Chapter Text
Wilhelm’s head was spinning. He was speeding through the large, seemingly endless corridors, bumping into a concerning number of people while helplessly trying to find an empty classroom or spot; anywhere would do at that point.
Wilhelm was a university student, on his first year of a long path that led to becoming a translator.
He had just taken a test and he was definitely not feeling so good about it. Honestly, when did he ever feel good at all, with how much everything had been stressing him out?
His vision grew blurrier with each step he took forward, he was losing it all, the voices of people around him felt muffled up, as though his head was stuffed with cotton, his chest rising and falling at an alarming speed.
Too many people, too many people. He wished he could just disappear.
He couldn’t, though. All he could do was sit through another panic attack, but not in front of all these people — he hated being the center of attention. He much preferred to hear their complaints and curse words as he bumped into them while losing his balance, trying to get away from the crowd.
At some point, Wilhelm did get away from people. He had no idea where he was, it looked like he was in a labyrinth with no possibility of finding the exit. He started feeling like he had walked past the same rooms at least eight times in a row, and that could certainly not be the case, since it's only been about five minutes that he's walking.
Wilhelm groaned in frustration and helplessness when his legs gave up on him and he found himself on the floor, his back against the cold wall. His breathing was loud, his head was throbbing and his heart felt heavier than anything else he's carried in his life. His hands found themselves covering his ears, then literally pulling at his golden hair strands. He wanted to scream but his throat was definitely not cooperating and he was glad it wasn't because he wouldn't want himself to be screaming in here.
What the hell, why does it feel like the end of the world?
Wilhelm felt all the anxiety creeping under his skin and tugging at his heart. The test triggered it all but he was now remembering and thinking about things he did not want to think about.
He bit his lower lip, a fruitless attempt at keeping a sob from slipping out when he felt his eyes well up with tears.
He curled into a ball and desperately tried to keep it together — feeling as though he might crumble into pieces at any given moment — by wrapping his arms around himself. His eyes felt like they would pop out, the cold sweat was damping his clothes and for a moment he had lost all sense and hold of reality.
When Wilhelm was about to fully give in to the panic; he didn’t fully understand how or when, but he was brought back again when a melodious, harmonious voice broke the barrier of anxiety that had built around him, to run through his ears.
He gasped, feeling as though someone had pulled him out of the water.
His hand rested over his chest as he rubbed up and down, finally feeling in control again. His ears stopped ringing and all he could hear instead, loud and clear, was the song slipping through his ears into his soul, wrapping his heart with something he struggled to identify.
‘Jag är trött på att vilja ha någon som inte vill ha mig tillbaks,’
(I’m tired of wanting someone who doesn't want me back,)
‘Jag lämnar festen,’
(I’m leaving the party,)
‘Helt fucked up för att du inte följer efter,’
(Totally fucked up for not following through,)
‘Du gör mig dum,’
(You make me stupid,)
‘Du gör mig—‘
(You make me—,)
“What the fuc– that is really not it, ugh,” the sudden voice snapped Wilhelm out of it, making him realize that it came from the room he was rested right next to — the music room, which explained why it was so far away from all the other classes and why the hallway was so empty.
An incoherent, ear-tearing sound came from the piano and he winced, hearing an exasperated sigh and a few curse words he recognized to be in Spanish.
What a mess, he thought, throwing his head back until it hit the wall.
He felt rather confused by all the frustration; he enjoyed the sound of the song, yet quite amused by the very exaggerated reaction.
A sense of gratitude swarmed his heart; what sounded like the voice of a boy behind the door had miraculously saved him from his own demons. He giggled under his breath hearing the sound of the mysterious, chaotic singer pacing around the room and then furiously flipping through the pages of God knows what.
There was a moment of silence right before the piano played again, but this time, there was no singing.
Wilhelm loved the piano, he had taken lessons when he was younger, and fallen deep in love with its sound.
