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sinfulwonders · 4 years

Note

👀

Have a different despair disease Kokichi WIP. This one is near completion, but I just felt like something was off about it and never could figure it out to post it! So now it gets to see the light of day because of this WIP challenge :P

Nothing but the Truth

When Kokichi awoke in his dorm room to the sound of the morning announcement, something felt off. The room felt colder than usual and his head was pounding. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead and stumbled out of bed.

Am I getting sick?

Kokichi made his way to his bathroom and was taken aback by how pale his already snow white skin looked. His eyes looked sunken in, as if he hadn’t slept in days, while his purple locks clung to his sweaty forehead.

“I look like shit…” Kokichi mumbled aloud, frowning.

He staggered back towards his warm bed, but before he made it there he heard an all too familiar sound:

DING DONG BING BONG

“All students report to the gym for an announcement! And that means ALL students!” Monokuma’s voice rung out loudly through the speakers, causing Kokichi’s aching head to throb even more.

On an average day Kokichi spent more time on his appearance than he would care to admit, but today he barely got his shirt on correctly. He cursed the clasps as he struggled. But eventually, the sickly boy made his way to the gym.

At the entrance, Kokichi was greeted by a smiling Maki.

“Good morning Kokichi!!!” She beamed, sweat forming under her bangs.

“Umm…” Kokichi had no idea how to respond to this.

Maki’s eyes got wide with concern, “What’s the matter Kokichi?”

What the hell is this? Maki has never said a nice thing to me; is she stealing my shtick and trying to be sarcastic? Is she trying to tease me? Well I guess I need to teach her who’s she’s messing with.

Kokichi rounded up as much of what little strength he had in his current state and gave her one of his best smirks. He answered with as much enthusiasm as he could-

“I feel horrible, Maki. I think I may be sick.”

What the hell was that? I went in to mock her, tell her I feel *absolutely wonderful*, but that’s not what happened…What the hell is going on?

As the rest of the class wandered in, they suddenly heard a laugh at the front of the gym.

“Puhuhuhuhu!”

Monokuma landed on the podium, and lifted his arms in the air, like a gymnast does after a landing, “Listen up, Kiddos! Back by popular demand: The Despair Disease!”

Popular demand? Well that supports my theory that this dumb game is being shown to…someone... But what the hell is the despair disease?

“Now some of you may have noticed that a few of your friends are acting strange. And some of you may be feeling pretty under the weather by now. Well welcome to your Killing Game Motive! Since none of you have had the balls to kill anyone, we’re gonna switch up some of those pesky personalities of yours!”

“Switch up our personalities?” Spoke up the timid detective, hiding under his hat.

“Yep! Cool innit? The despair disease has a pesky side effect! Besides making you feel like shit and nearly killing you, it also effects your personality! Each effect on a person is different, but as the saying goes: opposites attract! Look at Maki for example! Usually so stoic and calm! But today she’s as friendly as ever! That’s why she has the Bubbly disease! Now I gave you that one for free, but you’ll have to figure out the other students that have it yourself! But watch out, Kiddos. It’s contagious!”

As Monokuma said those last words and disappeared from the podium, everyone took a step back from one another. Only Monokuma’s wretched laugh echoed through the silent room. It was a while before anyone spoke.

Finally Maki smiled and said, “That’s weird what Monokuma said, cuz I feel great! I don’t feel diseased or despaired at all! Guess he was wrong!” She gave a peppy shrug and began to skip away.

“Wait Maki! We need to stick together!” yelled Kaito, the spiky haired boy beginning to follow her.

Kokichi rolled my eyes.

Why couldn’t that big oaf get the disease? His personality is infuriating.

“Kaito is right, Maki. We need to figure out who exactly has this supposed disease…” Shuichi started strong, and then trailed off as the group looked at him. He pushed his hat down a bit to hide a slight blush.

Kokichi caught it and sighed, “What a cutie…” He instantly clamped his hand over his mouth. Luckily, no one heard him.

What the hell was that? Why did I say that out loud? Could this be the despair disease?

Kokichi slunk in the background so as not to draw attention to himself, as the group discussed options and eventually opted to have the infected people be confined to their rooms. Kokichi rolled his eyes.

I really need to keep investigating this stupid place. I can’t afford these idiots locking me up for who knows how long.

Kokichi stifled a cough as they asked everyone who was feeling ill, disoriented, or just different to raise their hands. The boy averted his gaze from the others and did not raise his hand.

“Kokichi said he was sick!” Maki sang, her hands behind her back as she swayed back and forth like an excited child. Her pigtails completed the look.

Oh my fucking God Maki. The one time I want you to keep your damn mouth shut you’re feeling extra ready to share. Just my luck.

Kokichi glared and then quickly plastered his signature devious smirk on his face.

“Kokichi- you don’t look so good…” Shuichi took a step towards him.

“You’re right, I feel terrible!” Kokichi blurted and then threw his hand over his mouth. He had tried to reply with an insult and a vague non answer to the question, but had said what he was actually thinking.

Miu burst out laughing, “Oh man! Monokuma did say it made people the opposite! It looks like Cock-ichi can’t lie!”

Kokichi glared and started to retort back. But he choked his words back and just looked at the ground.

I wouldn’t be able to say anything that I wanted to anyway. This is so boring.

Kokichi looked back up at the group, “I’m going to my room. I’m bored.”

Good, I was able to say that at least. But without my lies…I guess I need to wait for this crap to wear off.

Kokichi took a few steps, glaring daggers at a still snickering Miu, but as he passed her he faltered. He started coughing and he almost fell over. While Miu stopped smiling, Shuichi ran up to the boy.

“Kokichi!” he cried as he helped him up, “Do you need help back to your room?”

Ugh I hate this. I’m so freaking helpless. And of course, Shuichi is the first to come to my aid. He’s always so freaking considerate. Bleh. Boring. I just need to tell him that he can go to Hell.

Kokichi rolled his eyes and spit out the word, “Yes.” He instantly frowned and his eyes shot to the floor.

Shuichi smiled and turned back to the others, “Will you make sure that Maki gets back to her room, Kaito?” Kaito nodded and Shuichi glanced at Maki who pouted, “And actually stays there?” Kaito gave him a wide grin and a thumbs up.

Bleh, I wish I could say anything to wipe that stupid “heroic” grin off of Kaito’s face. Actually, I just wish I could say anything. This is the worssssst.

