make it easy | young royals ✓

thirty

Her eyes dig into mine accusatively. "When you left."

"It's not like I had a choice," I defend myself. Did she think I wanted to leave willingly? That I was the one making decisions for myself? Did anyone know how I told him I loved him and got nothing but empty sentences in return?

"You didn't know what he was like," Sara argues.

"And you thought I wasn't feeling the same?"

She shrugs. "Well, I don't know?"

"Don't blame me for this, Sara. Have you forgotten what you've kept from your own brother?"

"I made a deal with August."

"Why would anyone in their right mind make a deal with August?"

"You don't have any idea what it's like being someone different," Sara narrows her eyes, and I falter a bit. "We couldn't even afford to board like everybody else, it's like we're outsiders. Anyway, why didn't you tell Simon then? If it was such a big deal because I betrayed my brother like what you're saying - then you're worse than me," she challenges.

When I don't reply, she continues.

"You were a coward, Wilhelm. My brother deserved more."

"Maybe you should go," I say suddenly, unable to meet her eyes because of the sudden pang of anger and emptiness that's starting to affect me. I don't want to argue with her anymore, not when she doesn't even know what she's saying.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"It's okay."

"I'll see you on the Italy trip," her voice is softer now.

"Yeah." And the door clicks shut.

***

When I was younger, the greatest unsolved mystery of the universe at the time was whether the light inside the fridge dims when I close the doors. I distinctly remember holding the grey doors with precision, my face against the cold surface, eyes open to peek between the cracks to uncover whether the light turned off when I closed the door. Spoiler alert, they did.

I grab the only thing available on the shared kitchen counter in the Forest Ridge house. It's a little past twelve at night, and I found myself hungry after all the packing and useless arguments. It's a Saturday night, and most boys are in the common room having a drink or two discreetly because getting caught by the teachers is the last thing August would want to happen.

"Wille!"

Turning around from where I'm leaning against the counter, I spot Simon poking his head around the door curiously. I wave, my mouth full of the plate of the cookies someone hoarded from breakfast this morning.

"What are you doing here?" Simon proceeds to ask, and he appears to be fresh out of the shower because his hair is still dripping droplets of water.

"I can ask you the same thing." I debate if I should tell him about my conversation with Sara, but he seems to be in a brilliant mood at this moment and I don't want to selfishly ruin it.

He approaches where I'm standing and takes a cookie from the plate. "I thought you were in the common room and I was going to go find you."

"So you missed me."

"Maybe."

Our shoulders deliberately touching in the dim light of the kitchen, our conversation brings my mind away from the darkness it was drowning in. Talking to him is effortless, exciting, and as I turn to kiss him, someone abruptly interrupts us.

"What the fuck?"

"August?" My expression reeks of horror and annoyance. When will this guy leave us alone? It's like he has installed spy cameras across campus, and his favourite pastime hobby is running into Simon and me.

"Now wait a minute," August rounds on him much to my surprise, pointing an accusing finger towards Simon's chest. "You aren't supposed to be seeing him."

"You know about it?" I direct his attention back to me, bubbling with anger that my mom will confide in my cousin more than anyone like he hasn't tried to ruin my life once.

"Of course I know about it," he sneers, almost gloating when he looks between the two of us.

I take a step forward. "You can't say a word to her, I swear."

August looms over me, his arms crossed like an indignant child. "What's stopping me?"

"Aren't you done being obsessed with us?" Simon interrupts, looking like he's completely done with the situation. I can feel his anger coming in waves, the built-up of every injustice not only August has done but my family also.

"I'm protecting you, I'm protecting this family." August tries to justify, and he reaches forwards. For a wild moment, I thought he was going to hug me or punch me, but instead, he's grabbing the plate from the counter behind us.

I scoff at his indifference. "I might've believed you before you tried to ruin my life."

"That was just a mistake, Wille."

"I guess it'll be a mistake when I show the headmistress all the things you've been getting up to in your secret society," the words erupt from my mouth before I can stop them.

He seems unaffected by them, and skirts around us to grab the tub of ice cream in the freezer. "Go on, then."

"You would be expelled, you know?"

"You can dream on." He laughs, unscrewing the cap of the bottle and getting a glass from the top drawer before meticulously pouring the liquid in. "Then I guess I'll show you the video of you in that warehouse too."

My heart sinks. "You're kidding me."

"Sorry, when I found out you and Felice were trying to get me kicked out of Hillerska, I had to produce blackmail of my own." He shrugs like it's nothing of importance.

"Wait a minute, you were trying to get him kicked out of Hillerska? Is that why you and Felice hang out so much?" Simon cuts in, his face twisted into disbelief when we exchange a glance.

I hesitate, forgetting that he only has the faintest idea of the plan Felice and I have been planning since early October. "I thought you would want that, don't you?"

"Just because you're angry doesn't mean you have the right to be cruel." He's looking at me like he has no idea who I am. "He probably deserves all that's coming to him, but I didn't expect you to sink this low."

"Well, that's my cue. You guys are welcome to join the gathering in the commons later," August holds up the cookies and the glass of milk with a wide grin on his face. "Oh, and this. How can you say no?"

The silence is filled with the hum of conversation in the other room.

"He's insufferable," Simon's the first to speak.

"I know," I laugh, turning to sidle up against him, catching the glint in his eyes radiating mischief and humour.

"Do you think he bought it?"

"You're a way better actor than I thought you were," I say. "Now he thinks we're fighting and probably thought he won."

"One of these days I'm going to accidentally flip his canoe over and turn a blind eye to when he's begging to be rescued," Simon scoffs, but melts against my touch, his face resting against my shoulder. Maybe the manifold of events that occurred today would've driven us apart months ago, but now we're indomitable, impossible to pry apart.