape their history. 

Determined to move past it, he kissed Simon, eyes closed, thinking of nothing else and being sure to let Simon think of nothing else. It almost worked. Simon kissed him back so hard, Wilhelm never would have guessed there was anything else on his mind. But of course, there was. He'd caught Wilhelm's hesitation; he could take a guess at what he wanted to say. Simon wanted to say it too, but there was a reason why he didn't. There was a reason why he couldn't say it back when Wilhelm whispered it to him what felt like a million years ago, despite how badly he wanted to. As they kissed, he almost couldn't remember what that reason was. But he was reminded by the shadows of the blinds. 

Still, he kissed him. If they couldn't say what they really meant, at least they could show each other. Because even in the silence, they both knew what the other felt. 

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Sara woke up with a splitting headache. When she tried to put her hand to it, she found her arm trapped under August's. He was still snoring peacefully. 

Carefully, she disentangled her body from his. In the bathroom, she ran a washcloth under cold water and pressed it to her forehead. Her reflection startled her; it was as if she'd cried in her sleep all night. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks red and splotchy. She held the washcloth to her closed eyelids and her burning cheeks, willing the color to fade. Despite having just woken up, she felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was hide under a blanket and forget about the world. 

But against her wishes, the world kept turning. The story continued no matter how much she begged to be let off the ride. People still had opinions about her that seemed to define her, twisting around her like ropes until she couldn't move. One person thought she was a traitor, another thought she was a pushover, and she didn't know what to think of herself anymore. 

Once she thought she looked presentable, she took a deep breath and stepped back out of the bathroom. She treated it with the same composure as she would if she were about to face the entire world, but the only other person in the room was August. Sara smiled at him. "Morning."

"Morning," he answered. "Are you alright? You look like you're sick."

"Why thank you," Sara said through a forced smile.

"Seriously," he took a closer look at her face as she sat down next to him. "Did something happen?"

She opened her mouth, her answered prepared; Oh, I just didn't sleep very well. But all that came out was a choked sob. 

"Hey," August crooned, gently pushing her tangled hair away from her face. "Tell me what's wrong. Wait," he paused. "You left last night, didn't you? Did something happen then?"

Unable to speak, Sara nodded.

He didn't ask her again. He just wrapped his arms around her and waited. Eventually, her voice found it's way back to her. "It's Felice. She won't talk to me."

"Why not?"

"Because of us!" She cried. "She's pissed at me for seeing you, and can you really blame her?"

"Can't blame her? Why? Because we were together once and we're not anymore?"

"We were friends, August. We were good friends. Friends aren't supposed to do that to each other."

"Sara, listen to me." He tilted her chin up. "We're not doing anything wrong. I don't know about you, but I think what we have going here is pretty good, right?" He nudged her. "Right?"

She smiled, but her tears still fell. "It is."

"Would you expect anyone else to live their life based on what makes other people happy?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then why do you think you should?"

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "She was my friend. It just really sucks to lose a friend."

He pulled her closer. "I know. But you know, someone gave me some really good advice about that once."

"And what was that?"

"You have to find the good ones and hang on to them."

She smiled up at him. "Mission accomplished."

He kissed her forehead. "Feel better now?" She nodded against him. "Then I suggest you go change your shirt, because I saw you wipe your nose on your sleeve, and I'm sorry, but that's gross."

"Fine," she laughed as she stood. "I'd suggest you change yours too, because you've been wearing it for a long time, and I'm sorry, but you stink."

"Shut up!" 

She cackled as he pulled her roughly back down onto the bed. As he kissed her, she thought that this was all she had to do; if she could keep him this happy all the time, everything would be perfect, and she'd done it today without even trying. Maybe she just needed to get to know him better, learn what made him happy, and that would solve all their conflicts. Because right now, it felt so easy, she was sure that somewhere along the way, she'd overthought it. This was all it had to be: the two of them, nobody else. This could work. She could make this work. 

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Simon sighed as Wilhelm relaxed next to him on the bed. "Okay. As great as this is, we need to leave this room eventually."

"Do we really? Because I've been thinking, and I've developed a pretty solid plan that involves barricading the door."

Simon sat up, pulling up his jeans. "That does sound appealing, but even putting aside the fact that we have school, we have a big day ahead of us. You need to go off and be the Crown Prince, and I need to officially end things with Lukas."

