Chapter Text
🎶🎶🎶
@Purepeople
Singer Simon Eriksson followed and surrounded by fans when out and about in Paris. Read more about it here: [link].
@whatevr_happens
This is insane
@simoneriksstan
Have people never heard of boundaries?
@fooltoremainsane
Imagine if random strangers did that to you. He’s just a human being, show some respect and common sense ffs.
@peoplepleaser
@simon.erkssn are you okay??
@simon_sings
I can’t believe some of y’all think it’s actually okay to pull some shit like that.
@simonscurls
Have you seen the video someone in the crowd took? He looks TERRIFIED. And you call yourselves fans?
🎶🎶🎶
“You can’t be serious,” Simon exclaimed, indignation lacing his tone as he sat inside Freja’s – his manager – office, on a Monday morning of all days.
He had no idea how he’d ended up there in the first place. One moment he’d been out and about in the streets of Paris after a day filled with promo for his latest single, because i liked a boy. And the next he’d been cornered by fans outside a bar, the situation having been bad enough to make it onto social media, into the press, and back to his manager’s ears. How he’d got himself out of that situation, he wasn’t sure either. He barely remembered how he’d made his exit, just saw himself running back to his hotel, hoping to lose most of the fans by the time he made it there. And he had made it there safe and sound. So, the current – somewhat formal – meeting felt a little over the top to him.
“Does it look like I’m joking to you?” Freja gave him a look from the other side of the desk. She’d called him just after seven that morning, but she’d probably been up even much earlier than that from her appearance. That and the three empty mugs resting on the desk.
“No but come on! This is –”
“Necessary,” she cut him off, clearly not in the mood to fight with him. Simon couldn’t exactly blame her, considering how early it was. But also, she’d never really had to fight with him. Simon hardly ever caused issues or had disagreements with her. So, they were both unprepared for this discussion.
“No, it’s not,” he tried to disagree, because he couldn’t think of anything worse happening. Well, maybe there were a couple of things worse than that, but it was still not something he wanted.
“It very much is, Simon,” she argued. Her tone was so decisive that Simon was quickly losing any fight he might have had in him.
“But –” he still tried but was cut off again.
“There’s no but,” she said, her tone making it obvious that he wouldn’t be able to get himself out of it. “I’m not asking for your opinion nor your agreement, I’m simply letting you know that this is what is going to happen,” she stated. “We’ve talked about it with the label, and we’ve already found someone.”
So, this had just been a courtesy meeting from the moment it had been put into his calendar.
“But a bodyguard, seriously?” he still asked, though at this point he sounded more like a whiny teenager than a twenty-four-year-old adult. “Nothing even happened, everyone was fine,” he still argued. To what end? He didn’t know.
“But something could have happened,” she said, and he couldn’t exactly disagree with that. The situation had been scary, but he wasn’t about to admit that now. “And no one is willing to take that risk,” she added.
“As if one single bodyguard could have made a difference,” Simon mumbled under his breath.
“It’s a discouragement method,” she replied to which Simon let out a scoff. “It’s working for everyone else; I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for you.”
Simon had nothing to reply to that. He knew bodyguards were a common thing for celebrities to have, but he was hardly famous enough to need one, really.
“Look, it’s not gonna be permanent,” she said, her tone much softer and more understanding than it had been since the start of the meeting. “There’s been more attention on you with the new single, new fans joining in. And with the tour coming up, having someone there to ensure your safety is a top priority,” she explained. “Once things slow down again after that, we can talk about letting go of security, okay?” she asked, though it wasn’t actually a question. Or rather, a question which couldn’t have any other answer than ‘yes’. “But for now, you’re going to have to deal with it.”
“Fine,” he said, the word coming out with a heavy sigh.
“Who knows, maybe you’ll become friends and will want to keep him around forever,” she told him then, her tone a little teasing but Simon couldn’t bring himself to even find some humour in this.