He brought his knees to his chest, feeling comfortable under the melody that was playing, then pulled his notebook out of his bag to scribble some words, a few doodles here and there, with his lips curled into a small smile. He felt as though the singer was keeping him company through one of his loneliest moments; which he later found to be a rather pathetic feeling. His breathing slowly regulated, his eyes red rimmed after he had swallowed the tears back in, his hair was a mess and he felt sticky under his clothes. Though, that was okay.
That was what he felt right there — that everything would be fine, even though it felt like the end of the world a few minutes ago.
That was helping him calm down so he sat there for a number of minutes, not so excited about the idea of heading home after all, but decidedly living the moment; the disaster that had brought him here turning into a relaxing break for him to write, under the fingers of a stranger in the music room pressing over the keys of his favorite instrument.
That was not something he'd ever imagined happening to him, but he didn't mind it.
-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-
“No, no, no, no! Where is it? It has to be here!” Wilhelm’s voice echoed against the walls of his ridiculously large bedroom, as he hastily emptied his bag looking for the specific notebook he had pulled earlier to write.
He looked everywhere, alarmed and in a rush to find it but in vain. Even though he had just come home and there was nowhere else for his notebook to be aside from inside his own bag, he still searched all over his desk, inside the drawers, on the floor, on the shelves and even under his bed. His room turned into a mess and he still couldn't find it anywhere.
His day could not possibly get worse than this. He must have dropped it or forgotten it somewhere, most likely by the music room since that was the last time he pulled it out. He honestly couldn't recall a single time through the day in which he could have dropped it or forgotten it. He always made sure to pack everything correctly.
Wilhelm threw himself on his bed, sinking into the mattress with his palms pressed against his eyes. He felt like crying, but it sounded a bit ridiculous to cry over that even though he would be crying over many more things. A long exhale slipped out of his lips as he numbly stared at the ceiling.
He knew that he needed to calm down.
Though, he couldn’t calm down. That notebook had all of his writings, all of his scribbles and thoughts, that’s a whole part of him missing. He couldn’t handle such feelings of loss and emptiness.
It was either gone forever , or someone found it and took it home with them.
Both options sounded horrifying, however, Wilhelm found himself cringing at the second thought; who would want to keep an old notebook full of unnecessarily emotional writings? Hell, if anyone found that, they’d probably throw it away or just flip through the pages laughing their lungs out at the amount of emotion thrown into the thin pages of it.
Oh my God , he thought, feeling self conscious and hoping that nobody would bother to read anything. He’d much rather have it thrown away, burnt into ashes, than for someone else to read something so intimate.
He cursed his anxiety and insecurity under his breath, knowing that he was stupid enough to have sleepless nights thinking about all the personal things he had written and how it must feel for a complete stranger to read that. That would be so embarrassing that it made him feel like peeling his skin off, just by imagining it.
Unfortunately, Wilhelm, once again, had to postpone a crying session to do his homework. It required an impossible amount of strength for him to get up from bed and get himself seated on his desk chair. He immediately threw his head on the surface, feeling as though it was heavier than his body could ever handle, groaning for what felt like the millionth time today — his back was hurting so much, it didn’t feel right to sit for another couple of hours to do homework.
Yet, he did. Music helped him get through anything, even homework after such an overwhelming day, and for a second, he even thought that things had started getting better because he was almost done with his homework and he knew that meant that he could stay up a little bit longer to watch something. Yeah, he thought he could make something nice out of the remaining hours of the day, well that was until..
“Wilhelm!” He recognized his mother's voice, breaking the heavenly silence that the room was submerged in. Flinging the door open, she made him jump off of his chair in surprise.
No, not now, go away, he thought, horrified, his expression completely shifting. He looked at her wide eyed, wondering what he had done wrong today.
“I have been calling you for dinner for the past 10 minutes, what is keeping you from hearing me?” She yelled again, voicing all of her anger, “Do you enjoy making things hard for me? Do you, Wilhelm? The least you could do is keep this door open, how many times should I repeat that for you?!”
