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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 3 years

Text

Mages Don’t Meddle

Rating: M

Genre: Angst/Mild Fluff

Word count: 16091

Summary: In a world where magic users must fear each other, Baz Pitch, a British born hex hiding in the 19th century American southwest, is just trying to stay alive. But when he meets a fellow British hex, his world is turned upside down in the most awful, amazing ways possible. PLEASE READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

Read on AO3

AN: Alright some of you may know that my favourite book series of all time is The Hexslinger Series by Gemma Files. It’s a gory but brilliant horror/dark fantasy weird western trilogy about gay cowboy wizards fighting Aztec gods. (It's also where my AO3 username comes from). I've been writing this AU on and off for like two years now lol. So when I saw this event, I saw it as motivation to finally finish it. And I did! Idk how many people are gonna like this, considering the obscurity of the books. The mythos is a bit complicated so here are the basic rules of the Hexslinger world:

1. Magic users exist, called "hexes" or "hexslingers” by most English speakers. They’re commonly known of and feared by some humans because of their immense, usually unstable power. Their magic is usually called "hexation" and a common descriptor for anything to do with them is "hexacious." Being a hex can either be passed down from parent to child or appears randomly. Most are children of a hex man and a human woman as pregnancy for a hex woman can be very risky to mother and child, but it's still possible.

2. Hexes aren’t usually born having magic. Their powers manifest at some point later in their lives except in very rare circumstances. For women it usually appears after their first period, while for men it’s usually after some sort of grievous bodily harm, e.g getting hanged or beaten. Before manifestation, some hexes show no sign of magic at all, while others have hints like perfect aim or weirdly good luck. It depends on the person and their power level.

3. Hex magic varies between people based on personality, culture, family history, and power level/type. For example, an experienced Chinese born hex with refined power will have a very different kind of magic than a newly manifested American born hex with more chaotic power. (That’s literally just from the original books lol.) Even hexes similar in multiple aspects can be completely different in the way their magic is expressed.

4. The only universal trait between hexes is that they all have the urge to feed off each other’s magic. They’re like magic vampires (wink wink). If they get too close to each other, they have the immediate urge to absorb the other's power and kill them. It’s completely instinctual and very hard to resist. Hence why hexes can’t be around each other. Or, to use the common phrase from the universe, “mages don’t meddle.”Okay that's the basics. There's A LOT of other stuff but I think that's all you need to know for this fic imo.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: So there's some period typical racism scattered around due Baz being brown in the 19th century American south. It's not too harsh imo but I still want to warn people. I hope I handled it alright, considering I'm a white af Canadian Irish-Jew, but if I didn't I'm very sorry. There's also a bit of period typical homophobia at the start. The closest I get to slurs is the use of "red" and "Indian" in reference to Indigenous people, "queer" in a negative context, references to sand because Baz says he's Egyptian, and Baz being called "darker folk." I felt it would be disingenuous to not include bigotry of the past and pretend things would be all okay for a queer POC like Baz. Especially since Hexslinger itself has major themes of homophobia, racism, and not being accepted in the majority of society. A few mentions of suicide, self harm, and torture too in relation to hex powers emerging too, which is also major in Hexslinger. The series itself is pretty brutal and dirty with lots of bigotry, blood, guts, and death. So those elements have gotten in here. There is some flesh burning stuff but I don't think it's that graphic, feels pretty typical for Carry On imo. Hopefully this all works well/makes sense.

As always, big thanks to Raegan of @carryonmylovelies Now with that all out of the way, enjoy!

———————————————

I gingerly take a sip of my whiskey. It's a horrible rotgut shite, but there’s worse stuff out in the wild west. This Slipfoot Joe’s seems to be okay by my now very, very low standards for this area.

“Well well, if it ain’t a pretty red boy,” the man behind me croons. His voice makes evey inch of my skin crawl.

I let out a deep sigh. I’ve been expecting this, but I’m still not pleased. “Piss off, arsehole.”

“Oh! Didn’t know Indians could sound English!”

“I’m British Egyptian, you twit.”

The man leans on the bar, smiling wide. It’s easier to count the few teeth he has than guess how many he’s lost. “What brings your sandy ass to our great country?”

The Call. The unending Call that signals all of us to come here.

I take another long sip. “Your gorgeous face, obviously. How much do you charge? I’ve heard American men are cheaper here than in England.”

The man reels back scowling. “You think I’m some queer?!”

“Well, I assumed so. Considering you were just flirting with me, a man.”

He snarls, whipping out his pathetic little pistol. The barrel shakes nonstop. “You got some nerve, boy!”

I finish the whiskey and delicately place the glass rim first on the filthy bar. “And you’re a racist bastard. You don’t see me getting all pissy.”

The gunshot happens in slow motion for me. I don’t even need to turn. I simply hold one hand in front of me and let my magic pour from me like a dragon’s breath. It curls out in front of me, a circle of blacks and charcoal greys and burning scarlets. Every hex’s magic is different. Mine is like a constant roaring fire, always threatening to consume me.

The bullet hits the shield with a tinny clink. Racist Man is frozen with wide, terrified eyes. I turn to him, orange and red reflecting in my grey eyes.

“You- You’re... a hex?!” He splutters.

“Thought that was pretty bloody obvious. Now go, before I drink your blood.”

Racist Man and his buddy scamper out of the tavern. I let the force field dissipate, crackling and popping in the air like a dying campfire. Joe, the bartender and eponymous Slipfoot, sighs as he cleans another glass.

“You know,” Joe says, “I’ve met other hexes. They’re stupid reckless assholes but they ain’t ever drank blood. Just suck each other’s magic.”

I chuckle. “Well they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, lucky for you. What’s a Brit like you even doin’ here anyway?”

My mouth presses into a thin line. I envy him. He can't hear The Call from that damned Hex City. I heard it all the way in Washington, and before I knew it I was on a train southeast. The only reason I haven’t actually gone to the horrid place is sheer stubbornness.

“I’m a hex. Where else would I be going?”

Joe freezes. He stares at me with more concern than fear. “I’d be careful, son. Those hexes I met? One of them was Reverend Rook himself. He’s beyond bad news, ‘specially with that heathen goddess by his side.”

“I know.” I trace my finger on the old wood, trying to focus on that instead of the ringing in my head. “But what choice do I have?”

———————————————

1867, two years after America’s bloody civil war, and it seems they’re about to be plunged into a new one. Except it won’t be slavery versus abolition this time, but humans versus magic.

The news has spread like wildfire. In the final days of the war, a confederate soldier and unofficial chaplain named “Reverend” Asher Rook was sentenced to hang for abandoning his regiment. But he survived, and the suffering of the ordeal caused his hex powers to emerge. Rumour has it one Bible verse from his lips can level an entire town. Rook decided to use his new powers to steal and murder his way through the west, aided by his ruthless gunslinging lieutenant (and rumoured lover) Chess Pargeter.

He should’ve been just another hex outlaw for those American Pinkertons to take down. But somehow, a mere month ago, Rook made a pact with an Aztec goddess. And together they’ve created New Azteclan, or Hex City to the common man. According to the magical homing signal I hear, that every hex hears, it’s a place where hexes can lose their insatiable urge to feed off each other’s magic. We’ll no longer have to be loners by nature, picked off one by one by humanity. We could be together. We could be safe.

But at what cost? Nothing in life comes without a cost. I know that too well. My magic cost me my home, my family, and a good part of my sanity. I’d do anything to not be a danger to others anymore. And the possibility is right there. All I need to do is go further south and cross the border into Mexico to reach Hex City. But once I do that, there’s no going back. The temptation of the Call will be too strong. And whatever price The Reverend wants, he’ll get it from me.

I sit at the fire, chewing on some absolutely horrific jerky. I’m trying to focus on the flames instead of the voice in my head. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Rook’s, maybe his witch goddess’. It doesn’t have a discernible tone, just sort of an indistinct everyman sound, or a thousand voices speaking the same thing. Either way, it’s very annoying.

Come, it whispers. Come seek out Ixchel, the Mother of Hanged Men. Come stand before Her priest-king, to offer up your service. Come to build the First City of the Sixth World- the world of wonder, the world of power. Come, and join New Azteclan.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I shout into emptiness, slamming the side of my head with my fist.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” someone replies weakly.

I bolt up. My magic roars to life inside me, a fireball forming in the palm of my hand. “Who said that?!”

The man slowly steps out of the darkness. He must be no older than myself, with his young, round freckled face. He has curly bronze hair, capped by an old second hand cowboy hat. His brown leather coat, plaid shirt, riding boots, and jeans are all filthy with desert dirt. A horse with saddle bags stands behind him. His blue eyes are wide and nervous. I notice a smell on him. Like green fire and smoke, with a strong scent of something brown and sweet. He smells like something I would gladly eat.

He’s a hex.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you prick,” I say between gritted teeth. “I won’t hesitate to burn you to a crisp.”

The other boy shakes his head. “I’m not here to drain you. I...I just wanted to ask for some help.” He sounds British like me, but more rough and nervous, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, right. Do I look that gullible? ‘Mages don’t meddle.’ We’d all drain each other dry if we were given the chance.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, of course I want to by instinct, but I’m not going to. I was just wondering if you had any food. All of mine got stolen by some angry humans.”

I consider just turning him away, or draining his magic and leaving his dried out corpse for the vultures. But he looks so desperate. How long has this young man been out here alone? My aunt had always warned me to be wary of all other hexes. We’re a bloodthirsty species, Basil. Never trust another hex, ever. Not even me. But I’m not my aunt.

I sit down again. “Fine. You can have some jerky. Just don’t come too close alright? I’d like to keep my magic and soul where they are, please.”

The man smiles (he has a nice smile) and sits opposite me at the fire. I throw a bag of jerky, and he catches in one hand. He shoves it in his mouth like a ravenous animal.

“So,” I say, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow,” he rep;ies, mouth still half full. “Your’s?”

“Baz Pitch.” Simon chuckles a bit, and I frown. “What’s so funny?

“Well, Baz Pitch is a pretty ridiculous name.”

“No more ridiculous than Simon Snow,” I snap. “What, were you named by circus performers?”

“Maybe. Not sure, actually.” Snow looks at the fire, but it feels like he’s looking right through it, his gaze very far away.

“Why’s that?”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, are you going to Hex City?”

I huff, blowing some loose, dirty hair out of my eyes. I’m too tired to stop him from changing the subject. “I don’t know. Are you?

He shrugs. “Maybe. So far I am. The stories and Call do make it sound so wonderful.”

I scoff loudly. “Of course they do. Rook wants people to come. Then we’ll get there and be sacrificed to his bloodthirsty goddess. That’s probably what happened to Pargeter. No one’s heard from him lately, according to the locals.”

“But we’ll lose the hunger! What if the Reverend just wants us to be safe? Y’know, as a kindness to his own people.”

“No one does anything out of kindness, Snow. Least of all hexes.”

“You gave me food out of kindness, didn’t you?”

I glare at him over the flames. He shrugs with a faint smile. Fuck. He has a really nice smile.

“I’m going to sleep,” I mutter. “But I’m putting a shield around me. Touch it and you’ll be burned alive. So don’t get any ideas about taking my magic.”

Simon throws his hands up in innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I lay down on my pallet, throwing up my force field. The crackle and hiss of magic around me distracts from the beautiful mage no more than seven feet from me. Whom I’m not sure I want to kiss or kill. Maybe both.

———————————————

I wake when the sun's centre in the sky. I’m breathing, so this Simon Snow hasn’t drained me dry. That’s good, I guess.

I sit up bleary eyed. Snow is passed out on his own cot, drooling profusely with his mouth wide open (mouth breather). He’s put up his own shield, of course, (at least he’s somewhat sensible). It sort of looks like an electrical explosion, white bolts constantly combusting around him in bubble form. He smells so powerful. It’s taking all of my willpower to not hurt him. To not submit to my basic hex desires.

I take my sweet time to pack my things and douse the fire pit, secretly hoping Simon will wake up before I run out of excuses. Luckily, with a very loud snort, Snow bolts upwards. There’s terror in his eyes, and his breath is uneven and shallow. I know that look. I’m no stranger to nightmares myself.

“A good morning to you, Snow,” I say.

Simon lets out a long breath, waving a hand to dissolve his shield. “You didn’t kill me.”

“And you didn’t kill me. What a miracle.”

“I’ll say. Are you leaving?”

“Obviously.”

“Where to?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, my map says, there’s a town southeast from here. I haven’t been there before but it probably isn’t too bad. I was going to hide there for at least a bit.”

Simon picks at his nail beds, even though they’re already ragged and bloody. “Can I...can I come with you? I haven’t been around anyone in so long, y’know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to”

I look at him with the most neutral gaze I can muster. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“There’s still time.”

Simon stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “Alright, then I’ll make myself very clear. Baz, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to fight you at all, alright?”

I must admit that I’ve been lonely these few months in the desert. Hell, I’ve been lonely for the past few years. I’ve actually missed the company of others. But it’s not like humans or hexes want to be around me. Except for this one, it seems. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. If we don’t kill each other first that is.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t try anything or I’ll burn you from the inside out.”

Simon keeps smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We mount our horses and ride off. I try to keep my eyes ahead instead of on Snow.

———————————————

“I can’t believe the food here,” Snow says. “It’s so much more spicy than in the North.”

“We are closer to Mexico, Snow,” I reply. I’m trying to figure out our route, while also listening to Snow when he’s more than six feet away. The hunger is manageable from this distance. Mostly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s so insane! Why can’t the north people get some spice from here? It would make their chicken more tolerable. London street food was awful but at least it had some flavour!”

That makes me snort out a laugh no matter how much I try not to. Snow grins at me, and his face is literal sunshine. Why must he be so perfect? It’s not fair. “London street food? You mean fish and chips? Those aren’t half bad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snow’s tawny face gets a little pink. He rubs the back of his slightly sunburnt neck. “Y-Yeah, they weren’t too bad. Just...other stuff was terrible...”

“Like what?” It’s not late at night now. I’m less inclined to let his dodging go. Call me crazy, but I’d like to know about the man I’m travelling with.

“Um...” He looks down at his horse’s neck. “I-I lived on the London streets, literally, until I was old enough to work for room and board. Finding anyone who would house a hex though, that was a challenge.”

His laugh is tinny and hollow. My heart, or what dark horrible mass we hexes have in place of one, twists at the words. I wish I was surprised. His story is all too familiar.

“You don’t need to be ashamed,” I say firmly. “We all have our own rough pasts. It’s practically required for hexes, in my eyes.”

Snow doesn’t look up, but his (pretty) plain blue eyes flick over to me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Hexes are usually shunned and harmed. Finding one who hasn’t been in a dire situation is more rare.”

“Have you met a lot of hexes?”

“Some. Mostly, I’ve heard stories. Far too many are like your’s.”

“Is your’s?”

My grip on the reins is so tight my knuckles are going pale. Memories rush through my head no matter how much I want to stop them. The darkness, the pain, the fire, then the stench of burnt human flesh, all capped off by years of trying to survive on my own.

“Unfortunately, ye-”

“What the fuck?!”

Simon’s screech is ungodly in volume and tone. His horse lets out a similarly panicked bray. She bucks up, but can’t get very high with the red vines tangled around her legs.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss. I try to pull back my own horse, but his legs are similarly wrapped up. The vines circle up and around us. I kick and stamp them with all my might. The blood red flowers look like the gaping mouths of monsters.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Snow bellows. He tries to rear his horse back, but nearly throws himself backwards off his saddle instead. “Fucking shite!”

“Don’t do that, Snow, it won’t help!”

“Then what should I do?!”

“Just stay still!”

Thankfully, Snow does as I say. Not thankfully, I’m not sure what to do. I know that human blood gets rid of the Weeds, but even if I count as human in this regard, you need a relatively large amount of it. So unless I want to pass out, I’ll need to think of something else. But what else can curb evil bloodthirsty Aztec plants?

“Baz!” Snow’s horse pancis the more the weeds wrap around her, which makes Snow panic in turn. He looks at me with desperate wide eyes. “Baz, do something!”

Oh, fuck it. I’ll solve this the way I solve my other problems.

I reach deep within myself, down to the flames that burn in what’s hopefully my soul, or at least what hexes have instead. I grab that power and let it out through my arm. Fire roars to life in the palm of my hand, and I unleash the full force of it on the Weeds. A tidal wave of blackened-red flames engulf the plants.

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouts. The plants don’t burn per se, I’m not sure they even can. But they still shrink away from us. I keep pushing more magic out until they Weeds a good distance away.

“Run,” I say, “now!”

Snow and I both wrench our horses 180 degrees and run like the wind. We ride fast and far with no destination, but we keep each other in sight. Only when my pulse is no longer hammering in my ears do I start to slow down. Snow follows, and eventually we stop near a large tree. All four of us are breathing hard.

“Bloody hell,” Snow says. “W-What the fuck were those?”

“Red Plague Weeds,” I reply, dismounting my horse. “They’ve been popping up all around here. No one knows where they come from, but we’re all pretty sure they have something to do with Rook and his witch goddess. Just like every other bizarre thing nowadays.”

“How come I haven’t seen them before in the towns?”

“Because the way to get rid of the Weeds permanently is blood, Snow.”

Snow’s eyes go wide with horror. “Blood? Any blood?”

I sadly shake my head. “No, only fresh human blood. I’ve heard a bowl full collected from the townsfolk is good enough. I don’t even know if hex blood counts. No one’s ever tried, as far as I know. We’re extremely lucky we got away.”

“So I gathered,” Snow sighs. “Now what? We’ve gone a good way backwards now, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to try and move around the Weeds. If we’re lucky, the town will still be reachable.”

“No one has ever called hexes lucky.”

We both laugh a little. Sometimes laughter is the only way to deal with our horrible existences. I pull the waterskin out of my bag and take a deep, long drink. “Let’s stay here for a moment, though. That blast took a lot out of me.”

“Y-Yeah, that makes sense. Um, I’ll just...”

He turns his horse to the side, trotting away from me. My stomach drops out. Where’s he going? Am I going to be alone again? I’ve only been with Snow for one day. That’s nothing compared to the last two years I’ve been on my own. But now I can’t imagine going back to that crushing, never ending loneliness.

“Heading out, Snow?” I keep my tone neutral, holding back the desperate tremor that threatens to bleed out. “Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

Snow whips his head around. If I were a more hopeful person, I’d say he looks even more panicked than when we were tangled in the Weeds. “W-What? No, I was just gonna go a little further away...”

“Do I smell that bad?” I probably do. Hygiene is not a priority in these parts.

“No! The opposite, actually...” Snow looks to the side, a little red on his face. “You used a lot of magic before. I can still smell some of it. I, uh, want to keep my promise...”

Oh. Right. I should count myself lucky that he didn’t drain me the minute we stopped. “Yes, yes, of course, makes perfect sense.”

“Unless...you want me to go...”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. “Do you want to go, Snow?”

Snow scratches his neck. He points his thumb to the side. “I’ll be waiting over there, until we’ve both cooled down. Alright?”

I would never admit how much relief that brings me. “Alright. We’ll set off again in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Snow trots over to a good distance away. His brown, sweet smell still lingers in the air, but it fades just enough for me to rest properly. I sit back against the tree, drinking a good portion of my waterskin. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snow doing the same. I try to not watch him. But it’s very, very hard.

———————————————

Nightfall hits before we reach the town. Snow can’t ride very fast, and I’m still more than a bit drained. So once again, I have to sit opposite the man who will most likely kill me soon.

He fidgets endlessly, picking at his nails and sleeve. It’s infuriating. He gnaws on the jerky like a crazed cat or something. I huff and shake my head. Snow looks up at me.

“What?” he says through a bite.

“Do you ever stop moving? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and there hasn’t been a single moment of stillness from you.”

Snow snorts. “I don’t see how that affects you.”

“It’s annoying.”

He snorts again, but there’s a small smile now too. “Maybe this is the real reason hexes don’t interact. We're all arseholes.”

“That is hardly a hex thing, Snow. I’ve known humans and hexes alike that I can’t tolerate.”

“Am I one of them?

I hope my face doesn’t flush too hard. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles quietly and goes back to eating his jerky, with far less fidgeting this time thankfully. We sit in silence for a while. I keep sneaking looks at him, then tearing my gaze away every time. The firelight makes Snow’s tawny skin almost glow and his bronze hair sparkle gold. He’s a constellation of moles and freckles. He’s a gorgeous mess. Just looking at him, I can almost forget that we’re supposed to be enemies.

“What part of England are you from anyway?” Snow asks through a mouthful of dried out meat.

“Hampshire. Though if you asked the people here, they’d say I’m from Buckingham bloody Palace.”

Snow throws his head back laughing. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful sound. “Damn true! I’ve lived on the streets of London for the past ten years and an American asked me if I’m related to the bloody queen! They have no idea about accent differences. They think every Brit is royalty.”

I freeze. Snow’s laughs slowly subside. He must notice the utter panic in my eyes. “You lived on the streets of London for a decade? That long?”

He pulls in, curling his thin body in on itself. This Simon is a hex like me, a terrifying being filled with unimaginable power, yet right now, he looks so...small. “Well, not the whole time. It’s been on and off. I found some places to live for a bit but they never lasted. Thank God for magic. Or thank the Devil, if the humans are right about us.”

He chuckles nervously. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, trying to hide the way his laugh makes me face heat up even more. “I guess so. It’s taken care of me since-”

There’s a crack. It’s small, far off, almost indistinguishable from the regular sounds of the desert, but it’s there. My aunt always said I have the ears of a bat. I swing my head around.

“What is it?” Snow says.

“Hush! I think I heard something.”

Slowly, I stand up, crouched over with my fists clenched. My magic sizzles and sparks inside me, begging to be used. I see Snow stand too at the edge of my vision.

“Die hex scum!”

The man launches himself out of the darkness, jagged knife in hand. He knocks me flat down to the ground. All the breath is forced out of me as my back hits the sand.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

I push at him with both arms, thankfully keeping my pretty face out of his slashing range. He writhes and struggles like a rabid wolf. His dirty crazed smile, missing most of his teeth, looms over me. I recognise him.

“You,” I growl. “Did you really follow me all the way here from Slipfoot’s, you pig?!”

“Die!” He says that like it means absolutely anything, like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before.

Racist Man has no technique. He just screeches and flails with his knife. Aunt Fiona’s words come to my mind immediately. “Every self respecting hex needs to know how to defend himself, Basil.” She said just before pinning me to the ground in one move. I hook my leg around his and flip him onto his back. He gasps and lets out a rattling cough. I hover over him, knee on his chest, pinning his knife hand to the ground.

“You don’t deserve to live, you sand demon.” He spits at me, splashing against my cheek. I flick it off with ease.

“Such an original opinion.” I feel the fire blazing in my gut, threatening to consume myself and everything around me. “I should scorch off all your skin.”

“Course you would. All you hexes, just filthy murderers. No wonder y’all are fleeing to Rook’s heathen paradise. Your kind don’t belong around civilized folks.”

I growl again. First he despises my skin colour, then he thinks he knows anything about hexation. This bastard, so stupid and ignorant. We’re only monsters because we have to be. Because men like him come at us with knives and guns and nooses. There’s no holding the fire back. My hand heats up around his wrist. He screeches as his skin sizzles under my fingers. He drops the knife, but I don't stop. All my rage pushes out through my hand and onto his increasingly scorched skin.

“Get off me!”

I turn to see Simon, struggling against another man. His fingers spark and sputter uselessly as he pounds against the guy with a hand around his throat.

“Better save your man over there,” Racist Man hisses.

I give him one last good death stare. I see him shiver just slightly. At least he has some good sense. “Run fast and far. If you come near us again, so help me God I’ll melt through your entire brain.”

The look of terror in his eyes is enough of an answer. I jump off him and run towards Snow.

“Oi! Off him, now!” I roar.

The other man turns to look at me. He has the same crazed look as his friend. “Or what, you piece of devil shit?!”

“Or this.”

I turn to the fire. With only one hand outstretched, my magic wraps around it, and pushes my power into the very core. The flames shoot nine feet upwards, illuminating the vast dark in blinding light. I turn back to the terrified human. With one swing of my arm, the pillar slams into him. He’s sent flying in a shower of flames and skids on the ground, tossing up a cloud of dustin his wake. I start to march towards him. But Snow throws up his arm to stop me.

“Let me,” he growls.

The tone of his voice stops me in my tracks. Simon stomps towards him, his entire hand now covered in tiny sparks like fireworks. His assaulter sits up, panting heavily.

“You better run now,” Snow says.

He sneers. “Don’t tell me-”

“GO!”

Snow’s magic explodes like a fucking bomb. It’s a bolt of violent and powerful energy that hits the assailant square in the chest. He flies back even farther. I stumble from the sheer force of it. The magic disperses as quickly as it appeared. Snow is panting, bronze curls still staticy with stray sparks. The human scrambles and runs away into the darkness.

We’re left there, breathing hard in the darkness, the embers of the now dead fire our only light. Simon tries to pull out the crackling electricity still clinging to his hair. It curls around his fingers and won’t dissipate no matter how much he shakes his hand out. Finally, I find my voice again.

“That was...”

“Awful?” Snow mumbles. “Yeah, I know. Half the time my magic doesn’t work, the other half it explodes. Pretty fucking annoying.”

I turn to look at him properly, still trying to dust off the little sparks. “No, it was incredible. I’ve never seen magic that powerful, or beautiful.”

Oh fuck, why did I say that? I’m going to explode myself any second. Simon freezes, then turns to me. His lovely plain eyes are soft. Half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. My pulse is pounding in my ears. “N-No one’s ever called it beautiful before. And...no one’s tried to save me either.”

He starts to reach out to me with his spark kissed digits. I see the little bolts pulling towards me like I’m a magnet. My own magic flares to surface, reaching back towards him. Tiny flames from my fingers curl around the lightning. And a part of me, that horrible instinctual part, desperately wants to grab his hand and add his beautiful, terrifying energy to my own until his body is nothing but an empty husk.

I take a large step away, hands behind my back. Simon does the same. His eyes are wide with terror now. We both know how close we came to giving into temptation.

“We should go to bed,” I mutter.

Snow nods furiously. I speed walk to my side of the dead fire. We both lay down and pull the blankets to our reddening ears. The only sound for ages is the desert wind whistling through the cacti. Until Snow decides to speak up again, God help me.

“Baz?”

“What, Snow?” I snap. I can’t talk to him anymore, it’s too damn painful.

“Have...Have you ever actually fully drained anyone?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. The question hits me in my heart. All that comes to mind is my aunt’s face as I saw her for the first time in weeks. Her happiness turned to utter horror in seconds. The memory still aches deep inside me. I can almost feel that horrible hunger when I first manifested. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “No. But I’ve come close. You?”

Snow pauses too. I can hear his shaky breathing clearly. “I had a hex friend back in London. Penelope. She was really good at magic, like you, so she tried to help me. We could only see each other for an hour a day for safety’s sake, and it worked for awhile. But one time, my magic got so out of control that I came this close to draining her.” He makes a loud sniffing noise. I hate imagining the tears I know are rolling down his face. “She told me it wasn’t my fault but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt her. Next day I got on a boat to America. That was almost a year ago. I’ve been alone ever since, and it’s awful.”

“Is that why you want to go to Hex City?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just want to be able to have some choice, you know? Not make choices because of this power I never asked for. Don’t you feel like that?”

I think about my mother, who lost her life because of what we are. Or my six weeks of torture by that madman. Or how I had to run away from my family in fear of what I’d accidentally do to them.

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “all the damn time.”

———————————————

We ride leisurely under the blistering sun. The desert has melted into more of a hot, grassy plain. Surprisingly, the climate and terrain actually gets less tortuous the further south you go in this awful state. I’ve only gone this far south once before. The Call somehow gets even stronger here. It threatens to fill every nook and cranny of my brain, but I beat it back. No disgraced Confederate chaplain or Aztec witch woman gets to decide what I do.

Snow is mumbling to himself about it being too hot. My head is whirring with a terrible, awful idea, but it won’t go away. My eyes keep drifting towards his beautiful face, and my mind keeps thinking of his beautiful magic. I got only a taste of the endless, consuming feeling of it, and it was exhilarating. If only he could control it.

I groan. “Snow, stop your horse.”

He looks at me confused, but does as I say. “What is it?”

“Get off. I’m going to help you with your magic.”

His eyes bug out of his skull. “What?! Why?”

“Because as incredible as your magic can be, I’d rather not have you explode when you sleep ten feet away from me.”

It’s a convincing lie. Honestly, I want him to be able to protect himself. I don’t know exactly how long it will take to get to the south, or what could happen before then. Simon might’ve been killed if I wasn’t there. And I don’t know how long I will be with him.

I swing off my horse and Snow follows. We walk out into the empty plateau. He shuffles his feet nervously, chewing at his nails.

“Stay here,” I say.

I walk out and place my old empty flask on a cactus (it’s rusting anyway). Snow looks at it confused. I gesture to the metal bottle, then put my hands behind my back. “Hit that with a blast but avoid the cactus.

“O-Okay...” I watch his throat as he gulps. God, I want to touch that throat, I want to touch everywhere. But I’ll kill him if I do. It makes me hate my magic even more.

Simon raises his hand and takes aim. Small sparks dance between his fingers. One by one, they begin to increase. A small ball of lightning collects in his palm. Snow curls his fingers in, but they seem to be struggling. The ball starts to grow larger and Snow clenches harder. With little to no warning, a lightning bolt shoots out and hits the side of the flask. A blackened mark is left in its wake, but that’s nothing compared to the cactus. A massive chunk has been blown out of the top. It’s charred remains lay strewn on the gras.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sorry, I was losing control, I had to let it go. Would’ve been much worse if I didn’t.”

“That’s alright, Snow. You technically did hit the flask.”

Snow scoffs, running a hand through his beautiful, sweaty hair. “Sure, I guess...”

I pluck the flask from the half destroyed desert fauna. Another horrible idea is coming to my mind, and I just might be mad enough to do it. “Maybe you need a greater motivator for staying in control.”

“Huh?”

I place the flask on my hand and hold my arm out to the side. “Hit the flask, but not me.”

Snow goes wide eyed again and inhales sharply like he’s been kicked. “A-Are you serious?! You just saw what I did to that cactus, right?”

“Well, you’re going to have to be accurate, unless you want me to end up like said cactus”

He pulls at his curls anxiously. The tiniest of parks fly off the ends. “I don’t know, Baz. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I try to ignore my rapidly beating heart. It’s been so annoying this past week, trying to get what it can’t have. I just flash a smirk at him. “Well, I believe that you won’t. Care to prove me right?”

A red colour spreads across his face. Part of me hopes that’s not just the sun affecting his pale, freckled complexion. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He rubs his hands together. His skin simmers with magic once again. It smells intoxicatingly good. Snow holds his right hand out, palm flat. The electricity builds on the surface. He keeps his hand clenched, but the energy threatens to spill over his fingers. I resist the urge to run in as fast as I can. I didn’t lie, I do trust him. But living on my own for almost three years has given me quite the self preservation instinct.

Sweat prickles Snow’s brow. He uses his opposite arm to keep the other one steady. “C’mon, Simon,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

The jagged white bolt shoots from his skin, far less formless than the last one. It zigs and zags, but in the end hits the flask straight on. The bottle explodes in a shower of jagged metal. I throw up a makeshift shield just in time. When I look at Snow, he’s flat on his ass, panting hard.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“‘Holy shit’ is right,” I respond with a chuckle.

He looks at me with a wide grin. It shines brighter than the midday sun. “I did it! That’s the most controlled my magic has ever been! Thank you, Baz.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Snow. My aunt always said danger is a great motivator to learn. Especially when it comes to magic.”

Snow lays down on the grass, panting hard. It seems he’s not going to get up any time soon. “Your aunt, was she the one that taught you about magic?”

I kick at a piece of rusted shrapnel, my back to the resting Snow. “Yes, before it manifested, obviously. She wanted me to be prepared just in case. Her whole side of the family has a history of magic. It only appears every few generations or so. We both drew the short ends of the bloodline straw I guess.”

“You’re lucky with that, y’know. I never had anyone to teach me properly. Penny tried, but we never got far enough to make a difference. When I first got magic, this guy called the Mage offered to help. But it turned out he just wanted to drain me. I killed him by accident when he tried. I really didn’t mean to hurt hum, but he wouldn’t stop...”

I turn to him. There’s far too much pain in his eyes. “You had every right to defend yourself. Don’t feel bad.”

He lifts his head up. His smile is sort of sad, but it’s still gorgeous. “Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back as best I can. “You’re most welcome, Snow.” I place my hands in my pockets, desperately clenching my fists in hopes to keep my emotions at bay. “Unfortunately, I’m out of flasks. But we do have an oversupply of fauna. Want to try and not destroy a cactus this time?”

“Okay.” Snow nods, breathing steadily. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Snow takes his stance across from another unfortunate cactus. I watch him and give advice, but slowly have to back away as Snow’s sweet scent permeates the air. I try not to imagine being close to Snow, not having to fear him, him not having to fear me. Oh, what a life that could be.

———————————————

After another week of dodging the Red Weed, we finally get to somewhere. Covent Gardens, a town I suppose is named after the London borough. It’s sizable enough to have a slightly good inn; as in none of the panels are falling off and the sign is missing only a single letter. That’s practically a palace in these parts. I walk in with gusto, making the shutters rattle, Simon following behind me with his head.

Everyone looks at us. I’m not sure how obvious our hexation is, but I suppose we look enough like trouble. Plus my skin tone isn’t an asset here. Or anywhere, honestly. So I sneer and most turned away.

“They’re afraid of us,” Simon mumbles.

“As they should be,” I reply deadpan. I go straight to the barkeep, a bulky white man with truly horrific mutton chops. “I need two rooms.”

The man crosses his unnaturally large arms. “We don’t serve... people like you.”

I grip the bar lip, nails digging into the half rotted wood. “Like me how? Hexes or brown people?”

He sneers at me. “Neither.”

The fire blazes in my eyes. Wood blackens under my skin. “Now listen here, you stupid bastard, you better rent us a room or-”

“Now, now, Basilton,” a familiar voice says, “no need to be so rude. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Hello, Nicodemus.”

Nico moves to stand next to me. His suit is cheap, the stitches fraying at the seams. He’s still got that sort of menacing look, but he looks tired too.

“Fancy seeing you here, Pitch. How’s your aunt?” He smiles, showing off his missing eye teeth. It makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Why would you care, Petty? You’re the one who left her after everything she did for you.”

He hangs his head back with a groan. “Still defending your family’s honour, I see. Ain’t my fault I wanted to realise my full potential.”

“What, by getting your teeth pulled out so you could get magic? Even when my aunt warned you what a curse being a hex was? You’re still an arrogant idiot then.”

Nicodemus growls and grabs my wrist. His magic reaches out to clash with my own. It’s slick like oil, wrapping around my fire like a snake. But there’s a roughness to it. A sort of mangy, wild energy that I remember all too well from the hex duel with my aunt. Now, I can smell the acrid tang of it too. It leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat. I’m not surprised his magic is as disgusting as he is.

“Looks like you went through some shit too, Basilton,” he hisses. “You’ve got the same fire as dear old Fi. What, the guilt of letting your mum die finally get to you? Try to end it all? Too bad, you just became the monster she never wanted you to be instead.”

