Chapter Text
January 2025
Wille woke up with a headache. He had gone to bed late last night after staying awake to go through some sources for a paper that had to be turned in on Monday. And though he had spent hours working on it at the kitchen table long after the kids had fallen asleep, he was still nowhere near finished. It was frustrating.
On top of that, this night's sleep had been rather mediocre. It didn’t have anything to do with the guest room specifically. No, the sheets always smelled fresh and the bed was extremely comfortable, but… Well, he preferred waking up in his own bed. Preferred to grab a shower with his own shampoo - the same kind he had used since he was seventeen - and not a fancy coconut-smelly one.
Good thing he would be home in an hour. Felice had even promised to pick him up, since it was a Saturday and the bus schedule sucked. They had so much work that they needed to get done.
But January had been hectic, with the post-holiday rush and Simon now working on a massive case that Wille knew nothing about. Confidentiality and all that. However, the amount of work-load suggested that whoever Simon’s client was, they had money. Big money.
On his way to the kitchen, Wille noticed that the light in the hallway was turned on. Usually, he was the one to wake up the mansion. However, the smell of coffee and the distant chatter of a voice coming from the kitchen suggested that someone had beat Wille to it today. Strange.
In the kitchen, Simon was talking on the phone, glancing up as Wille entered. He pointed at a cup of coffee on the kitchen table, and Wille sat down hesitantly, feeling slightly self-conscious about his pair of sweatpants now that Simon was wearing a suit, his hair neatly combed back. He must be on his way out.
“No - We need to reschedule. I will not be able to make it. Push it until February, and tell her that she can find someone else if she doesn’t like it that way… Good,” Simon said, face turned a bit away from Wille in an attempt to hide this conversation. Wille just sipped his coffee. It wasn’t hot anymore and definitely stronger than the way he preferred it, but he appreciated the gesture.
Though Wille had known Simon for a year now, hearing him use that lawyer-voice still made him sit straighter in the chair. The first time he stumbled upon the name Simon Eriksson was within his first year of Law School, before the tragic accident that brought the name Simon Eriksson to the public's attention for real.
One of Wille’s teachers was obsessed with Simon, always referring to his court cases in class - especially the famous Westside Case that Wille believed would soon make the curriculum.
Then, the first time Wille saw a picture of Simon, he was shocked. A man, supposedly cold and cynical in court, wasn’t supposed to look so innocent. It didn’t make sense. Those brown eyes and soft curls, skin so smooth that he could pass for someone about half his age. (And yes, Wille had googled him many times afterwards just to make sure he was seeing the right number).
Mr. Karlsson deemed it one of Simon’s strong weapons as a lawyer, saying that people tended to underestimate his skills because of that so-called pretty face. And then, when they least expected it, Simon would strike with an unpredictable move and find a crack they didn’t know existed.
Wille finished his coffee just as the phone call ended, and he raised a brow, trying to decipher Simon’s expression. “So… Thought you would be out of town by now?”
Slowly, Simon pocketed his phone and straightened out the fabric of his trousers. His legs were crossed, and Wille sensed that something was on his mind. With a sigh, he finally said: “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Okay?” It had seemed suspicious that he had made coffee.
“I just got off the phone with my mother.” Wille’s eyes widened, so Simon elaborated with: “Not this one. It was… Uhm, the phone call before that.” Which did not give away any hints as to what favor Simon needed to ask of Wille.
Maybe Simon’s mother was running late. It was nine now, and she had said that she would be here by the time the children woke up. Jacob would probably be up soon and come in to look through the fridge with tired grunts. He could easily eat four eggs with toast in the morning, and his thighs were still about the size of Wille’s upper arms. Boys around that age simply didn’t gain any weight. Or muscles.
“She is at the hospital,” Simon said.
“Oh? Was she called in for a shift, or?”
“No, she… uhm, she broke her leg. This morning. She fell on the ice on her way to the train station, but she’s okay - well, apart from the leg.” Wille could see on Simon’s face that he was trying to minimize this in his head. On top of everything else happening at the moment, he probably didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about it. He should have left the house hours ago to attend meetings, but here he was, wasting a perfectly good Saturday in his kitchen.
It took only a second for Wille to clock where this conversation was headed.
“I know you asked for this weekend off,“ Simon began apologetically.