Wilhelm, too used to these situations, looked at her and then simply nodded, before getting back to his work, “I’m coming, I just need to finish this off.” He responded, indifference in his voice. He was tired of this happening every single day, he knew that if he tried to explain she wouldn’t listen and would make things even more complicated. God knows just how little energy he had right then to deal with her.
To his misfortune, today turned out to be a bad day for her at work too, she was not satisfied with his reaction; in fact, that reaction almost drove her to madness. She furiously walked forward and he knew something bad was about to happen. When she reached him, he didn't even find the time to look up and face her, before she pulled the headphones off of his ears and literally threw them to the floor.
Wilhelm gasped, “Mam– Mamma?! Why would you do that?!” He shouted back, a hint of horror in the back of his throat. He could feel all the tears he had tried his best to suppress, resurface, “I rue the day I bought you these headphones, they are always glued to your ears, maybe if I destroy them you’d hear me when I call you to eat next time. They disconnect you from reality.” Her voice was cold and firm, fully contrasting what she sounded like literally a minute ago.
She was always like that; exploding, then going back to her composed, harsh self. Wilhelm feared that so much, he hated it. He never knew what to do, how to face it.
His eyes flooded with tears and they spilled, running down his cheeks and blurring his vision. His mother stood there in silence before checking the surroundings, “Clean your room and clear your walls; hanging those foolish drawings and writings is a bit childish and messy. How much more do you need to grow up? How many times do you need me to repeat that for you?” Those words came to him like glass shards piercing through his heart and for a moment he jolted, reflexively looking for his notebook before remembering that he had actually lost it. He didn't know whether to feel relief or sorrow at the thought, because if it were there she would’ve ripped the pages under his watch like she did with every other notebook.
Everyday, Wilhelm comes home hoping that his mom had not ripped everything off of the walls of his bedroom, just like she would randomly walk in on him scribbling or drawing and she would tear everything apart right under his eyes. She always made it clear that she hated Wilhelm, just being Wilhelm. She wanted him to be someone that he wasn't.
Wilhelm couldn’t become what she wanted him to be, even if he had tried several times. He wished that she didn’t care, she was never the caring or loving mother to begin with, so it wouldn't matter much for him if she just pretended that he never existed at all.
Wilhelm was trying to muffle up the sobs threatening to slip as he cried, his sleeves over his lips, “I don't– I don't feel like eating anymore.” He managed to articulate through the tears.
She didn't say anything, she didn't care. She wasn't here to bring him down to eat, she was here to ruin his day.
She left, and Wilhelm felt blue. Her ghost left loneliness hanging in the room and he was angry — though, there was much more sadness than anger in his heart.
He tossed the copybook away then made himself comfortable in bed, reaching for his now, broken headphones on the floor. His nose stuffed from crying made it harder to breathe and his under-eyes swollen.
He didn’t like his bed in those moments, it was ridiculously large, he was practically drowning, merging into the mattress and it made his heart ache. The sheets were cold, just like his mother’s voice, and there was nothing that made him feel lonelier than this.
He wiped the tears as best as he could with the sleeve of his shirt, then turned his phone on. For a second, he almost sent a text to Felice, a friend of his and pretty much the only one he has, to tell her about what had happened but then he stopped himself realizing that he always regretted doing it afterwards and anyway, his friend had a test tomorrow so he certainly did not want to bother her.
He took a deep breath and opened Instagram, looking for a distraction when he noticed that someone had sent him a message request. Before clicking on the mysterious request, Wilhelm's mind started racing, questioning his entire life. He was definitely overthinking this more than he should but who could that be? He barely had any friends and his account was private with a total of 9 followers only. Oh no, had he accidentally been too chatty with Henry this morning? He wouldn’t want to become friends with Henry, he just didn't want to be–
Oh. That wasn't Henry.