His power gnashes at mine, trying to rip it apart and eat it. But Nicodemus has made a fatal assumption; that he’s more powerful than me. I push back against him hard. The fire rushes through my every vein. I revel in the way Nico’s eyes go wide. My hand shoots up to his throat and I shove him down so hard his back bends against the wooden bar.

“You bastard,” I growl. “After all these years you still don’t know how to keep your bloody mouth shut.” I hold his throat even tighter. His eyes bug out of his skull. “Maybe I should shut it permanently.”

I open the gates within, and his magic begins to pour into me. It’s the world’s greatest adrenaline rush. I’m invincible, powerful, a bloody god. Nico gasps and tries to push me away. But I’m still stronger. He could never stop me.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “Stop it!”

I turn to him with burning eyes. Everything I see is cloudy, like a smoke screen or rippling water. “Why?!”

“Because,” his voice is desperate, and maybe even caring, “we shouldn’t be the monsters they think we are. Just look at them, Baz!”

I still have enough sense to hear what he says. The patrons cower in fear, eyes wide with terror as they look at me. It’s not an expression anyone wants to be subjected to, or cause. And though I hate him, Nicodemus is right. My mother never wanted me to be this. Another terrible, murderous, evil hex.

With all my strength and good sense, I find the will to let Nicodemus’ neck go. His power rushes back into him with a sputtering gasp. I glare at him as I pull away, fingers still trailing with flames.

“Leave,” I say flatly. “Now.”

Nicodemus runs faster than I’ve ever seen a man run before. I take a few deep breaths. It takes a moment for my magic to balance out. It still yearns for Nicodemus’ power, but I beat it back into submission. I won’t let the hunger control me. Then I walk towards the now terrified barkeep.

“Rooms still not available?” He shakes his head frantically. “Good.” I slap down some American money. “Two rooms, please. Also throw in some whiskey. I need a drink after all that.”

The man picks two keys out of a box, then a bottle and glasses from the shelf. He shoves them both forward on the bar and takes two large steps back. I snatch them up with a tip of my ridiculous cowboy hat.

“Cheers, mate.”

Snow and I take a table in a corner. No one dares to look at us. I pour drinks for both of us and shove his glass to the other side of the table. We’re as far apart as we can be but it’s still risky. My power is still hungry. And Simon still smells delicious. But I won’t hurt him. I can’t.

“So,” Simon says, vowel drawn out, “who was that?”

I throw back the whiskey. It’s sour and burns my throat, but it's better than Slipfoot’s at least. “His name is Nicodemus Petty. He and my aunt Fiona were friends growing up. They bonded over their mutual family history of hexation. But when my aunt and his sister, Ebb, manifested magic as teenagers, Nico was jealous. Fiona and Ebb both tried to tell him that hex magic was far more of a curse than a blessing, but he never listened. He wanted the power. When I was about nine, he finally succeeded in activating his own latent magic.”

“By having two of his teeth ripped out...”

“Mhm. First thing he did was stumble all bloody mouthed to my aunt’s flat.” I clench the glass so hard I nearly break it. “The bastard attacked her by surprise, and tried to steal her magic. He almost killed her, but Fiona got a lucky shot and threw him out the window.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “As you can guess, I was there. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine.” He pulls in, picking at his nails nervously. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking...w-what was he talking about? With your mum?”

I pour myself another helpful shot of whiskey. I want to drown my brain in the stuff, honestly. I’ve never talked about my mum, it’s too painful, like ripping out a fingernail. But Snow has shown so much of himself to me. It seems unfair to hide. “My aunt and I aren’t the only hexes in our family.”

His eyes go wide as the revelation hits him, “Your mum is a hex too?”

I nod slowly, then drink the alcohol in one gulp. The warmth tingles in my veins and loosens my tongue. I stare at the glass, watching the light refract through it’s bends. “She was, but my father is human. They loved each other enough to not be scared, I guess. They never meant to have children. I was an accident, but my mother wanted me in spite of the risks. My father said she cried with happiness when she saw I was a boy. She thought if she kept me safe, I’d never become a full hex.” I flick a paint chip off the table with more force than necessary. “Then she died protecting me, doing what she promised.”

“How? Was it another hex?”

“Even worse, scared humans.”

Snow’s face falls even more. He takes a long sip from his own drink. “So they tried to kill her?”

“They tried to kill all of us. Someone heard of my mother’s hexation, and they rallied a group together to fight our family. It wasn’t a real fight though. The cowards snuck in and tried to stab us. My mother killed almost all of them quickly” My fists clench so tight it hurts. “The last one nearly got me, but my mother stepped in front. He burned to ash just after he stabbed her through the throat.”

“Oh. Not even a hex could come back from that kind of wound...”

“I know,” I say between gritted teeth. “I know that very well, Snow.” I delicately place the glass down with a strained hand. “I...I tried to stop the bleeding but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic then. Even so, I doubt my powers could’ve helped.” A little flame pops up in my hand with barely a thought. Making fire is more natural than breathing for me, after all. I watch the scarlet snake dance between my fingers. “My family’s abilities have always been better at destruction.”

Simon takes another long sip, polishing off his drink. “I don’t know what my family’s like, but I hope they’re not like me. This power...it’s too much for anyone to have. I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

“We all would, Snow. That’s what the humans don’t get. Most hexes are just as scared of themselves as humans are.” I pour my third drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank so much in one sitting, but if I’m going to get sozzled, tonight is a good time. “But that’s not up to us. We’re born like this. Nothing we can do but try to survive.”

“Believe me, I know that. All I’ve ever done is survive. In the orphanage, on the streets, here in America.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “Hexation is how I ended up on the street, actually.” Snow looks directly down at the table. “When I was 11, I, uh, had a dream that I was exploding. When I woke up, the entire orphanage had been blown to pieces. Luckily no one was hurt, but the matron couldn’t very well keep a hex among other children.”

“So she thought sending you to roam among other humans was safer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she cared as long as I was far away from her.”

I scoff, swinging the glass between two fingers. “Sounds about usual for humans. What made you manifest? A particularly bad paddling from the matron?”

Snow chews on his bottom lip. His fingers drum the wood slowly. “I, uh, actually didn’t have to suffer. I’m one of those rare cases of sudden manifestation, apparently. That’s what Penny called it anyway. She said it was rare but possible.”

My grip on the glass gets even tighter. A sudden jealous rage consumes my mind. So Snow just exploded one day at eleven. That’s awful, of course, I’ll never deny that. But all I can think of is the coffin. The endless night of being trapped in that box, waiting for a relief that wouldn’t come, until I finally broke and became the last thing I ever wanted to be. I went through absolute hell. Of course I assumed Snow had to, like all other male hexes. But he didn’t. He’s never had the acute kind of torture I did. It’s not fair.

“Excuse me,” I say more harshly than I mean to, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

Snow’s pretty plain eyes go wide. “O-Oh...okay. Good night, then.”

“Night.” I snatch the bottle up and leave the key for his room. Then I stomp up the stairs with irrational anger still burning me up. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get past it. Male hexes get their magic through suffering. It’s a well known fact. How could Snow be like me without the same kind of pain? How could he ever fully understand me the way I thought he could?

The second my room door is closed, I drink down the last of the whiskey bottle. I’ve tried to avoid alcohol over the past few years. It would be far too easy for me to drink away the pain, the memories, the horrible guilt. Eventually, I’d drown myself in a bottle. That’s not a way I want to go. But one night of indulgence will be fine.

I wobble towards my bed, shedding my outer layers as I go. I collapse face first onto the old mattress. Whiskey clouds my mind. And when I finally pass out, all I see is empty darkness. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the nightmares.

———————————————

“...safe?”

“Out cold...”

The voices stay patchy as I slip in and out of consciousness. I try to force my eyes fully open, but the pounding in my head is too much. Indistinguishable figures move on the edges of my blurry vision. There’s little to no light. It must still be night, maybe only a couple hours since I passed out.

“Is..right thing?”

“Hex...Rook and Pargeter...dangerous...we...safe.”

“Fine.”

Something grabs both my wrists and my ankles. I try to struggle but I must still be too drunk. I can’t get my limbs to move save for some squirming. I try to summon my magic, but my mind can’t concentrate. It’s no use. Bloody hell, I’m trapped.

“Night night, hex,” a horrible voice says. Something soft is pressed hard against my face. I can’t take in air, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s like the coffin. No, I can’t do this again. I try to thrash harder and scream but it’s still no use.

Oh Lord, I’m going to die here. I wonder if I’ll see my mother on the other side. I wonder if I even have a soul to go to the other side. And I wonder how if Snow is okay. Christ, my last conversation with him ended in anger. If I had known, I would’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say this past week. But the first thing would be ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry, Snow, for everything I said and thought. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

“Hey! Get off him, you bastards!” That voice is familiar even in my half drunken state. Thank whatever gods are listening that he’s okay.

“It’s the other one!” one of my assailants shouts. “Wasn’t Garth supposed to take care of him?!”

“That damn idjit fucked up!”

I hear the telltale signs of punches and kicks thrown about. One of the hands on me pulls off. All this excitement has thankfully sobered me up some. I kick some stupid bastard right in the stomach.

“Fuck!” they wheeze. The other humans are wise and let go of my wrist. I’m on my feet in a second.

“Bloody humans,” I growl out, still slurring slightly. “You can’t even let me fucking sleep?!”

The burly barkeep scowls at me. My would be murder weapon is still in his hand. “Eat shit, you demon.”

I scowl right back at him. “Oh, you want a demon? I’ll give you a fucking demon, love.”

The fire blazes up in me, all shining black and scarlet, and I make little effort to contain it. I let the flames fly out and encase the man almost completely. He screeches as his skin bubbles and burns under my powers.

“Stop it!” a woman yells. She comes at me with a knife raised. A whip of fire forms in my hand instantly. With one crack, it wraps around her wrist. She screams in the exact same way and lets her weapon clatter on the floor. She goes to her knees, clutching her blackened, blistered skin.

“You bastard,” she cries. “How could you?!”

“How could I!?” Even more fire plays over my hands. “I could ask you the same thing, human.”

“We’re trying to protect ourselves, monster!”

In that moment, in her eyes, I see every human who’s hurt me. The people who mocked me, who killed my mother, who turned me into this. All sense leaves my mind in an instant. “I’m a monster only because of you!”

With one wave of my hand, she’s thrown against the wall hard enough to make it shake. I spin around to see a man trying to crack Snow’s skull open with a butcher’s cleaver. One well aimed blast sends him flying as well. Another casts two aside. They don’t move much afterwards, but I find myself caring little. Let them die like my mother did.

“Baz, stop it!” Snow shouts. I ignore him as I send the last assailant against the wall, listening to their screams as I burn their chest. “Baz!”

“Fuck off, Snow!” I roar. “I- Ack!”

Pain rips through my shoulder. I clutch it and my hand becomes wet with what I assume must be blood. I fall forward. My nose cracks against the floor. I scream in pain and flames roar out of me in a massive plume They hit everything, including my shooter and the walls of the room. I can feel the whole space burning around us.

“Baz!” Snow’s voice is beyond panicked. I hear his footsteps rush toward me. His hands hover over me but won’t touch. He can’t touch me.

“Get out, Simon,” I rasp , turning my head to the side to look at him. He’s covered in bruises and ash. Yet he’s still so beautiful. “Run before more of them come.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I haven’t turned my back on you yet, and I’m not going to start now!”

If the world weren’t literally on fire right now, I’d find that touching. I close my eyes. At least my dying image will be of him. “Don’t be an idiot, Snow.” Surprisingly, the bastard fucking laughs. My eyes snap open again. The bloody back of his hand is pressed against his mouth as he giggles. “What the fuck is funny about this?”

“You,” he laughs, “called me Simon before.”

My face heats up, and it’s not from the fire. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re fucking dying and you can’t admit you used my first name?”

“I’m dying. You’re being an idiot and not running away like you should!”

“You’re too stubborn to die, Baz, and we both know it.” He jumps to his feet. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Snow-”

“Or are you too much of a yellow belly to get up and try?”

Oh, this bastard. In only two weeks, he’s learned me too well. I scowl at his stupid pretty face as I push myself up on my good arm. At the same time, thundering footsteps can be heard from the stairwell.

“That route is out of the question,” I say. “Where are we to go, Snow?”

“This way.” He holds his hand and in a mere two seconds, the opposite wall is blown to pieces in a rain of spark. “Now let’s go!”

“We’re on the bloody second floor!”

Snow runs towards the gaping hole and throws himself out. I rush to the edge, blood pounding in my ear. No, Snow cannot die, I can’t let him die. But to my utter shock and awe, Snow is floating his way down to the ground. He stops and starts and still hits the ground in an uncoordinated roll, but he’s okay.

“Oh, Snow, you brilliant moron,” I whisper.

“They’re probably still in there!” someone shouts from the hallway. I take a few steps back, breathe deep, and run off the splintered edge just as the humans burst through the door.

Instead of sending my fire outwards like usual, I keep it within me. I will my body to rise high like flames from a candle. My legs move slowly like I’m running in the air. Fuck, this is actually working. Slowly, I let my flame flick and die down, lowering myself along with it. I reach the ground with my own thud but stay on my feet. Snow grins at me. In all this horror, that is the greatest thing to see.

“Let’s get the horses and get out of here, Snow.”

“Agreed, Pitch.”

We sprint to the stables and thankfully find our steeds unharmed. I count ourselves lucky that our attackers didn’t consider them demonic too. Mounting is difficult with my left arm fucked up, but let it never be said that a human bullet could stop Basilton Pitch. I hold the reins with one hand as I spur him into a dash.

The wind whistles in my ears. Snow and I run even faster than we did from the Red Weed. Our kind is always good at running. It’s our natural state.

———————————————

Snow and I ride until it’s nearly dawn. The sky turns purple then crimson with the rising sun in front of us. When I see orange, my horse finally starts to tire out. Snow’s does the same. We slow down then stop.

“Think we’re far enough away?” Snow asks, breath short and strained.

“Yeah,” I reply, sounding the same. “I think they would’ve caught us by now if they were still after us.”

“Good point, good point.” Snow leans forward, putting his forehead on his horse’s neck. “God, I’m fucking knackered. I barely slept.”

“Me too. We should both sleep.”

“What if someone comes after us?”

“Point. Sleep in shifts?”

Snow nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” I slowly dismount my horse, but get my footing wrong and start to fall. I grab the reins with my left arm and practically scream in pain.

“Baz!” Snow rushes towards me, but stops when I raise my good arm.

“Don’t...” I pant, “don’t come any closer. I’m injured, Snow, and my self control is severely weakened. So unless you wish for death now after just barely escaping it, back away.”

“Oh, yeah, right...” Snow backs far away just as he should, but my heart still aches. “What are we going to do about your shoulder?”

“I can fix it, but I’m going to need your belt”

Snow’s brows shot upwards. “My belt? What for?”

“Just throw it to me, Snow, for Christ’s sake.”

Thank God he doesn’t ask another stupid question. He just unbuckles the belt and does what I ask. I try to not let my hands shake as I fold the belt in half. The last time I did this was three years ago, when I sat in a London alleyway after a drunkard broke my leg, a mere four days after fleeing my home for good.

“Baz, what are you-”

“Snow,” I say firmly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Okay...?”

I sit on the ground, belt held tightly in my hand. “I need you to stay right there no matter what. Don’t move, don’t try to help. The best way you can help is to stay fucking still.”

“What the fuck is-”

“Promise me you won’t move, Simon.” I look him right in his blue eyes, my mouth a thin, serious line. “Promise me.”

Snow gives me a once over, then thankfully nods. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I put the belt between my teeth. When I check on Snow, he looks beyond panicked. “If it makes it easier,” I say clumsily between the leather, “you don’t have to watch.”

“Baz-”

I slap my right hand over my left shoulder, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. My magic scorches my body as it wraps around my injury. The buck shot is pulled through my muscles and skin, ripping and tearing as they go, and I can feel every bit of it. I can also feel as my tissue and bone stretches to knit back together piece by agonizing piece. It’s an indescribable kind of pain. It’s what I imagine hell must feel like. I scream, I can’t help it, but luckily the belt is muffling as well preventing me from biting off a chunk of my tongue. Snow gasps in horror but he doesn’t move. He keeps his promises. I knew he would. He’s a far better man than me.

The burning fades as the skin finally seals shut. I cautiously move my hand, shaking off the shrapnel and gooey viscera that trails between my fingers. God, it's a nasty scab, mangled and uneven and horrifically inflamed. I can only hope the scar won’t be too bad. The one on my calf has faded overtime.

“Are you-”

“Not yet,” I say, cutting off a frightened looking Simon. “This one won’t take as long though.”

I touch my nose, feeling for where the breaks are. I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a horribly painful crack, I move it mostly back into place. I let out a short yell, but just pant and seethe as the bone and cartilage knit back together. I try to wipe the bloody snot from my hand but it's no use. Disgusting, but better than a broken nose. I feel around to make sure things are okay. Well, the tip is a bit crooked, but I can live with that. Right now, I’m thankful to be alive at all.

“Okay,” I sigh, finally taking the teeth mark covered belt out of my mouth, “now I’m done.”

“What the fuck was that?” Snow’s voice is somewhere between fascination and absolute horror. In short, a proper reaction.

“Something my aunt taught me. Hexes are essentially manipulators of energy and matter. And what are bodies but living energy and matter? With practice, you can fix any part of yourself.”

“But isn’t it painful?”

“Was that not obvious?” I snap. But Snow’s genuinely worried face softens my demeanor. “Yes, it’s excruciating. Hence why I try not to use the technique as much as I can.” I massage my still aching shoulder. “Today it was unavoidable, unfortunately.”

Simon runs a nervous hand through his dirty hair. “Fuck...”

I cough out a small laugh. “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.”

He laughs too, just as shaky and sad. “Sums up the whole night.”

The two of us keep chuckling softly in the wee hours of the morning. The ascending sun hurts my tired eyes. Using so much magic has taken everything out of me. I let out a long, deep yawn.

“You sleep first,” Snow says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, no, I can-”

“Baz.” He sounds firm, but also tired, and maybe even a little fond. I’m probably imagining that last one though. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up in about eight hours.”

If I weren’t sleep deprived, magically drained, and recovering from grievous injuries, I would protest more. But Snow is damn lucky today. I simply sigh and stand up to get my cot from my saddlebags. I count our lucky stars we didn’t bring in too many of our supplies to the inn. Maybe God hasn’t completely abandoned us heathen monsters.

“I don’t have the energy to put up my shield,” I say, hoping my tone conveys enough.

“Okay,” Snow replies, “I’ll stay away, don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

My pulse flutters involuntarily. A smile creeps across my face no matter how hard I try to stop it. “I know you do, Simon.”

Snow gifts me one of his sunshine smiles. That’s the last thing I see before turning over and letting myself rest.

———————————————

Snow lets me sleep longer than eight hours. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t so exhausted. In return, I let him oversleep too. We’re both passed out by the time it’s dark again. Even hexes with all our inhumanity need to rest sometimes. Snow and I are lucky we get the chance this time.

In the morning, I reluctantly go to the next closest town. We did leave some of our things behind sadly, including most of our clothes. I’m damn well not going to keep roaming around the south of Texas in my bloody socks, and neither will Snow. I get us some new jackets, boots, and hats, ignoring the strange looks I get from the lily white shopkeeper.

I grab us some more of that disgusting jerky too. If only good food could keep in these horrific conditions. When I reach the counter, the shopkeeper frowns at the things I lay out.

“You can pay for all this?” she asks. I scowl deeply. I’m too tired for this shit.

“Are people like me not allowed to have money here?” I snap.

“Ya can now, but in my experience, y’all darker folk are better at stealing my stock than paying.”

Bloody hell, I’m too tired for this racist shite. I slam two bills on the counter. “There. Hope I didn’t dirty these up too much for you.”

She glares at me hard. As she reaches for the money, I deliberately brush my finger on hers, and she yelps loudly. The edge of her index is red and inflamed. An undeniable burn mark, but far too small for anyone to believe it came from an evil, bloodthirsty hexslinger.

“Oh dear,” I say deadpan. “Your register must have gotten in the sun. Do be more careful.” I shovel the supplies in my bag as she looks at me wide eyed. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I can feel her scared eyes on my back as I leave. I get on my horse and ride out fast. No reason to stay in this shithole any longer. And I need to get back to Snow, where I belong.

———————————————

“Everything okay in town?” Snow asks.

I toss the bundle of clothes at him, along with a bag of jerky. “No one attacked me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get made for a hex. But I did get some flack for my skin tone.”

Snow’s face falls a bit. There’s something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, Snow. You’re in no place to apologize for some racist American bastards, it’s not your responsibility. Sorry from you means nothing.”

“But-”

“Would you accept an apology from me on behalf of all the rich men who have treated you like trash before?” Snow’s gaping mouth slowly closes. “Exactly. Now get those on. They’re slightly less dirty than our current garments.”

Snow nods and does what I say. I unbutton off my bloodstained shirt and wince as the tacky fabric peels off my skin. The scab has gotten a little better. That’s something I suppose. My eyes slowly move over to Snow without realising it. I steal a glimpse of his broad, bare back, golden like the rest of him. There are some jagged pink scars but they take nothing away how brightly he shines. I look away before I’m too tempted by what I can’t have.

“Much better,” Snow sighs as he slips on the new boots. “I’m surprised my feet haven’t been ripped to shreds yet.”

“Me too. I’m glad though, I didn’t want to do any more healing.”

“I don’t want you to either, fuck.” I hate how his concern makes me feel so good inside. “I’ll start setting up the fire. It’s going to get dark again soon.”

“By all means, Snow, do all the work. I won’t stop you.”

Snow snorts out a laugh, giving me a cheeky smile I can still see at this distance. Christ, I’m on fire, and for once it’s not from my magic. It’s so much better. I have to look away again before I do something ridiculous and deadly.

By the time the sun is down, Snow has made a wonderful small fire for the two of us. We both warm our hands from opposite sides. I don’t need to do it too much. My magic has almost fully replenished, for better or worse. And I’m so hungry that I actually enjoy the extremely salty bison jerky. Bloody hell, I’m turning into an American.

“Where are we going to go next?” Snow asks, mouth still full. “I’m guessing we should avoid any more towns.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not jump out of another building.”

“We certainly agree there. Christ, I was worried I was going to die.”

“Me too, Snow, me too.” I nervously fiddle with the string on my cloth bag. The words are coming out, and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

His brow adorably furrows. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for the way I acted that night, before I went to bed. I was very rude to you and I deeply apologize.”

“Oh...okay. Thanks.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I was confused. Did I do something bad?”

“No, Snow,” I sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me being stupid.”

“Okay...”

I sigh again. God, I can’t dance around it anymore. I have to tell him. After putting up with me for this long, he deserves to know.

“I was angry and...somewhat jealous of you.”

His eyes get very big. “Jealous? Of me?!”

“Yes, in a way. Because...you didn’t have to go through the same kind of suffering I did when I manifested. Which isn’t fair, because you lived on the streets while I grew up in a bloody mansion. It’s just not the same suffering I had, and I was angry I had to go through it when you didn't. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry I pushed that on you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking...what happened?”

I stare at him for a long moment over the fire. He holds my gaze, eyes round with worry and care. It hurts me in the most exquisite way. “It’s not a pretty story, Snow.”

His mouth pulls into a sad, slight smile. “Weren’t you the one who said that all hexes live through hardship, and we have nothing to be ashamed of?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Using my words against me, a tactic of a true devious hex.”

He shrugs, still wearing that little smile. “What can I say? I can live up to our reputation sometimes.” Snow’s face falls again. “So what happened?”

With a deep sigh, rubbing my forehead, I start the horrid tale.

“My family always knew there was a chance I could be a hex,” I say. “But since my aunt couldn’t sense any magic on me pre manifestation, we assumed that I wasn’t too powerful, and manifestation could be avoided if we were careful. So I lived in the aforementioned secluded mansion all my life and I was never allowed to leave the grounds. All my time was spent reading, doing school work, or learning about hexation from my aunt, just in case. Everything in my life revolved around my mere potential to be a hex. I could never do or see anything. I felt like a prisoner. And when I was 18, I had enough.

“One evening, I snuck out of my room and went into the nearby town. I just wanted to see what was outside my home. But I was a naive sheltered kid. Of course I got lost on my way there and went into an area I never should have. Someone had knocked me out cold, and next thing I knew, I was in a cramped, dark box.”

“A box? What do you mean a box?”

I clench my fists tight until the shaking stops, then slowly let go. “It was a coffin, Snow. I had been trapped inside a coffin.”

I can almost feel the way Snow’s stomach must drop out at those words. I know, mine did the same when I realised where I was that night. “W-Why?!”

“It was hard to hear him through said coffin, but I got the main idea. He came from some old witch hunter family but had never caught an actual hex, until me. He’d heard the stories about my mother and had been secretly spying on me for months. When I escaped, he took his chance to kidnap me.”

“So he took you just to taunt you from outside a coffin?”

“I wish that was all he did,” I grumble. “He told me that the coffin was a test. There was a chance the hexation had skipped me over. If I was a hex, being stuck in the coffin would make me manifest, then he could kill me in good conscience. If I wasn’t and didn’t manifest, well, as he put it; ‘there are always casualties in the war for righteousness, boy.’”

Snow’s jaw drops to the grassy ground. “So even if you were human, he would’ve killed you anyway?”

“Mhm, mad bastard.”

“How long did he keep you there before you escaped? A few days?”

I take long, steady breaths, beating back the old fear that creeps up my throat like bile. I can almost still smell that unique rotten scent from the coffin. I’ll never forget it. I never can.

“Snow,” I say slowly, “I was in that coffin for six weeks.”

And I thought he looked horrified before. Snow drops his jerky bag, hands shaking. I want to grab them, hold them still, comfort him in whatever way I can. The urge is almost stronger than the Call.

“S-Six weeks?! How are you still alive?”

“Thank the witch hunter,” I grumble. “He drilled very small air holes in the lid, and gave me enough food and water to keep me alive but starving. I think, hex or not, he wanted me to suffer because I was my mother’s son. A hex’s child was just as guilty of sin in his eyes.” I rub the bridge of my nose. It aches with the pain of my past. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was in there. It was just one endless night of torture. I begged and pleaded with the hunter to let me go, but he only laughed and called me pathetic hex scum. After six weeks, well, he finally got what he wanted.”

“You manifested.”

“Almost as violently as you did.” I trace the lines of my hand, the skin rough from my fire. I remember my mother’s hands being the same. “The details are blurry, but I remember enough. It started as just a tingling in my gut, but soon it became a burn. And then it spread as quickly as a forest fire.”

“Is it always fire with you?” The corner of Snow��s lip quirks up. The bit of teasing lilt in his voice makes me feel a bit lighter. I can't help but smile back a little.

“Usually, yes. It's always run very strong in my family.” I bounce a flame between my fingers. The movement is strangely calming to me. “I quickly learned I was no different. Before I knew it, I let out a massive ring of fire in every direction. It blew the coffin apart, of course, and turned my captor into a charcoal husk.”

Snow scoffs, a surprisingly vicious expression on his face. “Better than he deserved.”

“Agreed. I have no idea what happened to his body. I left almost immediately, though I wasn’t fully conscious. Six weeks in the coffin had deprived me of most of my mental faculties. Luckily, he kept me not far from home, and I could wander back on pure muscle memory. But going home turned out to be a terrible idea.” I grab the small fire and snuff it out in one go. But my fist stays clenched. “My aunt had been staying there while everyone searched for me. The second I walked through the front door, I could easily smell her. She was overjoyed to see me, until she smelled me too. And as I said, most of my mental faculties were gone.”

“So you attacked her on instinct.”

I chuckle sadly. “Quick study there, Snow. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was just so bloody hungry all of sudden. I can’t even describe it.”

“You don't need to describe it to me, Baz.” He brings his knees under his chin. “I’ve felt hex hunger too. It’s...awful when you’re in the middle of it.”

“And when you’re not, you try to drown it out or distract yourself. But deep down, you know one day you’ll give up and listen. Then it will take over.”

Snow nods, looking at me in the eye. I’ve seen so much profound sadness in a person’s face. “And you’ll hurt someone, no matter how much you’ll regret it later.”

If I have a soul, it’s aching horribly. How could fate be so cruel as to give me Snow? So wonderfully brave and kind to a fault, and who actually understands what my life is like. The perfect man. And someday soon, he’s going to kill me. There’s no doubt I’ll be the one to die. I won’t kill him, not ever. I’d let him take everything from me before I’d kill him.

“Did you hurt your aunt?”

Thankfully, I can shake my head to that. “No, not at all. She was an experienced magic user, while I was a starving, half crazed newly minted hex. She took me down in seconds. When I woke up again, I was cleaned up and in my room. It took a second to regain my bearings, but I soon remembered what had happened...what I had become. There wasn’t any debate in my mind. Within an hour, I had packed my most practical clothes along with any small valuables I could pawn. Then I ran away and never looked back.”

“Which is how you ended up in America.”

“What better way to protect my family from me than by putting an ocean between us? At first, I stayed in an empty little corner of the American frontier. I just wanted to live out my lonely hex existence as long as possible. I didn’t expect the Call or this looming hex war.”

“No one did,” Simon sighs. “Hexes working together has never been possible before. Who could’ve imagined some American preacher would team up with an Aztec goddess to do just that?”

“Fair point. But now he’s made our existences much harder in a way. Look what those humans tried to do to us at the inn. They were even more scared because of Rook”

“Yeah...”

I groan, pushing my face into my hands, rubbing it up and down. “I never asked to be like this. I tried my hardest to avoid being like this. Then that choice was ripped away from me by some madman. Now I’m trapped between murderous humans or a bloodthirsty witch goddess. Why am I here? Why do I have to be here?!”

“Baz-”

“I don’t want this,” I choke out through my building sobs. “I want to see my family again. I just want to go home!”

I breathe hard and fast, holding back tears with all my strength. No, I refuse to cry. I swore to never cry again after the coffin, because I wasn't sure I could survive falling apart again. Yet here I am. I thought I had shed every tear I have there. I’m so pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Simon says. His voice is far louder than before. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. It’s...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Slowly, cautiously, I lower my hands, blinking away the tears that had collected. I inhale sharply. Snow is less than two feet away from me. I can count the moles on his face, see the golden highlights in his bronze. But worse, his unbelievably delicious scent fills every cavity of my nose.

“You really shouldn’t sit so close, Snow,” I whisper. My eyes fall down and become completely fixed on Simon’s plush lips.

“I know,” he says under his breath, “but I don’t care.”

He touches my hand, and I feel his magic run through me. That explosive sensation pulses through my veins so hard it almost makes me gasp. The instinctual part of my brain goes fucking mad. It wants me to grab his throat and drain every drop of his magic, his essence, his very soul. My breathing gets shallow and laboured.

“Simon...” I say.

And then he kisses me.

It’s cautious and shy. His lips barely brush against mine, but I feel it everywhere else, especially in the way our powers rise to meet each other. The magic collides, but doesn’t clash. They meld and twist together at our points of contact, desperately needing to connect.

Snow opens his mouth, turning the kiss into one of pure heat and hunger. I gladly do the same. He grabs either side of my face and shoves his tongue down my throat. I grip his collar and push back against him. My entire body is filled with endless energy. I’m a star going supernova. And I want to explode with Simon. My nails scratch viciously across his neck. He clenches his fist in my hair, pressing our faces closer. I shudder as Simon bites hard on my bottom lip. I’m wrapped in cold heat, wrapped up in him. I feel so alive. It feels so right. But it’s wrong.

With all the strength I have, I shove Snow off me. We both fall back on the ground, breaking our closed circuit of feeding on each other simultaneously. Simon scrambles further away panting. I’m similarly out of breath. Both our lips trail white smoke, like they’ve been singed by ice. My magic readjusts after being sucked away and added to all at the same time. A bit of Snow’s explosive energy still sits in me, swirling around like a miniature star. We just stare at each other wide eyed for a long time.

“Shit,” Simon whispers.

I sigh heavily, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Well said.”

“We nearly killed each other.”

“Mages don’t meddle, Snow. We both know that.”

Simon groans, clutching his hair in his fists. “I know, I know. I almost killed Penny last time and I swore it would never happen again. But look at me now. Of course I fuck up.” I can see tears forming under his eyes. “What’s the point of being an all powerful hex if it means being alone forever?! I can blow up a building with my mind but I can’t even bloody kiss you! It’s not fair!”

I pick at my shirt sleeve with shaking fingers. “Maybe God is punishing us.”

“We didn’t ask to be like this, Baz!”

“That doesn’t change what we are, Simon! We’re freaks of nature, cannibalistic monsters!” I nearly rip through the fabric of my shirt. I'm so angry and so fucking tired. “Maybe we truly are devil spawn or something, like all the humans say. Maybe they’re right to be scared of all of us...”

I turn away from him, just staring at the fire. The sting of the smoke keeps me from sinking too low into my self loathing. Snow moves in my peripheral. We sit side by side. My skin prickles as he hovers his hand over mine. It takes every bit of my will to not try and drain him again.

“There’s somewhere we can go where we aren’t 'Devil spawn,'” he says.

I tense up. “Simon, that’s risky. It could all be a farce.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s just a farce, Baz! It’s still a chance. For you and me, for us.” He lightly brushes one of my fingers. I have to rip my hand away before I hurt him again. His pretty eyes are filled with pain. “See? Wouldn’t you like to stop doing that? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

I’ve been running for most of my life. I ran from my mother's legacy for as long as I could. I ran from my family when I feared my own hunger. And I could run now, from Simon and the fear of killing him. But I’d also be abandoning the chance for some sort of happy life. It may not be perfect, but it would be far more than my ancestors ever had before. Can I sacrifice that for fear?

“I’m tired, Snow,” I say weakly. “We should both get some rest.”

“But Baz-”

“Let me sleep on it, alright? Please?”

Snow takes in a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

I want to kiss him so badly right now. Just grab his gorgeous, sunshine face and kiss him goodnight. Since I can’t, I smile as genuinely as I can at him. It’s not easy for me, but I mean it with him. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Snow stares at me for a long moment. But slowly, a smile creeps across his face too. The fondness threatens to melt me, “Goodnight, Baz.”

We keep our eyes locked for as long as we can. When I finally lay down, putting my crackling shield around me, the image of Snow’s wonderful face relaxes me into sleep.

———————————————

I bang my fists against the wood over and over, ignoring my already numerous splinters.

“Help!” I yell. “Someone help me! Please, get me out of here!”

All my pleas fall on deaf ears, as usual. No matter what I do, no matter how loud I scream. I’m stuck in this damned coffin. I scratch at it until my fingernails tear from their beds. Blood drips into my mouth, leaving an iron taste in the back of my scream sore throat.

“I’m not a fucking hex! I just want to go home!” I sob so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “Just let me go home.”

My aching arms finally fall. I curl in on myself as much as I can within my confines. I close my eyes, but there’s little to no difference in the endless pitch black. Tears run hot down my face. They leave small trails in the dirt that’s accumulated over...however long I’ve been here. I don’t know anymore. Time is meaningless where there’s no sunrise or sunset. Life is meaningless in here.