“No, Simon. No, I can’t stay. I have a paper that I need to turn in on Monday, and Felice is counting on me. In fact-“ Wille looked at his watch. “She’s going to pick me up in twenty minutes.”
Simon didn’t respond to that. He straightened the fabric of his trousers again, a fiddly motion. His only fiddly motion, because aside from that, he always kept his body language and expressions in check. It was one of his lawyer-superpowers: Never letting it show that something was getting to him. Though, Wille was starting to see slightly through that thick facade. And this was definitely getting to Simon.
“I can pay you double,” he tried, a flicker of desperation hidden deep beneath the words.
It was a shitty situation. Simon had tried so hard to plan his way around Wille’s exam. But the kids were not old enough to spend an entire weekend alone, and if Linda was unable to make it, what other choices did he have? The kids needed an adult to make sure they went to bed at a decent time. To cook for them. To tell them to brush their teeth and do their homework.
And Simon was not the kind of person to hire random nannies. Hell, it had taken weeks for him to even allow Wille alone in the house - that was just how he was: A man with deeply woven trust issues, precautions as tall as the hedge around this mansion.
When Wille didn’t answer, Simon got up from the chair. He ran a hand through his combed back hair and looked out of the window. Out onto the backyard, now hidden beneath a layer of untouched snow. Other families in the area would likely be out building snowmen later today, but not the Erikssons.
Last night, Simon had gotten in around midnight. He had poked his head into the kitchen and found Wille working on his paper. They had looked at each other for a moment, both obviously too tired and worn out to start up a conversation, but both also, in some wicked way, relieved to not be the only one feeling that way.
Grabbing a glass of cold water, Simon had said: “There’s some stuff I need to finish before I leave for Gothenburg for the weekend, so I’ll be in my office for a few hours. And… uhm, we won’t see each other tomorrow. I’ll be gone when you wake up.”
“Okay.”
“Just so you know.”
“Okay.”
Then, after observing Wille for a few seconds, Simon had filled up another glass of water and placed it in front of him. “Don’t run yourself dry,” he had said softly, the dim kitchen light illuminating only half of his face for the few seconds that he lingered in the room before leaving.
Now, feeling frustrated, Wille rubbed his face. “Okay, I’ll do it. On one condition.”
“Yeah?” Simon said, voice carrying a hint of hope.
“I really do need to get this paper done, and I can’t do it without Felice. But we can write the paper here and watch the kids at the same time, if you’ll allow her in the house. Though, we’d probably be busy, so we would need to order take-away for dinner. And she would also need to sleep here. She can be in the guest room with me - I just don’t wanna have to kick her out at shit in the evening.”
When mentioning that last part, Simon’s back straightened. “Uhm,” he stuttered. “Felice?”
“Yeah.” Wille honestly couldn’t remember if he had ever mentioned her before. Only to the kids when he had shown them pictures of the outfit that they had worn for halloween.
Wille, as he waited for any reaction to show on Simon’s face, wondered if he had gone too far with this request. In his time working here, he had never really demanded anything. He had always been pliant, easy - not wanting to give off the impression that he was hard work. He cared about whether Simon wanted him around. Whether he liked him. Whether he found him trustworthy and would consider him a good business companion, in case it ever got that far.
Simon turned towards the window again, hiding his facial expression from Wille. “I guess that’s okay,” he said slowly, uncertainly. “This one time.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll prepare the room upstairs for her to sleep in.”
October 2025
When Sunday came around, Wille hadn’t heard anything from Simon. He figured that it meant that there was no change in plans, so he took the bus to the Eriksson’s household at eight o’clock and walked in while Simon was getting ready to leave.
“Good morning,” Simon greeted, voice distant, as if his mind was elsewhere.
“Good morning, Simon,” Wille said, glancing around to see if the kids were nearby. “How are… uhm, things?” He nodded towards the children’s rooms.
Simon swallowed, taking a moment before saying: “Better.” But Wille could hear the undertone to the word: Powerlessness. As if Simon didn’t know what to do anymore.
Wille couldn’t help but feel bad for him for a moment. He had been watching from the sideline for long enough now to see how this constellation was starting to wear Simon thin. Get underneath his skin.