Also, he highly doubted that he’d get along with whoever would be assigned to him. He’d seen enough security guards to know what they looked like and acted like. There was very little chance for him to even develop any kind of relationship other than a strictly professional one with one of those guys. But if that was what it took to be able to go on his biggest tour yet, then he’d just have to accept it.
🎶🎶🎶
Freja gave him two days to wrap his head around being assigned a personal security guard before he met the man. So, for the second time in three days he stepped into the building, taking the elevator up to the floor where her office was located.
He’d barely stopped thinking about the decision from his label, turning the idea around and around in his head. If only he’d stayed in his hotel room that day, nothing would have happened, and he wouldn’t be in this situation now. If only.
He’d talked – complained – about it to Rosh and Ayub so much that they’d stopped replying to his texts. While his best friends understood why he wasn’t happy about it, they’d also been scared for him when they’d heard about what had happened in Paris. Ultimately, they felt like it was a good initiative from his management if it meant he’d be safe. Or at the very least safer. He’d also got a call from his mamá when she’d found out about the events, and she’d been relieved to learn about the bodyguard decision.
So, maybe people were right. After all, they all cared about him personally – even his manager – and just wanted him to be okay. That didn’t mean he had to just accept it without complaining. He still wasn’t happy about it. And if Freja had thought two days would be enough for him to accept it, well she’d been wrong.
But again, he hadn’t had a choice in the matter. So, there he was, stepping out of the elevator and walking to Freja’s office to meet the man who’d follow his every step for the next who knows how many months.
It was fine. Or it would be fine. It had to be.
As he knocked on the slightly ajar door, Simon thought he was ready to meet the other man. Or at least as ready as he’d ever be. But he was proven wrong when his manager told him to come in and his eyes landed on the man sitting in one of the chairs facing her desk.
“You’ve got to be joking,” were the first words that came out of his mouth. Because really, it had to be some kind of joke. There was just no other explanation. He knew he was being rude; he hadn’t even offered a greeting to either of them. But all he wanted to do then was laugh.
He’d expected some heavily built guy, in his thirties or forties, probably a head taller than him, with a bald head and a serious look on his face. The classic bodyguard, if that was even a thing. But the person sitting in the office didn’t fit any of those criteria.
“Simon,” Freja said, her tone sounding both like she was chastising him for his rude entrance while also trying to tame a wild animal. “This is Wilhelm,” she added, extending a hand in the direction of the other man who got up from the chair and turned around to properly face Simon.
Wilhelm then.
As it turned out, Wilhelm was neither bald nor heavily built. And he was very much not in his forties. The man looked about Simon’s age, if not somehow younger. Granted, he still was taller than him – though that wasn’t exactly hard to achieve – and seemed rather serious. But he didn’t seem menacing nor intimidating with his young face and lean build. He wasn’t bald either, though he did have a buzz cut of sorts. The only indication that he’d maybe gotten into a fight at least once in his life was the scar under his left eye – though for all Simon knew, it could have been caused by bumping into a table corner when he was a kid or something.
They couldn’t be serious right now.
Simon was starting to believe he was sleeping, and all of the last few days had been scarily realistic dreams. Or maybe he’d in fact been hurt by the crowd of fans and he was making shit up while being unconscious on a hospital bed. Those two options somehow seemed more possible than whatever was happening in his manager’s office at this very moment.
“Simon,” Freja said once more when Simon didn’t say anything and just looked the other man up and down.
“No, but come on,” he finally said. He really wanted to laugh and had a hard time not actually doing so. His life was a joke. “What can he possibly protect me against?” he asked, turning to look at his manager instead. She opened her mouth to reply, no doubt ready to call him out on his rudeness and lack of professionalism, but the man intervened instead.
“I assure you I am perfectly competent at my job,” Wilhelm interfered. He didn’t even seem to be offended by Simon’s comment. Or if he were, he didn’t show it. His face and tone were perfectly – almost scarily – neutral.
“Sure,” Simon said, with an exaggerated nod of his head. He still had a hard time believing that. And he wasn’t about to just take this stranger’s word for it.