"End things? Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Well, what are you going to tell him when he asks why?"

"What does that matter?"

"You're not going to tell him about us, are you?"

"Oh my God. Oh my God, I am so stupid!" Simon ran his fingers through his hair as he paced across the room while Wilhelm looked on silently. "We're right back where we started. You've got your real life and then you've got me, your secret!"

"It's not like that, Simon."

"Tell me what it is then."

"I have told you! I love you!" Wilhelm shouted. "But there's more to it than that. If you tell him about us, if he tells anyone else-"

"So what then? You want me keep him around to throw everyone off our trail? He's a fucking person, Wilhelm!"

"I know that."

"Do you? Can you wrap your head around the idea that other people don't exist to cater to you?"

"Can you wrap your head around the idea that I have responsibilities? Do you understand that I can't drop all of those responsibilities for you?"

"Yeah. I do. That's why I broke up with you in the first place. But as we've established, I'm a fucking idiot and I came back anyway."

"Simon, please try to see this from my perspective."

"Fuck your perspective. I have to go."

"Simon-"

Wilhelm was met with a slamming door. 

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It was hard to remember that everyone wasn't there last night, that everyone didn't know what he had on his mind. Everyone just talked and went about their business as if there wasn't a black cloud hanging overhead. Wilhelm had to remind himself that it was only hanging over his head.

Except for Maria, that is. When Wilhelm sat down next to her in class that morning, she smiled, but he could see the strain in her eyes. He almost asked her what was the matter, until the realization hit that they had seen each other the night before.

God, all of that felt like a lifetime ago, and if he was brutally honest, Wilhelm had kind of forgotten she existed. And here she was, pleading with her eyes for reassurance that everything was okay between them. He supposed it was. He certainly wasn't upset about that anymore; so much had happened since. But she knew nothing about that, he remembered. She only knew what happened between them.

He ruined everything with Simon. He had to get things right with at least one person. And so he smiled at her. He could see her relax immediately. It felt good to finally make someone happy. "Hey," she said as casually as she could manage. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Wilhelm lied.

"Good." She took a deep breath as if she could swallow the awkward silence. "Listen, about last night-"

"Don't worry about it."

She hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"I am. I know I freaked out and I'm sorry about that. But it's okay now."

She nodded slowly. "Okay." She inhaled, teetering on the fence. Should she say it? In the end, she did. "Would it be okay if I came over tonight? I promise, I don't mean anything like that," she hurried before he could question it. "Can we just hang out?"

Wilhelm smiled the way he smiled when cameras were pointed at him. It had been so long since he smiled away from the cameras, he was afraid he'd forget how. "Of course we can." 

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Simon didn't know what to say when he got home to find Lukas on his front porch. Luckily, Lukas spoke first. "Hey," he said, "you didn't answer any of my messages."

Simon fished his phone out of his pocket. Four texts and two calls throughout the day. "Shit. Sorry."

"Look, I understand if I caught you off guard last night, but please don't cut me out over it, all right? Can we just talk about it?"

Simon looked down, shaking his head as if he could physically shake last night's memory out of it. "Sure. Come inside. It's cold out here."

This was the first conversation of theirs that didn't start with a pretext of small talk. When he sat down at the kitchen table, Lukas didn't ask Simon how school was that day. He didn't even ask why he hadn't answered his phone. He just asked, face to face, where Simon couldn't avoid him. "Do you like me?"

Slowly, Simon nodded. "I do."

"Then why don't you want to be my boyfriend?"

Simon hesitated, but he couldn't think of a better answer than the truth. "I don't know."

"Is there somebody else?"

Tell him. He deserves to know. "There is. But I don't know why I can't move on from him. In my mind, I know that I should want to be with you. It should be over with him. But it isn't, and I don't know why." Lukas stared straight into his face with an intensity that made Simon want to look away. "In another life, this might have been something real."

"But this isn't another life. This is the only one we get."

A bitter taste filled Simon's mouth. "Right."

"I wish you'd just told me so. I'd have been fine with just being your friend if I'd known that was what we were doing."

"I'm sorry. I thought maybe I'd be able to move on if I had someone to move on with."

"Did you consider my feelings?" The hurt in Lukas' voice was apparent. "I'm a person too, Simon."