Not because Simon didn’t love the kids, but because he didn’t know how to be there for them.
Wille, a guy who was bad at a lot of things, had learned how to handle his failures. But he had a feeling that Simon was too used to doing everything perfectly, too used to succeeding, to know how to handle this failure.
“They’ve both got homework for tomorrow,” Simon informed, adjusting the collar of his long woolen coat. Such a typical Simon-approach for whenever the conversation got a tad harder. He smoothed out the front of the coat with his hands, making sure everything was in place, likely thinking the bumps of this weekend’s mistakes could disappear just like that as well. “There are some leftovers in the fridge. Nothing fancy, just… a quick something. Maybe if you throw in a few more vegetables, it’ll be enough for dinner. Jacob is hanging out at a friend’s house for a few hours, anyway, so he won’t be home before eight o’clock.”
“And Jenny?” Wille asked, making Simon look momentarily uncomfortable.
“In her room,” he stated.
On the tip of Wille’s tongue rested words like: Did you talk to her? Did you tell her that you love her, and that you’re here for her? Did you figure out yet that she started her period, and that she’s likely hiding away because she’s too embarrassed to tell anyone?
Wille didn’t want to blurt out these questions. He was not entirely sure why, but whenever it came to Simon, he often found himself holding back, swallowing away his curiosity.
Besides, Simon already had a lot to worry about, and Wille didn’t want to put more stuff on his shoulders. So it was probably better that he handled this situation on his own. He was a grown-up, he could do it - though the mere thought of having ‘the talk’ with Jenny was giving him palpitations. Luckily, he came as prepared for this moment as any man could ever get.
For another moment, Simon lingered by the doorway. It was obvious that he wanted to stay behind, instead of leaving.
Wille didn’t know the details of Simon’s current work case, since most clients demanded utter confidentiality - so all Simon had given in regards to it was: ‘I have work out of town these days’, or, ‘My weekend is packed with meetings’. But from time to time - like now - Wille secretly wondered if Simon really couldn’t cancel his appointments, or if he didn’t want to cancel. If he was hiding away in his work load, because this life was scaring the shit out of him.
“Make sure they get to bed at a decent time. And don’t wait up for me - I’ll be home late,” Simon informed as he reached for the door handle.
—-
The day before, Wille and Felice had gone shopping together. It had been a rather uncomfortable experience for Wille.
Scrolling through the store with multiple other customers within earshot, Felice showed him different hygiene products. “You see, this one is for the heavy-heavy bleeders. Like, can’t-go-to-bed-without-waking-up-in-a-blood-bath bleeders,” she explained, waving a pack of something in the air.
“Hmh,” Wille hummed.
“I used to wear these before I got my IUD. Fuck, it was a nightmare, I bought new sheets all of the time in those years.”
“Hmh,” Wille, once again, hummed.
She moved on to the tampons, squatting down to pick out a few boxes. “You’ve got the heavy-flow ones here,” she explained. “And the normal-flow ones here. This one has an applicator so you won’t get blood all over your fingers.” The look on Wille’s face made her laugh, and she held up the other box. “Yeah, it sounds wild, I know. But with these, you literally gotta push that thing up there with your bare fingers. Like, you just put the tip inside, and then you fucking shove it up as if-”
“Weren’t tampons off the table?” Wille interrupted, before the image of Felice shoving stuff up her vagina became imprinted to his mind. The look in her eyes clearly gave away that she had seen right through him, and she shook her head with a smirk.
“I’m just trying to teach you something. I gotta prepare you, so you can teach Jenny.”
“Right. Amazing. I have to teach a thirteen year old girl that some tampons need to be shoved up...” Wille trailed off, not feeling like he was capable of finishing this sentence. There it was again, that uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Where did he go wrong in life to end up in this situation? The least he had expected was for a talk like this to come many, many years into the future, and not while he was only twenty-seven.
Felice had already picked out something new. “Okay, we’ll buy these two boxes of pads. Just give her both of them. Tell her that this one is for when she’s in the beginning of her cycle-” She handed one over. “And this one is for the end of her cycle.”
“Her cycle?”
Rolling her eyes, Felice said: “Jesus, Wille, you really know nothing about periods, do you? Come on, let’s get back to my place, I’ll catch you up on it.”