“Baz?”

His voice is far away, but it still rings clear. My eyes slide open. “Simon?”

“Oh lord. Hang on, Baz! I'll get you out!”

I can only hear as Snow desperately tugs at the coffin lid. It should be impossible, the thing is nailed shut, but somehow Snow rips it open. The light is dim yet still hurts my eyes. I can't help but hiss at the pain.

“It’s okay, Baz,” he says in that unbelievably soft tone.

His hand reaches to me through the blinding light. Slowly, I reach back. And when I hold it, I know I’m supposed to be in pain, but I’m not. Instead, I’m just calm, happy, safe. Snow slowly pulls me out. His arms snake around my back, holding me up. He looks me over, taking in my decrepit, decayed state from ages in that damn box. And miraculously, he smiles. Even like this, he looks at me with such care.

“You’re alright now, Baz. I’m here.” He cups my face. “I’m here for you.”

Emotions clog up my throat and tears run down my cheek, but this time they’re for a good reason. I put my own shaking hand on his golden face. He’s so warm. “Yes, you are. And I’m here for you too, Simon.”

He’s still grinning as I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. But this time there’s no fear I’ll kill him. There’s just the utter joy of being with the one who understands me best, the one I want the most.

Oh, how I want this.

———————————————

I blink awake slowly. The morning sun is just rising over the horizon, turning the grassy landscape violet. I sit up and see the now familiar body on the other side of the fire. Snow sleeps in a knot, arms and legs pulled in. The furrow in his brow says he’s in the middle of a nightmare too. Though mine wasn’t one by the end. Not when he was there.

My mind is made up.

Once again, I’m packing my things lowly, waiting for Snow to wake. Luckily, he stirs while I’m only halfway through tying up the cot. He rubs the sleep from his eyes in such a terribly adorable way.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning,” he yawns. “Are we going now? Or...are you?”

My heart seizes, but only for a moment. He’s right to be concerned. The fact that we’ve travelled together for two weeks without killing each other is a miracle among hexes. After last night’s close call, a sensible man would leave and never return. I was once a sensible human man. But I’m a deranged, bloodthirsty hex now. Why not act like one?

“You should get up and start packing, Snow. If we’re going to make it to the Mexican border before nightfall, we’ll have to ride fast.”

His eyes go rounder than a full moon. “You mean...”

I pull the pack tie tight. “We’re going to Hex City.”

“What changed your mind?

I sigh heavily, then walk over to him. I stay at a safe distance of course but Snow’s magic pulls me to him, my body begging me to take it. Instead, I simply hold out my hand to him. Snow stares for a moment but does catch on. He offers his own to me. Once again, our magics reach out to each other, wisps of fire and lightning twining together. It sends a faint whisper of that explosive adrenaline through my veins. So incredible and so wrong.

I snap my hand away, fists clenched hard. “Because of that. If I were a more selfless person, I would simply leave, but unfortunately I’m not. Are you?” Snow looks me over. His eyes pierce me in a way no one’s ever has before. He slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. I may be scared of Rook and his goddess, but I’m more scared of hurting you. There’s only one place where I won't.”

“Hex City.” He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “What if you’re right though, and Rook’s price is too high?”

“Then at least we’ll pay it knowing we tried to have a real life, instead of running like we’ve always had to.” I stand straight with my head held high. No matter the fear, I’m sure of this. “I think we’ve both suffered long enough, Simon.”

The way Snow’s face relaxes means the world to me. I love seeing that, seeing what he looks like without the heavy burden of hexation on his shoulders. Maybe I’ll be able to see that more in Hex City.

“It’ll probably be nice there,” he says. “I mean, a city made for hexes by hexes is going to be weird, but I bet it’ll look amazing in it’s own way.”

I chuckle and nod. “Agreed. Buildings and roads made by magic will certainly be interesting.”

“Penny would probably want to study them.” He sighs, but there’s a lightness to. “Maybe Penny will come one day, and I could see her again.”

“Maybe. I would love to meet her. I might be able to see my aunt again one day, too. I could introduce you to her.”

He beams so bright at me I fear I’ll get sunburnt. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me too, Snow. So let’s get going.”

We finish packing very quickly. Snow gets on his horse as clumsy as he usually does. I snort at the way his American cowboy hat nearly falls off his head. The death glare he gives me has little impact, what with the way he’s grinning. He hasn’t stopped grinning almost since he woke up. I can’t blame him. I have trouble controlling my smile either.

“Ready?” he asks. As if he even has to. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.

“Ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Snow and I both send our horses into gallops. We soar across the grassy plain, the Texas sun illuminating our way. The impending hex war still looms over us. But I will fight until my last breath to keep any happiness Simon and I can find.

I can almost see our future. Soon, we’ll reach the terrifying and wonderful Hex City. Rook will ask for his price, and we’ll pay, because it’ll mean a freedom we've never known before. We’ll be able to hold hands, kiss whenever we want, sleep in the same bed, simply be around each other with no fear of our hexacious hunger. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of even a few months ago.

For once, I’m going to run towards something good, instead of away from the darkness inside me. I cannot wait.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks! I hope people enjoyed that, even if y'all have never read Hexslinger. If you wanna read the books, I highly recommend them, tho be warned they require trigger warnings for all the stuff here and more. Almost anything that usually needs a trigger warning is in those books. I'm okay with reading it, but I also completely understand others not liking that shit.

In the positives, it's an extremely interesting and complex series dealing with survival, discrimination, identity, the pain that can come with love, and the unlikely bonds formed between people. The world building is amazing and the magic system is super cool. What I love the most are the characters, who are all very interesting and complex. No one is 100% good or evil, they're just people trying to find ways to achieve their goals or simply live. What actions they take are up for moral debate, but a lot of the time they're at least understandable. There's a lot of period typical bigotry, and it's much more vicious than what I wrote here, but what I love is that there a lot of diverse characters who say "fuck that" and fight back against the shit they get. You've got queer, Indigenous, black, latinx, Chinese, and Jewish main characters in a wild west story who are all well rounded and interesting. That's pretty awesome imo.

Okay enough gushing about Hexslinger lol. Hope this story was good. No guarantee when my next fic will be out. Work and school are killer. Until then, see you later!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #hexslinger #hexslinger au #period typical homophobia #period typical racism #blood tw #mild body horror tw #canon typical vioence #mysnowbazfic #carry on through the ages #cotta 2020

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 3 years

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Six Sentence Sunday!

I’m gonna do this before I forget this time lol. Thank you to the wonderful @carryonsimoncarryonbaz and @annabellelux for tagging me, you two are the best <3

Some of you may know (mostly just @carryonmylovelies lol) that I’ve been playing around with a Star Trek AU because I’ve been rewatching DS9 (my fave star trek EVER) and I’m like a toddler, I’m most influenced by what I’ve last watched lol. So here’s a short-ish early bit from one of the fics featuring Baz PiningTM. Enjoy!

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When I imagined this station, I’ll admit that I pictured something like the ones near the Federation core. Deep Space 61 is...not like that. For one thing, it’s much smaller. I estimate this place could hold maybe three thousand people if you squeeze together. The floors are scuffed from lack of cleaning. And the people are much more casual. On core stations, almost everyone is Starfleet, all good straight backed officers. Here they wear colourful jumpsuits or long flowing dresses, acting in whatever way they want. They’re all so different. Good, that’s exactly what I’m here for.

“Hey! Stop running!” That distant voice is all the warning I get before two people crash into me. I stumble back and nearly fall over. One is a Bolian and the other is a Ferengi, both no older than teenagers. They mumble out apologies before bolting off again. I turn around, ready to chase after the two myself.

“Oi!” My head snaps up. And my heart completely stops. “Desalan! Tuk! Stop right now, you numpties!”

The kids freeze for only a moment before running again to the left. Snow jumps off the balcony in one smooth motion. His beautiful crimson wings stretch out behind him as he easily glides down towards the two of them. He snatches both their collars and lifts them off the ground. The Bolian hangs still with his arms crossed while the Ferengi puts up more of a fight.

“Put me down!” he shrieks. “I’m a citizen of the Ferengi Alliance, you have no authority over me, Federation lackie!”

Snow snorts, an uncharacteristic smug smile on his lips. “Hate to tell you, Tuk, but as long as you’re on my Federation station, you’re under my Federation authority. Thought you had figured that out by now. So, are you going to empty your pockets on your own, or will I have to shake you both out by the ankles again?”

Desalan and Tuk both huff then do as Snow says. A surprising amount of shiny metals, scarves, and ceramic trinkets come out. How on Earth did they fit all that in there? They seem to finally finish, a sea of goods at their feet. But when Snow glares at the little Ferengi, he groans and takes out a large Bajoran opal ring.

“Now was that so hard?” Snow asks. The boys grumble and glare at him. “This is the second time I’ve caught you two stealing. If there’s a third, I’ll toss you in a holding cell for a week.”

“My mother would never allow that,” Desalan says indignantly.

“Oh, I think Lieutenant Commander Varma would agree with me wholeheartedly.” Snow sighs. There’s a kindness in his eyes that makes me want to melt. “You know, Dessie, petty theft won’t get the kind of attention you want from her. It’s just going to make her want to ignore you more. Talking it out would work much better.”

Desalan’s cheeks turn a darker shade of blue as he looks away. Stars, he’s still exactly the same. Rough around the edges, but so unbelievably, fundamentally good. My heart is going at warp speed, I swear.

Snow gently places them on the ground. “This is your last warning. Don’t let me catch you two at this again, alright?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Snow,” they say unison.

“Good. Run along now.” They do as he says, bolting down the left corridor. Snow sighs and puts his hands on his hips. “Those kids, what am I going to do with them?”

He turns his head, and our eyes finally meet. Snow’s perfect pretty mouth drops open. “Baz? Baz Grimm-Pitch?!”

I stand straight with arms over my chest. “Hello again, Snow.”

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Here are some tags! Do it if you want tagged or not, absolutely no pressure

@carryonmylovelies @the-lincyclopedia @dreamscapesev7n @bazzybelle @angelsfalling16 @nightimedreamersworld (I’ve been so out of touch witht he fandom lately idk who is writing nowadays lol sorry!)

#six sentence sunday #star trek au #mysnowbazfic #preview

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

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Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 8493

Summary: Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers.

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words. “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong.

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory.

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing, hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes, again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful, awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like, really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.

Fuck.

———————————————

AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fanfiction #being erica au #time travel #time travel therapy #fluff #angst #first meeting #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Missed Moments with You

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 14353

Summary: Almost six months after Baz drunkenly stumbled back into Simon's life, they're still together and happy. Well, mostly. It'd be great if they had more time together, but work keeps getting in the way. Can their relationship survive their real lives?

Read on AO3

Sequel to “Back to Haunt Me”

AN: HAHAHAHAHA I DID IT BITCHES!!!! I FINALLY FINISHED A FIC AFTER MONTHS OF ILLNESS AND WRITER'S BLOCK!!!! Seriously, I could not do ANYTHING for so long. But I was finally able to do this! Big thanks to @carryonmylovelies for all her help and encouragement. She is the best.

Sadly, I couldn't get this to fit into any of my requests. I will try to get to those, I promise. My brain is just not functioning at full capacity and really hasn't for awhile. Hope you enjoy this one tho :)

Disclaimer: I am not a teacher or a psychiatrist. Most of my knowledge comes from being a student and a therapy/psychiatry patient, plus a little research online. This is not meant to be a super duper accurate representation of either. Dramatic License was taken.

———————————————

Simon

Even though it’s soft, I still hear the door close. It’s not like I have super ears. I’ve just been sleeping lightly, trying to stay up until Baz comes back. I hear him quietly take off his ugly shoes, walk towards the room, and open the door. I stay still as he flops down next to me and gets under the blanket. He lazily throws an arm over my side, long nose pressed against my neck. I love when he does this, wraps himself around me. Baz makes me feel so happy.

“Hey,” I say, barely a whisper. “How was the hospital?”

Baz’s groan reverberates down my skin. “Nearly punched a patient’s father in the face.”

“Sounds like the usual.”

“Mhm. Just another day and night at University College Hospital.” He tosses his leg over mine. Sometimes I swear he wants to bloody climb me. “You should be asleep, Snow, it’s late.”

“You’re up.”

“Because I’m a medical resident and my hours are completely insane. You’re allowed the luxury of a mostly normal sleep schedule, take advantage of it.”

I grab his hand over my stomach, weaving our fingers together. “I like waiting for you.”

“Mm.” He nuzzles closer and holds me tighter, then presses a soft kiss behind my ear. I’m in heaven. “Sap.”

“Always.” I kiss the back of his hand. “We should both sleep now, love.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Night, love.”

I close my eyes, finally sinking into sleep as my wonderful, exhausted boyfriend holds me tight.

———————————————

I’m woken up by my alarm blaring shitty hair metal at top volume. Baz lets out a loud groan into my shoulder.

“Why do you play that rubbish?” he growls. “Why not some nice classical?”

“Because this rubbish wakes me up.” I reluctantly extract myself from Baz’s lovely arms. I hear him roll onto his stomach and spread out in a starfish on my bed. He loves cuddling with me, but he also likes to stretch out his long limbs. I grab my glasses, returning my ability to see properly, then turn around to look at him, and my mouth drops open.

“Baz!” I shout. “You climbed into my bed in your fucking scrubs again!?”

Baz lifts his head slightly and pulls at his light blue scrubs, eyebrows pulled together. “Hm, looks like I did.”

“They’re filthy!”

“No.” He flops back down, face smushed into my pillow. “I washed them yesterday. There’s just a bit of dried blood on my trouser leg. No sick or spinal fluid this time.”

I shake my head, but it’s with a smile. “I can’t believe my neat freak former roommate has developed such low standards of cleanliness.”

Baz makes an annoyed grunting sound before sinking further into my bed. I chuckle and press a kiss to his hairline. He’s already asleep again.

I grab my bathrobe and go into the kitchen, a smile on my face. It’s been five months since Basilton Pitch drunkenly wandered his way back into my life. I never imagined we would see each other again, let alone start dating. But it’s been pretty great. Baz is so much more than I thought he was. I already knew he was brilliant, but he’s also hilarious and kind and utterly amazing. I’m happier with him, and I think Baz is happier with me too.

The only problem is exactly what Baz warned me about when we started dating; he’s insanely busy. The hospital has him on a weird, inconsistent schedule. He’ll sometimes work for over twelve hours then collapse for an entire day afterwards. If that wasn’t hard enough, when this started, I didn’t factor in my own job. Very dumb, considering what I do. When I’m not teaching, I’m usually grading or writing lesson plans, so it’s not like I have a lot of free time either. We once went two and a half weeks without seeing each other. It was awful, but both of us understood. Still missed him though. I miss him a lot. In nearly six months, we’ve been on three proper dates. It’s not that I like fancy dinners and shit, I just like being with Baz. I wish we could be together more.

I stop to give Cherry her morning pet and wet food. She purrs under my hand. Then I make myself instant coffee, the ambrosia of primary teachers, and toaster waffles. I leave some for Baz to heat up later. He has pretty refined tastes, but no one can resist toaster waffles. He’ll probably be up to eat them around noon, when we’ll Skype chat while I have lunch at school. It’s my favourite part of the day. I want it to happen more often.

The phone ringing breaks me out of my lovesick melancholy. Penny’s grinning face stares back at me. I quickly pick it up. “Hey, Pen.”

“Hey Si,” she says, voice crackling slightly. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going alright. Just making myself some shit coffee and toaster waffles.”

“I’m a bit horrified your breakfast habits haven’t changed since uni.”

I scoff very self righteously. “Neither have yours. Last time I visited, you were stuffing your face with pop tarts.”

“You have no proof of that.” I can feel Penny’s glare from across the bloody Atlantic.

“No,” I chuckle. “I guess I don’t. Oh, I did almost get video proof of Baz wolfing down two Big Macs. He finished just after I got my phone out, it was amazing.”

“Ha! Get a video of it when it happens next time, then show me that and I’ll owe you a pint.”

“I’ll try next time we go out.” I slump a little in my chair. “If we go out...”

Penny sighs in a particular way. It’s the one she uses when she knows I’m down and wants to bring me back up. “Baz still working those long shifts, huh?”

“Yeah, so he’s tired a lot. And our schedules have trouble syncing up. It really sucks and it’s not like either of us have a choice in it, especially him. But still it...it’s like- I just-”

“Part of you doesn’t give a shit about work, you just want to be together more.”

I sink further on the chair, so much so I fear I’m going to melt into the vinyl. “Kinda, yeah. Does that...does that make me a bad boyfriend and person?”

“No, no, absolutely not, Simon. It makes you a normal person who desires their partner.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, but Baz warned me about his job. He told me that he would have insane hours and it would make having a relationship really hard. I told him it was okay, that we would make it work, so I can’t get mad now, right?”

“You’re allowed to be upset that you don’t get to see your boyfriend as much as you wish you could.”

“I guess, yeah.” I shove half a toaster waffle in my mouth. It marginally helps. “I don’t know what to do, Pen. I can’t ask Baz to cut his hours, it’ll mess up his degree and piss off the doctors cause they’ll say he’s ‘not being dedicated’, which is a load of bollocks but it’ll happen. And it’s not like I can change when I work. There doesn’t seem to be a solution.”

Penny sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Si. There’s no easy way to deal with this. I think you just have to talk things out.” I groan heavily. “Yeah, I know, you hate talking. But can you think of anything else?”

“No,” I grumble. “Save for just shagging him senseless so we can both let off some nervous stress.”

“Sex doesn’t fix everything.”

“Well, no, but it would be nice to try it period.”

“You two still haven’t slept together?!” she says far too loudly. I hope Micah isn’t home. God, that would be embarrassing. “It’s been months!”

“I know,” I groan, “but we’ve both been busy and tired, especially Baz. Mostly we’ve just been snogging, which is awesome. Baz is a great kisser.”

“Too much information, Si.”

“Sorry, sorry. I like kissing, I’d just like to do...other stuff too.”

“Which is perfectly understandable, and the only way it’s going to ever happen is if you figure out where to go in your relationship. And that’s only going to happen by talking about it and working something out that both of you can live with.”

I eat another toaster waffle. Again, helps a little, not enough. “That’s hard.”

“And necessary if you want to keep this relationship.” There’s a short pause and I try to speak before Penny interrupts me. “You definitely do want to keep it, right?”

My leg jerks so hard I nearly knock my coffee over. “Of course I do! Baz is kind and amazing and funny and brilliant and I fucking lo-”

We both go silent. I put a hand over my mouth. Holy shit, I can’t believe I almost said that. I haven’t even thought about it before, until now. (Typical, I don’t figure it out until I’m right in the middle of shit.) I mean, I’ve thought about it in a sort of abstract, future way. But not right now, not after only five months together when we spent seven years apart and an equal amount of time hating each other. Could I really be in love already?

“Shit, really?” Penny whispers. “You love him?”

I bite my nails, something I haven’t done since second year of uni. “Uh, I guess, maybe. I don’t know. It’s way too soon and I’m not exactly that experienced in love. I don’t think I can say for sure of anything...”

“Okay. What can you say for sure then?”

“Well,” I stop chewing on my nails, “I know I care about Baz. I enjoy being around him. And I really, really, really like him.”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I can deal with that.”

“Good, stick with that, don’t jump too far. Figure out where you two stand before you start talking about love.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, similar to Baz. I’m picking a lot up from him, “I know, I know.” My eyes catch the clock. “Oh shit, I’ve got to go right now. If I’m late my kids are going to destroy the classroom.”

Penny snorts. “The trials of a parent of thirty two children.”

“Exactly. Talk to you later, Pen, love you.”

“Love you too, Si, bye!”

The phone clicks off, leaving me hopelessly alone with my thoughts. So, I want to be around Baz more. That’s reasonable, he’s my boyfriend. But neither of us can be around more because of our beloved jobs. I’m going to have to find some solution. But not right now because I’m going to be very, very late. I rush out the door with only the thoughts of the tube schedule on my mind.

———————————————

“Lishie, no,” I say, taking the marker from her hand, “that’s a shared class writing utensil, you can’t chew on it.”

Lishie pouts at me, blinking her big brown eyes. “But Mr. Snow,” she whines.

“None of that, please. If you must chew on something, please use your own pencil.” I lean down to look at her drawing of a castle. “This is your favourite place, huh?”

“Yeah.” She points at her lovely pink palace. “This is my Lishie only place. It keeps my brother out and shoots lasers at bad guys.”

I nod with a big smile. “Both are very important. Nice work.” I turn to Zahir. His drawing is of a beautiful shoreline with a fiery sunset. “And what place is this?”

“It’s the view from my grandparent’s house,” he chirps.

“It looks lovely, Zahir, good job.”

I stand up and check the other kids. They’re all doing wonderfully. I help where needed, handing them markers and giving colour suggestions. Luckily the kiddos are being good today. I don’t think I can handle their particular brand of tornado like insanity right now.

“Mr. Snow, look what I did!” I lean down to Harrison’s level. His picture is of himself with his two Mums holding hands under an abundance of trees.

“It’s amazing, Harry,” I say. “Where are you three in this picture?”

“We’re at the camping ground where my Mums met. They got married at the lake last year. We go there every summer break.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet.”

“Are you married, Mr. Snow?” Rosanne calls out. I hate mean nicknames. They’re a dumb bullying tactic. At the same time though, “Nosey Rosie” is occasionally apt. Not that I’d ever say that out loud, of course.

“No, I’m not married, Rose,” I say calmly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

The kids start muttering and giggling. I sigh, shaking my head. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend either. But my love life is none of your business, munchkins.”

“A boyfriend?” Liza shouts. “My mum said you probably have a boyfriend.”

I sigh and rub my temple. Well, while her mother is correct, the beautiful and single Ms.Thorn has also made many advances on me. I suppose me being gay rationalises my kind rejections of her. I believe she needs to get over herself.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” I hate lying to the kids, but I’m not going to talk about my relationship with them. “Again, my love life is personal.”

Thandi gasps, and leans over to Riya beside her. Her tone suggests a whisper, but her volume shows she absolutely means to be heard. “What if Mr. Snow has a secret girlfriend or boyfriend?”

They all start chattering away with big grins on their faces. I sigh heavily. There is nothing ten year olds love more than gossiping, especially about their teachers. I’ve caught my munchkins talking about if the football coach and year 11 science teacher are together. (They aren’t. Both Coach Markova and Mr. Saadia have been married for over twenty years. Their husbands are wonderful friends.) I don’t want to become the next rumour on the playground.

“Okay, hush up all of you,” I say loudly. They all quiet down. “It’s not appropriate to discuss my personal life, so you’re going to stop right now, understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Snow,” they reply all at once in a shamed, slightly annoyed tone. It’s one I’m extremely familiar with.

“Good. Now go back to your drawings, or we’ll start the maths worksheets early.”

They all gasp, then go back to drawing. I hear whispers about normal things, like Power Rangers and Disney movies. I sigh and return to my desk, leaning back in the chair. Honestly, even if I did want to answer the kids, I wouldn’t be sure what to say. I do have a boyfriend officially, but I barely see him. Twice a week at best. It’s not his fault, he tries his best. I fuck up more than him honestly. I just wish we could be...more boyfriends? That doesn’t make sense.

My pocket buzzes and I pull out my phone. I’m not supposed to use it during class hours, but the kids are working right now, it’s fine. The text is from Baz. My pulse speeds up like it does every time. But when I open it, my heart drops instead.

Baz [13:40] Hey love. So sorry but I can’t come over tonight. Need to pick up an extra shift. I promise I’ll make it up to you ❤️

I sigh heavily, trying to suppress the disappointment and hurt. It’s not his fault, he’s doing his best. We’ll figure something out. Right?

Simon [13:41] it’s alright love we’ll find another time

Baz [13:41] ❤️

———————————————

“No, no, hold the rock like this.” Baz adjusts my grip. I love his fingers, long and elegant. If he wasn’t a doctor, I think he would make an incredible pianist.

“How does the way I hold the rock change anything?” I ask.

“It helps you get the right angle to skip it.”

I frown in confusion. “I thought the rock’s shape helped with that.”

“Both help. So,” he guides my arm back, “let’s try.”

Baz’s callused fingers caress my bare skin. I let out a shaky breath. God, I shouldn’t get this hot and bothered from Baz just touching me. I’m not some horndog, I can wait for sex. The pent up tension is just...getting to me a bit.

“Now flick it, Snow,” Baz says.

I fling the stone forward. It flies over the pond, sending ripples across the aquamarine water. The stone nearly reaches the other side before finally dropping. I’m grinning ear to ear. When I turn around, Baz is too.

“Wonderful job, love.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I knew you could do it.”

God, I’m going to melt into a puddle. I peck his lips softly. “Thanks for showing me, love.”

He kisses me back, a bit firmer. I would snog the life out of him right now if we weren’t in the middle of Regent’s Park, apparently a popular relaxation spot for UCLH. We’re surrounded by nurses chatting, residents resting, and doctors smoking cigarettes. (Baz says doctors truly have the least regard for their own health.) We sadly pull apart and take a seat on a bench. I put my head on his strong shoulder, and he throws his arm around me.

“How were psych rounds today?” I ask.

“Awful,” he groans. “Mr. Teversham still refuses to take his medication, and Mx. Joseph is fighting therapy at every turn.”

“Hm, well, you expected this. Any ideas?”

“Mx. Joseph needs to be in therapy without knowing they're in therapy. Mr. Teversham needs to be sedated so he can’t yell at me anymore.”

I snort. “Not sure that’s legal.”

“It’s not, but one can dream. Both probably need adjustments in their medications but that would affect serotonin levels too much at this delicate stage of treatment.”

“Mm, that sucks. Anything you could do for now?”

“More group therapy and coping techniques, I suppose. Little else we can do.”

I nod thoughtfully. Honestly, I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I try to be interested. It’s important to him so I do my best.

He slowly strokes my hair. I lean closer to him. “How’s your work going, love?”

“It’s alright. Kids aren’t being too destructive. Oh, I’ve been working on something else though.”

Baz smiles, pulling me closer. “What’s that?”

“A new scone recipe.”

He lets out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back so far some of his gelled hair gets dislodged. I like the way a few raven strands fall in his face. “You seriously haven’t run out of new ones to try?”

I shrug. “Not yet. Maybe one day.”

“And then you’ll start making your own.”

“Probably.” I throw both arms around his torso, squeezing him tight. “I’ll give them to you to try.”

He chuckles softly. “Well, maybe. I have to stay in good shape to keep up with the other residents, and I can’t mess up what little sleep I have.”

I deflate slightly. Right, he’s gotta watch his health more than me. I should remember that. Bloody hell, I’m a terrible boyfriend. “R-Right. Well, I’ll make something else for you I guess...”

He makes a humming noise, but I can’t tell what it means. I’m horrible at non-verbal cues and unfortunately Baz is still no exception. I want to ask him about being around, about us being together, but the words get all tangled in my throat. I don’t know how to ask him without sounding like a selfish arse.

(Maybe I am a selfish arse. Maybe I don’t deserve this, deserve him.)

(No no, Simon, stop it, stop with the self deprecation.)

(Even though he is better than me...)

I’m about to open my mouth when two clashing beeps ring out. Baz and I scramble to our phones.

“Fuck,” I groan. “Emergency staff meeting in twenty minutes. I’m gonna need to get a cab.”

“Me too,” Baz sighs. “Dr. Dehnavi wants to talk to me about a new inpatient. I suppose I should be flattered, but I’m more annoyed.”

“We’re both suffering it seems.”

“Apparently.” Baz leans over and pecks my lips. I lean forward, just slightly, asking for more that I can’t have right now. “I’ll text you later, love.”

“Yeah, me too.” We dash off in different directions. The questions I have still hang in my throat, but I put them down for now. Next time. Maybe...

———————————————

Thursday April 21

Baz [06:06] Hi, love. I’m finally done my night shift. We still on for the cafe this afternoon?

Simon [07:01] hey sorry I didn’t get this until now. unfortunately i’ve got some last minute extra tutoring to do with Sasha sorry

Baz [07:02] It’s alright. You free Friday night?

Simon [07:02] nah got grading ☹️ gotta go to class ttyl!

Baz [07:02] Alright, talk to you later.

———————————————

Sunday April 30

Simon [17:37] hey baz can I come over tonight?

Baz [17:58] Unfortunately not. I’m on call for OBGYN all night. Lots of sitting with tiny sick babies in the NICU...

Simon [18:05] fuck that doesn’t sound fun at all ☹️

Baz [18:06] Absolutely is not. I’ll text you later okay?

Simon [18:06] Okay ❤️

———————————————

Wednesday May 8

Baz [22:24] I miss you

Simon [22:24] I miss you too

———————————————

My phone rings at lunch. Baz’s slightly smiling face looks right back at me. I took the photo one night when we were watching telly. He’s got his hair all piled up in a bun, wearing an LSE sweatshirt. He looks gorgeous, as always. I’m so entranced by the picture that I answer it just before the last ring.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Baz replies, sounding extremely tired. (He’s been sounding like that more and more lately.) “How’s your day been?”

“Not too bad. Joey fired a spitball at me, but I took the straw away pretty quickly.“

“Dear Lord, you teach monsters.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nope, just children, love. They’re naturally nightmares.”

“Don’t have to tell me, Snow, I have four younger siblings.” He sighs, and I can imagine him tilting his head back, hair falling down behind him. It’s a nice image. “Are you free next Friday?”

“Hm, let me check.” I look at my Google calendar, which is filled to the brim with multicoloured event tabs, everything from field trips to when lesson plans need to be done. (I consider the second one more a guideline than a rule.) Friday is surprisingly blank. A grin breaks out across my face. “Yeah, Friday is good. Got something in mind?”

“Well, I finally have a Friday off. So I was thinking we could dress up and go somewhere nice. Somewhere with fine food, candles, a generally romantic atmosphere. Does that sound good to you?”

I can’t help biting my bottom lip like some stupid teenager. I haven’t seen my boyfriend in person in nearly three weeks, sue me. Sure there’s been some texting and calls and Facetimes, but none of that compares to the real thing. I’ve missed how Baz’s long fingers feel between mine, or the way he cups my cheek perfectly when he kisses me. I just want to be with him. And finally we have a chance.

“That sounds very good. And uh...” I take a pause to muscle up courage to say what I really, really want to say. “Do you want to go to my place afterwards? And sleep over? But y’know...not sleep?” Baz snorts. My cheeks are probably bright red. I groan and rub my forehead. “Sorry, that sounded dumb. I’m an adult, I should be able to talk about sex openly.”

Baz sighs in his strangely affectionate way. “Well, we both know you’re not the best with words, Snow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Okay, true. But the message still got across right? What I’m asking? But please don’t feel pressured, I just wanted to ask if we could try...”

“Yes, it definitely did. And I would love to try. I think six months is a long enough wait. And I’m really sorry about that.”

“Don’t blame yourself, love, we’ve both been pretty physically absent. Life has just been nuts for us.”

“Agreed. So it’ll be nice to...unwind a bit.”

My face is absolutely bright red now. A lot of inappropriate thoughts are racing through my head right now. I have to shove them down so my brain doesn’t start dribbling out my ears before I have to go back to teaching.

“I-I would like that a lot too.” And of course the first lunch bell decides to ring just then. I groan loudly. “Fuck, lunch is over. Kids will be back soon. Text you later to set up details?”

“Sounds good. Bye, darling.

“Bye, darling.”

I listen until Baz hangs up, then press my phone to my chest with a sigh. I feel so unbelievably giddy. It’s ridiculous, really, to be this excited about a dinner and (possible) sex. But for some reason, my chest is so full it's about to explode. I want to run around the room, shouting to the heavens that I’m going on a lovely, romantic date with Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

Fuck, maybe I really am love. That’s a terrifying, wonderful thought.

———————————————

“Does my hair look alright?” I tousle it to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. Penny sighs and shakes her head on my screen.

“It looks fine either way. But if you don’t decide soon, you’re going to be late!”

I groan and tighten my tie, trying to see myself in my tiny image in the corner. “I know, I know, I just want this to be perfect.”

“Nothing can be perfect, Si.”

“Yeah, but I can try.” I sigh, buttoning my grey suit jacket. This is the one nice suit I own, and I took great precautions to keep it from getting wrinkled on my way to work. “So much hasn’t gone right or easily in our relationship. I want one thing to not go down the drain.”

Penny nods thoughtfully. “Understandable. Just also be realistic.”

“Yes, I will.” I check my watch (a graduation gift from Penny that goes really well with my suit) and inhale sharply. “Shit, I really do have to go. Bye, Pen!”

She waves with a big, toothy smile. “Bye, Si, good luck!”

“Thank you!”

We press the red button at the same time. I tuck my phone into my jacket, then do a last cursory look at myself. No wrinkles? Check. Dashingly messy hair? Check. “Supplies” for later waiting in my bedside table at home? Absolutely check. Awesome. I’m so bloody excited I could seriously start flying right now.

“M-Mr. Snow?”

My head head whips around at the small, familiar voice. It’s Jeremy, with his wavy brown hair and little freckles. He’s sniffling, wiping his nose and blood shot eyes. I immediately rush forward and get on my knees in front of him.

“Jeremy? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He makes a big sniff, more tears falling down his cheeks. “M-My dad was supposed to pick me up outside, but he never came! And Ms. Reinhart tried to call my mum and she’s not answering and I don’t know what to do!”

He breaks out into another sob. He wraps his little arms around my neck, crying into my shoulder. I pat his back, trying to comfort as best I can. Poor kid. I’m unfortunately aware of what Jeremy’s parents are like. This isn’t out of character for them. His dad’s probably off with his college age mistress and his mum is partying late with her friends. From what I know, Jeremy was an accidental teen pregnancy, and now his parents hate each other and resent Jeremy for “ruining” their young lives. (Baz would say something about emotional stunting and projecting and shit.) This is the first time they’ve truly abandoned him though. Poor, poor kid.

“Is there anyone you trust who could come get you?” I ask quietly.

“My aunt,” he sniffles. “But she’s super far away.”

“Okay, where does she live?”

“L-Luton, I think.”

Fuck, he’s not exaggerating. Luton is an hour away on a good day, and it’s the middle of London rush hour. His parents may be able get here before her, but she’s probably much more stable than both of them put together.

“Alright. Do you know her number?”

Jeremy nods and moves off my shoulder. He pulls out a cheap flip phone. One of his parents probably gave it to him for emergencies. That’s one good decision on their part. He then hands it to me. The contact is listed as “Auntie Caroline.” I stand up and press dial, Jeremy still clinging to my leg. It only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Jeremy?” a seemingly female voice says, sounding utterly frantic. “Are you okay, love?”

“Hi,” I say, “I’m Simon Snow, Jeremy’s teacher. Don’t worry, he’s here with me, he’s safe.”

She lets out a very deep sigh. “Oh thank god. Is there something wrong?”

“Unfortunately, yes. His father was supposed to pick him up but hasn’t shown, and his mother isn’t answering her calls.”

“Those bastards,” she growls. “My brother and his good for nothing wife have already put him through hell, but this just takes the bloody cake!”