Simon sighed. "I know." Despite his discomfort, Simon looked straight into Lukas' eyes. "I really am sorry. You spend too much time with those rich kids, the selfishness gets to you."

"I'd like to tell you not to blame your selfishness on them, but I know what you mean. They really do just expect everything to come to them, and it rubs off fast."

"Oh? And how did you find that out?"

Lukas shifted. "When I was in private school, I actually dated a girl for a while."

Simon raised his eyebrows. "You? A girl? No way."

Lukas chuckled. "Yeah, I hadn't exactly come to terms with my sexuality yet. I just thought kissing was supposed to feel forced and unnatural. But apparently it didn't feel unnatural to her. She was always all over me, and I just went along with it because I thought that I should want to."

"That's not the worst thing a kid in the closet has ever done."

"I'm getting there." He sat up a little straighter. "We were together for a few months before I met a guy. I really liked him, but I was in deep denial about it. So I just kept dating this girl and repressing it."

"Until?"

"Until I got drunk for the first time. I hooked up with him, he told me how he loved me, but I wouldn't break up with my girlfriend. And I went back to him a few times, behind her back, but I was never sober. It was kind of a problem for a while; I only felt like myself when I was drunk, and so I got drunk all the time. That's why she finally broke up with me, and eventually he did too."

Simon didn't know what to say. "So what happened?" he finally asked.

Lukas shrugged. "Nothing, really. My parents got divorced not long after that, I went back to public school and that was it."

"Is the drinking under control?"

He nodded. "It is. I didn't really feel like I needed to once I finally got comfortable with myself. Of course, I'd already destroyed my family by then, but hey..."

"You didn't destroy your family."

"I hope I didn't, but I really don't know. I'm sure I was stressing them out, but I was too far out of my mind to know it. And they never really told me anything, but why would they? It's not like I would have done anything."

"Still, they're your parents, and it doesn't even sound like they tried to help you. It sounds like they gave up on you. They're just lucky you got better on your own."

"Yeah, well," he huffed. "I fucked with a lot of people's lives, and I have to live with that for the rest of mine. So I'm just glad we worked this out before you could do the same."

Simon smiled, but his heart broke. "You're a good guy, Lukas. You really are."

"Thanks." He looked around the room. "So what do you say? Friends?"

They shook on it, and having said all he needed to say, Lukas went home. 

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Contrary to what one might believe, Maria actually thought very carefully about everything she said and did. She wasn't naturally extroverted, that was just her chosen personality. She had learned long ago that her identity was defined by others. If she wanted to do well, she had to make people like her. So far, she had done so by being outgoing. Her epic fail with Wilhelm the night before made her realize it wasn't as foolproof as she thought it was. She had to rethink her approach. As they walked through the door together, she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the tremor in Wilhelm's hands. 

In his mind, Wilhelm was trying to figure out how to do the exact opposite: be more extroverted. Be more relaxed. Let what happened happen. 

The combination made for a few awkward minutes. Wilhelm trying to talk without knowing what to say, Maria fighting against everything she wanted to say. Wilhelm struggled to remember why he suggested this, and that was what gave him the motivation to move the conversation along: he needed to do right by her. He needed to do right by somebody. 

"I do want to talk about what happened last night," he all but spit out.

Maria's heart raced. "Okay."

"The thing is... I like you."

Her eyes widened. "You do?" She half-laughed-half-sighed. "I'm sorry, I just... got a completely different idea last night."

"I know." Wilhelm winced at the memory. "I really didn't mean it that way, though."

Still, Maria was hesitant. "So where do we go from here?"

Wilhelm shrugged. "I guess I'm asking if you want to go out with me?"

She laughed. "You guess? You clearly haven't done this before."

Wilhelm smiled, his eyes cast down. "No. I haven't."

"It's alright. I never had either until last night. I gotta say, you're braver than me, 'cause after my first attempt, I was ready to pack it in and never try again."

He chuckled. Boy, did that sound tempting. "Well, I can tell you're not all that experienced either, because you still haven't answered my question." He looked into her eyes. "Do you want to go out with me?"

Maria nodded. "Yeah. I do."