Shuichi and Kokichi made their way back to the dorms in silence. Partway through Kokichi began to lose balance again, so Shuichi insisted that Kokichi lean on him for support. Kokichi replied with an exhausted nod. Kokichi, being the smaller of the two males, forced Shuichi to lean over so that he could drape his arm around his shoulder. He leaned his body into the taller boy, and they began their journey once again.

He smells nice…

“Umm, thanks Kokichi…” Shuichi stammered.

“Oh god, did I say that out loud?” Kokichi’s face turned bright red.

Shuichi gave the boy a kind smile, “Yeah, you kind of did…”

Kokichi eyes immediately shot to the ground.

Jesus. I must be getting delirious. This is the most embarrassing day of my life.

The two continued, making the journey in a now awkward silence. As they got to the Kokichi’s room, Kokichi wrestled with the key until finally opening the door to his messy room. Shuichi helped the boy to his bed and sat him down.

“Do you…need anything else?” Shuichi looked down at his feet as he said it.

For you to leave!

“I’m hungry…and thirsty,” Kokichi whispered.

Ugh God dammit!

“I can go get Kirumi to make you something! What would you like?” Shuichi exclaimed, excited that he could be useful in some way.

Kokichi blushed at the enthusiastic boy, trying to ignore how cute he looked when he was excited, “I guess…soup.”

“Of course! I’ll be right back!”

The detective ran off, on a mission. When the door shut, Kokichi used the opportunity to let out a loud, dramatic sigh. He fell back and hit the pillow.

Shuichi is the worst person for me to be around right now. He’s a detective. He knows how to get information out of people, and now I can’t even lie to him. Also…it sucks that he’s so damn hot.

Kokichi had been attracted to Shuichi since the first time he had met him. He was a quiet, socially awkward boy, but the aura of mystery that he had around him was intoxicating. He seemed like he was always thinking, that his wheels were always spinning, coming up with new theories about everything.

Has he ever spent any of long periods of time thinking about me? Trying to figure me out?

Not only was Shuichi obviously incredibly intelligent with an eye for detail that no one could match, but the detective was incredibly caring and genuine about his feelings.

He knows the intricacies of the world, and how corrupt most people’s intentions are, and still chooses to wear his heart on his sleeve. It’s…I can’t do that…

As Kokichi was absorbed in his thoughts of Shuichi, the boy in question knocked.

“I have soup!”

“Come in…” Kokichi coughed.

Shuichi entered, carrying a very well presented tray, obviously set by Kirumi. The soup smelled amazing, and when the detective handed it over, Kokichi couldn’t help but take a big gulp.

“Ahh!”

“Oh! It’s still hot!” Shuichi exclaimed, quickly handing Kokichi the glass of water on the tray. Shuichi tried not to smile at Kokichi fanning his tongue with surprise. The Ultimate Supreme Leader looked so childlike and innocent.

As Kokichi gulped down the water, his eyes made contact with the concerned detective’s. He gave him a sheepish grin and reddened, “I should have known…”

Shuichi couldn’t help but let out a laugh, surprised at how strangely adorable Kokichi was acting.

“You have such a cute laugh, Shuichi!” Kokichi exclaimed, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, his face now entirely crimson.

“Th-thanks, Kokichi,” Shuichi decided to take the compliment in stride. After all, Kokichi couldn’t help it, and it was a rare instance where he knew Kokichi wasn’t secretly insulting him.

Kokichi placed the tray next to his bed and buried his face in his pillow.

I wasn’t even trying to say anything and that slipped out! The truth is getting harder and harder to contain! Why is this happening to me??

Kokichi felt his bed sink with pressure. He looked up to see that Shuichi had sat next to the sprawled boy. He placed a comforting hand on the boy’s upper back.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Kokichi,” Shuichi said with a compassionate smile, “But can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”

Kokichi thought about it for a moment. Then slowly nodded.

“Well this disease is obviously very difficult for you. And I’m sure most people would hate it…I mean… not getting a say on whether you give a truthful, untruthful, or even partially true answer…would suck. But you’re really struggling, Kokichi. Why is it that you lie constantly? Do you hate the truth?”

Kokichi pondered, then slowly, logically, stated, “That’s more than one question.” He smirked at his ability to still give at least a partially sarcastic response.

Shuichi chuckled, “Then the first one then. Why is it that you lie constantly?”

Do I even know the answer to that question? I’m sure I did initially, but I’ve been lying to myself for so long that I don’t know if any answer I give would be a truly honest answer.

“To protect myself. Fear, insecurities, feelings… they all can be detrimental. But lies protect you. From enemies, friends… even yourself. Lying is my armor.” Kokichi left his mouth agape as the answer escaped his lips. He knew it was true even though he hadn’t been able to come up with it on his own.

Shuichi nodded in understanding, “Thank you for your honesty, Kokichi.”

Kokichi smiled. He tried to say no problem, but instead said, “I hadn’t even admitted that to myself before.”

I hate this stupid, goddamn disease!

The boy punched the pillow in frustration. Shuichi reached out instinctually and touched Kokichi’s forearm. The boy jerked away from the detective and glared.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Apologized the embarrassed detective, “I’ll l-let you get some rest…”

The boy quickly exited the room, assuming that the other was angry with him. As Shuichi closed the door, Kokichi’s face softened into a regretful frown, and he let a quiet word escape his lips.

“Stay…”

----------------

Kokichi awoke with a start. He tried to jump up, but then the previous day’s events hit him like a truck. Or that was possibly the feeling of his head pounding. The sick boy recalled the illness that had befallen the group of students, effecting him and Maki, at the very least. He also recalled the unusual interaction with Shuichi and his face flushed.

He probably thinks I hate him. Well… that’s actually a good thing for both of us. But still, it bothers me if I made him sad for no reason. And it pisses me off that it bothers me!

Thinking about that made Kokichi’s face turn an even darker shade of red. It was in that moment that he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Kokichi silently groaned at how friendly his voice sounded.

Shuichi opened the door slowly, “You s-sound like you feel better.”

As he entered he saw Kokichi’s extremely red face and his eyes widened.

“Did your fever get worse?” He ran over and placed his hand on Kokichi’s forehead, “You feel really warm!”

He suddenly backed up several steps, “I’m sorry! I didn’t m-mean to invade your personal space. I was just w-worried.”