“Considering your strong opposition,” Freja said, having stood up from her seat as well, “I thought you might prefer someone of your age.”
And yes, Simon would have agreed to that not even an hour ago. Not even five minutes ago. But now, faced with Wilhelm, he started to doubt if maybe he’d have preferred a more traditional looking bodyguard to fill the position. This seemed like a waste of both money and time.
When he didn’t say anything in response, his manager let out a sigh before smiling apologetically at the other man. “Look, we can try and see how things go. You’re not leaving for tour for another few weeks. But you’ve got rehearsals to get to and interviews to give,” she said, her tone making it very clear that there was no room for objections. “Wilhelm will start shadowing you to those.”
And fuck Simon’s life. He’d thought – or hoped – that the decision would only be put into action when they left for tour. But of course, it would start right away. After all, he’d simply been travelling for promo purposes when he’d been crowded by fans.
“Let’s give it two weeks, see how it goes,” she continued, ignoring his inner turmoil. “If you still have an issue with him, we’ll find a replacement,” she said, though Simon could tell she’d rather not have to look for someone else for the job. “Alright?” Again, a question that wasn’t actually one.
“Fine, whatever,” Simon replied with a shrug. He knew he sounded not only rude, but also like a conceited celebrity. Overall, not the best first impression to make. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted to get this over with, get out of this office and go home to scream into his pillow.
🎶🎶🎶
So, that was how Simon found himself walking into the studio the following morning with Wilhelm trailing behind him, nodding hello to the few people on the way. His manager had texted him to know about his plans for the morning, and half an hour later his doorbell had rung.
Freja
Wilhelm is outside.
The fact that she was acting as an intermediary between them was ridiculous. But Simon suspected she didn’t fully trust him to let Wilhelm know about when and where he was going just yet.
He couldn’t really blame her for that.
They’d walked together to their destination in complete silence. The only words they’d spoken to each other had been a short greeting out the door – Simon wasn’t completely rude; despite the first impression he might have made on the other man. He’d even held the door to the building open for Wilhelm after walking inside so that it wouldn’t close in his face. See, he wasn’t totally helpless.
“Morning, bro,” Ayub greeted him from where he sat on the sofa in their usual studio, working on his laptop. He looked up to extend his fist for Simon to bump it as they always did, but he froze when he noticed the other person in the room.
“Morning,” Simon replied. He let out a sigh before speaking again. “Ayub, this is Wilhelm,” he introduced them, vaguely gesturing into the other man’s direction. “Wilhelm, Ayub.”
“Hi,” Ayub said, getting up from the sofa and extending his hand to Wilhelm.
“Hello,” the other replied, shaking the hand that was offered to him. He didn’t say anything else, which was fine by Simon. It would make it easier for him to pretend like Wilhelm wasn’t there and everything was normal.
“So, the bodyguard, uh?” Ayub asked with a raised eyebrow, looking back at Simon.
“Yup,” he confirmed with a roll of his eye, which Wilhelm couldn’t see from where he stood a little behind. “Let’s just get to it,” he added, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the couch. “I have to be at rehearsals after lunch.”
“First day today?” Ayub asked, picking up his laptop and sitting down in the chair in front of the console. He turned to look at Wilhelm and gestured to the spot next to Simon’s discarded jacket. “You can sit down,” he said.
“Thanks,” Wilhelm replied. Well, Simon should’ve probably been the one to tell him that, but whatever.
“Yeah,” he replied to Ayub’s previous question instead. “Freja sent me the schedule yesterday and it’s pretty packed, as to be expected,” he explained, taking his phone out to look at the lyrics for the song they’d been working on for the last week or so. “So, I'm just gonna have to squeeze hours in the studio here and there, whenever possible.”
“We should be able to finish this one before you leave,” Ayub said.
“I think so, yes.”
As they got into work, reading over lyrics and discussing the melody, Simon was almost able to forget about the shitshow the last few days had been, and about Wilhelm sitting in the room with them.
Almost.
They were stuck together now.