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Sara and August settled into a routine. Most nights were spent in Sara's room, as her roommate tended to spend as much time elsewhere as possible. Occasionally, they would go to August's room if his roommate went out, just for a change of scenery. It was natural to want to be alone, and besides, they were breaking the rules every night, so it was better not to have others around. It never occurred to Sara that there might be another reason why August was always gone before anybody returned, or why he never approached her during the day. 

Each night started with whispers and giggles in the dark, fumbling hands and clumsy kisses. Then it would be silent while they caught their breath, and conversation would follow. Small talk: how was your day? Sometimes, between the darkness shielding their expressions and the late-night fatigue dragging their guards down, a secret would be revealed. Sara would talk about her father and why he wasn't around. August would talk about how his parents shipped him off the first chance they got and how they hardly felt like acquaintances, let alone family. Sleep rarely came before 3am, especially for Sara, as she still couldn't get used to sharing the bed. Then she'd wake up in the morning and he'd be gone. Rinse and repeat. That's why it seemed so strange when she woke one morning to find him poring over a book at her desk. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Studying. I have a big test today and I really don't feel good about it."

Sara sat up. "What's it on?" 

"Math. I fucking suck at math."

"Me too." She looked over his shoulder at the book. "Have you asked anybody for help? A tutor, maybe?"

"I don't need a tutor!" He shouted. "I know what the problem is. Hell, I know what the solution is! I just don't have it!"

Sara shrunk away from him. "Quiet down. You're going to wake everyone up." Despite her best efforts, her voice wavered. 

His entire body shook. "It's just so frustrating."

"I know." She reached for him, but he pushed her away.

"Exactly. You know how excruciating this is, but you won't help me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about!"

"August, stop shouting." She tried to make it sound like a demand, but her voice came out begging. "I thought we were past this."

"I always think I'm past it until I have to focus on anything." He threw himself down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "It's miserable."

Sara tried to grab his hand, but he dropped hers. In that split second, she saw every time he'd ever touched her flash before her eyes. All she wanted was to feel that joy again, to make him feel that joy again. And in that split second, she was sure that that joy was worth breaking her word. 

She dragged her feet to the nightstand and back. Her eyes fixated on August as he took what she gave him. Almost immediately after he swallowed the pill, he reached for her. She let out a sigh of relief as she leaned into him, but she could feel her heart sink as she exhaled. 

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Wilhelm didn't really know how being in relationship worked. Simon was the only person he'd ever been with before, and it's not like they were ever an official couple. He'd never even thought about that until the day he asked Maria to go out with him. He and Simon had never really talked about what they were to each other; they never had to. It all happened so naturally, he never thought twice about it until... you know. 

But since that had clearly not worked out, he figured he needed to try something different, so here he was, holding hands with this girl while they walked down the hallway. He told himself that it only felt so strange because it was new and it would just take some getting used to. What shouldn't have felt strange was the whispering from their classmates as they passed by, yet Wilhelm couldn't seem to tune it out. 

Maria wasn't unable to tune it out, she simply chose not to. She would never admit it out loud, but in a way, it was exciting to know people were talking about her. 

Simon deliberately turned his back when he saw them and rolled his eyes at the wall. Of course he would go right back to her. He'd told himself he was an idiot countless time over the past few days, but he just could not seem to stress it enough. 

Maybe he should just give in to being a selfish prick. He was already surrounded by them, and they seemed to be having a much better time than he was. He could have done the exact same thing: he could have gone back to Lukas, accepted attention from whoever was offering it to him. Was it a dick move? Absolutely. But it was hard for Simon to feel good about the decisions he'd made when Wilhelm got to move on like nothing happened and he was back to being alone. 

He shook the thought from his head. Sure, Wilhelm had reasons for doing what he did, but it still hurt people. Simon didn't want to do put somebody else through what Wilhelm was putting him through. 

Well, that's all fine and dandy, but you're going to be alone forever, he thought to himself. He slammed his locker and slumped off to class. Hey, at least they weren't talking about him anymore. He could go right back to being the non-res nobody paid attention to. Marvelous. See that, Wilhelm? I can go back to regular life too. Except that now he was comparing himself to Wilhelm and every person he saw Wilhelm with all the time, and he was always watching out of the corner of his eye for him. "You really ruined me, you bastard," he whispered, the back of Wilhelm and Maria's heads taunting him from three rows ahead. 