“Believe me, I agree with you. Considering our shared opinion, I was hoping you could come pick him up? I know it’s a lot to ask this late and you’re all the way in Luton but-”

“Don't have to ask me twice. I’ll be there as soon as I can. But it’s going to take me an hour, maybe two.”

I think about Baz, about everything we have planned, about every missed connection these past few weeks. But then I look down at Jeremy, who has the most tragic expression I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. I sigh heavily, then put the phone back to my ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay with him at school until you come. Let me give you the address.”

I rattle off the school’s address, my room number, and the best route to get here. She listens raptly, obviously scribbling it all down.

“Alright, got it. Thank you, Mr. Snow, this means so much to me.”

“No problem, see you soon.”

The line clicks off. I get back down in front of Jeremy. “Your aunt is going to be here soon, Jer. Until then, we’re gonna stay here and sit tight. Okay?”

Jeremy nods, wiping away more snot. “O-Okay.”

“Awesome. How about you go sit in the reading corner and I’ll join you in just a sec.”

“Okay.” He throws himself at me, hugging me tight. “Thank you, Mr. Snow.”

I smile and pat his head. “You’re very welcome, Jeremy. Now go read and get your mind off all this.”

He pulls away and runs over to the reading nook, throwing himself into the neon pink bean bag chair. He grabs a Harry Potter book. Good pick, it’s something he’s familiar with. Though I hate to think how much he relates to the way Harry grew up.

I go to my desk on the other side of the room and take my phone out. Baz’s beautiful contact picture stares back at me, and my heart twists painfully. I hate this situation. I hate that I’m doing this again after nearly three bloody weeks of no physical contact. I can only hope he can understand. And forgive me. The other end rings three times.

“Hey.” Baz’s honey sweet voice is both comforting and painful right now.

“Hey,” I sigh.

“Oh no, that’s not a good ‘hey,’ is it?”

“No, unfortunately, it’s not.” I run a hand through my hair. “Remember Jeremy? One of my kids?”

“Yes, the one with the arsehole parents.”

“Yeah, that’s him. And tonight his parents have really taken the cake. Dad was supposed to be here but is probably off shagging his barely legal mistress, and mum is probably out clubbing and not picking up either.”

“Bloody hell, what a nightmare.”

“Exactly.” I slump into my chair, tugging my tie loose. “His aunt’s coming to pick him up, but...she lives in Luton...”

It’s Baz’s turn to sigh deeply. “And you’re going to have to stay with him until she gets there.”

God, I'm such an arsehole, and a predictable one at that. “I’m so, so sorry, Baz. I really wanted to go out tonight, and I know you don’t get many days off. This is such an out of the blue thing and I can’t just leave him. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s alright, Snow, I understand. I’ll hold you to that promise, okay?”

“Please do. I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“That’s good. Bye, love.” The tinge of sadness in Baz’s voice fucking kills me.

“Bye, darling.”

He hangs up, and I hang my head with a quiet groan. I’m such a dickhead. I could’ve left Jeremy with Ms. Reinhart and went on my date, but I know she has a sick mother at home that she takes care of. Then I would have ruined the date by feeling all guilty and shit. I hate that this is probably the best choice.

“Mr. Snow?” I turn to Jeremy. He’s looking at me with a furrowed brow and pout. “Are you okay?”

I shove all my guilt and worry deep down, and put a big smile on my face. “Yeah, I’m good, Jer. Now how about you read some Harry Potter to me? I’d love to hear it.”

A grin breaks out on his face. “Okay.”

I leave my jacket and tie on my desk and stride over to him. I sit in the beanbag next to him. (Of course I didn’t get these things just for the kids.) Jeremy opens the book to his page.

“Chapter 12,” he starts with gusto

And I sit there listening to him for God knows how long. I laugh, make comments, correct his pronunciation when needed. I'm still a teacher after all. Then when the chapter is done, we watch silly animal videos on my laptop. I make sure Jeremy is happy. He deserves that after all of this. He needs to feel safe. I just wish it wasn’t at the sacrifice of Baz getting stood up, again. God, am I ever going to get to see my boyfriend again? Is the universe ever going to let us have a moment together? I can’t really blame the universe though, I guess. This was my choice. I’m awful. Baz doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him, honestly.

Soon enough, a middle aged woman with long pink and purple hair sticks her head through the door at the other side of the room. “Hello?”

Jeremy grins and drops the book immediately. “Auntie Caroline!”

Caroline grins and catches Jeremy right in her arms, holding him up high. I walk to them but keep a good distance. “Hey munchkin, good to see you. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Snow stayed with me. We watched kittens!”

“That sounds awesome.” Caroline turns to me. “Thank you so much, Mr. Snow. Is there any way I can repay you?”

I wave my hand. “Don’t worry, no payment is needed. Just glad Jeremy has somewhere to go.

Her face falls slightly. She puts Jeremy down, touching his head. “Can you go get all your stuff, dear?”

“Okay!” Jeremy races off to the cubby area at ten year old speed. It’s a unique phenomenon. Caroline looks at me with a very serious expression.

“Here’s the thing,” she says in a hushed tone, “I’ve been trying to build a custody case for months, but I haven’t been able to get concrete proof of abuse and neglect. This changes things. If my lawyer needs you to, could you please testify at the custody hearing? I know it’s a lot to ask. You’ve already done so much, so if you can’t, I understand-”

“Say no more.” I take a sticky note from my desk and write out my mobile number. “Here. Tell your lawyer they’re free to call me. I’ll do anything to help Jeremy get somewhere safe.”

She sighs and takes the note. “Thank you, Mr. Snow.”

“Please, call me Simon. Only my students have to use my last name so I can pretend I have their respect.”

She chuckles. “Okay, Simon. It’s no wonder Jeremy says you’re his favourite teacher.”

Well, I don’t need an ego stroke (at least that’s what I tell myself), but...it’s nice. I nod with a humble smile. “Good to know.”

Jeremy runs up, wearing his bright red power rangers backpack. “Ready.”

“Awesome. Say goodbye to Mr. Snow.”

Jeremy gives me a big, full arm wave. “Bye bye, Mr. Snow.”

I tousle his hair, making him giggle. “Bye, Jeremy. See you Monday.”

“See you!” He grabs Caroline’s hand and literally skips away with her. Honestly, I’ve never seen him this happy outside of class. He usually hangs his head and slumps off after hanging around in the cubby area for as long as possible. I know the patter well. It's what I used to do before I went to Watford, when I was stuck in shitty group homes. I hope Caroline gets custody. Jeremy deserves to be happy.

Slowly but surely, I collect all my stuff, from my snot covered jacket to my book bag. I look at my phone, and see a few texts from Baz.

Baz [16:56] Hey, just wanted to reassure you that I’m not upset, I understand. I’ll get another day off eventually.

Baz [18:30] I’ve got some takeout, it’s lovely. I’ll save some for you the next time you come over ❤️

Baz [19:18] I’m going to bed soon. Hope Jeremy gets to his aunt’s safe. Good night, love.

I sigh, my heart feeling like a lead balloon. I absolutely need to make this up to him. I’ll figure something out when my brain isn’t so exhausted. For now, I can at least text him back.

Simon [19:23] Sleep well, love. I’ll talk to you in the morning ❤️

Baz doesn’t reply. He’s probably asleep. Probably...

I walk home with my shoulders slumped and feeling like an utter, utter twat.

———————————————

“I’m a dick,” I groan.

“You’re not a dick,” Penny says. “You did the right thing and kept a student safe. That makes you an incredible teacher.”

“And a crap boyfriend.” I throw my cookie dough on the counter a little too hard. It makes an awful splat noise.

“Well, maybe, but Baz has bailed because of his work as well. And he said he understood.”

I grumble as I roll out little balls between my hands. Baking always helps me calm down. Well, usually. Right now I’m close to crushing each one. “Yeah, I guess, but I still feel super bad.”

“Well, take him out on his next day off.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle darkly, “that’ll probably be in about two or three months.”

Penny sighs, sounding just as defeated as I feel. “That fucking sucks. I can’t believe his schedule is really that insane.”

“He works himself to the bone, because he’s a great doctor and he’s going to be a great psychiatrist. It just means we don’t get a lot of time together, but it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. Both of you need to carve out more time for each other. You’re not the only one who is having issues, Si.”

“Yeah, but like, he can’t help but work more. Being a doctor is more demanding than being a teacher. He doesn’t have control of his hours.”

“Neither do you!” She’s practically yelling. “Being a good teacher means going above and beyond for your students. Therefore, you have to put in extra hours if you want your students to have a great education.”

I make a semi agreement noise. My non-verbal way of saying she may have a point but I don’t like it. “Okay, maybe. But Baz doesn’t deserve to be neglected because of it.”

“Of course he doesn’t, Si, which is why you have to make time for him. And he has to do the same for you if you want this relationship to work.”

“I know you’re right, Pen, I just don’t know how.”

There’s a small pause, and I can imagine Pen stroking her chin like the old scholar she is in spirit. It’s comforting to think of. Penny thinking was a staple of the best parts of my childhood.

“What time is it where you are?” she asks.

I look down at my watch. “Uh, about 11?”

“Good. Finish what you’re baking, bring it to the hospital, surprise Baz with home baked treats. Then see if you can get Baz to go to lunch with you. If not, at least give him something to eat during his insane shift. Try to talk to him or ask him to talk about all this later. Sound doable?”

I’m grinning so wide it threatens to dislodge my earbuds. “Yeah, definitely sounds doable. Thanks, Pen.”

“No problem. Si. Now can I run this new lesson plan by you?”

“Absolutely, go ahead.”

Penny starts rattling off her curriculum points while I throw the cookies in the oven. And for the first time today, I feel good. I feel hopeful. It’s nice. I’ve missed it.

———————————————

UCLH is a towering, intimidating giant of white metal and panes of glass. It’s hard to not feel freaked out looking at it. Anytime I went to the hospital as a kid it was because of a fight at the group home or injuries from particularly awful foster parents. There was never a good reason to be here. Until now, that is.

From what I remember, Baz said he would be on psychiatry today. Problem is, I have no idea where the fuck that is. I can barely navigate my tiny school. This is an entirely different, far more sterile beast. I walk to the front desk where a man with big round glasses and very cool arm tattoos is sitting.

“Hi,” I say cheerily as possible.

“Hello,” he replies with a perfect, pearly white smile and a thick American accent. “How can I help you today?”

“Uh, I’m looking for the psychiatry wing? Specifically for Dr. Grimm-Pitch.”

“Okay. Are you a patient...?

“No, no, I’m his boyfriend. Got some stuff to drop off for him if he’s not too busy.” I hold up the Christmas tupperware filled with raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies. They’re Baz’s favourite.

The man’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you’re Basil’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah, last time I checked,” I chuckle.

“Wow. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Shepard, from Omaha, Nebraska.”

He holds out his hand, and I of course shake it. “Nice to meet you, Shepard from Omaha, Nebraska. I’m Simon, from uh, Lancashire, I guess.”

“Good too meet you too, man.” He leans his cheek on his hand. “Y’know, Basil has mentioned you exist a couple times, but won’t say anything else no matter how much I beg him.”

I shrug with a smile. “He’s a private person.”

“Yeah, but if I were dating you, I’d be bragging about it.”

Well, now my face must look utterly ridiculous. I’m twenty five years old and blushing from one compliment. “T-Thanks, wow. You’re pretty forward.”

He throws his head back laughing. “Nah, just blunt, man. And way too nosy, at least according to your boyfriend. Says I have some sort of anxiety fueled need to overshare and figure out everything about people."

"That...sounds odd."

Shepard shrugs. "Pretty sure it's made up. Besides, I already have two therapists. Don't need a third one." He laughs, and I laugh along with him. Thought part of me is truly concerned about him. Hope he's okay, he seems nice. "Anyway, I hope Basil is less intense outside of work than here.”

“Most of the time, yeah. He’s got his softer side, just has trouble showing it.”

“Believe it when I see it. Also,” he hands me a pamphlet, “psychiatry is on the fifth floor. Take the south elevator up and turn to the right. Basil should be at the front desk. Said he had patient files to sort all day.”

“Awesome, thanks.” I take out a cookie and hold it out to him. “Here, you can have this, unless you’re allergic to berries, gluten, or dairy.”

“Nope. I will happily take that.” He plucks it from my hand. “Thanks, man. Tell Basil I say hi, and I still have his pen.”

“Will do, thanks!”

He waves me off with half the cookie already in his mouth. Interesting guy. I may have to come back to talk to him more.

I follow Shepard’s instructions as best I can. Though I get lost trying to find the elevators, twice. The halls twist and turn and loop back in on themselves. Seriously, who designed this hospital, Willy Wonka? Eventually I finally make it to the elevators and suffer in the sanitizer smelling tube for five floors. The psychiatry floor itself isn’t too bad, just kind of bland. Lots of blank grey walls and inoffensive paintings of scenic nature. And it’s pretty straight forward compared to the first floor. I just have to walk down the hall, turn at the “front desk” sign, and there will be-

I freeze in place. There’s Baz, with some redheaded guy leaning on his desk.

“Come on, Basil, you can’t be serious,” he says in a smooth, beautiful voice. “I’d totally shag Dr. Mayer over Dr. Dehnavi. Mayer has such polished charm.”

“Hm, I prefer a more ruggish look,” Baz replies with a half smile. “And Dehnavi gets that wonderful five o’clock shadow after a day of rounds.”

“True, very true. Not so hot when he’s yelling about oral board prep.”

Baz lets out a laugh, shaking his head. Wisps of black hair fall in his face. He looks at the redhead with a sly smile. “Well, I haven’t gotten to that point yet. But I do get an earful about SSRI dosage levels.”

“Oh lord, you’re giving me baby doctor flashbacks, stop. I’m scared Dr. D is going to be on the other side to yell our asses into submission.”

They laugh together, and redhead moves closer to Baz, their hands nearly touching. My heart drops to the ground and burrows into the centre of the fucking Earth.

Baz looks at ease, content, and most of all, this guy seems to understand what the hell he’s talking about. Definitely more than I ever have. And he’s super bloody attractive. And he’s there, like I haven’t been. Fuck. Deep down, I thought this was going to happen, but it’s still ripping me apart. Baz has found someone better. I’m just the stupid poor orphaned kid he had a crush on in school. Now he’s gotten those old feelings out of his system and he’s found someone, another doctor no less, who can easily be a better boyfriend. Bloody hell, I’m about to cry. I need to go, right now.

I quietly and quickly get away. Going back through the hospital is a blur. And not just because my eyes are filled with tears and fogging up my glasses. My brain is a jumbled, heartbroken mess that can’t focus on anything. I think Shepard waves at me as I walk past but I can’t bring myself to respond right now. I don’t stop moving until I throw myself into my car, tossing the cookies on the front seat.

Finally, I have to stop. And worse I have to think. So, Baz has found a new guy. Some pretty red haired doctor who makes him laugh with doctor humour and probably doesn’t bail. He’s probably going to break up with me today. I should just break up with him, save him the hassle...

I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white. My cheeks are raw from wiping tears away. I think about losing Baz, losing a chance to make things better, and it's the worst pain I've ever felt. A small part of me thought that maybe Baz was it. That he was the person I could actually, possibly spend the rest of my life with. Maybe it was a stupid thought. I was so stupid.

My head falls forward, forehead pressed against the wheel. And I just cry.

———————————————

I’ve called in sick for a week. I’ve never called in for that long, not once in my teaching career. But I can’t get off my couch, let alone leave my flat. I’ve been laying here for days, surrounded by takeaway wrappers, watching old Dr. Who episodes, cuddling Cherry nonstop. Penny is probably worried about me but I haven’t really been using my phone. I’ve tried to call Baz a few times, but always hang up before it starts dialing. I know I should just rip off the band-aid already. But I’m a coward, I guess. I’ll just lay here, waiting for Baz to call me and finally dump me. Every time I think about it, I still cry a little.

The phone rings and my heart gets so tight I can hardly breathe. Fuck, this is it. I slowly lift it up. But it’s not Baz’s photo I see, or Penny’s. Rather, it’s Agatha’s, grinning with her soft California tan. I press talk right away.

“Hello?” I say

“Oh thank god,” Agatha sighs, “you’re alive. We were all sure you’d been in a horrible accident or something!”

“Um, no, I’m fine, just a little under the weather.”

“Then why haven’t you been answering your fucking texts, you arse?!”

I move the phone away from my ear slightly to avoid hearing loss. “I told you, I’ve been sick. Haven’t felt like responding...”

“Okay, that excuse could work on Baz or even Penny, but I’m not buying it. Cut the crap, Simon, what’s wrong?”

I sigh, running a hand over my face. Well, she’s here, and I’m too tired to make up another lie. “Baz is breaking up with me.”

“What?!” I move the phone again. Agatha is going to make me go partially deaf in one phone call. “That dickhead! I- Wait, what do you mean is?”

“Well, uh...he hasn’t dumped me yet...”

Agatha takes a pause. I can imagine her expression right now. Probably a lot of confusion mixed with disbelief. “Okay, please explain this to me, because I’m so lost.”

I sit up, scratching the back of my neck. “Well, um, Baz and I have been having issues meeting up for the past month. Things kept happening. Baz had this wonderful date planned after three weeks of not seeing each other. But then a kid from my class needed someone to stay with him because his stupid parents wouldn’t show up and we had to wait for someone else. So I cancelled and Baz said he understood but I still felt awful. Then the next day I was going to bring him cookies to say sorry, but when I got there, I saw him chatting with this redhead doctor. And I realised Baz had found someone better. Hoped it wouldn't happen but yeah, he’s going to break up with me. Just waiting for him to call or come over. I’d do it myself but I’m too much of a wimp.”

There’s a long drawn out silence. The only sounds are the California waves on Aggie’s end and Cherry meowing for attention on mine. More than ever, I wish I was a mind reader. I want to know what’s going through her head. It’s probably less muddled than mine.

“Simon,” she says slowly, “I need you to know that I’m only saying this because I love you very, very much. This all comes from a place of caring.”

“Uh...okay?” Now I really need to know what’s in her head. But I think I’m about to find out.

Agatha takes a few deep breaths, and then, well...explodes. “You absolute, goddamn fucking numpty! You’re seriously throwing away objectively the best relationship you’ve ever had because you saw him chit chatting with some redheaded twat!? For Christ’s sake, Simon, this is beyond idiotic and self destructive!”

“Hey I-”

“Shush, Simon!” I shut my mouth. “I get you have some serious self esteem issues, Si, but what happened to acknowledging and dealing with them? You are not a warm body for Baz until he finds someone ‘better.’ He’s been pining after you since bloody Watford and being with you is his dream come true. I know because he’s told me so!”

My cheeks flush a little. “R-Really?”

“Yes, really! He adores you, Si, he thinks you hung the bloody moon. In no world would he just up and dump you!”

“I-I mean, yeah, but like, I’ve been an awful boyfriend lately. I wouldn’t blame him if he did...”

“You really think Basilton Pitch, king of overthinking and future psychiatrist, would dump you without first trying to talk?”

“Um, well, I can see your point.”

“Good. I promise you, Simon, he doesn’t want to break up with you. But if you don’t talk to him soon, it may be too late. So get your arse in gear and get your guy. Or I’ll come from all the way across a continent and an ocean just to smack you upside the head.”

I chuckle softly. Huh, this is the first time that’s happened in awhile. Feels good to laugh. “Okay, will do. Thank you, Ags.”

“You’re very welcome, Si. Please send me an update later so I know you’re okay? And Penny too so she doesn’t blow a gasket.”

“I promise. Talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later, Simon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The second my phone is off, I jump up. I’m invigorated with new energy, both happy and terrified. I may have just ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me because I’m insecure as fuck. I’ve got to fix it. Before it’s too late.

I pick up all the takeaway containers at lightning speed. They don’t all fit into my trash though (God that’s sad), so I have to get a new trash bag. At least I don’t have a depression nest anymore. That’s a good start. Next step, I run to the shower. I smell fucking ripe. No way I can apologize while smelling like the bottom of a McDonald’s dumpster. Thank every god that I still have some hot water left. I scrub quickly and furiously until I stop feeling so gross.

I jump out and go to my room. Unfortunately, I haven’t done my laundry in a week either. The only things I have are a baggy pair of jeans and one of Baz’s shirts. It’s soft cream with flower buds on it. For all his dark brooding, Baz has a thing for florals. It smells like him, cedar and bergamot with a hint of hospital antiseptic. I put it on.

I’m halfway through the buttons when I hear my door open and close. What the fuck? Who’s here? Who has a key?

“Snow?” Baz’s voice calls out. “Simon, are you here?”

Oh. Oh shit. I dash out of my room, shirt still half open. I even slide on my laminate floor like a cartoon character. Baz is standing in my entryway. And he looks like a total mess. His hair is disheveled, there are huge dark circles under his eyes, and he’s got close to an actual honest to god beard. We just stare at each other way too long. Until I can find my words again.

“Baz,” I stutter. “Hi. W-What are you-”

“Oh thank god.” He runs forward and throws his arms around me in the tightest hug I’ve ever felt. “You’re alive. I thought you were dead or in a coma or-” He pulls back. His eyebrows are all scrunched up. “Is that my shirt?”

My face starts to heat up. “Um, uh, yeah. Didn’t have anything else. I was going to see you. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

He scoffs, but it’s with a smile. “No, not really, I’ve been worried sick all week. You weren’t answering my texts or Bunce’s. I was scared shitless. I came here because it was my last resort.” He pushes back my hair, rubbing his thumbs along my temple. It’s downright tender. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.” His hands move to my shoulders. “Where did you go?”

“I, uh-” I hang my head. “I-I did something dumb. And I got super sad and I didn’t know what to do. So I was just here a lot...”

His eyes grow wide. “You were here at your apartment? All week?”

“Um, yeah...”

He steps back and blinks. His face is just blank, and honestly it’s more freaky than him panicking. “You’ve been home alone all week, and didn’t tell me?” I nod slowly. That blank face suddenly morphs into unbridled anger. “What the fuck, Snow?! You couldn’t take two seconds to text me back to let me know you’re bloody alive?!”

“I-I didn’t know you texted.”

“Check your phone!”

I scramble over to my couch and scoop up my phone. I haven’t looked at my notifications out of fear. Oh...oh fuck. 53 missed text messages, and 42 are from Baz. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks. I really am the worst.

“Oh god,” I say, voice very strained. “I’m so sorry, Baz, I was just so caught up in my shit, I wasn’t checking my phone-”

“Obviously.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Why did you come to my work?”

My eyes go very wide and my body becomes very stiff. “Wait, you saw me there?”

“No, but Shepard came to talk to me the next day. He asked if my boyfriend was alright because he ran out looking upset. I was surprised he knew who my boyfriend was, and even more so that you were there. So why were you at UCLH and talk to me?”

“Uh, I wanted to talk to you and say sorry for standing you up. B-But when I came, you were um, talking to this guy...” I curl in myself, rubbing my arm. “And I freaked out because I thought after I fucked up the date you’d found someone better and...were going to dump me.”

I look up, and Baz’s jaw is wide open. He drags his hands down his face. “Oh my god, Simon,” he groans, “after all the time we’ve spent together, I can’t believe you still think that low of me.”

“N-No! I don’t!”

“You thought I would dump you after six months together because of a cancelled date? Which you cancelled to help a neglected child?! I’m not a monster, Snow, I’d never do that.”

“Y-Yeah, I know, Baz. It’s just...” I rub the back of my neck. “When I saw you with him, it made all this shit come up and I totally panicked-”

“I understand that, Simon. But it was one conversation with another guy! Why did you ghost me instead of just talking?”

He sounds less angry, more desperate than anything. But it makes me feel even worse. “Because...because I got scared and anxious and I hated seeing it so much...yeah.”

Baz’s mouth is a thin line. “That’s not a real answer, Snow. Why on Earth did you think the worst of me instead of trying to talk?”

“It’s not about you!” I shout desperately. All the words are so muddled up, I can’t get them out. It’s not Baz’s fault, my brain is just being so unhelpful right now. I wasn’t ready for this talk, fuck.

“What does that mean? You stopped talking to me because you thought I was bloody cheating on you! How is this not about me in some capacity?!”

“I didn’t think you were cheating! I just- I thought- I just got so freaked out because I didn’t want to lose you-”

“You weren’t going to lose me!”

“But I thought I was and that scared me so much because I- well, I-”

“Because what, Snow?!”

“Because I love you, you massive arsehole!”

The room goes absolutely, perfectly silent. Baz’s lips have fallen wide open. I inhale sharply. Oh God, did I really just say that out loud? I clap a hand over my mouth and look down, trying to get my breathing under control. I can’t believe I just did that. I’m such an idiot. Baz is going to dump me for sure. Adores me or not, I’ve probably scared him off. My hand falls down.

“I’m so sorry, Baz,” I say softly. “I-I didn’t mean to say that. It just came out-”

“Did you mean it?” I lift my eyes up slightly. I expect Baz to look horrified, angry, maybe even disgusted. But instead he looks...kind of awestruck? His eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them before. I think about lying, but I don’t think he’s upset. And I have a feeling that if I lie he will be. I think I need to stop hiding my feelings from Baz.

“Yeah. I did.”

His lips fall open even more. And I swear, he’s smiling a little. My heart is beating faster. “Seriously? You...you love me? In love with me?”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down my racing mind. I nod and take a small step forward. Not crowding Baz, but getting closer. “Yeah. I'm in love with you, Baz. I-I know it’s too soon, but I can’t help-”

Baz cuts me off with the most intense, head spinning, world shaking kiss of my life. He presses the small of my back with one hand and grabs my curls with the other. I literally stumble backwards from it. Baz takes the chance to press me against my hallway wall. Like he’s shielding from the world with his own body. He’s kissing me so hard, so passionately, and I can’t help but melt.

Is this Baz’s way of saying he loves me too? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care. This is heavenly to the Nth degree. I’m good at turning off my brain when needed. So that’s exactly what I do.

I push back against Baz with equal force. He groans so deeply it makes me shudder. I grip his face tight, pushing my fingers through his tangled but still soft hair. He drags his tongue along my bottom teeth, slowly and carefully. I nearly melt into a puddle. We’ve never kissed like this before. Even our most intense snogging sections don’t come close. It’s like Baz is trying to touch and grab every part of me but can’t decide which. I don’t mind. He can have it. I’d give him all that I am and more. I’d tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber.

Baz runs his hands down my thigh. I can feel the heat through my trackies. He hooks under one of my knees, pulling it up. I think I get the message. (I hope). I jump, fully prepared to fall flat on my arse, but Baz catches me easily. I wrap my legs around his waist while he holds me up above him. Christ, he’s strong. It’s so hot. And I love this angle, because I can snog the life out of him more easily. This is amazing. But I still want more.

I pull off his mouth (sadly), just enough so I can speak. “Bed?”

Baz just nods and kisses me again. He pulls us off the wall. He barely stumbles as he walks us through my flat. I scramble to unbutton his shirt. I know Baz is really into this because he’s making no fuss about me possibly ruining his clothes. Soon enough, we stumble into my bedroom. Baz quickly kicks the door shut, cutting off the rest of the world, and I don’t mind one bit.

———————————————

Baz and I roll apart solely because we need to breathe. Our chests are heaving. My blankets and sheets are completely tangled around us. I’m more sweaty than the one time I tried to go to a cross fit class. However, this was a way better workout. I’m glad I kept all those supplies in my nightstand.

So, now I know what sex with Baz is like. It’s sweaty, vigorous, a little awkward, and so, so incredible. Pretty sure my brains have been thoroughly fucked out. It takes me a few panting moments for me to muster up a singular word.

“Wow,” I say. My voice is really hoarse, but I absolutely don’t mind.

Baz lets out a small laugh. His voice sounds rough too. It’s really hot. “Still very eloquent.”

“Fuck off.” I lightly push his sweaty shoulder. But when I start to pull back, Baz grabs my wrist and tugs me towards him. Before I know it, Baz is kissing me again. It’s soft, slow but so unbelievably hot. I completely melt into his arms. He’s so warm and strong and I could spend an eternity wrapped up in him. No more work or life, just Baz and I in this bed forever. My god that would be a dream come true.

He pulls off to kiss across my cheeks, then down my neck. He already knows the exact spots that drive me insane. (Well, Baz has always been a quick study.) My eyes flutter closed. I’m falling into that haze again, where my head gets foggy and I can only think in “yes” and “please” and “more.” Part of me wants to sink back into that bliss, but the aching of my out of shape muscles is unfortunately more insistent.

“Baz,” I whisper, “as much as I would like a fourth round, I’d also like to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Baz groans, but relents and rolls onto his back. We settle for just staring at each other. I don’t mind. Baz is always gorgeous but he is a different kind of beautiful right now. His face is all flushed, pupils blown wide, black hair plastered to his damp forehead. And I thought I couldn’t get more attracted to him.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, absolutely.” I cup his face, running a thumb on his cheekbone. “You?”

“I’m bloody fantastic.” He spreads his fingers out on my side, tracing the most delicate patterns that make me shudder. “Can’t believe I was so scared of this.”

My heart beats faster as my eyebrows scrunch up. “Scared? Of what? Me? I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, Snow. I wasn’t scared of you, not at all.” He sighs and pulls me a little bit closer. “I just built up sex with you so much in my head that it became overwhelming. I was terrified of fucking it up after wanting it for so long.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it from the start too. Six months of sexual tension really mess with your head.”

He chuckles. I like the way his breath hits my skin. “Simon, love, I first fantasised about sleeping with you when we were 15.”

I was already flushed, but now I’m on fire. It’s a miracle I’m not a pile of ash right now. I flap my mouth open and closed like a fish for too long. Baz just smiles at me like I’m beautiful or something, not a total deer in the headlights.

“R-Really?” I finally get out. “That long?!”

“Mhm. I told you, Snow, I figured out I wanted you in fifth year. Puberty was a bloody nightmare with you right across the room.” We laugh quietly together. But I genuinely feel bad for Baz. I hold the back of his head, running my fingers through his soft hair.

“I’m sorry you went through that, love. Must’ve been awful.”

Baz sighs, putting his hand on mine. “Thank you. At least things worked out in the end." He pecks the tips of my fingers. "I’m glad we finally did this. Real life was far better than any fantasy.”

I kiss the corner of his smile. He giggles, so small and adorable, something I never would’ve thought Baz was capable of until six months ago. I’m so happy. And my heart sinks, thinking about how this was almost over because I was so insecure.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, and Baz’s face becomes much more serious. “I-I’m sorry that I vanished without telling you. That was immature and dumb. And I’m sorry for scaring you. I promise I won’t ever do that again.”

Baz nods slowly, mouth twisting from side to side. He brings our hands between us, holding me tight. “I accept your apology. Just, what happened, love? I’m still not sure what you meant.”

Well, I knew this was coming. Doesn’t make it any easier. I clutch him hard, like I’m scared he’ll go. But if the last hour or two means anything, I don’t think he will. Still, I hold him tight.

“That’s a long story,” I sigh.

Baz presses his lips to the back of my hand. It’s firm and comforting. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

I carefully roll onto my back. Baz goes onto his side, propping his head up with his free arm. We keep our hands together. I really can’t let go of him right now.

“I meant it when I said it wasn’t about you,” I say. “It’s really not. I don’t think you’re a terrible person who would dump or cheat on me. It’s more that...that I was scared and felt worthless. Part of me has always felt worthless, unlovable. Sometimes my brain is like ‘your own parents didn’t want you, why would anyone else?’”

“Simon-”

“You don’t need to tell me it’s not true, Baz, I know. Most of me does, anyway. But sometimes that mean voice gets louder, and it’s been louder lately. Not because of you, not really. It’s because I think you’re incredible and brilliant and that mean voice kept telling me ‘why the hell is he with you? He’s way too good for you. He’ll find someone better.’ And after weeks of missed dates and the whole dinner fiasco, it got worse. Then when I saw you with the other doctor I guess the anxiety just took over. And I just sort of shut down.”

Baz moves closer. “I’m sorry, that’s horrible.”

“Thanks.” I sigh and run a hand through my tangled hair, like I’m trying to pull the stress out of myself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this. I didn’t want to dump all my shit on you. It’s a lot to deal with and I should deal with it on my own, not pull you in.”

“Simon,” Baz says firmly, holding himself above me, “you can absolutely pull me into your shit. I want to know everything you’re worried and scared about, so I can be there to help if you want. You never have to hide anything because I love every single part of you, no matter how insecure or sad.”

I stare at him for too long. My heartbeat is roaring in my ears. Slowly, a smile stretches out across my face. “You love me?”

Baz’s face pulls together in confusion, and for a moment I’m scared he’s going to take it back, because I’m not worth it. But then I push that fear down because Baz cares about me. He’s shown that again and again. I'm not unworthy of his love.

“Did I not say it?” he says, genuinely surprised and concerned.

“I mean, maybe, but things were a bit...chaotic before.” My eyes flick over to our rumpled clothing strewn across my room. It honestly looks like a tornado somehow hit both a Primark and a Topshop. Baz laughs with a nod.

“Okay, good point. Let me correct that then.” He delicately holds my chin, making sure our eyes meet. Black hair surrounds his face like a dark halo. His deep sea eyes sparkle with his gorgeous smile. Everything about him is absolutely stunning. “I love you, Simon Snow. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, because you are the most kind, most caring, most wonderful man I’ve ever known. You are not a holding place or my second choice. Got that?”

I nod very vigorously. I can’t speak right now, my throat is too filled up with all my emotions for words. I wipe my snot and tears with the back of my hand. Extremely unsexy. God I’m a mess. But Baz still looks at me like I’m the most gorgeous thing in the world, because he loves me, imperfections and all.

“Don’t cry, love,” Baz chuckles, “it’s okay.”

“Just overwhelmed,” I say, still sniffling, “and happy. I love you too.”

Baz kisses my forehead. “I know, and I’m very happy as well.” He tucks his head into the crook of my neck. “Not to get all psychiatrist, but these issues of hidden insecurities and fear we both have are going to reoccur if we don’t communicate more.”

I nod, rubbing the arm he has across my chest. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Good.” He rolls slightly, chin placed on my shoulder. “In the name of communication then, I think not seeing each other for weeks on end isn’t good for us. We need to try to meet in person more.”

“Yeah, definitely. I think not seeing you for a while made my anxiety get worse. Thought you would dump me because it was too hard for us to meet up.”

“Honestly,” Baz sighs, “I felt something similar. Not as badly as you, I think, but still not fun. The self deprecating part of me wondered when you would finally get sick of my insane schedule and break up with me. I’m not exactly the easiest person to date. Or the easiest person, period.”

I laugh quietly and tug him closer. "Me neither, love."

Baz smiles all the way to his ears. He kisses me firmly, making my head spin, before pulling me away just as quickly. Our noses stay pressed together. “Suppose we match then, love.”

I throw my arms around his neck. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning. “And you like that?”

“I love it.”

“Me too.” I press against his back, reveling in his warm, smooth skin. “I promise to make more time for you. I want this to work. ”

Baz kisses a mole on my cheek. “So do I. I’m in this for the long haul, Simon.”

“Good, because I’m not letting you go.”

“I would love nothing more.”

I grab Baz’s head and smash our mouths together again. Baz instantly returns it, holding me tight. His body is a warm blanket on top of me, protecting me from anything bad in the world. Yeah, I could spend the rest of my life with Baz. I want that so much. Our snogging gets more intense. And each of us can definitely feel our mutual arousal pressed against our thighs.