“I don’t mind it when it’s you, Shuichi.”

Great. Thanks despair disease. Wording my answer like some stupid school girl with a crush. Appreciate that.

Luckily for Kokichi, Shuichi didn’t read too much into it and just sighed in relief, “That’s good to hear,” he paused and presented an embarrassed smile, “I felt bad about yesterday, and came to apologize.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, I was irritated with the disease,” Kokichi sighed.

That wasn’t too bad. That was along the lines of what I actually wanted to say.

Shuichi smiled wider, “Oh good!” he then backtracked, “Oh not good that you were irritated! It sucks that you are dealing with the despair disease! But good that we’re… good!”

Kokichi smiled weakly as he listened to the nervous boy’s ramblings. His head pounded more intensely as ever, and before he knew it, he fell back into his pillow and fainted.

As he drifted into blackness, he heard the boy exclaim in nervous confusion. He replied to quell his fear, or at least he tried.

“You’re so cute…when you’re worried about…me.”

------------

Kokichi was pulled back to the land of the living when he felt a sudden cold sensation on his head.

“Ah!”

“Oh he’s awake. Splendid.”

Kokichi opened his eyes to Kirumi’s face in front of his own.

“Aww. You’re not Shuichi.” Kokichi face flared red as the words escaped his lips.

“Oh, I’m r-right here... Kokichi,” the detective pulled his hat in front of his face to hide his blush as he answered.

Kirumi seemed unfazed by the interaction, “Keep the cold washcloth on his forehead and change it every few hours. His fever has gone down a bit. Now I must go help tend to Angie. Himiko and Tenko are having a difficult time.”

Shuichi thanked her as she left.

“So it is spreading after all?” Kokichi asked, with genuine curiosity.

“Y-yeah.”

“Well you should go so that you don’t catch it,” Kokichi said matter-of-factly.

And so I don’t say anything embarrassing. Stupid, cute Shuichi. This is all his fault.

“Do you really want me to go?”

Kokichi shook his head yes while his mouth said, “No…I’d like you to stay- UGH!”

Kokichi covered his eyes with his forearm and with an exasperated sigh said, “I hate this place. You know that? I hate it so much. I just want to go home.”

Shuichi gave the small boy a caring look, “You always act like you’re enjoying the killing game. Being here. I guess it makes sense that that would be a lie.”

“Yeah. Who would ever want to play a game that you’re forced to play?” He sat up and pouted at Shuichi.

The sight made the detective grin, “Well, the good thing is that you look like you feel better than yesterday!”

Kokichi placed his hands behind his head and leaned against his headboard, “I do feel better. Still can’t lie though! Neeheehee”

It’s not as clever or eloquent as what I was going to say, but I’ll take it! As long as I don’t say anything else embarrassing about Shuichi, I should be good!

“It’s good to hear your laugh again, Kokichi,” Shuichi grinned, “Now can I do anything for you?”

Ugh his smile is so sexy. Ignore it. You’re hungry right? Ask for some soup, Kokichi.

“You can kiss me!” Kokichi exclaimed.

That is not soup! Oh my fucking God, that’s not soup at all. Fuck fuck fucking shit fuck-

Shuichi leaned over and placed his lips on the supreme leader’s own, blushing all the while. It was just a second long peck, and then the detective pulled away and quickly pulled down his hat lower than either one of them thought it could possibly go.

“W-why did you do that, Shuichi?” A bewildered Kokichi stuttered.

“…Well you did t-tell me to…” Shuichi replied.

Kokichi frowned, “That’s so not a good answer.”

“It just made m-me so happy.”

“What?” Kokichi looked up in surprise. He saw that Shuichi eyes were wide and honest.

“The d-disease. I was so thrilled that you would have to tell the truth, because I could finally figure out what you really thought of me. I like you, Kokichi. You’re…fascinating. And then when you told me to kiss you…but you probably didn’t even mean to. I’m such a selfish person. You’ve been suffering and I’ve been taking advantage of that. I just w-wanted to be around you.”

A single tear rolled down the boy’s face. Kokichi reached out and slowly removed the detective’s hat to discover a messy mop of navy hair underneath. He also finally got a full view of Shuichi’s eyes.

They’re beautiful. From under the hat they looked grey, but as the florescent light hit, they shone a strange mix of silver and gold.

Kokichi reached out and wiped away the tears flowing from those eyes. He then leaned over and kissed the shaking boy’s lips. It was gentle and warm, very unlike Kokichi’s regular demeanor.

Shuichi’s eyes widened and he kissed back. He broke it again and stammered, “B-but…”

“Shuichi. I am so happy you’re here. And I’m actually happy that I had to tell you the truth. But I’m happiest of all that you kissed me.”

I had no intention of being this honest with him. I had no intention of being honest with him in the slightest. But in this case, the truth…it wasn’t so bad.

Shuichi grinned and tackled the smaller boy.

“Ugh, I am still sick, ya know!”

The two giggled and Shuichi planted a kiss on the ultimate supreme leader.

#oumasai #saiouma #omasai #saioma #danganronpa #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #wip #ask meme

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 6 years

Text

Cleopatra

Warnings: angst Word Count: 1.5k Pairing: Sam x Reader A/N: After listening to the album of the Lumineers and looking into its backstory, my heart was so broken I just had to write something. Mostly inspired by THIS song. Special thanks to @queen-firefly for being amazing and helping me. This is an AU. I’d love to hear what you have to say about it :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

Sam AU

Sam gazes distantly at the traffic because the girl in his back seat looks so much like her. He can’t stand it. His heart hurts. Like, physical pain. So he lets his eyes get stuck on the black Sedan in front of him, reading over the license plate repeatedly like a broken record, as if, maybe, if the letters and numbers engrave themselves in his brain, he’ll forget the images of her. But he can’t help to glance back at the girl now and again and daydream of the first time she slid in the leather seat with a bright, thankful smile on her face. God, that girl is wearing similar colors as well. What could the chances possibly be? Same khaki jacket, same blue jeans, same red lipstick. Fuck, and the traffic is stuck he can’t not make a conversation.

He remembers wearing his all-black, cheaply lent suit, blurry eyes leaking tears. His arm was on the window, hand holding his head while the other white-knuckled the steering wheel, stuck in traffic as he is right now. Images of the black, closed casket, images of his brother and small family gathered around dug out dirt, images of fallen red roses on dirt. He was hurting back then too, mourning a loved one, until someone knocked on the window. It was her. Crap, he knew he shouldn’t have gone to the funeral in his damn taxi. She pleaded a ride, promised her destination was close and begged some more until he said fuck it and waved her inside. Better to shove down and ignore the pain rather than deal with it.