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For all of the ranting she and Felice had done about the holiday season, Sara was thinking that February certainly wasn't the most wonderful time of the year either. She stared out the classroom window at the dreary gray sky. At least at Christmas time, there was a pretty frame around it; Christmas lights and parties on New Year's Eve. But once the excitement wore off, the new year never felt so appealing anymore. When all you could see was white and all you could feel was cold, it was hard to feel optimistic. 

It was also hard to feel optimistic when the last three tests she'd gotten back showed some of the worst scores she'd ever received. Her mind repeated the mantra over and over: Pay attention, you have to keep your grades up to keep your grant. The teacher is talking. What are they saying? Stop thinking about paying attention and pay attention. But the teacher's voice sounded as garbled as if she were under water. 

Back in her room between classes, she looked at the most recent test, the red ink overwhelming on the page. She crumpled it in her hand. She was never going to improve if she kept wallowing in her failure. All she had to do was read this damned book.

But the letters wouldn't hold still. Her mind wouldn't hold still. Her body wouldn't hold still. Over and over again she sat, stood, lied down, tried everything she could think of. It was hopeless. 

After nearly an hour, she shoved the book back into her desk drawer, telling herself it was senseless to waste her time trying. But for several minutes after that, she stood in the same spot, her thoughts repeating like a broken record. Do it. No, don't. Yes, do it. No, don't.

Of course, she did it in the end. She reached past the book, to the back of the drawer, the place she was positive she left it, yet it took several tries before her fingers closed around it. She shook the bottle and she shook her head. 

August was gone when she woke up that morning. She didn't need to open the bottle to figure out why. 

The next second, she was storming around her room, throwing things into her duffel bag, the bottle being the first to go in. Anything she didn't deem important enough stayed as it was; the bed unmade, the drawer open, the light still on when she slammed the door behind her. 

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Another day among the rich and snobby stretched out in front of Simon. He supposed the pep talk from Lukas should have made it feel more tolerable, but instead it made the ever-looming fear of becoming one of them all the more intimidating.

Lockers were assigned in alphabetic order. These days, that was the only place Simon saw his sister. If ever there was a cautionary tale about becoming "one of them," Sara was it. Ever since she got her grant, she'd hardly spoken to him. Their mother constantly interrogated him about how she was doing, and all he knew was that she showed up at her locker every afternoon. He did his best to get some details out of her, but it was hard to casually ask your sister if she's been getting enough sleep.

Still, his mother would be grilling him for more information tonight, and maybe he was curious about what Sara was up to too, so he waited. "Hey," he said when she finally dragged her feet up to her locker, duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Hi, Simon," she grumbled.

"I'd ask how you are, but your appearance says it all."

"Shut up. I was up all night studying."

"Great. I'll tell mom you're taking school seriously. That'll make her happy. See you Monday." He turned to walk away.

"Simon?"

He stopped in his tracks. "Yes?"

"Would it be okay if I came home for the weekend?"

"Why would it not be okay? It's your house."

"I know, I just didn't know if... I'd be bothering anybody."

Simon squinted at her. "Are you alright? You're acting weird."

"I told you, I was up late studying."

"Whatever you say. And yes, I think it will be just fine if you come home for the weekend."

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

"See you later."

When Simon had disappeared into the crowd of students in the hall, Sara pulled her phone out of her pocket. She'd only read the preview of the message so he wouldn't accuse her of leaving him on read. It was a simple message from August: Hang out this weekend?

Now, Sara replied: Sorry, my mom wants me to come home for the weekend. See you Monday. With that, she shoved her duffel bag into her locker and went to class.

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Simon stared at his bedroom ceiling, thinking that he should get used to spending his weekends this way. Then again, this was how he spent every weekend until he met Wilhelm.

Actually, it wasn't. He had other friends. Why was he laying here wallowing in his loneliness when he had people he could be talking to? Lukas really was right about the selfishness rubbing off. He didn't even know what Rosh and Ayub were doing. Lukas had even said he was fine with being friends. Why was Simon ready to cut him out just because they weren't a couple? There was plenty he could be doing, but instead he was laying here feeling sorry for himself. Well, not anymore. 

A quick message told him that Rosh and Ayub were at a party at a classmate's house. He rode his bike to the address they gave him. 