However, despite Felice’s thorough preparations, Wille was still out of his own body nervous to bring up the topic. It was a gift sent from above that Jacob wouldn’t be home - having this talk with Jacob nearby would be ten times as awful.
He spent a little while pacing the hallway in front of her room, wondering how to say it. Then he decided on a different approach and began making pancakes and hot chocolate, figuring that food was a good way to draw her out of her room and make her happy.
Pancakes on the table, hot chocolate in the cups, pads ready in the bag right beside Wille’s chair, Wille finally knocked on her door.
“I’m busy,” she called, before he could get around to telling her about the pancakes and the hot chocolate. He decided to open her door ajar anyway.
“Hey,” he said, making sure not to look inside. Frankly, he didn’t know the first thing about periods, and maybe she was… uhm, well, whatever girls did when they were on their period. “It’s just you and me in the house today. And I made pancakes, if you want some?”
There was a second’s hesitation, then the sound of her feet padding over the floor, before the door was opened fully.
She was in the middle of reading a book. The fault in our stars, the title read. Her hair was wild.
“Okay. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Great,” he said. Then the door was shut in his face with force. Wow.
It took ten minutes, and Wille’s palms were sweating so bad by the time she came back out. She had changed into regular clothes and put her hair into a ponytail. And used about half a bottle of the Taylor Swift perfume that her grandmother had gotten for her, that much was obvious by the smell.
The only experience that he had with puberty was his own one, and he surely remembered how it had hit him like a train out of nowhere. He had woken up one morning, smelling like fucking death - and Erik had given him a deodorant and told him to put it on every single morning.
Was it the same with girls? Felice hadn’t mentioned anything about that.
They ate the first few pancakes in silence, while Wille’s mind was a blur of: Do it, say it, ask her, don’t be scared, it’s not that hard. Simple words. It’s just blood.
Gah.
“So…” he said eventually. He cleared his throat, and she looked up with a raised brow. “Thirteen years old, huh?”
What a fucking stupid thing to say, he thought to himself. She seemed to think the same, because now she frowned, making a sound that resembled a snort as she stuffed another bite into her mouth.
“Such an eventful year,” he continued like a fucking idiot.
“Totally,” she said ironically around a mouthful, not catching on to where Wille was trying to guide this conversation. Maybe this approach wouldn’t work. Maybe he just needed to rip off the band aid and put it out there. That was how Felice’s mother had done it back in the days, catching Felice off guard by saying: You know, when I was around your age, I started to bleed from down there. It will happen to you too, and it is completely natural.
Fucking god, Wille was cringing so hard from thinking those words.
So he put down his cutlery with shaky hands, needing his full concentration for this. Here goes nothing. “It’s funny, actually. Because when I was your age-... or, I mean, when people were your age. Some people. Not all people, but… yeah. People that aren’t like me. I mean… uhm, girls. When girls were your age.” His mouth was open around the words, and Jenny had stopped chewing to listen. She still had no idea where this was going, making a face that stated her confusion.
“So when girls were girls?” She asked, and it did really sound stupid when she put it like that.
“Exactly,” he said, exhaling slowly to calm himself down. So far, so good. But wow, this was hard. And why the fuck was his heart racing like he was running a damn marathon? He tried to go through the sentences that Felice had said yesterday about how to bring it up. Don’t make it about her specifically. Talk about girls in general.
Jenny made a hand gesture. “So did you have a point? Or are you just being weird?”
“Right. I did have a point. Let me just think of how to word this.”
She pushed her chair away from the table, drying off her hands in her sweater. “Well, fine. I’m going to the bathroom while you think, then.”
She disappeared out of the kitchen, and Wille facepalmed as soon as he heard the bathroom door go. Great. He should have given her the pads before she went to the bathroom. Felice had explained to him yesterday that a lot of girls used toilet paper the first few months of their periods, too scared to ask for real products. He didn’t want Jenny to have to do that.
Groaning, he pulled out his phone. Talk is not going as planned. She’s in the bathroom now, what do I do?
Just get it over with. And stop being so awkward about it, it’s not going to help, came Felie’s answer a few seconds later.
She was right. If he was handling it like this, acting like it was a big fucking deal, then he couldn’t expect for her to act all natural about it. He needed to set an example, to show her that he was not scared of talking about it.