She slid in his taxi smoothly, thanking him repeatedly. He fell in love with her that day. He didn’t know it yet, but he did, enamored by the way dimples formed beside her mouth, dazed by her eyes that were sprinkled with stardust and wonder. She made him smile the same day he put his father in a casket, six feet under.

He didn’t let her go like that, obviously. He’d be a fool to do so. The memories he created with her consisted of the most incredible, adventurous journey in his life. Cold nights under the stars, warm mornings of glowing smiles, shared breaths and smooth, carefree laughter.

“Why the fancy suit?” The girl in the back asks him and he feels like he was hit by a bucket of cold water. He meets her eye in the rearview mirror. Her eyebrows are raised in curiosity and genuine interest.

“Being a taxi driver isn’t my only job.” He shrugs with a friendly, slightly forced smile.

“And what else do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Shut up.” Sam chuckles. “Why the heck are you driving a taxi then?”

“Because… I love it.” The girl looks confused as ever. “I just…” Sam sighs heavily, her image popping in his head again. “I have a lot of memories in here. A lot of memories made, a lot of memories to be made.” He runs a hand through his hair. “There’s something about driving all sorts of different people around, briefly looking into hundreds of people’s lives. There’s just something about it.” The girl hums and for a little while the conversation dies down. His heart sinks.

The mattress under him is rough, slightly hard and lacks frame. Not that he notices this, Y/n’s body fallen on top of him, comfortably wedged between his legs. Hands trailing up and down his body, ending up under his ear, thumb on his cheekbone, her right elbow beside his head. She’s kissing him, tuffs of hair tickling his forehead. Her waist is small compared to his arms and her hair soft between his fingers.

She trails kisses right there, under his jaw, outlines the columns of his neck in feather soft touches of her lips, before she’s pulling away. Sam’s eyes flutter open, drunk on her taste.

“Let’s get married” It fell from her tongue in a whisper and she has him under a spell with her surreal eyes. He’s lost, he can’t see anything but her.

“Yeah.” he decides “Let’s.”

He’s teared up again. Dammit.

When did they arrive? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t remember. But the girl is thanking him and giving him his money, before she wishes him farewell.

The drive to the airport is short. Before he knows it, the door to the passenger seat is opening.

“Dad!”

“Hey, baby.” He grins, pulling his daughter in a hug and kissing the crown of her head. “How’re you doing?” She’s a spitting image of her mother and as they drive downtown, her hand in his on the joystick, light conversation is made. Bailey tells Sam of her adventures is art school, excited smile painted on her face.

“It’s so incredible dad, you don’t even know.” She tells him. “Shawn is wonderful too.” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Shawn?” Bailey suppresses a grin.

“Shawn” She confirms. “… My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Sam hides the teasing smirk that’s about to burst on his face.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Bailey slaps his shoulder, laughing mirthfully and Sam can’t help but do the same.

“What’s he like?” He asks and she looks outside with a loose smile. She opens her mouth and starts going on and on about him, about how well he treats her and how sweet he is and how she connects and relates to him. Sam can see the look in her eyes, can see the warmth in her smile. He recognizes it immediately.

“Dad…I…” She looks at him almost teary.

“You’re in love with him” It’s a simple statement that hangs in the air. It takes some time for her to let the words sink in. She nods faintly, biting her lip.

“I think I am.”

They spend their evening driving around and eating burgers on the side of an empty back road, sitting on the hood of the taxi while watching the last hues of orange and pink fade away from the sky.

Night falls and the lights of the car are reflected on the garage door of her house.

“I’ll see you, dad” Bailey steps up to him and wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shirt. Sam holds her tightly against him with his chin on her head and tightens his hold a little more when the front door opens and there she is.

“Y/n?” he blinks tiredly at the darkness. The shuffling stops.

“Go to sleep Sam, I’ll be right there.” Something in her voice makes him highly doubt that, even half asleep.

“What’re you doing?” she’s… dressed. She’s dressed, mounting a backpack on her shoulder. She sighs dejectedly.

“I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving? Hang –hang on y/n let’s talk about this for a mo-“

“That’s what we’re always doing, Sam. I can’t do this life anymore, I can’t-“ she’s crying, he hadn’t realized it till now. “I can’t stay in the same place, I can’t settle, that’s not me. It never was.”

“But what about- what about Bailey? What about us?!” He shoves the comforter off of him, pretending that he hadn’t seen this coming the second the words ‘I do’ came out of her mouth with a second of delay on that aisle. This is all going too fast.

“I love you Sam, both of you. But I need to go.” She walks up to him, pulls his face in her hands and kisses him deeply, so deeply that he doesn’t know who’s breathing for who, kisses him breathless like it’s the last thing she has in her for him. Because it is. She’s gone like dissipating smoke.

Sam never washed the footprints her dirty, worn out boots left on the carpet.

The porch light illuminates her silhouette. She has cut her hair short, grey curls framing her face and she’s wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt like she’s twenty again. She’s still as beautiful as she was and maybe it’s his love for her, the love that never went away, that makes him look at her this way. But he forgives her. Forgives her and understands, even if it hurts like hell.

Bailey lifts the duffle from the cracked pavement, stepping away from her dad hesitantly. She smiles at him one last time, walking towards her mom, embracing her happily with a silent squeal. Sam watches with a small smile as Y/n ushers her daughter inside.

He opens the door to his taxi and before he can talk himself out of it, spares a glance her way. She gives him a small bittersweet smile and he nods her goodbye with a purse of his lips. As she turns her back and goes inside, Sam is left still looking at the door. He looks on, picturing himself walking inside along them with an arm around her shoulders, until the porch light turns off, snapping him out of his trance. With a sigh, he steps back in his car and hesitates for another moment before starting up the engine and driving away, still looking at the house through his rearview mirror, longingly.

Taglists! (Which, by the way, you can Join HERE):

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @easelweasel-deactivated20180103 @nostalgic-uncertainty @twentyoneredsocks @dancerwithapen @mogaruke @superseejay721517 @blackcherrywhiskey @andi-winchester @lady-hawkguy @thosefeelsarereal @superwholockmarauder @justiceiswater

Sam Taglist:

@kymberlytorres

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 7 years

Text

Mystery Man

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5077

Summary: Deciding to be more social, Simon goes to a masquerade ball fundraiser. Based on "shy kiss" to "steamy kiss" request.