Baz pulls off my mouth, but only a little. “What happened to needing to walk tomorrow?”

I shrug with a sly smile. “Eh, who needs walking? You can just carry me everywhere.”

He grins once before kissing me hard. I’m truly a lucky guy. And it’s incredible that Baz thinks the same. I’m living a charmed life.

———————————————

Three months later

“Y’know,” I pant, “you could help.”

Baz looks up from his phone, one eyebrow propped up. “Who carried all your KitchenAid hardware to our new place?”

“Okay, yeah, but that was down the hall, not up four flights of stairs.” I drop another box of books and breathe heavily.

“That mixer was very heavy.”

“Baz.”

He lets out a very dramatic groan, making a show of hanging his head over the back of Penny’s settee. “Fine. I’ll help.”

I don’t miss the joking glint in his eyes. Arsehole. He just likes making a show of it. He kisses my cheek on the way out. I slap his arse, making him yelp, but his smirk tells me he’s not upset at all.

“Are you two flirting?” Penny calls out from the hall. “I told you, my flat is a flirt free zone!”

“No flirting, Bunce,” Baz says. “Just some light groping on Snow’s part.”

Penny groans so loud I’m pretty sure the whole floor can hear her. She walks in with a box filled with figurines. She glares at me viciously. I throw my hands up in surrender.

“I slapped his arse, didn’t grab it.”

“That’s not much better, Si.” She places the box on the ground and puts her hands on her hips. “Focus more on moving and less on your boyfriend’s arse.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, Pen, I’m sorry.” I wrap her up in a tight hug, and she holds me just as close. She’s been doing that a lot lately. I don’t mind. “Y’know, that offer to fly to Chicago and kick Micah’s arse is still on the table.”

That finally makes her laugh. She shakes her head against my chest. “No, it’s alright. I’m mad but not really vengeful. He tried to break up with me, I just wasn’t listening to him.”

“Still not an excuse to start dating someone else.”

“Yeah, I guess," she sniffles. "Thanks for subletting your flat to me."

I kiss the top of her head. "You're very welcome, Pen. Anything for you."

She holds me tighter. I let her hang on to me. It’s the least I can do.

“After all the fuss you made about me helping,” Baz shouts, “now you’re just standing there, Snow? Really?”

I sigh and look up over Penny’s head. Baz is balancing two large boxes because he likes to show off how strong he is. But he’s being helpful, and his strength is hot, so I don’t mind.

“I am comforting my friend,” I say, tone very high and mighty and mocking.

“Yes, but avoiding work must be a plus.”

“Oh, absolutely. And teasing you.”

Penny laughs and pulls back from me, looking at Baz as he puts down the boxes. “As a psychiatrist, you think it says something that even though you’re together now, you two still bicker like in school?”

Baz tilts his head side to side, stroking his chin like a great scholar. “Probably could say something about regressing to old patterns of behaviour from when we were children. But now after time together, working out our issues, and forming better patterns of behaviour, the bickering is now a show of affection rather than true antagonism. Therefore it has transformed into a healthy relationship feature from a bad one. A rare but possible event.”

Penny blinks at him. I’m trying to hide my blush. Don’t really want Penny to know how hot I find Baz being all smart and shit. Still have no idea what he’s talking about, but now I definitely want to rip his clothes off. Penny would kill me though. Murder would not be sexy.

“God,” she chuckles, “you really are a psychiatrist.”

“Yeah he is!” Shepard stumbles in, a box wobbling precariously on his arms. “Either that or he’s a weirdo who enjoys being in a hospital all the time for some reason.” The box tips over. I run up and catch it just in time. “Oh, whoops, sorry.”

“You break it, you suffer Bunce’s wrath, Shep,” Baz says.

“Damn right you do.” Penny walks past him, leveling a look over her glasses. Shepard gulps and watches her as she goes downstairs. And he follows her to help, looking totally out of it.

A pair of familiar arms wrap around my waist. Baz rests his chin on my shoulder. “In my humble psychiatrist opinion, I think our dear American might have a little crush on Bunce.”

I chuckle, cupping his cheek. “I wouldn’t blame him. Pen is pretty awesome.”

“Oh," he says with a teasing lilt, "should I be worried that she’s living down the hall from us now?”

I scoff and roll my eyes like he does at stupid people on telly. “Should I be worried about you working with Dr. Lamb?”

Baz makes a very unattractive dry heaving sound. “Never. That backstabbing twat can go eat a bag of rusty screws. Only reason I give him the time of day is because he’s got my supervisor wrapped around his stupid finger.”

“And if you piss him off you’ll lose important psychiatry rounds, yes, yes, I know. He’s still gonna try to flirt with you.”

“Yeah, because he’s a twat. But I only want you.” He kisses a mole on my neck, his favourite one. “I love you, Simon.”

I kiss his temple. “I love you too.”

“I love you so much I’m willing to give up my lovely condo to move into your weird exposed brick hipster building.”

I scoff and turn to him, arms around his slender neck. “Wasn’t it your idea to move into a bigger place here because it’s closer to both of our workplaces?”

He smiles, kissing the tip of my nose. Bastard. I hated his teasing in school, but he’s right, now it’s out of love. Crazy, stupid, wonderful love. “Since when do you listen to me?”

“You have a good idea every once in a while.”

“How about this one?” He kisses me firmly. When he pulls back a little, my heart is beating rapidly.

“Yeah, I like that one.”

“Good.” We kiss again, soft and slow. Never before have I felt so safe and content kissing someone. Baz can hold me close and make all my worries go away. Part of me still can’t believe I get to have this. A person who adores me completely, including every single weird, flawed, stupid part too. But I have to stop thinking like that. I’m allowed to be happy. I’m allowed to be with someone so incredible. And someone so incredible can absolutely love me back. The work we've both put in to being together shows our mutual care again and again. We deserve to be happy together. It's amazing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Baz and I pull apart to look at Penny’s glaring face. “We leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re already defiling my apartment?”

“This is still technically Snow’s flat, you know,” Baz says smoothly.

“And you don’t want to know how we’ve already defiled it.” I give the biggest shit eating grin I can.

Penny waves her hands in front of herself. “Nope, nope, I’d rather live in blissful ignorance. Also, Simon," Penny hands me an envelope, "postman came. This is for you. Thought I'd grab it before they accidentally delivered it to me."

I rip it open with ease. Inside is a paper with familiar terrible handwriting. I grin ear to ear. Baz looks over my shoulder. "What is it?"

"It's from Jeremy." I scan down the letter. Luckily I'm adept at deciphering kid writing. "He says he misses me but likes his aunt's place a lot. They garden a lot and he's playing football on a community team.:

"All sound great," Penny says, having moved to the shoulder not occupied by Baz.

"Yeah, definitely. Oh, and he's got a new kitten. And guess what he named him?"

"What?" Penny and Baz say at the same time. It's pretty hilarious but I keep myself from laughing to avoid any glares.

"Snow." I hold up a Polaroid picture of a grinning Jeremy holding a small, fluffy white cat. Both of them can't help but make awing noises.

"Adorable," Baz says. "You did a good job with that kid, Snow."

I kiss his cheek. "Thanks, love."

"I want a cat," Penny sighs. Her nose scrunches up. "Am I going to turn into a crazy cat lady?"

"Hey," I say, "you were the one who told me that was a sexist stereotype. So no, you're going to be a very sane, wonderful, brilliant cat lady." I lean closer, whispering in her ear. "And maybe, once you feel better, you can try talking to a certain American. I think he's got a thing for you."

Penny sticks her tongue out, but before she can respond, Shepard comes stumbling in with a box of china. He places it very carefully. I can see him not so subtly watching Penny out of the corner of his eye. I don't think he wants to piss her off again. “Okay, I think that’s all of it. Wow, a lot of books. Reminds me of my Mom's office back in Omaha.”

"So I remind you of your mum?" Penny asks, arms crossed over her chest. Shepard's eyes go wide. I snort into Baz's shoulder

"No! No, definitely not, I just mean...you're both super smart."

Penny scoffs. "Good answer, American. Now let's get all my books unpacked."

I groan loudly. “Come on, Pen, not today. Why don’t we go to mine and Baz’s flat and we’ll make you dinner?”

“You mean I’ll be making dinner.” Baz raises his eyebrow at me. “You can’t cook, Simon.”

“I’ve been learning!”

He sighs over dramatically. “Very well. You can chop the onions.”

“I’ll take it.” I put my arm on Penny’s shoulders. She leans into me like always. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“Can I come?” Shepard asks, beaming wide. Who could say no to that face?

“Of course! You deserve a reward for all your hard work.”

“Awesome!” He dashes up beside Pen, looking all cute. And I can see Penny smiling, just a little. I’m glad to see her happy.

I put Jeremy's letter in my pocket. It's going right on the fridge the second we get to mine and Baz’s new place. Baz takes my hand in his, weaving our fingers together. He smiles, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I feel like I could fly on the power of love alone right now.

God, I truly have an amazing life.

———————————————

Awwww stupidly in love, just how I like it. Tbh I started writing this before Wayward So came out, and after I decided I wanted to deal with their communication issues like in the book but resolve them. I'm not throwing shade, just stating an opinion, plz don't kill me lol. But I do hope you all liked it! I never planned on writing a sequel but sometimes shit works out like that. I do have another idea for a short one shot but don't hold me to that, life is pretty nuts rn and I don't have a lot of free time, hence why this took me so long. Anyway, have a good day/night y'all!

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #shepard #lamb #established relationship #angst with a happy ending #jealous simon #communication failure #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Being Simon

Chapter 2: The Present

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 9856

Chapter 2/2 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon is back in his own time, but all he can think about is the man from his past.

Read on AO3

AN: Time for some pining!

———————————————

I wake up on Sunday feeling just as shitty as I did Friday night. No amount of comfort food, hitting my punching bag, or mindless TV have helped. And sleeping it off has done jack shit, because all I could dream was Ty’s soft looking black hair and pretty eyes.

I barely know who he is. I don’t even know his bloody last name. Yet I desperately want to see him again. How that’s going to happen is...well, that’s something I haven’t figured out yet. Every time I’ve opened a door, I’ve hoped I would walk into Dr. Margaret’s office. She can time travel and teleport, surely she’ll know something about one guy I talked to. Right? Right...

I throw off my blankets, sitting up and staring out at the London skyline, lit up in violet and gold by the rising sun. I wonder if he’s out there, looking at the same horizon I am. I wonder if he’s working at his mother’s law firm, or if he’s reading forever like he truly wants. I hope it’s the latter. I want him to be happy. Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about him. The urge to see him again is burning in my chest and gut and everywhere. I’ve never felt like this before; so intensely focused on one person. If only I had looked at his bloody number!

“God,” I groan, “I want waffles. At least I can have that.” I get up and stomp to my door. The second I walk through, I stumble onto a cold stone floor, bright lights flooding my vision.

“Nice pants,” Dr. Margaret says. I pull the hem of my shirt over my Monty Python boxers.

“Seriously, why do you always get me at literally the worst times?”

“Not my fault you never have a good time.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I sit heavily on her couch with my arms crossed. “So what happened? You usually do the post-regret session earlier than this.”

“Time is an illusion. Stop stalling. What did you learn?”

I sigh, sinking further into the cushions. “Well, I learned that Agatha and I didn’t just fall apart, I let it fall apart. I put myself and my own stuff before her time and time again. And I’ve done the same with everyone else after Agatha because I refused to see my part in our relationship ending, so I never tried to fix it. I need to actually be present in and put the work into my relationships. That’s the lesson, right?”

Dr. Margaret scoffs and laces her fingers together, elbows on her desk. “What the hell am I here for?”

I shrug with a little smirk. My ego feels way too inflated right now. “Dunno. You got something else to add?”

“Hm.” She leans forward and pins me with her intense eyes. She’s really good at that. “You’re too scared of being alone to end things when they’re not going well. Why you get dumped every time. See that?”

And pop goes my pride. My face heats up, most likely turning an impressive shade of scarlet. I sink into my seat. “Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point there...”

“Simon.” She moves even closer with a kind smile. “Don’t feel bad. Not a bad person. Were alone most of your childhood, don’t want to be alone again. But can’t keep making choices from fear. Have to make them for the right reasons.”

“What are the right reasons, then?”

“Happiness, growth, all that good shite on greeting cards.”

I let out a small laugh. “Okay, I’ll go pick some up at the corner store.”

“Get some ice cream too. Deserve it after such a long regret.” She leans back in her chair, strong arms crossed behind her head. “Maybe give Agatha a call on the way there. Might know something about a raven haired bloke.”

My pulse goes into double time. I lean forward with eyes wide. “Wait, you mean-”

“Have fun.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins into a blur of colour around me. Then I'm stumbling through my bedroom door like I haven’t been anywhere at all. Fuck, I hate when she does that. I have to stay against the wall for a few seconds, just until I don’t feel like I’ve been on a bloody tea cup ride for a million years. Part of that might be caused by Dr. Margaret said. My heart is still beating like mad. It’s bruising my fucking rib cage, I swear. Holy shit. Holy shit.

I scramble to grab my phone, half charged on my bedside table. Fourth in my contacts is one Agatha Wellbelove. It’s relieving to see for so many reasons. The phone rings three times, each one making my anxiety ratchet up, until it finally cuts off.

“Hello?” Agatha answers.

“Aggie!” I say a bit too loudly.

“Simon? What are you doing? It’s four in the morning here.”

My stomach sinks. Right. Major events don’t usually change after a regret. “Oh my god, you’re in California. I completely forgot about the time difference, I’m so sorry. I’ll go-”

“It’s alright, I’m already awake now. What’s up?”

“Um...this is going to sound random, but do you remember Ty? Your friend from third year uni?”

“Wow,” she chuckles, “that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. “Have you, uh, seen him since uni?”

“A little, but not in awhile. We only had a couple more classes together before exams started. We had drinks a few times after, then I went to California right after graduation and he went to Oxford. Both of us were too busy to keep in touch, I guess.”

“Oh. Okay...” I lay down on my bed, Part of me just wants to curl up under my blankets forever. Another part wants to stuff my face with pastries. (Maybe both.) (Both is good.)

“What’s up with asking about Ty?”

“I dunno. I was just thinking about that time we talked. It just, uh, popped into my head” Because I literally just lived it a couple days ago while in time travel therapy, but I can’t say that. I learned a long time ago that no matter how rationally I explain it, no one will believe me.

“Right, you talked to him after our breakup.”

“Yeah. He helped me a lot. I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t still be friends without him. He was nice. In his own weird way.

She laughs quietly. “Yup, sounds like Ty. He acted all haughty but he was such a sweetheart. Wish I had kept more in touch with him more.”

“Me too.” I hug myself, and it helps a little. “Me too.”

“Oh, I think I might still be Facebook friends with him.”

Almost all my despair washes away in an instance and I bolt upright. “Really?!”

“Lemme check.” She makes little contemplative noises through the phone. “Okay, yeah, there he is, Ty Black.”

“Black? That’s his last name?”

“No, he told me he had a crush on Sirius Black and wanted to pretend they were married.”

“Oh...okay.” I start to deflate again. I feel like a leaking balloon. “Does it say anything?”

“Looks like he hasn’t used it in awhile. His last post was a couple of years ago. Says he made partner at a law firm.”

“Does it say which one?”

“No, just that it’s in London. Not surprised, he always wanted to be in the big city.”

I’m grinning ear to ear. He’s in London, my city. He’s here with me. I can find him. “Cool, cool, good to know. Um, anything else you can tell me, Ags? Like his full name?”

“No idea, Si. I actually didn’t know much about him. We spent most of our time gossiping about our classmates or getting shit faced. If I asked him something about his family or past, he’d always change the subject. So I just don’t know.”

I’m not sure how to feel about that. Ty told me things about his family, about his past. But was that because he trusted me instinctively, or because I was just some random bloke who probably wouldn’t remember? Was I convenient? Well, he gave me his number, so he must’ve seen...something in me. Not sure what though. I've never seen much in myself.

“Okay,” I sigh, “makes sense, yeah. Thanks, Agatha.”

“Welcome, and good luck. From what I remember, he was really cute.”

My face turns a bright shade of scarlet. Luckily Agatha can’t tell over the phone. (I think.) “Um, I’m not sure-”

“Please, give me more credit, Simon. I’ve known you for most of your life, I can absolutely tell when you're smitten. Not sure why you’re thinking about him over ten years later, but I support you. I hope it goes well.”

I smile, and I kind of hope she can hear that. “Thanks, Ags.”

“Welcome. Now I’m going to go back to bed. Love you.”

It’s impossible to describe the utter joy and relief I feel at those words. I’ve got Agatha back in my life. Hell, as far as she knows, we never lost touch to begin with. I’m so, so happy.

“Love you too, Ags. Night.”

“Night,” she yawns. The phone clicks off, but I keep grinning. Well, even if I can’t find Ty, this is absolutely a victory. But I’m going to damn well try.

My stomach growls louder than a lion. Waffles first, though. Definitely waffles.

———————————————

“You don’t remember anything about him?” I ask through my mouthful of sweet, delicious fried batter and syrup.

“No, Simon,” Penny sighs. “I don’t remember the guy you mentioned, like, once in the few weeks before our third year exams.”

I grumble. Stupid past me, not saying more. It’s not his fault though. Past versions of me only remember bits and pieces of a regret, just enough so they don’t seem like total weirdos who blacked out and can’t remember a big chunk of time. So it's more like stupid time travel shenanigans.

“Damn, okay. I’ll just keep looking.”

“Are you really going to scour all of London looking for one bloke you met over ten years ago?”

“When you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Yeah, it really does.”

“Bye, Penny, got more work to do.”

“Simon-”

I hang up before Penny can talk me out of this. She absolutely will, and I don’t want that right now. I want to find him, no matter how impossible it seems.

First stop is the alumni website, obviously. We went to the same uni, he has to be somewhere in the system. My fingers fly like lightning across the keyboard. No one in the political science or English departments that looks close to him, just a lot of uptight white dudes or hippie looking magazine writers who probably smoke too much weed. None of them have his gorgeous skin or dreamy grey eyes. (God, I want to see those eyes again.)

Next, I try the Oxford law school site. It’s even more impossible to navigate than most uni websites. There aren’t even any pictures of their alumni, just a list of stupidly posh names. Lewison, Pemberly, Grimm, Fairchild, Abbot, Harrington, none of which have a first name resembling Ty. That’s another issue. His name could be a nickname for so many other names. Tyler, Tyson, Tyrell, Tyrone are all possible. (Hope it’s not Tyrone, bloody hell.) Or maybe his name is just Ty, for some reason.

That’s why London 411 is absolutely no help. Apparently there are literally thousands of Ty's living in my city. I narrow it down to people my age, plus or minus a few years and there are still hundreds of Ty’s and Ty adjacents. I groan and rake my fingers through my hair, nails digging into my scalp. Why the fuck didn’t I get his last name? I want to scream at myself but all that would achieve is getting noise complaints from my neighbours.

Eventually, I resort to just straight up Googling. I try everything I can think of. “ty university of manchester,” “ty university of manchester english,” “ty university of manchester politics,” “ty university of manchester english politics,” “ty oxford law,” “ty london lawyer,” “ty london,” “ty sexy hot university of manchester student ashwerhuertjwerh.”

I faceplant my keyboard for longer than I would like to admit. “This is hopeless,” I groan into my table. I lift my head up to the ceiling. “What’s the point of this, Dr. Margaret? Is this some sort of test? Are you trying to give me a bloody ulcer?! Cause the last one is absolutely happening!”

Of course, there’s no answer. I’m not even sure where Dr. Margaret’s office exists relative to myself, or to our reality period. Trying to figure that out makes my brain hurt. I look at the clock, and it’s already seven. Christ, have I really been at this for that long? I should be grading homework like a good teacher. I need to stop. I’m a thirty three year old person, dammit, not a love struck teenager. (Okay maybe I’m both.) I slam my laptop shut and go on a hunt for food.

I heat up some frozen macaroni and take out my munchkins’ worksheets. Okay, these are easy. Math tests are universally understandable and simple most of the time, unlike stupid time travel therapy tests. I shovel bad pasta in my mouth as I fly through grading.

“Good job, Matt,” I mumble through my shitty food. “Got the formula right.”

This is easy. I can do this. And I’m not thinking about Ty. Not at all. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it will come true.

———————————————

“Nice job there, Roy,” I say. “You summarized the text wonderfully.”

“Thank you, Mr. Snow.” He beams at me with his gap toothed grin.

“You’re very welcome, bud.” I turn to Sufia, who seems to be stuck on the second question. I get down on her level, making my knees ache in the process. It’s worth it. “Need any help, Sufi?”

She holds up her worksheet to me a little too close. “What’s this word mean?”

I gently push the paper back so I can actually read it. (My vision isn't bad enough for that yet.) “‘Ascend,’ it means going up. For example you can ‘ascend the stairs.’”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Why doesn’t it just say go up then?”

“Well, that involves a longer discussion about poeticism that we’re going to have next week, alright?”

“Okay.” She goes back to the worksheet, sticking her tongue out in concentration. I chuckle under my breath. The strange and hilarious things kids do, gets to me every time.

I wander around the room, helping any kid who needs it and giving suggestions when asked. Teaching is less about telling and more about guiding children. It makes me wish a certain someone would guide me instead of leaving me to suffer for the last week.

I’ve still got nothing on Ty, no matter where and how I search. Everyday my hope gets whittled down bit by bit. I’m this close to giving up. There’s only so many hits one person can take, really.

“Yes, that’s a good point, Maeve, I like where you’re going with that,” I say. “How do you think that fits with our earlier readings?”

Maeve scratches her head with the top of her head with her pencil eraser. “Um...I don’t know...”

I crouch down near her. “Well, is there a way for you to remember? Do you have the books on you?”

“No, but I have something better!” She reaches into her absolutely massive backpack (I’m surprised she doesn’t tip over wearing that thing) and pulls out three notebooks. They’re all labeled with divider tabs. It’s insanely organized for a nine year old. “I keep a lot of notes.”

“Wow, I can see that. You like doing that?”

“Yeah! I keep all my notebooks, I like to read them.”

“Smart plan. Wish I kept-”

My mouth snaps shut. The gears are turning in my head. Creaking and slow, but still turning. I’m flung back to a vague memory of being 24, moving into my current flat from my old uni one, and Penny sorting through my random crap. She stood over a mess of all my uni papers next to my desk. Literal years of collected worksheets and notes that I never got around to throwing away.

“Why the hell do you have all these?” Penny asked.

“I wasn’t sure what I’d need for later classes,” I’d said, “then it all just piled up...”

She shook her head at me. “Well, you can’t keep all of it. Pick some stuff you want to keep and we’ll donate or throw out the rest.”

I nodded, then sat cross legged in front of the anxious student hoard. I tossed all the random papers profs handed out but I never read, along with most of my notebooks. But I remember one moment, a single instance that might change everything, when I decided to keep the notebooks that looked nice. Like the green one with vines on it I used in third year. I always kept it in my book bag. I liked the pocket just inside the front cover.

Holy shit.

“Mr. Snow?” I’m snapped out of my weird memory trance back to my reality as a teacher who needs to, y’know, teach. I smile down at Maeve.

“Sorry, mate, spaced out a bit there. Anything else you need help with?”

Maeve points to a new question. “What does this mean?”

I explain the question to her as calmly as I can, not showing how I’m simultaneously panicking and ecstatic inside. Like a fireworks display in every lobe of my brain. Holy fucking shit.

———————————————

The second all the munchkins are out the door, so am I. Luckily I’ve been distracting myself from the Ty search by furiously doing all my lesson planning. I’m set for the next week. But all I’m really thinking about is where I put my bloody notebooks.

I slam my door shut, only vaguely wondering what my neighbours would think. My office (really a repurposed storage room) is a huge mess of textbooks and lesson ideas, like a tornado tore through a Michael’s and a college book store. I make it even worse by throwing object around, searching for one stupid thing. I have to have it, I need to have it. It’s my last chance, honestly. Please, universe, let this go right.

Under my Teaching Theory 5th Edition textbook is a pile of old notebooks, including a green one with vines on the cover. I scramble to open it. My heart skips a beat when I feel a piece of paper. Slowly, I pull it out, and gasp under my breath.

023-345-9876 Give me a call sometime, Snow - Ty

I’ve never typed a number so quickly in my life, though I have to keep hitting backspace because my fingers are shaking so much. And I’m even more nervous as I bring the phone to my ear. Fuck, this is so stupid, but I’m not turning back now. The phone rings three times before it finally gets picked up.

“Basilton Pitch,” a smooth, strong, most likely male voice replies. Well, that sort of sounds like him, but wrong name. My stomach sinks a little.

“H-Hi,” I squeak. I clear my throat so I don’t sound like I’m going through fucking puberty again. “Um...”

“Hello? May I help you?”

“Uh, possibly.” I rub the back of my sweaty neck. “I don’t know if you can help me, but I’m looking for someone who gave me this number a long time ago. Do you know a man named Ty?”

There’s a long, extremely awkward pause on the other side. My face gets more and more red each passing millisecond. I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I? I should just hang up-

“No one has called me that in ages,” he says. “Who are you?”

I gasp very audibly. Holy mother of all fuck. It’s him. I’ve found him! “It’s me!” I shout far too loudly. “I-It’s Simon. We met once in uni, after your friend Agatha broke up with me. I’m not sure if you remember-”

“You’re...you’re Simon Snow.”

“Yeah! That’s me! And you’re Ty, the really nice posh gay bloke who was getting his degree in politics and English then went to law school, right?” I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Holy shit, it really is you.”

“Yeah, and you’re you!”

He chuckles, and his voice sounds even brighter than it did all those years ago. “Yes, I am. Though I’ll admit, I’m a bit...confused. Not that I’m ungrateful, but I gave you my number over ten years ago, and you’re only calling me now?”

“Um, yeah...” I scratch my blushing face, quickly concocting up a reasonable story that lacks time travel. “I got caught up in exams, then I, uh...kind of lost the notebook where I put your number. I was so pissed at myself for awhile but what could I do, y’know? Then I was, um, going through my old uni stuff today and take a wild guess at what I found.”

“A notebook with an ancient piece of scrap paper.”

“Still pretty smart, huh?”

“Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, but I’ll take the compliment.”

My cheeks are starting to ache from smiling. I don’t mind at all. “Happy to give it, and that you haven’t changed your number in over a decade.”

“Thank God for being loyal to a mobile carrier.”

I’m about to say something else, anything to keep talking to him. But then there’s commotion on the other end of the line, and Ty (Basilton?) moves away from the speaker.

“What?” he says. “Yes, I can take a look at your notes, Vadoma, give me a moment.” His voice becomes louder again. “I’m very sorry, I wish I could keep talking, but I have end of the week work to do.”

My shoulders slump. “Oh, okay.”

“From your area code, I’m guessing you’re in London too, so how about we have coffee tomorrow and catch up? Around noon good?”

“Yes!” My voice squeaks again, fuck. Calm down, Simon. “Yeah, that sounds great. Any suggestions?”

“I know a nice little place in Camden if that’s alright.”

“Yeah! I actually live in Camden.”

“What a lovely coincidence. I’ll text you the address?”

“That would be amazing.”

“Great, I’ll see you then, Simon.”

“See you.”

The phone clicks off, but it stays by my ear for another long moment. My brain is still playing catch up.

I found him. I actually found him. My stomach is filled to the brim with a thousand butterflies. I’ve never been this excited about...anything, really. How is it that one guy can make me feel like this? I have no clue, but I don’t care. I’m just looking forward to tomorrow so much.

———————————————

My leg won’t stop bouncing. No matter how deeply I breathe or push down, it just keeps jerking around like a hyperactive toddler. I’m somewhere between excited and completely, utterly terrified. What if he doesn’t show up? Worse, what if he does show up and he doesn’t like me anymore? It’s been over ten years, I definitely don’t look like I did when I was 21 anymore. He could be horribly disappointed with 33 year old me, with my dark circles and crow’s feet and only marginally better fashion sense. I would be.

Fuck, he’s going to laugh in my face isn’t he? My leg bounces even more. I stuff the last of my scone in my mouth then wash it down with strong coffee. Unfortunately that does nothing for my anxiety. I’m stewing in so much worry and fear that I don’t notice a shadow over my table until it decides to speak.

“Hello,” the same smooth, strong voice from the phone and from ten years ago says. I look up, and my heart skips more than one beat.

He’s just as beautiful as he was back then, but in a very different way. Same reddish-gold skin, same deep sea grey eyes, same raven black hair. But instead of looking like some preppy statue, he looks, well, human. He’s dressed in a tucked in white button down with a soft floral pattern. His collar is open, the sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and it’s even wrinkled in some places, but none of that seems to bother him. More astounding, he’s wearing distressed black denim that hugs his legs in all the right places, a thumb casually hooked in one pocket. Never would I have imagined the uptight bloke I met in jeans. His hair reaches all the way to his shoulders now, falling in a lazy wave that softens the sharp lines of his face. His kind smile absolutely helps too.

This isn’t the same Ty from twelve years ago. This guy is a lot more grown up, and looks so much happier.

“Hello?” he says again. “You there, Snow?”

I shake off the second Ty induced pan-panic of my lifetime. “Uh, yeah. H-Hi, Ty. Oh, wait, you go by Basilton now, right? Or do you like something else?”

He chuckles as he takes his seat across from me. It’s a simple movement yet surprisingly graceful. “Just Baz is fine. It’s less of a mouthful than Basilton.”

“Okay. Hi, Baz.”

“Hello again, Simon. How have you been?”

“Good, good. How about you?”

“Alright. Honestly, I’m still in shock that I’m seeing you again.”

I chuckle and rub my neck nervously. “Yeah, me too. But, uh, you look good. Twelve years later and you’re still stupidly attractive.” My face immediately heats up. “Sorry, that’s weird-”

“I don’t mind. Not at all.” He leans back, arm casually slung over the back of his chair. “You’re still cute as ever, though I am glad your fashion sense has improved.

I must look so ridiculous right now, a thirty three year old man blushing like a smitten schoolboy. How can I help it when he talks like that? “T-Thanks. Your clothes have definitely changed too. What happened to the tweed jacket?”

Baz groans and hangs his head over the back of his chair. I like the way his hair falls. It’s pretty as hell. “Please don’t remind me. God, I don’t even know what I was trying to do back then.”

“Be some posh and professional prat while also being gay as hell?”

His head moves back up and he snaps his long finger and points at me. (I still want to know if he plays piano or not.) “Yes, that sounds right. Conformity and rebellion all at once. I had such insane cognitive dissonance back then, god.” He leans his cheek into his palm, pretty eyes fixed on me. “So what do you do now? Still attacking random men then stealing their cigarettes?”

I chuckle to try to hide my utter embarrassment. “No, but if I remember correctly, you offered me the cigarette.”

“Touche. You still haven’t answered though. What’s your life like?”

I shrug and sigh. “It’s pretty normal. I live in a tiny flat and I alternate between box food and take out, but I’ve got a pretty great job. I teach little kids.”

“So you did end up going into teaching like you wanted?”

“Eventually, yeah. I got sidetracked for...well, until a year ago. But I’ve finally been getting my life together lately. I do my laundry once a week now instead of once a month.”

He laughs, head bending back over the back. It’s so free and open, I’m amazed. “Yes, truly a sign of adulthood, I agree.” Baz sighs and runs his hand through his hair. I like how the black strands fall over his fingers. “I understand being derailed all too well. You should’ve seen me six months ago, I was a train wreck.”

“Really?” It’s hard to imagine Baz as a train wreck. He was so pristine in uni, and even now he still looks absolutely perfect.

“Oh absolutely. I’m humble enough nowadays to admit that you were right, Snow.”

“About what?” I don’t mind being right, but I’m not really used to it.

“About me.” He leans forward, arms crossed and elbows on the table, offering more but still a bit closed off. “All those years ago, you asked why I couldn’t just do what makes me happy. And I said that what I wanted didn’t matter. I had many reasons back then, but in the end they were all bollocks. I learned that the hard way. So, you were right.”

Is it strange that I’m both happy and sad that I was right? It’s absolutely a bittersweet taste on my tongue, like figuring out a lesson about myself from a therapy session. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess. But that sucks. Was the hard way, y’know...really hard? I hope it wasn’t.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. Honestly, he looks like some romantic hero when he does that. And I didn’t think he could get more attractive. “Well, it wasn’t fun, I can certainly say that. I did what I was supposed to do. Went to Oxford, became a lawyer at the family firm, fought all the cases the way I was supposed to. I kept waiting to not feel like shit every single day, but that never came. Nothing ever got better, and bit by bit small things piled up, completely crushing me. Then, well...” He winces, like someone has kicked them in the shins. “I did something pretty ridiculous.”

My head fills with a flurry of probably insane ideas. I only now realise that I’m leaning a lot closer, entranced and nervous for what Baz has to say. “How ridiculous are we talking?”

“Well,” he bites the corner of his lips (it looks way sexier than it should), “one morning over six months ago, I was looking over my case for the day. Checking notes and arguments, drinking too much coffee alone, smoothing out my suit, the usual. And for some reason, in that moment, a realization hit me; This was going to be the rest of my life. Reading cases, arguing for clients I hated, feeling completely numb all the time. I had been doing all this bollocks for almost ten years, and realistically I would be doing for decades to come. The thought sent me into a terrifying meltdown thanks to years of untreated mental health issues. I didn’t know what to do so I sort of ran away.”

“Ran away?” I chuckle. “In your thirties, I think they usually just call that a vacation.”

“It would have been, if I had told anyone I was leaving and hadn’t stopped answering my phone for weeks.”

My eyes go very, very wide. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah...” It’s hard to tell in this lighting, but I think Baz’s cheeks turn red. Embarrassment looks cute on him. “After pacing around my flat for hours, I decided to simply leave. Packed a small bag, grabbed my car keys, and just started driving north with no destination in mind. Of course my colleagues started blowing up my mobile, then later my family and friends joined them. I couldn’t bear to answer because I didn’t even fully understand what was going on. I just needed to get far, far away from everything I knew and hated.”

“Where did you go then?”

“To a lot of places,” he sighs. “Mostly bad bars though. I basically drank and danced my way up the British Isle. I think. Honestly, I barely remember that time. It was an alcohol laden haze with brief moments of sober lucidity when I drove. And when I was lucid, I got depressed about my life again so I would drink more that night and pass out.”

“And you did that for how long?” My heart is beating a bit too fast. I know he’s fine, yeah, but still, the worry is eating away at me.

“Only a month,” he says, like that’s in any way a relief. “At the end of September, I stayed at a shitty inn in Scotland. I remember walking down the hall, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital with my aunt by my side. She equal parts screamed at me and was relieved I was okay. Turned out I had fallen down the stairs while severely hungover like a bad Monty Python skit.”

He laughs, but there’s sadness behind it. Just like his smile over ten years ago. The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

“Obviously I was fine.” He waves dismissively. “I spent two weeks recovering in the hospital. Which gave me a lot of time to think about myself and my future. By the end, I had decided to take an actual leave of absence from my work to focus on my mental health. And I did. Started therapy, stopped drinking, bought some clothes that weren’t bloody lawyer suits.” I can’t help but giggle. Baz’s smile has no sadness behind it this time.