So he shoved his awkwardness back down and took the pads out of his bag, walking towards the toilet with decisive steps. However, as soon as he was in front of the door, his determination wavered again. For fucks sake, he was a grown ass man, and he was scared to talk about a little bit of blood? It was crazy.
Stop thinking, and fucking do it, he reminded himself and knocked. “Are you in there?”
“Uh, yeah. I just told you,” was the response. Right - it was quite weird of him to follow her to the bathroom, if he didn’t actually have a purpose being here.
Eyes scrunched together, hands tight around the pads, he asked: “Is there something you need?”
“Can we talk when I’m done peeing?” She asked, a grain of annoyance in her voice now.
“I mean, is there something you need in there? Something… cycle-related?” Wille said with a shaky voice. Oh god. He really hoped that she knew what a cycle was, because otherwise this question didn’t really make sense. Wille was pretty sure, though, that the concept of menstrual cycles wasn’t basic knowledge, so he elaborated with an awkward: “Or, uhm… blood-related. Blood-product related. To help with, uhm… personal girl things.”
Silence. Utter silence.
Well, this was awkward, wasn’t it? Much more awkward than when Wille’s father had tried to talk to Wille about condoms back in the days. It was not too long after Erik’s death, and Wille - being a teenager who was well aware of the concepts ‘sex’ and ‘protection’ - had thought for the entirety of the thirty seconds conversation: God, I wish Erik had been alive to talk to me about this instead. He would have done it much smoother.
Jenny was likely thinking the same thing right now about her mother. About how she would have preferred to have this conversation with her, instead of Wille. And that thought made his heart drop.
“Jenny?” He asked. Still no answer, and with a split second decision, Wille decided to retrieve from this awkward situation for both of their sake. “You know what, nevermind. I’ll leave you to it.”
As he walked back down the hallway with burning red cheeks and the pads still in his hand, he regretted having tried to take this upon his shoulders. Making sure the coast was clear, he pulled out his phone and sent a panicked text-message to Felice that read: Okay, change of plans. I need you to talk to Jenny instead. Let’s just make sure that Simon doesn’t find out about this… How soon can you get here?
It turned out she could get there in only fifteen minutes. Wille hurried to get the door, and Felice asked: “Okay, where is she?”
“Hiding in her room. I hope she’s not - I mean, do you think she’s embarrassed, or?”
Snorting, Felice yanked the pads out of Wille’s hands. “Of course she’s embarrassed, Wille. This is literally the end of the world when you’re thirteen.”
Wille somehow appreciated the seriousness that Felice brought. It made him feel less like a failure for not having the skills to handle the situation.
She looked around. “And Jacob? Where is he?”
“At a friend’s house.”
“Good.”
Wille was pretty sure that Jacob was going to be disappointed when he heard about Felice being here while he was out. But that headache was for tomorrow.
Felice had only been at the mansion twice, but that was more than enough for the kids to absolutely adore her. The first time was back when Wille and Felice had to work on that important paper, the second time a few months later when she got dumped by the shittiest guy in the world. August.
It had been such a dilemma for Wille when she had texted him, feeling bummed out. So he had pulled the kids aside to say: “Remember my friend Felice? She is feeling a bit down today, so I told her that she could come here and hang out with us. I think that would cheer her up a bit. But you know Simon, he’s not a fan of guests, so… could we keep it between us?”
“Felice is coming over?” Jacob had asked with sparkling eyes, while Jenny had gotten up quickly with a statement of: “I have face masks in my room. I’ll get them right away.” (Apparently some heartbreak-trick that she had read about in one of her girl magazines.)
Felice began walking down the hallway now, and Wille - not sure where to put himself - followed her a few steps behind.
“No,” she said, turning around. “Go be somewhere else for a bit. It’s better that I do this alone.”
And when Felice told him what to do like that, with her confident voice, Wille could do nothing but obey. He managed to catch a glimpse of her as she knocked on Jenny’s door, disappearing inside with a soft smile.
Yeah, Jenny was in good hands. Meanwhile Wille would just be in the kitchen, feeling absolutely horrified about his own awkwardness.
“Such an eventful year…” went through his head on his way there, making him cringe so hard over himself. Jesus. Hopefully, that was the last time that he ever had to do that.