Read on AO3

AN: See? I am actually working through these requests! It's just taking awhile. Hope you like it!

Simon

A masquerade ball. What a strange idea. The student union is trying to find more “creative” ways to raise funds. Guess a rich university like Watford can afford to be creative. They’ve rented out some fancy hotel ballroom nearby, got the art department to make masks, the drama department to loan costumes, and for 20 quid a person, you can dance with fellow students. It’s absolutely ludicrous. And possibly fun. I desperately need some fun.

“I can’t believe you’re going to this thing, Simon,” Penny mutters as she picks at her chicken.

“Why?” I say, mouth filled with turkey and mayo.

“Because you rarely go out, period. Plus you’re an awful dancer.”

I shrug. “I just want to have some fun. If you haven’t noticed, Pen, I’m beyond anti-social. Especially since Agatha broke up with me.” I angrily bite my sandwich. It’s only been a few weeks. The wound is still sorta raw.

Penny sighs and hangs her head. “Fine, whatever. Have fun. I’m going to stay home and study.”

“You should go to the library and join Baz. The stupid prick has spent most of his time there since October. He always leaves before I wake up and comes back after I’m asleep.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

I shrug again. “I guess. At least I don’t have to listen to him complain about the open windows anymore.”

We both laugh at that, but quickly fall back into silence. I finish my turkey club in two bites and move on to the cherry scone. As I’m buttering it, I freeze. Something processes through my brain. Penny looks at me quizzically.

“What?” she says.

I point my blunt knife at her. “What do you mean awful dancer!?”

Penny bursts out laughing. We enter a long discussion on the merits of my rhythmic movement capabilities. I argue that jumping up and down does qualify as dancing. At least in clubs it does.

When I get to my room after class the next day, a figure in a grey hoodie is rummaging through Baz’s things.

“Hey what the hell are you doing?!” I yell.

The person whips around, and I immediately relax. It is Baz. With his large, slightly tinted glasses sliding down on his long nose, and wavy black hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. He looks at me with mouth hung open in shock. I let out a long breath.

“Jesus Baz, you scared the shit out of me. Since when do you come in here?”

Baz pulls the large hardcover books into his chest. “Sorry to disturb you with my presence, Snow,” he mutters in his small voice.

Baz Pitch is a very weird guy. He’s always so pulled in and bent over. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him stand at his full height. (He’s going to be a hunchback by the time we graduate.) He rarely talks to me, just stares and looks away when I notice. We’ve been uni roommates for 6 months, and he’s said maybe a total of fifteen words to me. And all those words have been complaints or insults. So pretty much, he’s an awkward asshole in an oversized hoodie.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Be like that. I’m taking a shower.”

I stomp into the bathroom. I hear Baz scurry away and close the door behind him, then breath a sigh of relief. I’m actually glad he’s rarely here anymore. His presence makes me so anxious. It’s like walking on eggshells around him.

I shake Baz out of my mind. No need for that brain clutter. I have to take a shower, do my homework, and then go to this masquerade thing. I can’t be late.

I’m fucking late. I got caught up watching telly in the common room and completely lost track of time. Now I’m hopping out of the tube and booking it to this silly hotel. God, this better all be worth it.

I stumble through the huge double doors. Trixie, decked out in her fancy gown and fairy mask, is at the table.

“Hi, Simon...” she says.

“Hi,” I pant out, “sorry I’m late. Is... is there still time to sign up?”

Trixie looks down at her clipboard. “Actually, you’re lucky, we’ve got one costume left. 20 quid and it’s your’s.”

I nod vigorously, slapping a bill on the table. Trixie smiles and picks up a suit bag. She motions for me to follow. We go to the men’s room. She hands me the bad.

“Put this on. Mask and all, please. Event starts in 10 minutes, alright?”

“Sure thing, Trixie.”

I’m left alone in the toilet. In a stall, I unzip the outfit. It’s a ridiculously decadent, velvety thing. It consists of a white shirt, grey waistcoat, navy jacket with silver embroidery, matching pants, cravat, white tights, and black buckled shoes. At the top is a the mask. It would cover the area around my eyes, with a little crescent moon twisting out to my forehead. The grey surface and pearly accents glow under the LED light fixture.

“This is what I signed up for,” I sigh.

Can’t take back the 20 quid, I guess.

The room is bustling with fancy dressed people. A veritable sea of fluffy white shirts and ball gowns. Those masks really do their job. I can barely recognise anyone. (Or maybe I just don’t know anyone. God I’m anti-social.) I do notice Agatha, though. Her corn blonde hair is very memorable. He’s in a lovely soft pink dress with a flowery mask. I run away before she has a chance to see me. Yes, I’m a coward, and I’m fully okay with that.

There’s a food table at the back. Not anything fancy, just crackers and cheese and shit. But I’ll eat anything when I’m stressed. I wolf down a few, chewing loudly (Penny always complains about how loud I chew.)

“Maybe you should save some for the rest of us,” a smooth, melodious voice says from in front of me.

My head snaps. The man standing there, he’s... beautiful. I know he must be from our school, but I'm pretty sure I would’ve noticed a guy this handsome. He’s wearing an outfit like mine but it's bright scarlet. While mine hangs off me, his fits him perfectly, outlining his tall, graceful figure. He’s all reds and golds, from his sparkling embroidered jacket to his skin tone. His mask is styled like a dragon. It covers the whole top half of his face, and flares outwards with black and red flaps. Four twisty horns, two big and two small, poke out from the top. His gorgeous grey eyes sparkle with his playful smile.

“Um, you want some?” I say, mouth still full.

He chuckles. It’s as sweet as honey. “No, I’m quite alright. More here for the dancing than the food.”

I swallow my snacks. “Well, I want to dance too, but I’ve recently been informed that I can’t dance.”

“I’m sure you can. Anyone can with a little practice.”

I smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence... hey I didn’t get your name?”

Mystery Man freezes for a second. He looks genuinely shocked. Is it taboo to ask for names at these things? It’s not like I have a point of reference. The shock fades back into his smirk. He leans forward until our faces are inches apart. I can feel my insides twist and turn. His voice comes out as a breathy whisper.