“So I guess you’re not a lawyer anymore?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I quit a week after I got back to London, then started applying for book editor jobs.”

I grin wide. I can’t stop grinning. “Reading books forever.”

There’s a lovely glint in his eye. Like someone ripped Polaris from the heavens and put it in the deep sea grey of his eyes. (God the poetry unit is getting to me.) It’s a kind of playful happiness that I really, really like.

“You remember,” he says amused.

“Of course!” He smiles wider, eyebrows raising up. Now it’s my turn to blush like a teenager. I sheepishly rub the back of my neck, thinking of a reason that doesn’t include time travel. Or obsessing over our one conversation for a week. “Well, I-I’ve remembered some stuff. You just kind of, uh, y’know, stuck in my head.”

“Hence why you still called me ten years later.”

“Yeah.” I tilt my head down a bit, uselessly trying to hide how ridiculous I look. “I mean, I’m not really sure why. You were just...really different from anyone I’ve met. You were so, pretty and posh and smart, and at first I found it annoying. But the more we talked I realised you were nice, in your own strange way. And without your help I would have lost Agatha in my life forever. I dunno. You made an impression. You’ve come up in my head from time to time.”

Technically that’s not a lie. By time to time I just mean all the time for days. Though I have a vague feeling, a whisper of a half memory, that past me may have thought about Baz too. Some things always stick post-time travel no matter how much past me is supposed to forget. Usually it’s only the super important, impactful things. Looking at Baz’s incandescent smile, framed by wavy black hair, I think he might count.

“Honestly,” he says, his voice low in a very private way that I like, “you’ve come up in my head too. Especially during my crisis. I thought about how right you were back then, how I should have listened to you and maybe wouldn’t have wasted so much of my life if I had. But I was too stubborn and blind back then to”

“Hey, stop that.” I somehow lean even closer. I’m this close to actually getting out of my chair. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. Remember that you had good reasons back then, and yeah it really sucked to go through all that, but you learned stuff right?”

“I suppose...”

“Then it wasn’t a waste.” Baz’s eyes narrow. A softer version of a glare, but he's still not totally happy. “Yeah, I know that’s easy to say, but I do kinda get it. Working in jobs I hated, never dating, never really doing anything for years, that all felt like a total waste. Sometimes it feels like my life is only just starting now at bloody 33. But I think struggling also gave me the drive to work harder now, live better. So did being a lawyer give you anything good?”

Baz looks really cute when he’s thinking. I like the way everything in his face pinches up, from the furrowed manicured brow to the slight pout of his bottom lip. (Don’t think about kissing that pout, do not think about it.) (Fuck I’m thinking about it.) Slowly, his expression softens.

“I learned,” he starts, “that I can’t force myself to love something. I thought if I was a lawyer long enough, I would at least learn to tolerate doing it, but I still hated every moment. I can’t keep living for other people’s expectations. At least that’s how my therapist puts it. Maybe I’ll fully listen to her one day.”

I let out a laughing snort and immediately cover my mouth in embarrassment. I hate when I do that. But Baz grins at me. The amused, affectionate glint in his eyes makes me want to blush even harder. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks and butterflies all at once. It’s so overwhelming and wonderful.

“Took me a while to listen to my therapist too,” I say. “Actually fixing yourself is hard.”

“Tell me about it,” Baz groans, hanging his head for a moment, hair like a wavy curtain around his face. “It took ages for me to realise that I didn’t know everything that was wrong with me. Instead I had to actually listen to someone else’s assessment of me and not interject my own thoughts every time. Do you know how frustrating that is for a know it all like me?!”

“I can only imagine,” I giggle. My thoughts immediately go to Penny and the first time she got drunk. My ears rang for hours from all her yelling about not actually being drunk. She and Baz might get along. (Maybe a little too well. God, could I deal with two of them together?) (Hopefully, because I want Baz to stick around for awhile.)

“I live in absolute agony.” He puts the back of his hand against his forehead like a dramatic Victorian maiden. I’m about to call him that when my stomach decides to rumble louder than a bloody earthquake. The corner of Baz’s mouth quirks up. “You hungry there, Snow? I can get us something.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m always hungry. But I can buy it, don’t worry.”

“Nonsense. I was the one who asked you out and picked the place, I’ll happily pay.”

“Out like a date?” The words spill out before I have a chance to stop them.

I’m pretty sure even the tips of my ears have turned bright pink at this point. Shit, why did I say that? Calm down, Simon. This is (technically) the first time we’ve seen each other in twelve years. No need to make this something it may not be. I expect Baz to be shocked, or confused, or annoyed at worst. But once again today, Baz surprises me. All he does is smile, looking at me with such kindness, far more open than I remember he was back at uni.

“Would you like this to be a date?” There's no pretense or implication in his words, he’s legitimately asking me. I don’t feel pressured, but luckily I already know.

“Yes, yeah, I-I would. I’d like that a lot.” I reach my hand forward across the table and just barely brush our fingers together. The tips of his are rough. Maybe he plays guitar or something, not piano. Doesn’t matter. I like the way he feels anyway.

Baz grins pointy ear to pointy ear. He flips his hand over, long callused fingers pressing into the much softer skin of my inner wrist. He can probably feel the way my pulse jumps. Luckily, I can feel the way his own is hammering. “Me too, Simon.”

We spend a bit too long just staring at each other before my stomach grumbles again. Baz chuckles and flags down the very nice waiter. I get another cherry scone and hot chocolate (yes I am 12 on the inside), and Baz gets something called a pumpkin mocha breve.

“What on Earth is that?” I ask when Baz gets his drink. It’s pale orange with a mountain of whipped cream on top.

“Try it.” He offers the cup to me and I take a sip. My tongue is immediately assaulted with more sugar that I’ve ever tasted at once. I blink rapidly from the shock.

“It tastes like a candy bar.”

“What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.” He licks the whipped cream off the top like a toddler with ice cream. A dollop gets on the tip of his nose.

“You’ve uh, got something right...” I flick the cream off with my thumb, “there.”

He laughs quietly. “Thank you. Allow me to return the favour.” Baz brushes some scone crumbs from my cheek. My skin feels like it’s on fire.

“T-Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”

We eat and drink and talk in between. Baz tells me about his work at the publishing house. It’s a small place that does mainly e-books and a few print ones, focusing on indie LGBT+ writers. He’s currently working on a book he describes as “gay polyamorous steampunk pirates,” which honestly gets me way too excited. I plan on pestering him for more details in the future. He looks animated the whole time, so passionate about what he’s doing. It makes him more beautiful.

He asks about my teaching. I tell him about my students, how incredible they are no matter how much they drive me crazy. I describe my lesson plans and all the new things I’m trying. Structured word inquiry, collaborative maths work, mixing subjects together to get kids engaged with stuff they don’t like. Luckily my principal is in favour of more out there ways of teaching too. Baz pays attention, asks questions and listens raptly. I can’t tell if he’s faking it. Most people do. I can’t blame them, it’s not very interesting. But as I go on and on, Baz never tries to change the subject or stares off into space. It’s not like he’s an angel for paying attention to me. It’s just nice that he’s making the effort. He’s really, really nice.

We eventually move off the topic of work. I tell him about my fencing class, something I haven’t done since I went to Watford. Baz calls me a bronze haired knight. I’m not too proud admit that made me blush. In turn, Baz tells me about getting back into playing the violin since he quit being a lawyer. (So that’s what the calluses are from).

“Cold I hear you play sometime?” I ask.

“My skills are still rusty,” he says over his near empty mug.

“Is that a no then?”

He sighs, but it’s with a small smile. “More like a ‘listen at your own risk.’”

“I can live with that.”

“Alright, another time then.”

I grin. Another time, I really like the sound of that.

Eventually, we somehow get onto the harder topics. I tell him about being in group homes, not having friends until Penny and Agatha, still feeling out of place and worthless sometimes. Baz talks about growing up without his mother, trying to live for her instead of himself until recently. Turns out we’ve both had a lot of hardship. We understand each other. We sort of match, I guess.

“I did like being with my younger siblings,” Baz sighs. “No matter how much I pretended I didn’t. Part of me felt like I was betraying my mother if I loved her husband’s children with another woman. But they were still my siblings and good kids, though I’m glad they’re all mostly tolerable ages now.”

I chuckle, leaning my cheek on my fist. “Mm, understandable. I always wanted siblings. Other kids to play with, y’know?”

“Group home kids didn’t play with you?”

“Nah, I was the weirdo who preferred punches over talking. No one liked being around me.”

Baz reaches out and brushes against my forearm. How can someone make me feel like I’m going to melt with just a touch? “If it’s any consolation, I certainly like being around you.”

I grin and touch his arm in turn. “I’ll certainly take that.”

We get away from all the dark shit, turning back to happier things. Baz describes the techniques and difficulties of the violin with dramatic gusto. I relay some of my worst customer service work experiences. I’ve never been good at talking, never liked it much. But I like it with Baz. He feels easy to talk to. I barely feel scared or awkward. We talk so much that we don’t even notice the sun setting on the horizon.

“Holy shit what time is it?” I say.

Baz looks down at his fancy leather watch. (A leftover from his prep days.) “Much later than I think either of us realised.”

I laugh and run a nervous hand through my hair. “Damn, sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Snow, unless you regret being here?”

“What?!” I gasp. “Of course not!”

He grins cheekily. I grumble and glare at him. Teasing bastard. Baz grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. Any bad will immediately vanishes. “You said you lived in Camden. How close are we?”

“Uh, not that far. I walked here.”

“Wonderful. How about I pay then walk you home like a gentleman?”

I hope my face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. I squeeze his hand. “I’d like that a lot.”

He squeezes back. “Good.”

Baz does just as he says, and soon enough we’re strolling down the streets under the dimming London sky. We chat some more, but also occasionally just walk in comfortable silence. I don’t mind either, because Baz doesn’t let go of my hand the whole time. I’ve never felt so excited just from someone holding my hand. I don’t know why. I don’t care, really. I just want to bask in it forever.

Unfortunately though, we do reach my building. Never have I hated my own home more. I consider not telling Baz so we can keep walking, but then I remember all the homework I was supposed to grade yesterday while I was too excited about Baz to focus. I’ll need a good night’s sleep to survive. Life is too cruel sometimes.

“This is me,” I say.

“Nice place,” Baz replies.

“You don’t need to lie.”

“I’m not, I promise.” His head tilts to the side, a smirk on his lips. “Maybe I could see if your flat matches up sometime.”

I swear to god, my face is going to melt off from how much I’m blushing today. Baz laughs at my obviously flabbergasted expression. I playfully smack his shoulder. “Haha, very funny. Buy me dinner first, arsehole.”

He tugs me a bit closer by our joined hands. My nose is almost touching his. The smell of his post coffee peppermint gum hits me so hard I’m afraid I’ll stumble from the wonderful shock. “Are you free next Friday?”

I gulp, then nod slowly. I can’t look away from his mouth, fuck “Y-Yeah.”

“Good for you.” He takes a large step back, snapping me out of my daze. He’s got a cheeky little half smile on his lips. “I’m not, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy the free time.”

I gape at the absolute bastard. I shove his shoulder a bit harder this time. “Arsehole!”

Baz throws his head back laughing. It’s the most beautiful sound in the noisy London night. He takes my other hand and runs his thumb over the back of it. “Unfortunately, I am actually tied up for the next week, but I’m free the week after. Any ideas, Snow?”

I grin at him. “How about a scenic walk in Hyde Park?”

One of his eyebrows goes up in playful confusion. “Not dinner?”

“We’ll get to dinner eventually. I expect to be romanced a bit more first, Basilton.”

He smirks again and pulls me closer again “That doesn’t sound bad at all. Hyde Park will be lovely this time of year.”

“Agreed.”

Even though by all rational logic we should let go, our hands stay linked. Neither of us make a move to get away. I can smell the peppermint again, every time his hot breath brushes against my face. It’s somewhat shaky. But I imagine mine is about the same. I’m not sure. I’m too focused on his sharp cheekbones and blown pupils and pouty mouth. Mostly his mouth. Before I know it, we’re nose to nose. I’m getting whiffs of something other than his gum. Cedar, maybe, and bergamot. It’s perfect for Baz. He moves his face slightly, and our mouths almost touch. A spark still runs through my veins.

“Simon,” he sighs, and the sound of his voice hits me in so many places. Baz’s head moves again, brushing our noses together. I watch his eyes flutter like a pair of butterflies until they fully close. Mine follow suit. I’m overwhelmed by the smell of cedar and bergamot as I press my mouth to Baz’s.

He’s colder than I thought they would be, colder than anyone I’ve kissed before. Yet I like it so much more. Baz’s tepid mouth sends a calming wave through my constantly overheated body. He’s soft too, like how I imagine a cloud could feel if I was ever able to touch one. Our lips slot together so easily. His hands clutch mine tighter, nails even digging into my skin. Not good enough. Not close enough. I let go of Baz, but only so I can slide my arms up to hold his shoulders, pressing our bodies together. Baz immediately winds his arms around my waist, getting us even closer. He’s all lovely lean muscle pressed against me. And I fit into his arm so well. My lips fall open and Baz quickly follows. His tongue slowly over my back teeth, making stars explode behind my eyes and in my brain. I kiss him more fervently. Baz groans into my mouth.

Part of me can’t believe that we’re doing this. Two thirty three year old men, snogging like stupid teenagers on the steps of my apartment building. Sounds so embarrassing. The other part of me really doesn’t care. I’ve never felt like this just from a kiss. Like I’ve left my body and entered another dimension where all there is happiness and pleasure and Baz. Is this how all kisses are supposed to feel? Or is it because of Baz? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just weave my fingers through his silky smooth black hair and keep kissing this wonderful, wonderful man.

Baz pulls away, and I nearly whine. Luckily I still have a bit of dignity. (Just a bit.) He doesn’t let go of me, thank god. He keeps his lovely hands on my waist, eyes still half closed, bright red lips pulled into a grin.

“Do you always kiss on the first date, Snow?” he whispers playfully.

“No, you’re the first.” I twirl a bit of his wavy hair around my index finger. “Feel special?”

“Extremely.”

I lean forward and kiss him again for a moment. Just a quick, hard press against him. Baz leans forward slightly when I pull away. My heart flutters happily in my chest. “As much as I’d like to keep doing this, it’s late, and I’ve got grading to do.”

He makes an over dramatic groan, leaning against my hands. “How dare you be a responsible teacher who is truly committed to educating the next generation?”

God, he’s making me want to kiss him again. He does it so easily. “I know, terribly inconvenient. We’ll figure something out, yeah?”

“Yes, give me a call. And don’t wait twelve years this time.”

I sigh while Baz smirks at me. I’m about to retort when he leans down and kisses me. My head is spinning like a tumble dryer. I don’t want this day to ever end. Unfortunately, reality is a thing that exists. And because of it, Baz has to pull back, leaving me wanting more.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” he says, “alright?”

“Alright. Have a good night, Baz.”

“You too, Simon.”

He pecks my forehead, and I nearly melt into the pavement. We then slowly disentangle ourselves. My fingers trail on Baz’s as he lets go. He waves one more time. I smile back. And I keep smiling as I watch him walk down my street, only going for my keys when I lose sight of him as he turns the corner. I literally skip up my steps to my door. I’m so dazed with happiness that I barely notice that I walk into Dr. Margaret’s office instead of my dingy lobby.

“Snogging in public?” she says. “How very adolescent.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s what you say after abandoning me for a week?”

She snorts, leaning back in her chair. “Didn’t abandon you. Just let you figure things out on your own. Point of therapy, remember?”

“Well, yeah, I know that. A little heads up would be nice though.”

“Not my style.”

It’s my turn to snort. I plant myself on her couch. “I know, you’re more of the ‘toss in the deep end and yell swim’ kind of therapist.”

“Mhm. And look how it turned out. Found your Baz.”

My eyes narrow even more. “How do you know his name?” Dr. Margaret just keeps smiling at me like a cat who’s caught a canary. The realisation slaps me in the face. My jaw drops open. “You knew exactly who and where he was the entire time, didn’t you?” No change, still smiling. “How?!”

“Though about him. Saw his whole life in my mind’s eye.”

My jaw falls further. Holy shit, how powerful is she? “Really?!”

“No.” She pulls a plastic card out of her pocket, holding it between her index and middle finger like a throwing star or something. “Swiped his uni ID and Googled him here. Much faster than powers.”

I can’t help but burst out laughing. Godlike abilities have nothing on a good search engine, it seems. “Of course you did.”

She shakes her head sarcastically. “Can’t believe you. Send you back in time, and you wonder how I know about one bloke?”

“Uh, yeah. Knowing everything is a bit different from time travel.” I lean forward with elbows on my knees. “Why didn’t you tell me about him then? Why make me suffer for a week?”

“Suffering now?”

“Well, no, now that I’ve found him-”

“And what made you want to find him?”

I rub the back of my neck, trying to coax the words out from my brain. “Uh, I dunno. I know we met only once, but he just stuck in my head. He was interesting, smart, funny and nice in his own way. And I wanted to talk to him again, learn more about him. It was overwhelming, really. How much I wanted to be around Baz again. I-I’ve never felt something like that so strongly before.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Margaret picks up a pen just to point it at me. “Felt strongly for the first time ever. Made you determined even to find him when it was hard. And never felt this strongly because you always settled for okay. Felt okay with Agatha, with Todd, with everyone. Need better than okay. Need to want someone more so you can build more. Make a relationship that’ll actually go somewhere.”

My eyebrows furrow. “I thought I needed to focus on the present more.”

“You do. In the present, desire Baz right?”

I think about Baz’s pretty eyes and his pretty laugh and the way he made my head do somersaults when he kissed me. My flushed face splits into a grin. “Yeah, I really do.”

“Good.” She leans back again with her hands linked behind her head. “Build from there. Put the effort in like you did searching for him. Will want to put the effort in, because you actually want him, not just because he’s nice and you should like him.”

The puzzle pieces start to slide into place finally. It was all one big, weird life lesson, of course, like everything Dr. Margaret gets me to do. Looking back, I cared about Agatha, and I did love her as a friend. But I never desired her. I never desired Todd or any of my other exes either. They just seemed like the kind of people you should date. They weren’t even bad, they just weren’t for me, weren’t who I wanted.

But dear lord, do I want Baz.

“You couldn’t just tell me I was dating people I wasn’t actually attracted to?” I ask. “That I was actually supposed to feel more but I was settling for nice people I didn’t really like instead?”

Dr. Margaret shakes her head. “Not how therapy works. Supposed to guide you to find the answers, not tell you outright. Where’s the fun in that?”

I cross my arms and smirk at her. “Since when is therapy fun?”

She glares at me hard. “Brat. Lucky that I like you.”

“Aw. I’m touched.” My voice is sarcastic, but my bright smile is genuine. I’m glad she likes me. I’m glad she’s here to help me finally live my life. I hate to think where I’d be without her help. From her returning grin, I think she knows that.

“Go do your grading. Be a responsible teacher. See you next time.”

“See you later, Dr. Margaret.”

She waves her hand, gold rings flashing in the light, and the world spins like a cyclone. I yelp as I fall flat on my arse on my apartment floor. Well, at least she didn’t put me back in the lobby so I had to climb all those stairs. Small blessings, take 'em where I can get ‘em. And Dr. Margaret herself is already a huge one.

After getting out of my day clothes and into trackies, I set about to my teacher's work. It’s not the most fun part of the job but it’s certainly the most important. I’m lost in a haze of spelling tests and math activities when I feel my phone buzz. There’s one text on the screen, and it makes me smile instantly.

Baz Hey, made it home safe. I had a lovely time today and can’t wait to see you again. Call me tomorrow at lunch?

Is it possible to die from such pure happiness and excitement? I hope not, because I’ve still got so much more of my life I want to live. And I want to see if Baz will be a big part of it.

Simon me too. call you at noon <3

———————————————

AN: Mushy ending, as usual for me haha. I really hope you all liked that! Even if you don't know the original show, I hope it was good. I really liked the idea of Simon in time travel therapy, it would be good for him. Tbh I thought about making Ebb his therapist because she was such a mentor for him, but I wanted to try out Margaret and she ended up being a lot of fun. I may write more in this universe. There are other Being Erica plotlines that could be fun. And exploring Baz and Simon's relationship in this AU further could be great. We'll see. I'm taking writing day by day due to my health. Anywho, thanks for reading!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #being erica au #time travel #time travel therapy #fluff #angst #first meetings #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4964

Summary: Simon is on a blind date, but there’s this guy who keeps catching his attention. Based on “I’m going to save you from this bad date” request from @krisrix and “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” by Arctic Monkeys.

Read on AO3

AN: Hello, I am back after a reluctant prolonged absence. My health has been in the shitter. Bad headaches, little sleep, and low energy all suck. This is M rated to be safe but there isn’t really anything explicit, just implied sex and a lot of horniness lol. Hopefully you all like it :D (Edit for Tumblr: something fucked up and deleted the read more break. I'm on my phone rn but I'll fix it when I get home. Sorry!)

———————————————

Simon

“This is a terrible idea,” I say again.

“It is not,” Penny replies, plucking lint off my shirt. “My friend says she’s really sweet and you two might get along.”

“And that matters because…?”

“Because you can’t stay cooped up at home. Time for you to go out and meet the world.” I blow air between my lips. “Don’t do your horse impression in front of her.”

I narrow my eyes. “Is setting me up on a blind date a way to vicariously fix your romantic life by fixing mine?”

“No, Mr. I Took One Psych Course.” I keep glaring at her. Penny’s shoulders fall slightly. “Okay, maybe. But I also think you two might be a good fit. So at least give it a shot, alright?”

I sigh heavily, shoving my hands in my pockets. “One drink.”

She grins brightly. “Awesome. I’ll be waiting back at the flat. Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t. Bye, Pen.”

“Bye, Si.” She presses a kiss to my cheek then walks off smiling.

The second she’s out of sight, I slump forward with a groan. I don’t think she heard the resignation in my voice. Honestly, I really don’t want to do this. But I’m doing this for Penny, because she’s sad and I love her.

Ever since Micah broke up with her (arsehole), Penny has put the excess energy she used to waste on him into other things, including me. Guess if she can’t have a partner, she wants me to have one. Sure, I wouldn’t mind being with someone, it just hasn’t been a priority between uni and my mental health. Both are still not really great. I should be studying or something, but Pen says one night away won’t kill my GPA. She’s rarely ever wrong, hope she isn’t now. Hope this isn’t a total disaster…

I walk up to the nightclub door. It’s neon purple with a burly man at the entrance. I gulp down the lump in my throat. God, why am I so nervous? It’s just a date. This won’t kill me. I can do this. I won’t burst into flames no matter how much it feels like I will any fucking moment.

The burly man looks at me, the weirdo just standing six feet away from the door. “You going in or what, kid?”

I nod furiously. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

He holds out his hand. “Fifteen pounds, please.”

My eyes bug out. I expect him to start laughing, but he stays stone faced. “Fifteen bloody quid?! Are you kidding me?!”

“Nope. Pay up or leave.”

I growl and pull out my wallet. I slap the bills in his hand. “Fucking rip off.”

“I don’t make the rules, mate.” He puts the money in his back pocket and lifts the black velvet rope. “Welcome to Club Violet.”

“Thanks,” I grumble. Fifteen fucking quid. What am I, the Queen?

Club Violet absolutely lives up to its name. The whole place is different shades of glowing purple. It’s like if Queen Victoria opened a royal dance club. People shake and jump in a huge sweaty clump on the main dance floor while techno pop blares around us. It’s actually a pretty good song. Wish it wasn’t so loud though. There’s metal stairs with a chrome railing leading to the upper level. I check my texts again. Okay, so she’ll be at the upper bar, wearing a shiny pink dress. Cool, cool, I can find her.

I push through some giggling dancers and a couple snogging against the wall to get to the stairs. The top level is less crowded, mostly just people talking with their heads very close together. They’re smiling, giggling, kissing. They look happy. My heart aches a bit. Huh, I actually miss that, more than I thought than I did. This might not be such a bad idea.

The bar is nestled at the back of the floor. Bartenders in posh black shirts and vests shake those silver shakers I’ve seen in Bond movies. And at the front of the bar, stirring a margarita is a blonde woman in a bright pink, sparkly dress. Okay, deep breath, you can do this.

I walk towards her, head held high. I stand next to her. She has a pretty face and golden brown eyes. Let’s hope this goes well.

“Uh, hi,” I say with only a little nervous hitch. “Agatha, right?”

She turns her head. Her mouth pulls up slightly. Not a smile, but almost, I guess. “Yeah. And you’re Simon?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

We stand in awkward silence for awhile. My body and mouth feel utterly paralyzed with unsureness. She seems just as confused. Guess it’s been a very long time for both of us. I stumble forward onto a cushy violet stool.

“You wanna drink?” I ask.

Agatha holds up her barely empty margarita. “I think I’ll finish this one first, thank you.”

My cheeks heat up. I hope they’re not visible under the lowlight. “Uh, y-yeah, makes sense. I guess I’ll get one just for me then…”

I wave at the bartender. They walk over with an extremely fake customer service smile. “How may I help you?”

“Can I get a…um…” I look at the drinks menu. It’s filled with weird punny names with liquors I don’t know. It makes my head hurt. I slap the menu down on the counter. “Pint of Guinness, please?”

“Sure, coming up,” they say and walk off.

I turn to Agatha with a sheepish smile. “I like to keep things simple.”

“I can see that.” She takes a sip of her margarita. Her lipstick is a nice shade of soft pink. She has good taste in makeup at least.

“So, um, Pen mentioned you were in third year at University of London. What program are you doing?”

“Veterinary medicine at the royal college.”

“Oh wow, that’s cool. You wanna be a vet?”

She nods, swirling the drink in her hand. A small smile plays on her mouth for the first time. “Yeah. I hope to take care of horses.”

A small shiver runs down my spine. “Wow, um…sounds interesting.”

Her head tilts to the side in confusion. “Something wrong?”

“No, no. It sounds amazing. I just don’t have a good history with horses.” Her eyebrows pull together. “A police horse nearly trampled me when I was seven. Been a bit jittery around them ever since.”

Agatha nods thoughtfully. “Hm, I see. You probably did something to provoke the horse though, they don’t hurt people for no reason.”

My cheeks heat up, but from embarrassment unfortunately. “Oh…you’d know better than me I guess…”

Agatha takes a long sip of her drink in lieu of words. My pint of Guinness arrives on time. I take two big gulps, reveling in the distracting burn. I try to look literally anywhere else. There’s a neon purple flower on the wall. I see three people dancing together, smiling and laughing. I’m not usually a fan of dancing but they look like they’re having fun. I spot on a presumed couple sipping on the same fancy cocktail together. My eyes flick to Agatha. She’s staring straight ahead, totally uninterested in me. So y gaze keeps drifting, until it meets someone else’s. And I nearly choke on my beer.

Holy fucking shit, he’s staring at me. A gorgeous guy with reddish-gold skin, wavy black hair, and piercing grey eyes is looking right at me with a devilish smirk on his lips. He’s wearing very fitting black skinny jeans and a short sleeved dark shirt. Well, technically he’s wearing a shirt, but it’s unbuttoned all the way to his navel so I don’t know if it counts. His beautiful eyes wander over me again and again, smirk slowly growing. Why is he staring at me? What the hell makes me so interesting? Is it getting hotter in here?

“Simon?”

I snapped back to reality from the deep sea grey induced daze. “What?”

Agatha’s brow is all pulled together. I can’t tell if it’s out of confusion or concern. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m fine.” I take another drink of my beer. “So, what else do you like?”

Agatha shrugs and goes back to looking at her drink. “I play lacrosse.”

“Yeah? Is that fun?”

“It is, until someone shoves you to the ground.”

I let out a small laugh. Agatha does the same, but quickly goes back to stirring her drink with a neutral expression. “What do you do? For fun, that is.”

“Um, some stuff…” I scratch my chin. This is harder than I thought. “I like gaming, fencing, baking, watching Dr. Who. That’s pretty much it.”

“Baking sounds fun.”

“Yeah it is!” I turn towards her with the brightest grin. “I’m learning this new technique for making scones. It makes a much lighter pastry, but it’s hard to get the same flavour, y’know? I’m trying to figure out how to compensate for that. I’ve been trying fresh ingredients, pure oils, lots of stuff. But really-”

I stop when I realise Agatha is looking at me with utter confusion. Right, not everyone understands baking science, or wants to know. I turn away from her and drink down the rest of my beer. It won’t help though. First year uni gave me quite a tolerance. I stare at the empty glass, swishing around the last bits of foam.

“So, how’s school going?” That’s a safe question, right?

“Oh it’s going fine.” Agatha replies. “There’s actually this one class I’m taking.”

She starts talking about her animal biology class. I try to listen, I really do, but my attention span is notoriously short. My eyes drift, and soon fall on raven hair.

The man isn’t staring at me anymore. He’s looking off to the side. I tilt my head slightly to the side. He’s talking to someone, a red haired man with a sly smile. They’re giggling and whispering together. My stomach feels weird. Must’ve had something bad for lunch. My eyes drag over him more carefully this time. He’s quite thin. Wait, no, not thin, lean. There’s strong muscles in his calves and upper arms, and his stomach looks very tight. I wonder how he got those. Football maybe? I could see that. Him running across the field at lightspeed, stealing the ball easily with his strong legs, flying across the field with ruthless grace. Part of me just really wants to see how he moves.

My eyes move back, only to meet Gorgeous Guy’s. Oh fuck, he’s looking right at me again. I can feel myself blush as I go rigid. His mouth pulls into that smirk again. It fits too perfectly on his sharp face, like he was designed to look so cocky and beautiful at the same time. My face feels so fucking hot right now. Damn clubs, no air conditioning.

“And that’s why you have to be very careful when treating young horses.” I refocus back on Agatha’s voice. She’s looking at me, gesturing with one and stirring the margarita with the other. I nod thoughtfully like I’m not an arsehole and I’ve been paying attention this whole time.

“That’s really cool, yeah,” I say. “You’re really into this stuff.”

“Of course, it’s my future career.”

My cheeks go redder. Between Agatha and Gorgeous Guy, I’m pretty much a tomato by now. “R-Right, course.”

We stare at each other. The awkwardness is so thick you could slice it in half. God, why am I so much worse at this than normal? My normal is pretty shit so that’s a real feat. There’s no flow or spark. I don’t think this is working at all. But I don’t know how to leave without being a total dickhead. What could I even say? “Sorry but I don’t find you interesting enough to keep talking to you, I have to go.” ’ Instead I’m silent as a statue and more awkward than a fourteen year old at a school dance.

Agatha is drinking down the last of her margherita. I look pointedly away from her. And my eyes happen drift back to the guy. He’s still with the ginger bloke. It’s hard to tell if they’re talking or dancing. Maybe it’s both. Gorgeous Guy’s thin lips are moving slowly. His hips are swaying slightly, the curves of his body showing well through the tight jeans. I’m fixated by the way he moves. It’s seamless and graceful yet so strong. He looks good dancing, even just a little. I wonder how he’d look if he was truly moving to the beat, swaying his lean body with purpose. He’s not looking at me this time. I kinda wish he would, honestly.

“I’m going to the toilet,” Agatha announces. She’s out of her seat and walking away before I can get a word out. Alright then.

I look at my glass, rolling the remaining foam back and forth. My mind is being way too chaotic for me to think straight, so I’m trying not to think at all. I just watch the white bubbles, back and forth, back and forth, just like that guy’s hips. I wonder-

“Hello,” a smooth voice says to my right. “How are you?”

I turn my head and nearly choke on my own tongue. It’s him. Gorgeous Guy. He’s standing right there, leaning against the bar with his hip cocked out, looking at me with that smirk and dazzling eyes. And I’m completely frozen.

“H-Hi,” I finally get out. “I’m, uh, fine. H-How are you?”

“I’m alright. May I ask you something?”

“Um, sure.”

“Are you on a date with the woman who just left?”

I scratch at my wrist, looking to the side in the vain hope he doesn’t see my blush. “Uh, sort of, I guess.”

The guy raises an eyebrow without moving any other part of his face. It’s very impressive. “Usually that’s a yes or no question.”

“Yeah, I know,” I chuckle awkwardly. “We’re supposed to be on a blind date, but I don’t think it’s going well.”

“Hm, yes, I assumed that when you kept staring at me over her shoulder.”

As if I wasn’t a tomato face before. I think my flush has reached the bottom of my neck. My mouth opens and closes like a stranded fish. His smirk only becomes more smug, and I find it so annoyingly attractive.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, that was rude a-and objectifying and I-”

“Did I say I disliked it? Remember, I made eyes at you first.” All the blood in my body rushes straight to my face. Gorgeous Guy leans closer. His long fingertips are nearly touching mine. “My name is Baz. What’s yours?”

“Simon.”

“Simon,” he echoes in his much, much sexier voice. “That’s a very pretty name.”

“T-Thanks. Your name is nice too.”

“Thank you.” Baz’s head tilts further to the side, showing off his long, graceful neck. “So, if your date is not going well, would you mind if I wanted to whisk you away from here?”

My eyes go wide and my heart starts beating double time. I’m not sure if it’s from the fear or the thrill of the idea. Do I really want that? When I look at Baz, all of him, I do. But could I do that to Agatha? Just because I’m not attracted to her doesn’t mean I should ditch her.

“Um, I-I do,” I say, “but I gotta go do something first. Wait here, please? I promise I’ll be back in a minute.”

Baz blinks rapidly. He looks like a very confused deer in the headlights.“Alright…”

With only a little fear, I reach forward and put my hand over his. He inhales sharply, and I swear, even in the lowlight, I see a blush on his face. “I just need to tell her I’m cutting the date short. I don’t wanna be a total arsehole. One minute and I’m all yours, I promise.”

That smirk comes back, but there’s something softer in his eyes. Less dagger like, more a pretty cloud on an overcast day. “Alright. One minute, I’ll hold you to that.”

I grin brightly. “Awesome.”

I squeeze his hand, and surprisingly, he squeezes back. I take one last look at him before dashing off like a madman.

I’m very lucky that in a dark club like this, the toilet signs have to be very bright to see. The woman’s toilet is on the far left of the upper deck. Not too far, but there’s a crowd of people between me and my destination. I push through the other night club goers, some wobbling, most swearing at me. Unfortunately I can’t explain to them that I need to tell my blind date that our date has to end so I can go hang out with an incredibly handsome man who for some reason is attracted to me. I’m not sure I could explain this to anyone and sound sane. I don’t care. Baz is waiting for me back at the bar. I’ll push through every one of these people to get back to him.

When I reach the toilet, I immediately spot a pink dress near the wall. Agatha is bent over her phone, blue light illuminating her pensive face. She’s typing really fast. I speed walk like a bloody madman.

“Agatha!” I call out. Her head snaps up.

“Oh, Simon,” she says, sounding far more shocked than I thought she would be.

“Hey, hey, sorry for barging up. Just, uh, we need to talk.”