Simon had no idea whose house he was at, but he arrived at the party long after any formal introductions could be made. The place was packed, and he didn't even know where to start looking for his friends. The floor vibrated to the beat of the music. Figuring that they would all have to be in the same room at some point, Simon decided to stay put. He poured himself a drink and tried to make himself comfortable in the crowd. Some people were standing in groups, some were dancing, some were drinking, and Simon was just observing. Supposedly these were people he'd once gone to school with, but he didn't see any familiar faces. In fact, there was one face he was sure he'd have remembered if he'd seen it before.

Simon made his way through the crowd to the boy standing alone on the other side of the room. "Hey," he shouted over the music. 

The boy turned to look at him. "Hey."

"My name's Simon."

The boy leaned close to Simon's ear. He smelled like Old Spice cologne. "Elias," he said. 

"Do you live in Bjärstad?" 

"No, just visiting family. We're heading home tomorrow."

Simon nodded. "I wondered why I didn't recognize you."

Elias smiled, unbothered by Simon's awkwardness. "Do you want to dance?"

Simon smiled back. "I'd love to."

And so they danced. The music and the people around them faded into the background. Somewhere behind the fog in his mind, Simon was wondering if this was real. Here was this gorgeous boy who would be gone the next day, looking at him as if they were alone. No painful history, no uncertain future, just this. That was all Simon wanted, and he knew it was what Elias wanted too. 

The next thing Simon knew, he was following Elias up with stairs and into a stranger's bedroom, closing the door behind them. There was no preamble; they set down their drinks and they kissed. Elias' hands tangled in Simon's hair. Simon slid his hands under Elias' shirt. "Not wasting any time, huh?" Elias murmured.

Simon hushed him as he pulled Elias' shirt off, followed by his own. He kissed him again, pulling him in by his belt. Elias kissed him back, allowing his hands to wander from his hair to his shoulders, down his chest and his stomach. He unbottoned Simon's jeans and slid his hand down the front.

Simon groaned. "Wille," the name escaped from his lips before he even realized it. 

Elias stopped. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." He leaned in again, but Elias held him at arm's length. 

"You said Wille."

Simon sighed. "So what if I did?"

"Well, that's not my name, that's all." He tilted his head. "Is there someone else on your mind?"

"So what if there is? He's not here now, you are. I want to do this and you do too, don't you?"

"I do. I just don't want you to do something you'll regret."

Simon laughed, frustrated. "Why do you care? You're going to be gone tomorrow and we're never going to see each other again. Why can't we just be together now?"

"Because tomorrow always catches up. You're just gonna be miserable again in the morning."

Simon sat on the edge of the bed. "Trust me, I know."

Elias smiled sadly. "I hope it works out with him."

Simon shook his head. "It won't, but thank you."

"Here," he grabbed Simon's shirt off the floor and handed it back to him before getting back into his. "See you around."

"See you." Before the words were out, he was gone and Simon was alone in the room. 

At this point, he wasn't okay with waiting around for his friends anymore. He just wanted to find them and get out of there.

When he finally found Ayub, he didn't have to say a word; the look on his face said it all. Without asking a single question, he took Simon back to his house. Over the hours, the details slowly came out. It was easier to be honest with the backdrop of video games distracting them. Ayub just listened.

When he woke up on Ayub's couch, Simon remembered Elias's words. You're just gonna be miserable again in the morning. He had said that to stop Simon from sleeping with him, but it turned out he'd wake up miserable either way. 

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Sara's phone vibrated against the counter. She switched it to silent and pushed it away without looking at the screen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the mug quivering in her hand. "Fuck," she grumbled as it spilled onto her fingers. Simon walked in to find her running her hand under cold water.

"What happened?" he asked. 

"I spilled coffee on myself."

"Coffee? You hardly ever drink coffee."

"I was in the mood for it today. Is that a problem?" she snapped.

Simon raised his eyebrows. "Is someone having a bad time?"

"You could say that." Sara collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. Simon joined her.

"Would you like to share?"

"No," she said decisively. "I'm sure you would, though. Just getting home at eight o'clock in the morning?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately, it didn't end so well."

"Oh?"

"I don't want to talk about it either."

"You were with Wilhelm, weren't you?"

"No," he said much too quickly. 

"You're lying."

"I wasn't with Wilhelm last night," he insisted. She just stared at him until he cracked. "I was with him three nights ago."