“Isn’t it far more exciting to stay behind the mask?”

I hope this mask hides my creeping blush. “Y-Yeah, I guess.”

He smiles devilishly, showing his shining white teeth. “Excellent.”

“Hello?” A tinny voice rings out of the mic. I look to see Trixie standing at the front, next to her equally fancy dressed (I assume) girlfriend. (Those two are joined at the hip.) “This thing on? Oh goody. Hello everyone, and welcome to the first ever Watford Masquerade Ball!”

We all clap politely.

“Now, we’re going to try a sort of old fashioned baroque dance. Usually this kind of thing is done with 8 people, and we’ve got 24 here, but we’ll make it work. Now everyone grab a partner, no matter boy or girl. Baroque dancing is ludicrously gendered, but this is the modern age dammit. One of you, go line up on the left, with your partner doing the same on the right.”

I guess everyone came with partners because they line up very fast. Most of the girls choose the right, while the guys go left. (Despite Trixie’s effort, heteronormativity wins out again.) I look at Mystery Man. He offers his hand across the table with a half smile. “May I have this dance?”

God I hope my blush isn’t too bad. All I can manage is to nod dumbly and take his hand. He leads us towards the dance floor.

“Who’s gonna go to the girl side?” I whisper.

“I can, if you like,” he replies. “I’m very secure in my masculinity.”

I chuckle, earning a smile from him. “Very well then.”

Mystery Man stands in the line opposite me, along with the girls and the few other boys. I put my hands behind my back and square my shoulders. Sure, I’m terrified, but I’m also very excited. I’m certainly having fun.

“Now," Trixie starts, "this is an amalgam of baroque movements we’ve come up with in the dance department. I’ll guide you through it. Good?” There are no dissenting voices. “Alright let’s get this shit started!” Trixie yells, in true classic masquerade ball fashion.

She hits a button on her smartphone plugged into the speakers. Upbeat violin and flute music starts playing. It’s not exactly the dance music I’m used to, but I can see how someone could move to this beat.

“We start with an acknowledgement. Left side, bow to your partners.”

I watch the guy beside me cross his legs over each other, put an arm in front and on his back, and lean forward. I quickly copy him. And nearly fall on my face, stumbling forward.

“Right side, your turn.”

The ladies curtsey gracefully. Mystery Man bows perfectly, of course. He’s amazing.

“Both sides, take three steps into the centre.”

We do as Trixie says. I’m a bit too far away, but take a baby step forward. Mystery Man seems to find this amusing. I look away. He taps my foot, making me face up. He’s smiling softly. And all my anxiety just kind of, floats away.

“Left, raise your right hand up and hold it sideways, facing your right. Stay there, don’t move. Right, touch your hand to your partners.”

Cautiously, I raise my hand. Mystery Man meets me, lightly pressing our palms together. His hands are kind of rough, but I like it. Little sparks dance across my nerve endings with every scratch of his skin.

“Now everyone, take a two little skips forward, then back. Watch me.” She sort of daintily gallops forward then back again. Like a tiny heeled pony. “Now go!”

I try my best to trot forward. My black heels click on the marble floor. I stumble a bit, but Mystery Man catches me discreetly with his other hand. The second time, I do it much better. I grin at my achievement, and so does he.

“Slowly, walk in a circle with your hands still together. Try to look at your partner and not your feet.”

I look up at him. He still has that beautiful happy expression. Yeah, I can definitely look at that. We walk together. I let him set the pace. Our eyes are totally locked. Everything around his face disappears. All I can see is this dragon boy I’m dancing with.

“Stop! That’s good. Face each other, and take both of each other’s hand at your sides.”

Our hands fumble a bit, but we get a good grip.

“This is the really fun part. While still holding hands, swing your arms and spin around. Like this.”

Trixie grabs Keris’ hands. They turn on the spot, throwing their arms up in a huge circle. It actually looks pretty fun.

“Now you all try it!”

I look to my partner with a grin. With a preparatory small sway, we toss our hands up into the air. I spin easily wearing these ridiculous shoes on this overly polished floor. I laugh like a little kid on the playground. When we stop, I wobble a bit (I get dizzy easily.) Mystery Man steadies me again. He’s grinning too.

“We’re at the end of the sequence now. Let’s top it off with two claps!” Trixie claps hand in rapid succession.

Mystery Man and I pull away, then the room rings with clapping. Trixie squees and jumps up and down. (She’s very easily excited.)

“Amazing everyone! I think you’ve got the jist of it. I say, let’s do this all again two more times. Three is a wonderful number.”

I look towards my new dragon masked friend. “Ready to do this again?” I say.

He shrugs. “Well, will I have to catch you again?” I open my mouth to make a retort, but he leans forward and my brain practically shuts down. All I can think about is how close his lips are to mine. “Because I gladly would.”

Words dissolve on my tongue. I’m usually able to squeeze out some fumbling semblance of speech, but now I can’t even manage that. I’m too enthralled, too stunned. to say anything. I feel like I’m falling. But I don’t want to stop.

We repeat the dance twice more. I don’t stumble as much as I did the first time. We move gracefully in time with the music. Every touch of our hands feels like magic. I’m enjoying myself more than I have in months. And I get what I want. I keep falling, more and more with each step.

The dance ends. We all bow one last time. (I can do it perfectly now.) Everyone applauds, turning to Trixie. She curtsies politely, obviously trying to hide her embarrassed flush. She runs up to her mic.

“Nice job, you all!” she says. “It was lovely. Now, at the request of my ballroom dance loving girlfriend, she wants us to end with her favourite, the waltz. And since I can’t say no to her,” she clicks a button on her phone, “let’s finish this evening off with a waltz!”

Soft music of a different kind plays. People start spinning and swaying together. I freeze. I was mostly clueless before, but here I’m completely fucking lost. At least Trixie was shouting instructions at me. I turn to Mystery Man. He must see the concern on my face, because his lips pinch together.

“What’s wrong?” He says kindly.

“I... I have no clue how to waltz. Like, you saw me before. My friend’s right, I’m a terrible dancer. I barely keep from tripping over my own feet. And this time no one’s yelling the moves out! I-”

“Shh.” He takes his hand in mine. Worry seeps out of me with his touch. “It’s alright. You don’t have to. But, if you like,” he puts his palm against my upper back, making me inhale sharply, “I do know the dance. And I can lead.”