“Okay…”

I scratch the back of my neck like some awkward teenager. “Um, look, I’m sorry I’m being an arsehole. You’re nice and very pretty, but I don’t think this date is working out. We’re just not…clicking, I guess. Which sucks but it’s alright. I-I just hope we can still be friends…”

Agatha blinks a few times at me. I wait for her to storm off or yell or something. Instead, she just smiles softly and nods. “Alright, yeah. I agree. I don’t think we’re a good fit as a couple.”

All of the tension drains from my body. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I think you’re nice too, but it’s not going to work out. Maybe friends could better.”

“Yeah, yeah definitely. Wanna get coffee sometime? As friends?”

“I’d like that.” Her phone buzzes. She looks down and sighs. “I have to go. My friend Minty is here to pick me up.”

“Oh, okay.” The gears start turning in my head, and my eyebrows pull together. “Wait, were you just going to leave?”

Agatha looks down, probably to hide the embarrassed expression on her face. “Honestly, yeah. I didn’t want to make things awkward. I’m not good at saying goodbye to people…”

I’ll admit, it hurts a bit. But I also get it. I hated saying anything as a kid, especially something awkward. And I don’t think it’s my place to berate her right now. I nod slowly. “Alright. Well, hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“You too.” She goes towards the stairs. One step down though, she looks over her shoulder with a little smile on her lips. “Have fun with that bloke. He looks cute.”

Before I can answer, she’s off down the staircase. My face is going to get stuck blushing this much. After only a moment of shock though, I dash back in the direction of the bar. I’ve never been more nervous than I have been speed walking back there. But when I see Baz, with his hips against the bar, fiddling with his phone, I sigh in utter relief.

I take a deep breath, trying to hide just how out of breath and eager I am. Be cool, Simon, be cool. I walk towards with what I hope is a badass swaggering walk. Bloody hell, I hope I don’t look stupid. I really hope I don’t fuck this up.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m back.”

Baz’s head snaps up. I like the way his hair falls in a lazy wave, like a waterfall made from raven wings. (That poetry book Penny got me for Christmas has really expanded my metaphors, wow.) That softer, nicer smirk comes back. I love it more than the arrogant one, actually.

“One minute and thirty eight seconds,” he replies in a playful tone. “You’re late.”

I chuckle and rub my neck. “Sorry. There’s a lot of people here.”

“I’m aware. I’ve been looking through them all night.” His fingertips touch mine, sending jolts up my entire arm. “Until you caught my eye like no else did.”

“Really?” My heart rate is going nuts. It’s not arrogant, well, not totally. Everyone’s a little vain, after all.

“Mhm.” His hand moves slowly up my arm, stopping just above my wrist. “Blue eyes, bronze curls, tawny skin with constellations of freckles and moles. You were like the sun in this dark nightclub. How could I not be entranced?”

“O-oh.” All words have fled my tongue. Baz’s sweet voice and words have melted my brain into pure mush.

Baz’s hand moves further. His thumb traces tiny, wonderful circles on my upper forearm. He’s got these slight calluses that I can’t get enough of. “You have no idea how much I wanted to come up and talk to you right away.”

I pout slightly. “Why didn’t you?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. I like the way his hair moves. “Because you were with someone, Simon. I didn’t notice her until after you started talking to her again. I wasn’t going to be that arse who stole someone’s date.”

“And yet you offered to whisk me away a few minutes ago.”

“Well,” he sighs, tracing patterns lazily on the inside of my elbow, “I tried to ignore you, I really did, but my eyes kept drifting to you. I didn’t think your date was going well but I still wasn’t going to intrude. I distracted myself instead.”

I frown deeply. “That redhead bloke.”

“Yes, Lamb. He approached me but I welcomed him.” His face becomes sly and devilish. The expression is eerily, like his face was made for scheming. “Were you jealous?”

I gulp down a large lump in my throat, unintentionally biting down on my bottom lip. From the way Baz watches my mouth I think he likes it quite a bit. “Maybe a little…”

“Mm, good to know.” Baz tilts his head, showing off that damn neck again. Is he doing that on purpose? “I’ll admit I was jealous. I desperately wished to be in your date’s place. When I glanced over a few times, I saw things may not have been going well. So when she left…”

“You jumped at the chance?”

“Precisely.”

I grin ear to ear. It’s strange to think I’d be so wanted by someone that they’d wait to talk to me, but I don’t dislike it. Especially when they’re as pretty as Baz. I move forward this time, touching his forearm. His hands may be rough, but the rest of his skin is impossibly soft.

“I’m glad you did,” I say quietly. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Baz smiles too. It’s not arrogant, but genuinely happy and bright. “Me too. I thought you were gorgeous, but now I also know that you’re the kind of guy to make sure he says goodbye to his blind date, even when it didn’t work out. Who knew the gorgeous man would turn out to be kind too?”

Once again, I am lost for words. I mean, what do you say to that? Glad you noticed? Arrogant. You too? Weird. Thank you? I guess, still feels awkward. It seems me gaping mouth is good enough for Baz, because he’s still smiling. He brings up his other hand and traces his rough thumb on my chin, just under my bottom lip. Dear Lord, I really want him to move it a little bit up.

“So I’m wondering,” he drawls, “if you would be so kind as to do something for me.”

“What?” I almost say “anything,” but that’s just a little too desperate.

“Would you please follow me downstairs? Because ever since I saw you, I’ve thought about how lovely you would look on the dance floor.”

Is my brain dribbling out my ears? Because it bloody well feels like it. Baz’s skin may be cold but he’s burning me to a crisp. And I really don’t mind.

“I-I can’t dance,” I whisper. I want him to know what a mess he’s getting into when he’s with me.

“No matter.” His thumb actually touches my lip. A harsh, beautiful shudder moves through my spine. “I bet you’ll still look gorgeous.” He tugs on my wrist with his other hand. “Shall we?”

All I can do is nod. Baz grins devilishly. He slowly weaves our fingers together one by one. Every touch threatens to make me burst into flames. “Then let’s go.”

Baz pulls me forward, and I happily trail behind him. We zig zag through all the sweaty people and soar down the spiral stairs. There’s some sort of techno remix of an eighties song. The singer keeps singing about a girl named Rio. (Weird name, but I don’t think I can talk much considering my last name is Snow.) Baz pulls us deep into the throng of dancing people. He finds us a small space in the middle of all of it. At first I think it’s too small, but when Baz presses almost his entire body against me, I quickly get the point. He puts his arms around my waist. I’m completely frozen.

“I still don’t know how to dance,” I shout in his ear.

Baz leans forward. His hot breath caresses my skin. “Put your arms on my shoulders, then follow me. It’s really easy. You just have to sway.”

I gulp and nod. I place my hands on his shoulders. They’re a bit boney but very nice. Baz slowly starts moving side to side. His hips move absolutely beautifully. He has perfect rhythm. He slowly sways to the thumping bass of the song while holding onto me tight, pressing us together so close. I can feel every part of him against every part of me. My eyes are glued to my hands on his shoulders. I’m pretty sure my entire fucking body is blushing now.

“You can move too,” Baz says. “Just follow me.”

I nod, even though I’m still unsure. I look down at his hips (holy fuck he’s hot) and try to copy him. Slowly, I move side to side, following him as best I can. I’m not as smooth and graceful as him of course. Baz helps, silently guiding me with his hands. We start moving in near perfect sync. And it feels absolutely amazing. Holy shit, is this grinding? I’ve never done it before, so if this is it, it’s bloody great.

My chest feels tight and breath is short, but in a good way. The fear and nerves are fading bit by bit. Slowly, I finally look away from my hand. I look at Baz’s face, and god, why haven’t I been looking at him the whole time? He looks even more gorgeous. The strobe lights perfectly illuminate the deep angles of his face. His hair falls in his face in a beautiful lazy wave. His eyes are absolutely dazzling, and they’re completely focused on me. He looks so good, somehow even better than before. My gaze flicks down to Baz’s lips. They’re hanging slightly open. The violet lights catch on them again and again. I can’t stop looking, and I don’t really want to.

I look up again, meeting Baz’s beautiful eyes. He’s looking down as well at my mouth. God, I want him to be thinking the same thing I am. My arms quickly wrap around his neck, fingers pressing into his soft skin. Baz inhales sharply. For a second I worry he’s going to shove me away. But instead, I feel him pull my waist even closer, fingers digging into my back through my t-shirt. Our faces are inches apart, moving closer without us even realising it. My nose touches his, just barely. We’re breathing the same air. Maybe, just maybe…. Oh, fuck it.

I lean forward and press my mouth to Baz’s.

It takes less than a second for Baz to kiss me back. There’s zero pretense or nervousness. We move our lips fervently, mutual desire completely obvious. Baz sticks his tongue down my throat at the same time I tug harshly on his hair. Thank god the music is too loud for anyone to hear our groans. He bites down on my bottom lip and I feel like I’m fucking melting and exploding and dying. I kiss him like it’s a fight, and he doesn’t give an inch. We match so well. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. God, I’m drowning in him, but I don’t want to come up for air.

Baz eventually, sadly, pulls away. He keeps his face close to mine. I study all the different colours in his eyes. I could do that forever.

“Want to get out of here?” he says. “I think I’d like to see you somewhere other than the dance floor now.”

I nod immediately. “Yeah, definitely, let’s go.”

Baz grins. It’s a mix between devilish charm and genuine giddy excitement. He grabs my hand, then we push through the throngs of people even faster than before. I can’t stop grinning for even a second.

We hop in a cab heading towards Canary Wharf. Baz takes me up to his flat, pins me down on his king sized bed, and proves once again that he is incredible with his hips.

All in all, a fantastic night.

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AN: Needless to say, a spring in Baz’s mattress breaks. Hope you liked it! Simon was a bit of an ass, yeah, but imo so is Agatha. In my mind they meet up later and talk properly without pressure to date awkwardness and they become really good friends. In the end they’re both happy. I liked writing this because I love the prompt and I love the song. Arctic Monkeys fucking rule. Hopefully my next fic will be out soon. Have a good day!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #pining #night club #first meetings #simon is distracted by baz as usual #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Carry on Countdown Day 1 - Sun/Moon

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 450 words

Summary: A fairytale come true

Read on AO3

AN: Hey my peeps. I did not plan on doing the countdown at all, but then I was hit with inspiration and wrote this short thing. So I guess I have one prompt down lol. I may do other ones, depending on school, work, and my health, but no guarantees. And I am still working on requests, but those are obviously longer and these I can finish quickly, so don't worry, those are not abandoned. Hope you guys like this one!

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Once upon a time, the moon fell in love with the sun.

How could one not love the sun? It shone so brightly, basking the earth in its heat and light. The ever burning ball of fire that brought life to all those around it. A star that planets literally revolved around its pull was so strong.

The moon, who saw itself as so small and insignificant, was in constant awe of the great sun. The moon wished so deeply to be near the sun, even touch it if fate deemed it worthy. But the beautiful star was so far away. Lightyears upon lightyears sat between them. Though through no fault of their own, it was impossible to bridge the divide. There was no chance the moon could ever truly be with its beloved sun.

So the lovesick moon took what it could get. It watched the sun from afar, gazing upon its light whenever possible. It bathed in the sun’s distant warmth when its rotation moved right, enjoying the warmth as it spun closer, and dreaming of that comfort as it turned away. The moon dreamed of a world where it and the sun were not so far away. Where they were not forced to live apart.

If the moon was lucky, if fate decided to be kind for once, the planets would perfectly align, and the moon would sit right in front of the sun. For just a few minutes, the moon got to have all the sun’s beauty to itself. It got to stare at the sun without shame. It got to pretend for a few moments that sun could love it back. That they could be together no matter what the universe said.

But those moments only lasted so long. Too soon, the moon’s inevitable orbit made it move, and the sun was out of its reach once more. The poor moon was left only with the dreams of true love once more.

The moon was sure it was impossible, that the sun could never want it with equal desperation. But sometimes fate is kind. And sometimes you can have what you most desire.

Baz lays in their bed, staring at Simon’s sleeping golden face. Even after all these years together, he is still the brightest, most beautiful thing in the entire solar system, and Baz feels lucky enough to bathe in his warmth. He pushes a stray bronze curl away from his face and lightly kisses the mole on his cheek. Simon hums and smiles in his slumber. Baz embraces his husband tight as he drifts off as well.

In the end, it was not so impossible. The moon could have his sun after all.

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AN: It's cheesy, I know, but I love me some good cheese. Hope you enjoyed that, and hopefully see you all later!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #sun/moon #coc 2019 #carry on countdown #fluff #ficlet #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #normal au #reunion #enemies to friends to lovers #getting together #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Games People Play

Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff/Minor Angst

Word Count: 8343

Summary: Baz gets dragged to a party by Dev. Simon gets dragged to a party by Penelope. Hijinks ensue. Based on "spin the bottle" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Oy vey, this took longer than I wanted. Work keeps giving me the goddamn morning and closing shifts so I've been exhausted beyond belief. But now I'm down to four shifts a week so more writing time :D Shout out to @carryonmylovelies for being the best writing helper/encouragement this side of the cosmos. Love you hun <3 Hope you guys like this!

———————————————

Baz

“Baz,” Dev whines, draping himself all over my back like some annoying floppy blanket. “Please?”

“You being pathetic is certainly not going to change my mind,” I say, focusing intently on my own notes. We have finals in a week, dammit, and my cousin is more focused on this.

“But I need you there! To be my wingman!”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think I would be a good wingman?”

“Okay, less of a wingman, more of a support.”

“And since when am I a good support either?”

Dev plops himself on my desk, pushing a pile of my perfectly stacked notes. I scowl deeply. Fucking hell, I’m going to strangle him, blood relation be damned.

“Please, Basil? I’ll get you a new bullet journal or something nerdy like that.” He flicks my stack of leather notebooks.

“Nice try, but no cigar, cousin.” I push my glasses further up my nose. “I have far too much studying to do.”

He groans and slumps further against the wall. “But Agatha is might be there! She’s finally single again after three bloody years. This could be my chance!”

I scoff. “Sure.”

Dev glares at me so hard his eyes become slits. “A man can dream.”

“A man can hallucinate, especially with the right help.”

He leans over, arching over my very important homework. “Y’know, I heard Simon is going to be there too.”

Oh. Fuck. I freeze up, heat rising to my face instantly. A grin spreads across Dev’s stupid face. Bloody hell, I wish I had never told him about my stupid crush. Him, Niall, and I were all drinking cheap beer and playing truth or dare. Apparently that beer was strong to get me to answer “who’s your biggest crush?” truthfully. It’s not something I’m proud of, crushing on my gorgeous idiot roommate. But it exists, and it makes me- he makes me very weak. Damn Dev for using it to his advantage.

“He hates parties,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” Dev leans closer, “but rumour has it, Penelope Bunce is dragging him there. Something about getting him to have fun since his breakup with Agatha. Maybe he could have fun with you.”

I immediately throw a notebook at his stupid face so I don’t have to see it. But it’s also to hide my stupid bright red cheeks. The rational part of my brain knows that’s a one in a billion shot. Snow hates me. He thinks I hate him. It can’t happen. But my lovesick side desperately wants to be hopeful. Maybe, just maybe...

“Fine,” I grumble.

Dev straightens up. “Huh?”

“Fine, I’ll go with you to the stupid party.”

Dev grins like a kid on Christmas. “Yay! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Baz!”

He throws his arms around my neck, bringing most of his weight along with him. I push him off me before I’m strangled. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me, arsehole.”

“I thought Snow’s presence was your payment.”

“No. I expect five mint Aero bars by no later than next week.”

“Ugh, fine. Small price.” He jumps off my desk, then gives me one last squeezy hug. “You’re my favourite cousin.”

“That’s not saying much, considering your other cousins are my demon siblings.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Good point. Party starts at 8 in Fraternity basement. Meet me at my room at 7:45. Bring your game face and cologne. Maybe Snow will like the smell.”

He dashes off, but not before I chuck a pen at his stupid head. It just misses. Dammit. I sigh and hold my face, rubbing it up and down. What the fuck am I doing? This is idiotic. Snow hates my guts, I’ve made sure of that. I decided early on it was easier to just make him hate me from the start than confess my feelings and have him destroy my pathetic gay heart. Snow will always despise me. A party won’t change years of fights and snark and anger. No matter how much deep down I might want it to.

The door slams open, making me jolt. I don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Snow,” I say.

“Fuck off,” he growls like an animal. His uniform is in its usual disarray, tie loose and shirt rumpled. On anyone else I would call it sloppy. But on him, I find it ruggedly charming.

“Pleasant as always, I see.” I push up my glasses and turn back to my notebook, instead of looking at his stupid bronze curls and mesmerizing plain blue eyes.

“I don’t need your shit today, Baz.” I listen as he violently throws open his desk drawers. It sounds like a cabinet in a hurricane. Snow is always a force of nature, in both good and bad ways.

I sigh sarcastically. “Alright. Be as loud and pissy as you want, not like anyone else lives here. Don’t you have chemistry right now?”

He growls again and slams his drawer particularly loud. “Forgot my notes.”

“Ah, I see. Didn’t know you could take any.” The comment is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Sharp comments at Snow have become reflex at this point.

He gives the leg of my chair a good kick, rattling my whole body. I glare at him over my glasses, and he glares right back. Bloody hell, he’s so damn attractive. I look away before my face turns red. Luckily, Snow stomps away again, and I’m left in blissful peace.

Fucking hell, this party is going to be a nightmare.

———————————————

Dev

I’m putting the finishing touches on my amazing hair when I hear the knock.

“That Baz?” Niall asks me, voice all nasally from his clogged nose. He’s on his bed, reading some football magazine while surrounded by a mountain of tissues.

“Probably,” I reply. “He’s willing to go to the party with me.”

Niall scoffs but it comes out as a cough. “Sorry I have allergies.”

“Excuses, excuses.” I waltz over to the door. “Baz is my true friend.” I fling the door open, and my hands immediately drop. “Oh my god.”

Baz raises one eyebrow at me. “What?”

“What the ever loving fuck are you wearing?!”

Baz looks down at his perfectly pressed navy slacks, buttoned to the collar white shirt, and polished black oxfords. “Have you gone blind, cousin? It’s a shirt and slacks.”

I groan and shake my head. “I can see it’s shirts and slacks, Baz. Why are you wearing it?”

“Because it’s good party attire.”

“Mother of God, Basil, you- I just-” I groan again, grabbing his wrist to haul him inside. “Get in here, we have to fix you.”

“Fix me? But-”

“You’re not wearing a suit to a high school party, end of story.” I push him down onto my bed by his shoulders. “First off, this goes.”

I reach out and ruffle his slicked back hair. He smacks my hand away. “Hey!”

I shove a finger in his face. “No one under forty slicks back their hair. And if they do, they’re an arsehole.” I hand him my wide tooth comb. “Comb it out. Now.”

“Why?” Baz hisses.

“Because you don’t want Snow to mistake you for a tight arse banker, right?”

Baz keeps frowning, but starts combing it out anyway. Good. “Next, you’re not wearing these.”

I take his glasses off his face. Baz gapes and tries to snatch the spectacles out of my hand, but I’m too fast. “Dev! Give those back!”

“No! They make you look even more nerdy, and right now we’re making you look cool.”

“But I need them to see!”

“No, you don’t. You only need them to see stuff that’s super far away. This basement is not that big, you’ll be fine. Honestly, I think you wear these to look smart.”

Baz frowns, but he doesn’t protest. He knows I’m right. I nod and go to Niall’s dresser, sorting the messy piles on top that should be in the drawers.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Niall asks furiously, but I can’t take him seriously with that high pitched clogged nose voice.

“Baz is going to borrow some of your clothes.”

“Why not your’s?”

“I’m a head shorter than Baz. You two are the same height.”

Baz scowls. “I am not wearing Niall’s clothes. He dresses like a wannabe club cruiser.”

Niall leans over and punches Baz in the arm, hard. Baz growls and punches back with just as much force. Seriously, are they still five?

“No,” I say, “Niall dresses like a normal teenage boy. And tonight you’re going to pretend you’re one too.”

I throw more clothes onto the floor, until I finally find something good. I grin ear to ear. Yes, this is perfect. I turn around and toss the clothing right at Baz’s face, hitting him with a small whack. “There. Wear these.”

Baz takes them off his face and gives them a once over. He looks positively disgusted. “Absolutely not.”

“No bitching. Put them on or we’re not going and you don’t get to gaze longingly at Simon from across the room.”

He looks indignant, and I’m worried he’s going to punch me. But instead he just huffs and stomps to the door, heading to our communal washroom I suppose. I lean to the side to shout at his back. “And you’re wearing Niall’s sneakers! Not those bloody oxfords!”

He flips me off before slamming the door hard. I chuckle and flop back on my bed.

“What would he do without us?” I sigh.

“I think he’s considering finding out,” Niall replies, then sneezes loudly into a tissue. He slowly brings it away. The whole kleenex is covered in snot.

“You’re disgusting” I say.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles. “I hope Baz ends up killing you.”

I smirk, laying down on my crossed arms. Baz won’t kill me. I’m going to have my chance with Agatha, he’ll have his chance with Snow, and we’ll both be happy. Everything will be great.

———————————————

Simon

Everything sucks.

Why am I even here? I’m tired, I’m sweaty, I’m still getting over Agatha, and this party sucks. It’s just a bunch of my classmates in a dingy basement, totally pissed out of their minds, stumbling and bumping into each other. There’s not even any dancing. What’s a party without dancing?!

“I’m bored,” I groan, flopping against Penny, cheek pressed on her head. She sighs and pushes at my side.

“You’re bored because you refuse to leave this wall next to the snack table,” she replies. “Go mix and mingle, bloody well talk to someone other than me.”

“But everyone else doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true, Si, lots of people like you.”

I scoff and cross my arms. Penny’s usually never wrong, but this time she is. People don’t like me, they’re fascinated by me; the weird orphan scholarship kid, the headmaster’s pet project. Only Penny and Agatha actually like me and know me. (Well, Agatha did like me.) And then there’s Baz, who just straight up hates me. Posh prick. Just because I wasn’t born with perfect hair and pretty eyes and a silver spoon shoved up my arse like him he thinks I’m lower than dirt. At least I don’t dress like a nerd. That’s one advantage I have over him, I guess.

“Are you going to leave any snacks for the rest of us?” Penny asks.

I look her in the eye as I shove a bunch of crisps in my mouth. “I’ve captured these crisps in the name of House Snow.”

Penny rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I never should have introduced you to Game of Thrones.”

I smile wide, crisps filling my chipmunk cheeks. Penny laughs happily. Well, maybe being here isn’t too bad. I turn back to look out at the party, still grinning. But then my mouth immediately falls open, chip crumbs spilling on my shirt.

“Simon!” Penny yells. “What are you, five?!”

I dust the crumbs off my shirt, quickly chew and swallow, and point at exactly what I’m looking at. Or more precisely, who. “Penny, Penny, look. Tell me I’m not crazy, is that Baz?!”

Penny squints, pushing her glasses up her nose. I watch as her brown eyes go impossibly wide. “Holy shit, it is.”

“Holy shit,” I echo. Because...this is insane.

In the years I’ve known him, Baz has always dressed like a posh nerd. Uniform crisp and pristine, glasses down his nose like some snooty scholar, and raven hair gelled to oblivion. But tonight, he’s very different. For one, he’s not wearing his glasses, making his cheekbones look even sharper and deep sea grey eyes more visible. His hair isn’t gelled either. It falls in his face in a lazy wave. Most shocking of all, for the first time ever, he isn’t in businessman attire. He’s wearing a torso hugging charcoal grey v-neck, white trainers, and black skinny jeans. Since when does Baz wear black fucking skinny jeans?! And they’re like, really tight, showing off every toned muscle he’s gained from playing football. I can’t stop looking, holy shit.

“Simon? Hello? You still in there?” Penny is waving a hand in front of my face. I blink rapidly, snapping out of my jeans induced trance.

“Uh, yeah, Pen, I’m here. Oh my god, what is going on with Baz tonight?”

She shrugs, looking more like me than herself. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s decided to change up his style.”

“I seriously doubt that. He’s been wearing the same kind of clothes since we were all eleven, Pen.”

“People can change.”

“Not Baz.” I narrow my eyes, examining his strange outfit with careful precision. “He’s plotting something.”

Penny sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Simon, for the last time, Baz is not some vampire supervillain.”

I scoff, crossing my arms with a frown. “Says you. I just haven’t proven it yet.”

“Whatever, Si. How about you try to have fun tonight? That’s why we’re here, remember?”

I hear what Penny is saying, but I’m still watching Baz. He’s got his arms crossed, leaning on one foot, a frown on his face. But that last one could just be, y’know, him. Everything about his face is designed for pouting. Either way, he doesn’t look happy to be here, no more than me. He must not like that his plot isn’t working or something. I keep glaring at him as I shove M&M’s into my mouth.

“And you’re gone,” Penny sighs. “I do not get your issue with him.”

“You don’t live with him,” I grumble through my candy.

“No, but I feel like I know way too much about him because of you. Seriously you need to stop obsessing over him.”

Baz lifts a hand to tuck a piece of his raven hair behind his ear, showing off the pointy tip. I stroke my chin. What’s the purpose of that? Is he trying to distract me? Is he trying to pretend he’s all cute and innocent and not evil? Strange, very strange...

“Hey! We’re playing spin the bottle!” someone shouts. “Who wants in?”

I stay on my wall. I don’t have anything against spin the bottle, but I’m busy, and not really in the mood to kiss a few random classmates. Plus I haven’t seen Agatha yet, but she might not be here. I’d rather not run into her.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on my arm and someone is dragging me away. I look over at Penny, who has a determined expression on her face.

“Pen, where are we going?” I ask, fear filling my voice.

“You’re going to play spin the bottle.”

I inhale sharply. “What?! No way!”

“Yes way! You’re going to go have fun, dammit.”

“Is spin the bottle supposed to be fun? I thought it was just embarrassing.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never played. And I’m not going to play cause I’m in a serious relationship.”

“Great endorsement,” I mutter. I try to wriggle out of her grip, but it’s no use. She’s like a bloody pitbull. Eventually, she turns to face me, hand on her hip.

“Simon, you can’t mope and overthink about Baz against a wall the entire time. Just try this, see if you have fun. You haven’t had fun in ages. You can stop anytime, just try please.”

I sigh, body and ego deflating at once. “Fine, I’ll try.”

Penny smiles a bit. “Good.”

She lets go, but I keep walking towards the loose circle of tipsy British teens. I recognize most of them. Trixie, Keris, Rhys, Gareth, and Philippa. (Luckily no Agatha, that would be awkward.)

“Hey we’ll join!”

We all turn to the left. “Oh god,” I groan.

Baz glares at me as he sits next to Dev, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are deep sea grey daggers trying to stab me in the head. Why did he have to sit so close to me?! Luckily there’s a slightly drunk boy between us, wobbling back and forth even though he’s sitting. Hope he doesn’t get sick on any of us, especially if we’re supposed to be bloody kissing.

Oh fuck, what if I have to...no, no way. There’s very little chance that will happen. The universe can’t hate me that much.

Keris raises her hand. “I’ll go first.”

I lean my cheek on my palm. I really don’t care who goes, as long as it’s not me. Keris grabs the vodka bottle and gives it a good hard spin. I follow the spinning with my eyes, watching as the low orange light reflects off the glass. It’s kind of hypnotising, almost makes me want to sleep. Christ, I’m bored.

The bottle finally stops, and everyone either laughs or groans. It lands right on Trixie. I burst out in fits of giggles, clutching my stomach. Okay, maybe the universe sucks, but at least it has a sense of humour.

“You cheated!” Gareth declares.

Keris snorts and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I can totally cheat at spinning a bottle, Gareth.”

“If there is you found a way!”

Keris shrugs. She turns to her left and kisses her girlfriend right on the mouth. The really drunk people whoop and cheer. Some of my more immature male classmates gasp or gape like fish. Penny just sighs behind me. This isn’t unusual for her. I’ve heard many rants from her about Trixie and Keris’ snogging in her room. This is probably mild for her.

The couple separates with a little pop. Both girls are grinning ear to ear. A few boys are still gaping, which is kind of gross. I glance over at Baz, to see if maybe he’s having any sort of reaction. But he’s still as stone faced as ever. He seems to be having even less fun than me. That’s one plus, I guess.

“My turn,” Trixie singsongs. She lays a delicate hand on the bottle and spins it. It lands a foot away from me, and for a second I think it landed on Baz. My heart rate jumps a beat. Holy shit, did that land on him? But when Dev raises his hand, I let out a long breath, feeling relieved for some reason.

“I don’t think you want to kiss me,” Dev chuckles, and everyone else chuckles along with him. Except Baz, because he’s a creature of darkness who is physically incapable of laughter.

“The cheek okay?” Trixie asks

Dev shrugs with a small smile. “I’ll take it.

Trixie leans forward on her knees and Dev follows. She plants a big wet kiss on his cheek. Rhys gives a sarcastic whoop and holler. Gareth gives his own over dramatic “oooooo” and pumps his fist. As she sits back, Trixie rolls her eyes, going back to slum;ing on Keris’ shoulder.

“You two are so mature,” she drawls.

Gareth and Rhys keep giggling and high five each other. I chuckle under my breath. It’s immature, but just a bit funny. Dev takes the bottle in hand and spins it hard. I’ve heard rumours he has a crush on Agatha, so whoever he gets he’ll probably be disappointed. I’m getting bored again, leaning on my hand. The bottle lands on Philippa. The cheering duo gets punched in the arm by Keris before they get out too many whoops or hollers.

Dev looks at the ground, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, you wanna, Philippa?”

Philippa flicks her eyes over to me for a second. I’m not sure what she hopes to see. Honestly, I feel kinda bad for not being what she wants me to be for her. I look down, because I’m not sure what else to do.

“Sure,” Philippa replies.

I lift my head just enough to see what happens. Dev and Philippa crawl towards the centre of the circle. They both look very nervous, both lacking in experience or alcohol or probably both. He leans forward, eyes closed and lips pursed. She does the same and closes the distance. The kiss barely lasts half a second, but drunk people still cheer like it’s a Manchester FC game. Dev and Philippa scramble to their seats with bright red faces.

Philippa spins the bottle without saying anything. I’m barely following at this point. Pretty sure I’m going to leave after this and go stuff mint aero bars in my mouth. That’s the best breakup therapy in my opinion. I hope Baz hasn’t eaten my entire stash.

“Simon?” Penny taps my shoulder forcefully. “Simon, it landed on you.”

My head snaps up, only to see everyone staring at me, some looking very confused and concerned. I look down at the vodka bottle, the top pointing right at me. My eyes go wide. “Oh,” I squeak.

Philippa is blushing all the way down to her neck,with a small smile. She plays with the end of her hair. “Do you want to?” she asks.

I gulp, fiddling with my fingers. I’m nervous, but not really reluctant. Philippa is nice enough and I know she likes me. Maybe it’ll be nice, maybe I’ll feel something. What’s the harm?

“Uh, sure,” I say with a slightly forced smile.

Philippa’s smile gets a bit bigger. Fuck, am I leading her on? I don’t want to hurt her. This is a terrible idea, shit. She crawls forward, closing her eyes and sticking her face out. I shuffle towards her, squeeze my eyes shut, and kiss her.

It’s slightly longer than her kiss with Dev, but not by much. Long enough for me to realise her lips are smooth and smell like vanilla. Other than that I feel...nothing. It’s not that Philippa is bad. I just don’t feel a spark or anything close. I used to feel something with Agatha. Not a lot, but there was a stomach drop or a heart flutter at first. Not now. Part of me is scared I’ll never find anything like that again.

We separate, everyone is still making their obnoxious cheers. They’re laughing and smiling, so I try to smile back. The only person not so happy is, weirdly enough, Baz. He’s got his arms crossed and the corners of his mouth threaten to break out of his cheeks just so his scowl can get bigger. What’s got his knickers in a twist? Maybe he has a crush on Philippa. Well, pissing him off is a benefit I guess.

“Your turn, Simon,” Philippa says meekly, smiling and blushing at the ground.

“Um...” For a minute, I seriously consider standing up and running like the wind. But everyone is looking at me. I guess one more time couldn’t hurt. “Okay.”

I grab the bottle and give it a firm spin. But I guess I’m slightly on an angle, because it spins to the left like a wayward football. People scramble away to not get hit, giggling and clinging to their friends. I’m just focused on where it lands. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can bow out gracefully and stuff my face with chocolate. It slows bit by bit, and finally, it stops. I snap my head up to see who it landed on. I’m met with a pair of panicked deep sea grey eyes.

Oh fuck.

Baz

That’s it, God hates me. There’s absolutely no question now. Of all the people he could’ve landed on, why did it have to be me?! This is an absolute disaster. Panic washes over my body like a nonstop tidal wave. Dev laughs and slaps me on the back, like this is some football goal at a match. I want to shout at him for being a numpty and run away to a very dark corner where I can just die.

But I’m frozen, staring at a gaping Simon Snow.

“Oh fuck,” a drunk guy slurs to his friend, trying to whisper but failing horribly, “don’t they like, hate each other?”

Snow’s face shifts from shock to a deep, deep scowl. He jumps to his feet. “Yeah, we do. So this is not happening.”

I manage to stifle my sigh of utter relief, but my silence is probably odd. So I cross my arms and stick my nose in the air. “Good. Like I would ever want to your chavy mouth on mine.”

Fuck, why did I add that last part? I hope I’m not blushing and giving myself away. Snow is turned around, ready to leave, but throws a fiery look at me over his shoulder. “Fuck off, Baz,” he snaps.

“Very eloquent, Snow. Forgot to mention your mouth is stupid too.” Except it’s not stupid. It’s full and soft looking and fucking beautiful, and I wish he wanted to kiss me with it.

Snow balls his fist and looms over me. “Well, your mouth is naturally made for frowning.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, very nice. Your’s can’t form proper sentences.”

“At least I’m not spouting shit all the time!”

“Either follow the rules of the game or leave, Snow.”

Bunce rubs her nose under her glasses. “Simon, let’s just go.”

She takes his arm but he doesn’t listen to her for once, shaking her off and menacing over me more. “Oh, you want me to kiss you, Basilton?”

Oh fuck fuck fuck, what is wrong with me?! I didn’t drink anything. I think I’ve just lost my goddamn mind. I need to get out of here before I burst into flames from pure embarrassment.

I stand up, brushing off these ridiculous jeans. “Of course not. I would rather go back to our room than have my lips torn up by your dry ones.”

Simon growls like a caged animal. And it should not make me as excited as it does. “My lips are not dry.”

“Guys,” Gareth says slowly, “maybe you should just-”

“The constant bleeding and scabs would disagree.” Leave Snow, for the love of God, just storm off with Bunce, please.

“Oh yeah?” Snow leans forward over the drunk boy in between us. “Well, I bet if I kissed you, you would like it, arsehole.”

If I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. I am literally going to explode on the spot any minute. I scoff and look away.

“Like hell I would.” Yes, I would, and it would be awful.

“Fuck you, you would!”

“Never!” I snap, digging my nails into my arm.

Snow growls once again. “I bet my goddamn sword history book you would!”

He’s leaning closer now, close enough I can smell his cheap soap. It makes my pulse quicken terribly, like the thump of a rabbit’s foot. “It would be easy winnings.”

“Says you!”