‘𝑠𝑒𝑒-𝑚𝑜𝑛 ♪ sent you a message request.’
See-mon…? Simon? Wilhelm definitely never heard of a Simon in his life.
Curiosity taking over him, he opened the chat to read the texts.
| 𝑠𝑒𝑒-𝑚𝑜𝑛 ♪
hi
sorry, i know that we don’t know each other but is this notebook yours?
[picture attached]
i found it on the floor when leaving the music room and it had your insta username on it, so i looked it up and thought it might belong to you
Wilhelm’s eyes widened, the worst had happened and someone did in fact pick his notebook, though he felt so grateful to the silly him that scribbled his username on some pages when spacing out during class.
At least now he could have it back, he felt so relieved he almost started crying again, that notebook held too much emotional value, his whole soul was poured into it and if he was not losing it to his mother tearing it apart then he must not lose it to anything else.
This Simon guy had to be an angel.
Well, if he found it when leaving the music room, he could be the guy who was singing and playing the piano; the same guy who helped him through a panic attack without even knowing.
Wilhelm huffed a laugh in amusement, what a coincidence, first easing the panic with his voice and now giving him back the most precious thing he had in his life after he thought that he had lost it for good?
His lips curled into a smile when he typed an answer.
| ☾ 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓶.
Hi, yeah, it’s mine and I actually was looking for it when I came home
Thank you so much for finding it and then making efforts into finding the owner, this notebook means a lot to me haha
Well, tomorrow by the music room so you can give it back to me? If you're available of course
Wilhelm cringed at himself, ‘this notebook means a lot to me’ ? Ew, Simon was definitely going to think that he was weird. Who gets attached to a notebook?
He anxiously fought the urge to delete his texts while waiting for an answer, and he finally received it.
| 𝑠𝑒𝑒-𝑚𝑜𝑛 ♪
oh, im glad, I could tell it was important while flipping through the pages, I felt bad for whoever lost it
also, sorry, can’t give it back tomorrow because i don’t have classes, maybe the day after? right after lunch break
Wilhelm wanted to die. Of course he had to look into it , how else would he have found his Instagram username? ‘I could tell it was important’ , Wilhelm’s cheeks flushed, God, no, he must have read a few things. He had never felt more exposed in his life.
He had to swallow the embarrassment he was feeling so he took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that he was just being overly dramatic like always, before answering.
| ☾ 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓶.
Yeah absolutely, any day is fine as long as it doesn’t bother you
Sorry for the trouble and thank you again
| 𝑠𝑒𝑒-𝑚𝑜𝑛 ♪
dw, it’s nothing
Wilhelm liked the message before inspecting Simon’s profile, he grimaced when he realized that might’ve been a weird thing to do, but he really just wanted to make sure it was the guy from the music room earlier, and well, also to have an idea on what he looks like for when they meet in two days.
Simon was a boy of darker skin than his and even darker eyes with a bit of glint to them, as though there was a star in the corner of his irises. He had a smile that screamed genuine happiness at your face and made your heart tingle, he was also apparently into makeup and had a very beautiful messy nest of curls sleeping over his head. It was crazy how his hair looked so neat, as if each curl was styled and refined with precision. Somehow, it also looked incredibly messy, with a few hairs rebelling and refusing to follow the curly patterns or stick to a strand of hair.
He was undeniably good looking, he looked like the people that Wilhelm would write about whenever he felt bored during class.
Wilhelm also confirmed that he was the same boy from the music room earlier that day, because he had stumbled across a video of him playing and singing that same song he's heard.
‘traduciendo sentimientos en música 🎶’ was his caption. Wilhelm giggled to himself; taking Spanish in high school was paying off.
That night, the blonde haired boy fell asleep with red rimmed eyes, with a heart heavier than a bag filled with stones, overwhelmed by everything that had happened but eased that he would be getting his notebook back at the very least.