"And?"

"And nothing. I told you, it didn't end well."

"Yes, but didn't that happen two months ago?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you learn some way to erase your memories?"

"You're not funny."

"I'm not joking. I was going to ask if you could teach me how."

"Would you please just tell me what you're talking about?"

"The video leaked two months ago. You broke up with Wilhelm two months ago. It was very sad, we were all there. What's changed since then?"

Simon looked at the table. "Literally nothing."

"Exactly."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It was a mistake. It's over now."

"Okay."

"You don't believe me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you don't." Simon fidgeted, restless. "You know, I'd be able to do whatever I wanted if some fucking creep hadn't decided to ruin our lives."

"Simon," Sara said slowly, "You broke up with Wilhelm because you didn't want it to be a secret. But honestly, was it ever not a secret?"

Simon didn't answer.

"I mean, he is the prince. Of course they're going to want him to find a wife someday. You had to have known it wasn't going to end well, even before the video leaked."

"I guess I never thought it through that far."

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "That happens." She lifted the mug to her lips, but she missed her mark and spilled it down the front of her shirt instead. "Fuck!" Before Simon could comment, she stood and ran to her room. 

Behind the closed door, Sara struggled with the buttons of her shirt, tears streaming down her face. Finally, she ripped it open, sending buttons scattering across the floor. She pulled open a drawer, sobbing uncontrollably, and made a split-second decision to throw the whole thing on the floor. Then the next drawer, and the next, clothes strewn around the room. The last one landed hard on her foot, making her cry out in pain. 

When Simon finally broke through the locked door, she was sitting on the bed, curled in ball, rocking back and forth. Her face turned bright red as she struggled to draw in a full breath. Her brain felt like it was moving a million miles an hour, much too fast to register anything around her. Not Simon's face or his shouting voice, not even the snapped bones in her right foot. The world spun around her, fast enough to make her feel sick, and she just sat in the middle of it and cried and cried and cried. 

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Sara hardly remembered how she ended up in a hospital room. When she came to, her foot was secured in a cast and elevated. The pain had been dulled by medication, as had the panic, although it had been replaced by an awful heaviness. It took all of her energy to turn her head when she heard the door open. 

"Dr. Spearman, what are you doing here?"

"Your brother called me. He was really worried about you."

An image of Simon's face flashed in her mind, begging her to breathe. 

Dr. Spearman sat down next to her bed. "So what happened?"

"I dropped a drawer on my foot."

"How did that happen?"

"I don't know, it just did."

"Simon said your hands were shaking."

"It was cold in the house. I was shivering."

Dr. Spearman pause. "So it was an accident?"

"You think I threw a drawer on my foot on purpose?"

"I think you've lived a turbulent life. It's not uncommon to see that manifest into self-harm."

"It wasn't self-harm. It was an accident. End of story."

"I believe you. But my point still stands: when children are brought up in turbulent households, they don't know how to function when things are calm, so they create chaos in one way or another."

"I'm not self-harming," Sara insisted. 

"Again, I believe you. But these self-destructive habits can manifest in many ways. As a psychiatrist, my job is to evaluate your situation and give you the best advice I can. But in the end, you are the only one who knows what's best for yourself. Yet sometimes, people deliberately choose what they know is not the right decision."

Sara felt tears prickling her eyes. "I don't need your judgement."

"It's not my job to judge you. As I said, my job is to guide you."

"So what's your great advice?"

"My advice is that you look around at the people in your life and ask yourself why they're here. Which ones care about you and which ones don't? You need to realize who has earned your trust and who has not."

Sara nodded, the tears escaping at last. "I know."

Dr. Spearman nodded solemnly. "I know you've had a long day, so I'm going to give you some space. You can call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay," Sara whispered. The doctor turned and walked away, leaving Sara alone in the room again. 

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Sara raised her trembling fist and knocked on the door before she could lose her nerve. 

"What are you doing here?" Felice asked.

"Can I come in?" Sara asked.

"No." Felice pushed the door, but Sara caught it before it could close.

"Please. I really need to talk to you."

Felice rolled her eyes. "Fine. Make it quick."

"Thank you so much."

"Tell me what you want," Felice demanded, barely allowing Sara to finish thanking her. 

