Blame It On The Boys

Wilhelm has been reading about accounting law for three hours straight when his phone lights up next.

He’s been reading about accounting law for three hours, and he cannot be blamed for what he does next.

simme

Wait so do you have a boyfriend?

Sorry if I’m being nosy

You can tell me to shut up

Ayub is my annoying best friend ignore him

No I don’t have a bf

Wilhelm wants to yell. What does that mean? But he’s in Ångström Library and he cannot become the weirdo prince who yells in libraries. He wants to be the campus cryptid.

He has to reply; it’d seem weird if he doesn’t. After a few different messages typed out and unsent, he decides on:

That’s cool.

That was not cool.

Erik

How do I talk to the person I’m interested in

Just talk to him!

Useless. This is why he can’t ask Erik for dating advice; Erik dates models.

What if I am talking to him?

No response, but he’s fairly certain Erik is up in Östersund breaking ground on a school today. He pulls up Twitter, intending to message one of the anonymous online friends he’s made in the past few months.

Hey Em

How do you know if a guy is interested in you

He tries to get back to accounting law. His phone lights up instead.

??? I’m not em but just ask them out

Wait.

simme

I’m so sorry pretend you didn’t see that

Please I didn’t send that to you

Um sure?

I mean it’s not a big deal if you like guys

I kind of assumed you did because of the Prince Wilhelm fan account

The typing dots appear, and reappear.

Oh is this why you asked if I have a bf

I haven’t online dated before but we can meet up the next time you’re in Stockholm? Over Christmas holiday if you want?

🙂

Oh god is he that transparent!? And what does that smiley face even mean. And wait a minute, Simon is willing to meet him? For a date? This Christmas break?

He can’t melt into the carpet in the library, he has to respond before it becomes even more awkward and he’s left Simon on read for three weeks.

I’d love to but

I don’t know if you’d like who I am in person.

An understatement.

Simon types and deletes for a while, which does not reassure Wilhelm. A message finally pops up.

I mean, that’s true of any date. I might be assuming too much but I guess you don’t have much dating experience with guys? That’s pretty normal too

You could say so.

In general I mean.

If you’re busy with school or family or whatever we don’t have to do anything either. I know break is coming up pretty soon.

Wilhelm does want to say he’s busy. It’d be the easy way out. But he knows, if he says that now, then he’ll always be busy. The entire school year will pass and they’ll never meet.

I’ll be in Stockholm

Yay! Anywhere you want to go?

I don’t know. Somewhere quiet?

What about Djurgården?

Wilhelm grimaces. That’s asking to be spotted by royal groupies.

Maybe somewhere less public? Not a park?

A café?

Not too busy either

Um usually first dates are somewhere more public

I have agoraphobia.

Sorry I didn’t know. What kind of places would you prefer?

Wilhelm feels bad now. It feels like a lie — he really is afraid of crowds, he gets panic attacks being in public, but it’s not exactly agoraphobia. He can’t say, I can’t go outside because I’ve actually been Prince Wilhelm of Sweden the whole time. Even if he does have to say that to Simon eventually. He trusts Simon, overall, to keep things quiet — Wilhelm’s gotten pretty good at judging that over the years — but part of him still worries that Simon will be angry that he lied.

Because he is lying.

I’m worried you haven’t been replying

I really am sorry

If you’re ok with it, there’s a small Venezuelan restaurant. It’s usually closed in the afternoon but I go there all the time and they won’t mind me in there during their break

It’s fine! I got caught up with stuff.

That sounds good. Are you sure the owners won’t mind?

I am basically their adopted nephew now. They won’t mind at all

I am expecting them to tease me for bringing a date though 😅

So they set the date and the time, and Wilhelm starts thinking about how he’s going to get there. What he’s going to wear. How Simon is going to react.

Maybe Wilhelm will take the train. He’ll wear the blue sweater Stella says brings out his eyes, and he’ll get there before Simon. The restaurant door is locked so he stands outside. Simon sees him from afar and turns around right there, and blocks him on Twitter.

Maybe Wilhelm will ask for the car service. He’ll wear a nondescript navy coat. He’ll open the door to a small tidy restaurant. Simon rises to greet him, sees who he is, and turns to tell the owners to kick him out.

By Thursday night, Wilhelm has called Erik in a panic, and Erik has cancelled unspecified plans with his latest girlfriend to drive up the last Friday before Christmas break. Wilhelm wasn’t even aware his building had a parking lot, but Erik’s new Ferrari has found its way there.

“So tell me about this online friend,” Erik says, preparing their dinners for them. Erik never used to cook, but he’s been on a health kick recently thanks to the girlfriend who is some kind of wellness influencer. Dinner is red cabbage salad, baked salmon, and rye flatbread.

“You were right,” Wilhelm mutters. “We’re going on a date tomorrow.”

Erik places two very sad plates in the middle of the kitchen island. “Congratulations! Where are you going? Fotografiska? Operakällaren?”