This evening has been incredible so far. I don’t want it to end. So I nod slowly. “Okay. Sounds good to me.”

He smiles, and lifts our joined hands until our arms are outstretched. I bring my other hand up, but I have no idea where to put it, so it falls uselessly.

“Put it on my shoulder,” he whispers. I do, holding him tightly. “Now just follow me.”

“I will,” I say softly.

He moves back, and I step with him. He’s going slowly for me. We go in a box formation. It takes a bit, but I get the hang of it. (He was right, it just takes practice.) Soon, we’re moving in perfect sync, gliding across the floor. It’s like we were on a cloud. Nothing exists outside of the two of us, our hands, our feet, everything. I’m too damn happy to care about anything else.

The song ends. Mystery Man and I slow then stop. Our eyes are fixed together. Bit by bit, our hands lower, until they fall away. All I can hear is our deep breathing.

“Thank you,” he says, “This was-”

I grab his face and kiss him.

In hindsight, this was a poor decision. We just met, my girlfriend broke up with me only two weeks ago, and we’re wearing bloody masks, which knock together awkwardly. But I don’t care. I don’t care that we barely touch, resulting in just a shy brush of lips. It’s all I want to do in this moment. But he’s just frozen. Maybe I read the signals wrong (I do that a lot). So I pull back slightly

That’s when he grabs my collar and collides with me. Our mouths smash together. He’s unbelievably warm. I feel like every part of my body is burning with sensation. I grab his neck, running my thumbs over his skin. We angle until the masks are barely in the way. He kisses me furiously, like he's desperate. His tongue runs against mine, and I nearly fall over with the buckle in my knees. This man’s grip is the only thing keeping me up. I’m falling harder than I ever have before. I’m falling with him, and I couldn't be happier.

He pulls away slightly, our mouths still close.

“Simon,” he sighs under his ragged breath, and my heart beats manically. I kiss him again, and again, and aga-

Wait.

I pull back. He tries to chase after my mouth, but I softly press on his chest to keep him away.

“How..." I pant, "how do you know my name?”

He freezes. His eyes are filled with absolute terror. I’ve never seen anyone so scared. He shoves me away with enough force to make me stumble. With one last scared look, he dashes off.

“Hey wait!” I yell.

Mystery Man must be on the fucking track team, because he’s bloody Usain Bolt. I chase after him but I’m not in the best shape (the price for my love of scones.) He bursts through the double doors. When I get there, he’s already hailed down a cab. I watch it drive off while breathing heavily.

“Shit,” I huff. “Did I just get fucking Cinderella’d?!”

“Hey, Simon!” I turn to see Trixie come out of the doors. She’s frowning terribly. “Did your date just run off with a costume? That’s very rude. Next time you see him, tell him to bring it back.”

I stand up and cross my arms. “He wasn’t my date. Well, he was. But I just met him though. I have no idea who the fuck that is.”

And I’m not sure I ever will.

I get back to the dorms around 11. Getting out of that damn costume was surprisingly harder than getting in it. I stumble in, kicking my shoes against the wall. A groan sounds from the bed opposite mine. There’s a Baz shaped lump of multiple blankets on the bed opposite mine. Well, after such a dreamy night, I guess I need a dose of reality. And Baz is certainly that.

I strip down to my boxers and flop on my mattress. It squeaks under me. As I drift to sleep, I ghost a finger over my lips, still tingling with the memory of that man. And when I dream, it’s us dancing on a cloud.

The morning light wakes me up, which I don’t appreciate. I’m groggy, tired, and bloody annoyed. I had the most amazing evening with the most amazing man, and I don’t even know his name. Yet he knew mine! Is he a distant admirer? Some sort of stalker? Do I have class with him? Is he going to show up at my door and kiss me stupid again? Because I would really, really like that.

I groan and kick off the sheet. My bleary eyes rest on the other bed. For once, Baz isn’t gone. He’s sitting there against the headboard, balancing a textbook on his knees. But he’s obviously looking at me. Until I notice, that is.

“What is it, Baz?” I growl.

He opens his mouth like he’s ready to speak. But quickly closes it instead and buries his face in the textbook.

“Nothing, Snow,” his muffled, prickly voice says from behind the paper.

“Whatever. Prick.”

I stumble and crash my way through the dorm room. My head’s still not right. I don’t think I slept that much. I just want to go take a shower and curl up in my fluffy TARDIS robe. I reach to open my closet.

“Wait, Snow don’t!” Baz shouts. But it’s too late.

I open the door. I blink the sleep out of my eyes. This isn’t my closet. Mine is a mess of haphazardly stuffed dirty clothes. This one is filled with folded t-shirts, jeans, and grey hoodies.

Along with a crimson baroque costume and dragon masquerade mask, hanging in the back.

I’m not sure how long I stand there. Just, staring at it. My thoughts are like a car wreck of confusion. Slowly, I process what this means. Why this costume is hanging in Baz’s closet. I pivot on my feet. Baz is leaning forward on his bed, textbook tossed to the side. I recognise that look of terror. That fear in his grey eyes.

His gorgeous grey eyes.

“Baz...” I say softly. “You... you were Mystery Man?”

Baz pulls back to the wall, curling his hands into his chest. He nods rapidly. “Yeah.”

I run a hand through my hair, chewing the nails on my other. I think my brain is exploding. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I mutter. “Why? Why did you dance with me? Why didn't you tell me it was you? Why did you bloody kiss me?!”

Baz leans his chin on his fists behind his knees. “I’m sorry,” he moans. “I-I just went there because Niall asked me to. But then you were there, in that beautiful fucking costume, and I finally got the confidence to attempt an actual conversation. I thought you would recognise me but you didn't. And I realised you’d freak out if you knew it was me, because you hate me. So I just, played along! It was so much fun, dancing with you. Then... you fucking kissed me and I was in heaven. But I-I didn’t mean for it to go that far, I’m sorry!” He moans again and pushes his face into his sleeve covered hands.

I always thought Baz was just a dick who never wanted to talk to me because I was dumber than him. Like he didn't know how to interact with a lower life form. But looking at him now, bright red and fumbling, I see that he's not some cold asshole. He's just... a boy.

I take cautious steps towards him. Slowly, I sit on the end of the bed. “For how long, though? Have you liked me?”