Sara cowered under Felice's steely gaze, but still she made the words come out. "I need you to help me."

Felice scoffed. "Actually, I think you're the last person I owe anything to."

"Felice, please try to understand."

"What is there to understand? You stabbed me in the back, and for what? To get laid?"

"Look, I know you've had your share of lonely times," Sara said, painfully remembering what had happened the last time they'd discussed this. "I do know that. I'm sorry I said you had no idea. I was wrong."

"Yes, you were. And you're right, I've been lonely enough for both of us. But I've never done anything like that."

"Please, hear me out. I know it hasn't been easy for you, but let's face it: this is a place for a person like you. It's not a place for someone like me, and nobody has ever let me forget it. Even if I have a room here now, I'm still the kid with Asperger's. No one sees me as one of them."

"I did. I accepted you. I thought we were friends."

"I do want to be your friend."

"Well, here's a little tip: friends don't go behind each other's backs and fuck each other's exes."

"Look, I know I messed up. Believe me, I'm paying the price for it."

"Good to know karma is real."

"Felice, I'm in real trouble. It's bigger than me, I'm in way over my head, and I need help."

"Okay. Say I help you and pretend like nothing happened. How do I know you won't screw me over again?"

"Because I've learned my lesson. This is my lesson. You cared about me, you were there for me, and I let my feelings get the better of me. I'm sorry. I really, really am."

"Would you be sorry if you hadn't suffered the consequences? Are you sorry because you hurt me or are you sorry because it came back to bite you?"

"You can go right back to hating me afterword. I won't blame you. But I really, really need your help now."

Felice crossed her arms. "And what exactly do you need my help with?"

"He's stealing my medication." Tears streamed down Sara's face. "I haven't had my dose in over a week, and I haven't felt this shitty in years."

Felice stood, mouth agape, at a loss. But as Sara continued to sob, she softened. After all, Felice knew all too well how August could be. She wrapped her arms around her friend. "Well," she muttered bitterly in Sara's ear, "he burned me, he burned you too. Now we're even."

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There was no time to feel glad to have Sara back. There was no room for rejoicing or reveling in their newfound peace. Although she was proud of her for speaking up, Felice couldn't deny that Sara had dropped a bomb on her. She wanted to help her, but how? She'd said herself that it was way bigger than them. Should she call the police? No, that would do more harm than good. August being who he was, he'd find some way to get out of it. That seemed true of any authority figure; whether she went to the police or the headmistress or anybody else, August had the connections to worm his way out of it. 

She sat in the library under the guise of studying, but her book had been open to the same page for fifteen minutes. Sara had told her that nobody else knew about her and August. While she hadn't explicitly said so, Felice got the idea that she wanted to keep it that way. But when Simon walked in, she thought that he may be the only other person who cared. 

"Simon," she called out to him. 

Confused, he strode over to the table. "What's up?"

"I just wondered how Sara was doing," she said as casually as she could manage. 

Already, she'd struck a nerve. Simon shook his head. "Well, her foot will be fine. She, on the other hand, is a wreck, but she won't tell me why. She just keeps insisting that she's fine."

Felice frowned. "That's strange. How has she been acting differently?"

"She just seems worked up all the time. It's weird because she used to be that way when she was younger, but she's had it under control for a while. It's like how she acted before she was diagnosed."

"And what did they do when she was diagnosed?" 

"They put her on medication."

Felice swallowed, contemplating how to steer the conversation to make him realize what she was saying. "Well, I'm sure things are different for her living on campus."

"It can't just be that. She's acting way too weird for that to be it."

"Maybe it's a person. Has she been spending time with someone new?"

Simon scoffed. "Who the hell knows? I've hardly seen her since she moved in here."

"Maybe that's not an accident."

Simon's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You said she wouldn't tell you what was going on. Maybe that's why she was avoiding you; she didn't want you to get upset."

Simon thought back. When was the last time he'd been as secretive as Sara had been lately? When he was dealing their father's drugs. 

The memory flashed in his mind: August approaching Sara, asking about what medication she took. He hadn't come to him once since winter break ended. He must have found another way to get his hands on them. Sara. 

"Fuck," he grumbled.

Felice looked up at him, trying to read his expression. Had he figured it out?

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" Simon cried, and before Felice could fully register what she'd done, he was gone.