Wilhelm googled it, and it’s nowhere as fancy as either of those. “We’re going to a restaurant owned by friends of his,” he says.

“Nice,” Erik says, digging into his red cabbage much too enthusiastically for what is essentially rabbit food. “What’s the restaurant?”

“It’s a fast food place,” Wilhelm mumbles.

“Oh, some young entrepreneurs,” Erik says.

“I think it’s owned by an older couple,” Wilhelm says, slathering as much butter as he can onto his flatbread. “I think I should just tell you. It’s the guy I was arguing with on Twitter.”

Erik puts his fork down. A small scrape against the china. “The antimonarchist you were arguing with on Twitter. How did you start talking exactly.”

Wilhelm tries not to cringe. “Twitter?”

Erik heaves the deep, deep sigh of someone who doesn’t want to know. “Okay. Are you sure it’s safe? Do we need to send security?” He pauses. “Does he know it’s you?”

“He doesn’t know,” Wilhelm mutters. “But we have met in person before and he seems normal so I think it’ll be fine.”

“How does he not know it’s you and you’ve met before?”

“It’s a long story,” Wilhelm says, and proceeds to explain as he picks at his cabbage.

“Okay. Alright. I’m going to drop you off in one of the palace cars and stay outside in case anything happens.” Erik collects their plates and comes back with dessert.

Wilhelm takes one bite of the vegan brownies. He’s grateful for Erik, always, but he hopes Erik and wellness girl break up soon.

---

Breakfast is waffles, thankfully. There’s even proper hot chocolate, which Erik must have gone out and bought as Wilhelm only has sad hot chocolate mix in his cupboards.

“I made it from last night’s cocoa powder and your milk,” Erik explains. “I’m going to get a shopping list for Petter because your pantry is pitiful.”

“I’m not going to cook that much,” Wilhelm protests. “Isn’t student life all about eating takeout?”

“Processed foods are bad for you,” Erik says. “You should start cooking more. We can do cooking classes together, you and I.”

Wilhelm agrees, because it is one of the less objectionable brotherly bonding activities Erik has proposed even if it’s only thanks to influencer girlfriend. Wilhelm still holds a grudge over outdoorsy girlfriend and canoeing last year.

The brothers arrive at the palace just after 9 am. It is much too early, so Wilhelm begs off and crashes on his bed and tries not to scream in his pillows. He manages to doze for a bit before Erik wakes him up for lunch. It’s another of Erik’s salads, this one with arugula and nuts, and some cheese and bread.

Wilhelm hopes Simon’s Venezuelan restaurant has some actual meat.

After lunch, Erik shoos him off to the shower without much too teasing or worry. He exits to a soft orange cashmere sweater and a pair of navy jeans on his bed. He didn’t even know he owned jeans. He puts them on without pause, as Erik’s fashion sense is far superior to his (according to Felice, the PR team, and the editors of Vogue Scandinavia). He smooths out the sweater, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

“You look nice,” Erik says.

“Thanks for the help,” Wilhelm says, trying not to blush.

Erik slaps his back. “Always.”

At Wilhelm’s insistence, Erik drops him off a couple blocks away from the restaurant. Wilhelm’s regretting it though, for by the time he makes it to the door there’s a light dusting of rain over his coat and his hair.

He pushes the door open. An electronic bell tinkles, drowned out by the TV playing football behind the bar. There’s some loud swearing at the screen that Wilhelm only understands thanks to Felipe Carlos — of Bourbon and Andalusia, his brain automatically adds. Wilhelm follows the noise to a counter where Simon is sitting beside an middle-aged man.

“Hello?” Wilhelm tentatively asks.

They don’t hear him, too focused on the match.

He steps closer. “Sorry, hello?”

“Oh hi!” Simon says, turning around. “It’s nice — Prince Wilhelm!?”

Wilhelm feels a hot flush instantly take over his cheeks. “Er yeah. Hi. Um. Please just call me Wille.”

Simon turns his head to his older friend, and turns back to stare again at Wilhelm. This repeats once or twice, before the older man stands up and has pushed them both towards a small table in the back with a firm order to sit.

“So,” Simon says. “Not a Prince Wilhelm fanboy after all.”

“Er, yeah. Surprise?”

Simon stares for a split second more. And then he picks up a napkin, balls it, and throws it straight at Wilhelm’s face. “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to search yourself online? Or argue with people on Twitter? And — and —” Simon throws his arms up in the air. “You’re an idiot.”

“Sorry,” Wilhelm says, staring at the vague direction of the kitchen where he’s hoping someone will come to save him from his entire life.

“No, don’t — okay. Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Simon. I’m a first year at KI studying psychology, and in my spare time I sing with the Stockholm Cathedral Chamber Choir and play No Man’s Sky.”

“Uh. Hi, I’m Wille, I’m a first year at UU, studying economics, and in my spare time I. Um. I hide in the library.”

---

Wilhelm snakes his leg across the mattress to give Simon’s ankle a nudge. “Is that a promise?”

“No,” Simon says. “Now log off and kiss me.”