He doesn't speak for a bit, and when he does, it's through his hoodie. “Almost since we met.” He burrows deeper into the grey fabric. “But I've been too scared! You make me so nervous. That’s why I can’t even bloody talk to you properly! That’s not your fault though, it’s mine, I know. And last night, with you not knowing it was me, I could pretend I hadn’t already ruin everything. That you actually could like me back!” He hunches even further down, wrapping his arms around his shins and hiding in his jeans.

“That’s why you insult me all the time? And avoid me?” I say softly. “All because you have a crush on me?”

He nods rapidly. “I’m not good with, feelings and stuff. Asshole is my default. Especially when I’m scared. I’m so sorry.”

I’ve met two Baz Pitches so far. One is a quiet asshole who throws insults every time he speaks. The second is calm, confident, and beyond charming. This third one in front of me, is an incredibly anxious man who cannot process his feelings properly. But, I think all those Bazes are parts of a fundamentally good person.

I place a hand on his knee. He tenses at the touch. “You know,” I say, “there’s one thing that’s really been bugging me.” Baz inhales sharply. “Where on Earth did you learn to waltz so well?”

The tension releases from him. Baz shifts slightly out of his hunch. Just a titch, letting his eyes show. “My dad sent me to lessons when I was 17. He thought it’d help me get girls, since I’d never had a girlfriend before. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was hopelessly queer.”

I chuckle. “Well at least they sort of paid off.”

He shrugs, bringing his head up to rest on his knees. His face is soft and kind. “I guess.”

And with that smile, he looks like Mystery Man. The charming guy who made me feel safe and happy when I was scared. Slowly, I reach out towards his face. He pulls back until he his head hits the wall.

“It’s alright,” I say softly.

He relaxes. I take off his glasses, giving me clear view of his eyes. They really do sparkle. I carefully cup his cheek. He sighs and leans into my touch. I turn a bit red myself.

“Just for future reference,” I say, “if you like someone, maybe open with ‘hi’ instead of ‘don’t put your stuff on my side of the room.’”

Baz groans deeply, knocking his forehead against his legs. “I knoooow. I just, you walked in on the first day, being absolutely goddamn gorgeous. And I knew I was totally screwed, so I guess I thought, ‘better just make him hate me so I don’t get hurt.’ Stupid, I know.”

“No, it’s not stupid.” I scoot forward. “It’s a natural reaction. We all get freaked out. I mean, with my first crush, I was so scared I threw up on her shoes.”

Baz brings his head up, eyes bugging out. “Jesus, Snow! How old were you?!”

I look down. “...13.”

He snorts, then bursts out laughing. There are tears in his eyes. I turn even brighter bright red. “Shut up, it was an accident.”

“Oh I bloody well hope so!”

He slowly calms down. Then we're just sitting there, both of my hands now on his knees, staring at each other. We're so close. It feels wonderful. Baz shifts uncomfortably though. He chews at his lip nervously.

“Simon,” he starts, “that guy from last night, I'm not always like that. I'm not always that smooth, or confident. I mean, I could try to be, if you like...’

I shake my head vigorously. “No! No, don't do that. I don't want you to force yourself to be that all the time. Or hide who you are either. You should just, be yourself.”

Baz looks at me wide eyed. I'm not really sure what his emotion is. Wonder? Worry? Something in between? “But, do you actually know me?”

I shrug. “Not really, I guess. I've met different sides of you. But,” I reach down to his hoodie sleeves and grab his amazingly rough hands, bringing them up between us, “I'd like to get to know you. All of you. Not just the sides.”

He lets out the breath he'd been holding in and leans his forehead onto our joined knuckles. “I'm such an idiot. If only I'd tried this ages ago.”

“Pff! What, hiding your identity at a masquerade ball, impressing me with your dancing skills, and running away like Cinderella after snogging me senseless?!”

Baz looks up, rolling his eyes. “No, you idiot. Just talking to you like a normal person. Instead of hiding and spitting vitriol. I fucked it all up.”

I sigh and lean my cheek on our hands. “Oh don't take all the blame, love. I could've been nicer too. I'm pretty sure my first words to you were 'fuck off, you asshole prick’. Not exactly diplomatic, hm?” I raise an eyebrow, making him smile.

“No. I guess we both got off on the wrong foot.”

Suddenly, I get an idea. I pull away from him and stand up. “Get up.” Baz stares at me confused. “Don't just look at me, stand up!”.

Baz shrugs and gets to his feet. He stands at his full height. (Which is good, but it sort of sucks that he's taller than me.) I stick out my hand to him.

“Hi, I'm Simon. We’re roommates. Nice to meet you.” Baz stares at me very confused. I wiggle my fingers for emphasis. “C’mon, Baz, let's start off on the right foot now.”

He blinks a couple times, then smirks. He takes my hand. There's that sparky rough palm feeling again. I love it. “Hello Simon, I'm Baz. I think you're really cute. Want to go get coffee?”

I give him one firm shake. “I'd love to. But,” I gingerly pull my hand away, “let me put on some trousers first?”

Baz laughs heartily at that. (He has a really nice laugh.) I throw on some trackies and a Watford shirt. Baz tosses me my sandals, and we're both (mostly) properly dressed for the world. I take his hand and weave our fingers together.

“C'mon, Mystery Man, “ I say. “Let's have a proper date.”

He squeezes me lightly. “Sounds delightful, Moon Boy.”

I start walking, and he follows. “You are not allowed to call me that!”

“Oh so you’re making the rules now? This relationship is off to a rocky start already.”

I open our door, turning to him with a sarcastically bewildered look. “Relationship? Aren't you presumptuous. We're just having coffee."

Baz closes it behind us with a kick. “Well, with the huge exception of last night, I only snog people I'm dating. So I guess no more wonderful kisses for you.”

“Cruel bastard,” I say with a glare.

He glares back. “Whiny brat.”

I'd usually be offended, but there's no bite to his voice. Only playful caring. We stroll down the hall, hands clasped. I don't plan on loosening my grip, and neither does he.

I let my Mystery Man go once. Never again.

AN: And there we go! So pretty much Baz was more awkward but still an asshole. Just a different way of him not coping with his emotions lol. I really enjoyed writing this. Simon being an oblivious little shit is so much fun. Also I love fancy dancing and masks. Overall, this was great.

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#snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #simon snow #baz pitch #modern au #university au #masquerade #mysnowbazfic

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