“Yes, and I’m right!”

“No you’re not!”

“I am!”

“Why don’t I prove it, huh?!”

“Fine, go ahead!”

I don’t even have time to process what I said. Because Simon Snow immediately grabs my collar and kisses me.

Holy fuck.

Simon

I just want to prove I’m right, and stop his stupid mouth. I hate when he throws insults at me. And now it seems for once I’ve actually shut him up. We’re both frozen in place, me shoving my mouth on his. I faintly hear everyone gasp around us. But I’m too focused on kissing Baz. Oh my fucking god, I’m kissing Baz!

He’s just standing like a statue while I hold his collar with a death grip and squeeze my eyes shut. He’s really not moving at all, not even a twitch. Is he surprised? That would make sense. Scared? I won’t hurt him, not right now. It’s just a kiss.

Baz’s lips are colder than Agatha’s. Softer too. Like silk sheets on a chilly night. It feels kind of nice, actually. When his top lip slightly slips between mine, I swear to god, my brain short circuits. Scratch kind of, this feels really nice. Sensation spreads from my mouth through my whole body. Why does this feel so much better than when I kissed Philippa? Or even better than Agatha? This is so confusing and amazing my brain is about to explode.

I don’t even know how long we spend with our lips pressed together. I tilt my head to the side a bit, just for a change of pace. And even though it’s crazy, I swear, for a moment Baz relaxes and pushes his mouth forward. Pushing his mouth closer to mine. Oh my god. Is...is Baz kissing me back? It feels so much better.

My hands slide around to the back of his neck, and Baz’s hair is soft of course. I think about grabbing it, but Baz suddenly pushes me away. It happens so out of the blue I stumble back in shock. I expect him to be angry, to punch me in the face or at least shout until he’s blue in the face. But Baz, he looks, scared. What’s there to be scared of? His eyes frantically dart around, chest heaving, until he looks back at me. I’ve never seen someone so frightened in my entire life.

Baz turns and bolts away, slamming the door behind him.

The entire room is silent for a long, awkward moment. You could hear a bloody pin drop it’s so quiet. I’m frozen, mouth hanging open. I can’t even process what just happened. So many things are going through my head right now, turning into a mushy goop of mismatched ideas and fears. I look at Penny.

“Pen, I- what just- I...” I can’t form words. My mouth and tongue feel so unbelievably useless, even more so than usual.

“Simon-” she starts. But before I hear what she says, I’m off running. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I have to follow Baz. I just have to.

———————————————

It takes me way, way too long to find him. I search all throughout the Fraternity before I remember just how bloody dramatic Baz is. He wouldn’t hide away in the building, he’d go to where he always goes when he’s upset. Not his room or an alcove like a normal person. The Wavering Wood.

I run across the great lawn, wind whistling in my ears. The trees get larger and larger until I finally reach the edge. It’s dark out, so I have to navigate mostly by my other senses. I feel rough bark, sink into on wet dirt, hear the leaves crunch beneath my boots. I squint, trying to see in the darkness. And when I catch a glimpse of black shining in the moonlight, I dash towards it.

Baz is sitting under a tree, legs pulled up to his chest, face buried in his knees. Raven hair fans around him. I watch his back heave and shudder. Fuck. I don’t think he’s okay.

Slowly, I walk towards him, careful not to make too much noise. I don’t want to spook him, no more than he already is. But of course I step on a fucking branch, the snap ringing through the whole goddamn woods. Baz’s head bolts up. His eyes are wide and scared like a deer caught in the headlights. Tear streaks stain his cheeks. We keep staring at each other, until Baz looks back at the ground.

“What do you want, Snow?” he asks. He’s trying to be intimidating, but his voice is too strained to scare me.

“I, uh...” Fuck, what do I want? Why am I here? I’m not Baz’s friend. Quite the opposite, really. Yet it hurts to see him like this, so I start walking towards him, fiddling with my belt hole loops. “I wanted to see how you were doing. You um, ran out of there pretty fast...”

He snorts unkindly. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to follow, Snow.”

I groan, rolling my head back. “Man, I’m actually trying to be nice, there’s no need to be an arsehole.”

“Since when do you care about me?”

I shrug as I sit down on the grassy ground. I’m cross legged, facing Baz and his dagger stare. “You looked scared back the party, and then I see you here crying. I’d be worried no matter who you were.”

He rolls his eyes incredibly dramatically. “Of course, Mr. Hero. Any kittens that need to be saved from trees? Probably more pertinent than me.”

“You’re the one crying in the woods, so I think you take top priority.”

Baz tries to wipe away the tear marks, but they stay the same. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, you’re obviously upset.”

“No matter what, it’s none of your business.”

I look down at the ground, playing with my shoelace. I know what I want to mean, but I’m not sure how to get the words right. Everything I’m considering seems dumb. Baz will throw anything stupid back in my face. Actually, stupid or not, he’ll throw it back. Might as well just go for it.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. I flick my eyes up, and Baz is gaping at me, his eyebrows are all scrunched together.

“You’re...sorry?” he says, genuinely confused for the first time in his life.

I rub the back of my neck. “Y-Yeah, I’m just, really sorry.”

“For what?”

What the hell does he mean? What else could I be talking about? I look right at him. “For like...kissing you when you didn’t want it. It was stupid and impulsive and really rude to you. You should never kiss anyone when they don’t want it. So I’m really sorry.”

“You...think I didn’t want you to kiss me?”

“Um, yeah. I thought you said I could, but then you ran out of there pretty fast afterwards. So I’m just super sorry, Baz.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, only filled by wind whistling through the branches. I keep looking at the ground. I’m not sure what Baz’s expression, and I’m not sure I want to see. I hope he’s forgiven me. I honestly don’t know what to do if he doesn’t.

“Thank you, for the apology,” he says slowly. “But you don’t have to feel bad.”

My head snaps up. Baz is looking away now. And in the pale moonlight, I can see a faint blush going all the way to his ears. I’m not worried anymore, just unbelievably confused. “W-What do you mean?”

Baz plays with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I’m not upset that you kissed me without my permission, because you had it. I did say you could. We both made an impulsive decision.”

“Then why did you run off so fast?”

He twists the hem so hard I’m afraid he’s going to tear it. “Because, it’s just embarrassing to have your first kiss in front of your entire class, no matter who it is.”

My eyes go impossibly huge. I swear they become bigger than the moon. Holy fucking shit. “That back there was your first kiss?”

His blush gets worse, spreading down to his neck. Baz has always been so cool and calm. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s strange, but kind of makes him seem more human in a way. He nods slowly.

“Oh,” I squeak. I inch closer, trying to comfort him, before remembering that I’m the last person Baz wants comfort from. Especially after I embarrassed him. God, I feel like a prat. “I-I’m still sorry then. I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

“Stop saying sorry, Snow,” he sighs. “It’s really fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was okay with it, because I li-” His lips press together before he says anything else. He plays with a loose strand of his hair, looking nervous and shy, still blushing so hard his entire face is red. The gears start turning in my head. I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks I am. I can see things, they can just take a bit longer. And I think I see something very big now.

“Wait,” I say slowly, “do you...like me?”

Baz bites hard on his bottom lip and clenches his fists. A few more tears fall down his cheeks, but he doesn’t wipe them away, not even acknowledging they exist. My mouth drops open.

“For how long? Have you, uh, felt like that?”

He finally looks at me, his eyes wet and vulnerable. I’ve never seen him like this before, not ever. He doesn’t look like a villain, or a bully, or even an arsehole. He just looks like...a boy.

“A long time,” he whispers harshly, like he’s forcing the words off his tongue. “Almost since we met.”

And I thought I was done with surprises for the night. My heart is beating twofold, but I’m not sure with what emotion. Everything is so jumbled and twisted up right now. “O-Oh. Really?”

Baz rolls his eyes, though he looks more annoyed than genuinely angry. “Yes, really. You think I would make that up?”

“I don’t know! I’m not sure I know anything about you anymore...” I nervously scratch at the back of my wrist until the skin turns red. Nothing is processing, nothing makes sense. And one question pops up immediately. “If you feel that way, why have you always been such a wanker?”

Baz lets out a small snorty laugh, and immediately covers his mouth. But it’s kind of adorable. And I kind of want to hear it again. “Very well put question, Snow.”

“Are you gonna answer it or keep being a wanker?” I’m not angry, just tired really.

“Fine,” he sighs. He goes back to twisting his hair and shirt, chewing on the corner of his pouty lip. “I was a wanker because it was easier.”

“Easier?”

His face lowers even more, nearly behind his knees. “Easier for you to hate me, than for me to confess my stupid feelings and innevitably have you break my heart.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, almost offended that he thought I would be so cruel. But Baz looks even more hurt. I think that his feelings matter more right now. “Oh. Okay. You thought I would really hurt you?”

“You were straight as an arrow and already madly in love with Wellbelove when we were 11.” He traces the dirt with his toe, scuffing the pretty white trainer. “You would’ve hurt me even if you didn’t mean to.”

“Oh,” I squeak.

Baz scoffs with the corner of his mouth pulled up. “That’s your favourite sound tonight, Snow.”

I let out a sort of scoffing chuckle. He’s an arse, but funny. I’ve never noticed how funny he can be in his own biting way before. “Well, you keep dropping bombshells, it’s perfectly reasonable. Honestly you’re lucky I’m not exploding everywhere.”

He laughs, still small, but doesn’t cover his mouth. He doesn’t hide. “Yes, well, cleaning up bits of you off the forest floor wouldn’t be my favourite activity. It would be more fun than your snoring though.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Yes you do, I would know. You’re like an adorable little fog horn.”

We both laugh, starting small and getting louder and louder. Baz even begins to giggle, fucking giggle. He sounds like a thousand little silver bells. I shouldn’t be laughing. Usually I would be offended by his jabs. I’d yell and scream at him for being a dick. But he’s laughing, smiling, all with a playful glint in his deep grey eyes. I wonder, is this what Baz is really like? When he isn’t trying to make me hate him?

“I like this,” I blurt out. Baz stops laughing immediately. A confused furrow forms between his brows.

“Like what?” he asks cautiously.

“This, right now, what we’re doing. Being nice and honest.” I shuffle closer, knees nearly touching his. “I like this better than fighting.”

Baz’s pouty lips fall open slightly, just barely half an inch, and his eyebrows raise. I think that’s Baz’s equivalent of completely, utterly shocked. “Seriously?”

I grin as wide as I can. “Yeah, seriously. Do you, uh, like it too?”

I expect Baz to smile, to laugh, to be happy. But instead he looks scared. Even his hands are shaking. I reach forward, but Baz pulls away, wrapping his arms around himself. Another tear falls down his face but he quickly wipes it away.

“Why were you crying?” I ask quickly. “Was it just like, embarrassment?”

Baz slowly shakes his head, more black hair falling in his face in a lazy wave. “N-No, it’s just...this can’t be happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t stopped hating me, that can’t change.”

His voice is so small and scared. I blink rapidly, tilting my head to the side. “Why not?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, staring at his own lap. “Because I’ve made your life hell for years! Because one stupid kiss and a few laughs can’t change things after so long.”

I move even closer. I can see every crevice in his face the moonlight hits, every sign of his tears. Oh. I think I get it, sorta. I kissed him, and Baz wanted it, but he was sad because he was sure it would never happen again. That’s a reasonable conclusion. At least, it was.

“Maybe it can’t change everything right away. But,” I reach forward and touch his wrist, just lightly, and when he doesn’t move away I stay there, “we could try, y’know. To change things.”

He doesn’t look up, but his brows wrinkle together again, and I find it unbearably adorable. “What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” I say quickly before I lose my nerve. “I mean, I’m not a very great boyfriend, if my last relationship is any clue. But if you want this, I want this.”

I stare at the ground, too nervous to look at Baz’s face. I don’t let go of his wrist though, and he doesn’t move away, but it’s still silent again. Every passing second makes my anxiety build up and up like a shaken soda about to blow. Will he run away? He ran away before. I don’t want him to go, not again. I don’t want to lose him. (Fuck, that’s dramatic.)

“You’re an idiot,” Baz sighs, and it makes my breath hitch. “But you can have...this, if you want.”

My head snaps up so fast my neck hurts. Baz is finally looking at me, eyes soft and open. I’ve never seen him like that before. A grin spreads across my face. I probably look stupid but I couldn’t care less.

“I do,” I say, “I really do.”

He smiles softly. Slowly, he turns his hand around and fully holds mine. His skin is colder than most people’s and strangely rough for someone so posh. His calluses scratch perfectly against mine. It feels incredible, somehow so much better than holding anyone else’s hand. Just like that kiss.

“Hey, uh,” I nervously run my thumb over his tepid skin, “can I, um, maybe...kiss you again? Like in a nicer way?”

Baz chuckles, squeezing my hand. “Yes, you lovely moron, you may. If we’re going to date, you need to fix your gram-”

I get up on my knees and shut his cute smartarse mouth by pressing mine against it.

Baz

Bloody hell, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Because for the second time in one night, Simon Snow is kissing me. And this time he really wants to, because he likes me, because he wants to be my boyfriend.

It’s not forceful or angry like before, just firm enough to get me to stop mocking him. I freeze for a moment, the shock hitting me like a truck. But slowly, bit by bit, I let myself melt into it. Snow tilts his head to the side, so I do too, letting our lips slip together. Simon does this thing with his chin that drives me insane. At first I try to mimic exactly what he does, shoving back with my body and mouth, but I quickly realise I have zero idea what I’m doing. For once, Snow is the expert. So I let myself relax, giving up control for the first time in my life. Snow pushes me against the tree and places a hand on the side of my face. He delicately runs his thumb over my cheekbone, like I’m something good, something precious to him. Is this a fucking dream?

His hand moves farther back. Calloused fingers slip through my hair as his tongue slips between my lips. It’s warm and wet and the best thing I’ve ever felt in my entire miserable life.

“Baz,” he sighs quietly between our mouths.

No, this isn’t a dream. My imagination has never been this perfect.

I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him flush against me. “Simon,” I groan. He kisses me harder, clenching a fist in my hair to better shove our faces together. Suddenly my breath feels short, and I push lightly at Simon’s chest. He moves away instantly.

“Sorry,” he says. He’s out of breath, unsurprisingly. I am too.

“No it’s okay, just,” I sigh and run my hands up his sides, “this is quite a lot for a second kiss. I just need a breather.

Simon giggles quietly. He falls forward, tapping his forehead against mine. I press my hands into his back, feeling the muscles through his shirt. We stay like that for awhile. I don’t mind. I would stay with Simon in my arms forever if I could.

“Hey,” he whispers, eyes still closed and leaning against me, “I’ve got a question.”

“Is it a sensical question?”

He pinches the back of my neck, just lightly. Not enough to hurt but enough to make his annoyance clear. “Yes, arsehole. Why were you at the party? You hate parties.”

“So do you.”

“Penny dragged me to it to have mandatory fun. So what’s your reason?”

I chuckle quietly. “Funny enough, Dev begged me to come with him because he wanted support for when he hit on your ex-girlfriend.”

Snow reels back, eyes wide and mouth falling open. “Seriously?!”

“M-hm.”

“But Agatha didn’t even come!”

“Yup. So it looks like I’ve had far more romantic success tonight than my cousin.”

Snow snorts out an adorable laugh. His hand trails forward across my jawline. It leaves sparks of sensation on my skin. He plays with a piece of loose hair in front of my face. “Y’know, I like your hair like this. You should leave it loose more often. Save some money on hair gel.”

I chuckle again, and Snow follows. Soon it turns into a loud laughter from both of us. I’ve never laughed more in my life than I have tonight. Once I calm down, I look up at him, smiling brightly. “M-hm. And you’re someone to take fashion advice from?”

A small part of me worries Snow is going to scowl and yell at me for being a prick. But instead he smiles too and rolls his eyes. I let out a small breath of relief. Everything is different now, and I love it so much more.

“Yeah, well, I know a good thing when I see it.” His hands goes lower, trailing over the soft v-neck. “Like this shirt. It fits you well.”

“Really?” I croon, trying to hide the fact that I’m exploding inside.

“Uh-huh. And these jeans. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you in them.”

I grin so much my cheeks happily ache. “Well, I’ll let Niall know you like his clothes.”

His mouth drops open. “This is Niall’s stuff?!”

I cock an eyebrow. “You think I own clothes like this?”

“Well, no. But I, uh, kind of wish you did. You should definitely buy more jeans...”

His cheeks are cherry red. I’m pretty sure mine are too. I hold his waist tighter, tilting my head up towards his. “I’ll be sure to get some on my next trip into town.”

He smiles again, looking like a ray of sunshine. “Can I come with?”

God, he’s like an adorable little puppy. “I don’t see why not, Snow.”

He leans forward and brushes our noses together. “You called me Simon before.”

“No I didn’t,” I singsong.

Snow pushes even closer to me, warm lips against my ear. “I like it,” he whispers. “I like it when you call me Simon.”

How have I not melted into the forest floor yet? I don’t feel like a real person anymore. Just the remnants of a pathetic gay teenager who’s melted into a puddle after having all his dreams come true in a single night. I hold him tighter. Because I’m not letting him go anytime soon.

“Simon,” I sigh, just before I turn my head and kiss him softly. He reciprocates immediately, and I’m in absolute euphoria. I know we have to move eventually but I don’t want to anytime soon.

“Best spin the bottle game ever,” Simon giggles.

“Damn right,” I whisper, just before pulling him back into a searing kiss.

My god, I’m living a charmed life.

———————————————

AN: Main worry with this fic: I feel like things move too quickly, but at the same time I didn't want to drag it out. Like we all know what's going to happen, best not to beat around the bush lol. Either way, this has flaws like anything I write, but I still like it. I thoroughly enjoyed writing Simon's reaction to Baz in tshirt and jeans lol. Hope you peeps liked it too, see you next fic :)

#carry on #snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow #penelope bunce #dev #niall #normal au #spin the bottle #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Starstruck

Chapter 1

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Mild angst

Word count: 2053

Chapter: 1/8 (All chapters)

Summary: Basilton Pitch is the heart throb star of a vampire drama. He has to go on a terrible date for publicity reasons. But then he meets a normal, adorable waiter, and everything changes. Based "I'm going to save you from this bad date" request by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz

AN: Heyyyy I'm back! So this is what I've been working on for over a month. Turns out texting fics are waaaaaay harder than I thought lol. I suffered for my hubris! But here it is! As usual, big thanks to @carryonmylovelies for all her help, she made this whole wild thing possible. Please enjoy this bad date AU, I had a lot of fun making it and I hope you all like it too :)

Special note for tumblr users: Because formatting was such a dickhole on AO3, I imagine it’ll be ten times worse here because Tumblr sucks. So the whole fic won’t be in this post, it’ll be the first section and end with a link to AO3 because there’s only so much formatting I can do before I want to jump in a lake, sorry about that. Hope you still like it!

———————————————

Entertainment Weekly

Critically Acclaimed BBC Show “A Vampire’s Heart” Gets Renewed for a Fifth Series

Trixie Peters, popular culture contributor

Attention all heartlings, fear no more, Drew Blackwood’s dreamy looks and bloodthirsty angst aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. After another fantastic season, ending on a heart wrenching cliffhanger, BBC’s hit teen drama series has unsurprisingly been renewed for another season.

“A Vampire’s Heart” started as a small passion project which no one expected to take off. It was another angst filled drama about a brooding ancient vampire living in the modern world and loving a human girl, something everyone had seen before. But what set Vampire’s Heart apart was it’s fantastic writing, intricate plot, fleshed out characters, and phenomenal acting, especially by the show’s stars, Basilton Pitch and Agatha Wellbelove.

Agatha Wellbelove comes from a long line of famous Shakespearean actors. Her parents even met during a production of Romeo and Juliet at the Globe. She appeared in multiple stage productions as a child and teen, sometimes with her parents or other famous stage actors. Vampire’s Heart’s Emilia Pontecorvo is her first TV role and it has earned her lots of praise for a good reason. More than just a love interest, Emilia is a complex character with her own wants, fears, and motivations beyond her vampire beau. Wellbelove brings her to life with exquisite performance, and we can’t wait to see her again.

But Vampire’s Heart would not be complete without the titular vampire, Andrew “Drew” Blackwood, played by Basilton Pitch. Pitch comes from a similar background as his co-star. His parents are the famed movie star couple Malcolm Grimm and the late Natasha Grimm-Pitch. They were well known for their sophisticated looks and chemistry on and off screen. Basilton followed in his parent’s footsteps too and started playing the adorable youngest child in the sitcom “Steps of Life” at only six months old. But after the tragic death of his mother, Pitch dropped off the acting scene entirely along with his father. Both were out of the public eye for years. So when Pitch was announced as the star of Vampire’s Heart, everyone was surprised. Viewers soon found out that the apple cheeked child from Steps of Life had become a drop dead gorgeous young man. As Drew Blackwood, Pitch embodies every teen girl’s dream of a beautiful, angsty vampire, but Pitch elevates the role to praise worthy with his incredible acting. It has brought him accolades and critical acclaim, and everyone expects next season to be no different.

Series five will most likely premiere next July like every other season, and series six after that. Filming is set to start in January. Heartlings, the most diehard fans of the show, eagerly await more episodes after Drew and Emilia were captured by the Romanian vampire’s council last season. Hopefully our heroes will be okay.

READ THE REST ON AO3

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #agatha wellbelove #celebrity au #texting au #social media au #snowbaz fanfiction #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Starstruck

Chapter 5

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Mild Angst

Word Count: 2363

Chapter: 5/8 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon and Baz go on vacation

AN: Hello beautiful people! Sorry this is late. Shit has been nuts with work and school. And then I was gonna post yesterday but instead I was awake for over thirty hours. Insomnia, yay. But here it is now, and I hope you guys enjoy!

———————————————

Twitter

Actually Drew Blackwood @basiltonpitch Hello, dear fans. This is a heads up that after this tweet I won’t be online until January. Even a vampire needs a vacation sometimes. Please direct any questions or fanmail to @vampiresheartsBBC @vampiresheartwriters or the splendid @aggiewellbeloved. See you all in a couple weeks!

Drew is my BF @drewandemr0ck @basiltonpitch Have fun! Can’t wait to see the finale

Basil’s Babe @666pitchbitch @basiltonpitch When is the new season coming out?! And are you going on vacay with your new gf?!?!

Lonely Boi @JerryLockheart @basiltonpitch Fix the show then go on vacation 😠

Basatha 4 lyfe💓 @vamppowercouple @basiltonpitch How could you leave Agatha? ☹️

Buzzfeed UK @buzzfeedUK Basil’s taking a trip! But to where? DM us a pic if you think you’ve spotted Basilton Pitch in your neighbourhood!

———————————————

Agatha Wellbelove I can’t believe you’re sicing the fans on me

Bazzy Darling You already deal with fans a lot, what’s the difference?

Agatha Wellbelove Because their YOUR fans! I can sort of deal with my own, but not yours as well! Plus the Drew babes are little monsters

Bazzy Darling Oh, they’re not bad. Just a little over enthusiastic sometimes. Most of them are very nice. You’ll survive, dear.

Agatha Wellbelove If I don’t, I’m haunting the shit out of you

Bazzy Darling Wouldn’t expect anything else 🖤

READ THE REST ON AO3

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #agatha wellbelove #penelope bunce #social media au #celebrity au #fluff #mild angst #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Starstruck

Chapter 6

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Mild Angst

Word Count: 2195

Chapter: 6/8 (All chapters)

Summary: It's the most stressful wonderful time of the year

AN: This is one of my fave chapters, enjoy!

———————————————

Penelope Bunce Hey Si. Mum and Dad want to know if you’re still coming for Christmas?

Simon uh yeah i think so but would it be okay if baz came?

Penelope Bunce Um lemme check with my parents, but it should be fine. Why tho? I thought he was going to see his fam in Hampshire

Simon so did i, but from the shouting match baz is having with his dad on the phone in the other room, i don’t think he’s gonna go

Penelope Bunce Oh shit. Is he okay?

Simon not really 😕 from what i can tell his dad has found out about me and is now worried that us dating could harm baz’s career and baz is telling his dad that he can’t control his life anymore

Penelope Bunce Yikes that’s a lot

Simon yeaaaaah i feel really bad for him :( it sucks to have a parent who doesn’t support you especially when you only have one left

Penelope Bunce Definitely. My parents say he can come, by the way. Though I’m thinking you two should sleep in separate rooms

Simon awwww penny ☹️

Penelope Bunce Better safe than sorry imo lol

Simon we won’t shag i promise

Simon idk if baz will be in the mood for anything anytime soon after this tbh 😕

Penelope Bunce Damn, good point. I’ll set up your usual room for two. Tell Baz he’s welcome to spend Christmas with us

Simon will do as soon as he’s off the phone

Penelope Bunce Okay. It’s gonna be alright, Si

Simon i hope so...

READ THE REST ON AO3

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #celebrity au #texting au #social media au #mysnowbazfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Without You

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 8569

Summary: Simon is severely injured and out of commission. Baz has trouble coping. Based on "you’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Heyyyyy, my peeps. Long time no fic. Long story short: I started antidepressants and they fucked with me hard. They wiped out of my energy for weeks, I could barely get out of bed. But now I've adjusted and I'm mostly back to myself, and I plan to get through the requests :D There's actually one request before this but that one was gonna take awhile so I thought I'd post this one first. I'm still iffy on some parts of this fic, but hey it's done. That's more than I can say for most of my writing recently lol. Hope you guys enjoy it :D. Disclaimer: Idk exactly how a coma of this length affects someone. Don't take what happens here as fact please.

———————————————

Baz

It starts as a normal day. (Well, as normal as mine can get.) Snow wakes me up at an ungodly hour, banging around like a frenetic ping pong ball. I growl and burrow deeper into my blanket pile. Why does he always insist on doing this? I swear, Snow forgets that other people exist in his little world.

He makes a particularly loud bang, equivalent to gun shot to my sensitive ears, and my patience snaps. I bolt upright and glare at his back.

“Would you keep it down?” I hiss. “Some of us actually want to sleep.”

Snow whips around so fast he nearly trips. I’m taken slightly aback. He looks like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. I’ve never seen him so frantic and afraid. Even his breathing is strange, rapid and shallow. What could scare the Chosen One so badly?

“I gotta- I-I can’t,” he stutters, like the adorable numpty he is. Snow is bleeding magic, making the air feel thick and smokey. We stare at each other for a long drawn out moment. Then he just leaves, dashing away in a flurry of bronze hair and untucked clothing. I’m left in the rising dawn light, feeling thoroughly perplexed.

Is Snow okay? He looked so helplessly terrified. Part of me wants to run after him, ask him what’s wrong, maybe try to help. But I know he wouldn’t tell me anything. Actually, he’d probably yell his bloody head off at me.

“Whatever,” I groan, flopping back down. And I let myself drift back off to sleep.

———————————————

Boom!

BOOM!

The entire room shakes, flinging me back into consciousness. My eyes fly open and I bolt upright. Flecks of plaster rain down from the sky like a light dusting of snow. The stones are still vibrating slightly. Crowley and Merlin and Methuselah, what the ever loving fuck was that?! Has the Mage completely lost his mind and decided to test nuclear bombs on the Watford grounds? As if he needs another bomb with Snow-

Wait. What if... No, he’s the Chosen One, he’s fine. I don’t need to worry. He was probably just panicking like a moron earlier. That explosion was...fine. He’ll be okay...

Fucking hell.

I dash out from bed, throwing on my jumper and shoes terrifyingly fast. I grab my wand just in case. As I’m running down the steps, I wonder how I’m going to explain this, dashing towards Simon bloody Snow with a racing heart and fear in my eyes. But I don’t fucking care. He might be in danger. I can’t leave him alone, I can’t, I just can’t.

The second I’m outside, I see the towering smoke coming from the Great Lawn. It’s a massive plume blacking out the sky. My undead heart is roaring in my ears as I run towards the smoke, not caring about any fire within. When I reach the edge of the spot, all the breath leaves my lungs. Flames cover the grass, burning so bright my eyes hurt. In the middle of the inferno are two silhouettes. One is kneeling, and the other is laying limp on the ground. Maybe I’m imagining, maybe I’m terrified, maybe I’m just projecting, but I swear the person on the ground has a mass of dirty bronze curls.

I raise my wand up and yell, “make a wish!” The fire goes out with a rushing pop. Grey smoke still trails off the blackened ground. I wave through the thick cloud, focusing on the two silhouettes. And when I step through, my heart sinks right to the ground.

Simon Snow is on the ground, eyes closed, laying limp with his head on Bunce’s lap.

“What happened?” I ask, voice shakier than I want it to be.

Penelope Bunce’s head whips around. Her face is streaked in ash and tears, hair a tangled mess of fading purple. Unsurprisingly, she looks utterly shocked.

“Baz?” she says. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the explosion, what else?” I snap. “What happened? Why was the Lawn on fire?”

Bunce glares at me, but I see the way her lip trembles. She rubs her forehead, streaking ash across her skin. “It was a group of ogres. Simon spotted them from his window then sent a messenger bird to me for help. Then we came here. They were under the Humdrum’s control, completely vicious. Simon and I couldn’t hold them off. He was getting tired and scared, so...”

A few tears fall down her cheeks. She places her hand over her mouth, trying to control her rapidly increasing breath, trying to say what I already know. There’s only one thing in the World of Mages that could’ve made such a concussive sound. And this time, I heard two.

I step forward, getting a clearer view. Snow is spread out across the ground like an exhausted starfish. Eyes closed, head lolling to the side, covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and ash. His sword is still laying on his open palm. I can hear his breathing and pulse with my vampire ears. Thank fucking Crowley, he’s still alive. But from the weak sound of both, I’m not sure how long that’s going to last.

“Fucking hell,” I whisper.

Bunce nods solemnly. “I tried to wake him up, but he’s out cold.” She sniffles, and I can’t help but feel bad for her. “Is this good enough for you, Basilton? Finally getting rid of the Chosen One like you want.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my mind and heart. I can’t lose control right now. I can’t react to her fiery but justified words. Not when Snow needs me.

Quick as lightning, I kneel down and scoop Simon up. I don’t go for a full on bridal carry, that’s a little too obvious. Instead, I sling him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his sword falling to the ground, arms hanging down my back. He’s incredibly light with my strength. I have to force myself to not think about how close he is right now. This is absolutely not the time and the place for that, dammit.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Bunce shouts, shooting to her feet.

“What does it look like?” I hiss. “I’m getting him to the nurse’s office.”

“Why would you do that?! You’re on opposite sides of a bloody war!”

Because I love him far more than my own reputation, I think. But I can’t say that out loud of course. I never can. “Because I don’t want the Mage to find a way to blame this on me and my family.”

I start speed walking across the grass before Bunce can respond. I don’t need more questions right now, I need to get Snow to help. His torso bumps against my back with every step. A stupid part of me hopes the simple vibrations and movement will wake him up. But he stays completely limp.

Crowley, Snow, if you die, I will kill you.

———————————————

“He went off twice?” Nurse Keswick asks Bunce. She nods, gripping Snow’s hand tight. He’s laying on the bed, wrapped tight in a blanket, hooked up to a heart monitor and breathing tubes in his nose. It beeps steadily, every blip reminding me he’s still alive. But his closed eyes and frozen body say he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Bunce is by his bedside while I lurk in a dark corner, though I desperately wish I could sit there too.

“Yeah,” Baz replies.”One right after another. I’ve never seen it before. The first time was like pulsing waves, but then the second was like...like a bloody nuclear bomb.” She squeezes his hand tighter. “His magic exploded out into a big dome with a mushroom cloud after. All the ogres were incinerated on the spot, along with a lot of the grass.”

Ms. Keswick nods along thoughtfully, making notes on her clipboard. “And he fell unconscious after the second one?”

Bunce’s face crumples in distress. “Yeah. I cleared most of the fire around us, then tried to wake him up with magic and just, y’know, shaking. Nothing worked.”

“I see. Any dizziness prior to today?”

“No.”

“Did any of the ogres hit him particularly hard?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Didn’t hit his head after going off again?”

“He was already unconscious before he hit the bloody ground,” Bunce snaps. Her brows pull together, matching her scowl. If I were Ms. Keswick, I would back away very slowly. Other than the Humdrum, the scariest thing in the Magical World is Penelope Bunce’s wrath. I know. I’ve been on the receiving end of it for years.

Ms. Keswick clears her throat and jots something down on her sheet. “Alright. Well, there isn’t anything physically or magically causing Mr. Snow’s unconsciousness. At least not normal magic. From what you said, it seems to be caused by an overexertion of power.”

“That’s not a thing,” I say coldly. Bunce glares at me over her shoulder, rightly assuming I’m just being my usual snarky arsehole self. But really I’m concerned Ms. Keswick is just making up a diagnosis because she doesn’t know what else to say. I don’t want Snow to suffer because of a wild guess.

“Not usually,” Ms. Keswick says slowly. “But Mr. Snow’s magic does tend to be unusual. He’s not like other mages. It’s very possible he used too much magic and...burnt himself out in a way. I just can’t tell you for sure.”

I scowl deeply. Bunce scoffs at me. I know what she thinks, that I’m upset he’s not fully dead. If only she knew how my entire world is shattering.

“Will he wake up?” Bunce asks.

Ms. Keswick’s eyes soften with sadness. She holds the clipboard to her chest. “I have to be honest, I don’t know. No spell is working. I think we just have to wait and see.”

Bunce’s face falls. It’s only because of my years of practice schooling my expression that I don’t look the same. My heart is beating so loud in my ears. I want to rush over and shake Snow awake. But that won’t do any good. Snow will stay asleep, possibly forever. I don’t even want to consider that.

The door bursts open with a bang so loud I jolt. The Mage stomps in, hand on his sword and fire in his eyes. He’s so enraged he walks right past me.

“What happened?!” he barks at Ms. Keswick and Bunce. Fucking prick.

“It was ogres,” Bunce says, sounding more than a little annoyed. “Sent by the Humdrum. Simon went off twice and passed out. I tried to wake him up but nothing worked. Ms. Keswick says we just have to wait and see.”

The Mage looks even more furious. Bastard probably doesn’t like his favourite weapon being out of commission. “Have you tried every spell, Ms. Keswick?”

“Yes, I have,” she replies. I commend her for staying calm in the face of his anger.

“I doubt that. I will try myself. Everyone leave.” He looks right at me, eyes thin blue slits. “That includes you, Mr. Pitch. I don’t even want to know why you’re here.”

I scoff, crossing my arms. “Neither I nor the Families had anything to do with this.”

“I never said that.”

“You never had to.” I push off the wall, hands linked behind my back. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

The Mage nods stiffly. He turns back to Bunce and Ms. Keswick. “As should everyone else, like I requested.”

Ms. Keswick nods and walks towards her office. Bunce frowns as she goes out the exit. I follow behind her. Before we leave, I glance over my shoulder, looking at Snow’s face one last time. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to see him again.

Bunce and I walk down the hall together, me a few steps behind her. She’s stomping so hard it rattles the floorboards. If she weren’t here, I would be doing the same. I’m so damn frustrated. None of us have any idea what is going on, none of us can seem to help, and Snow is just stuck there, unable to wake up. I’m quite used to feeling helpless when it comes to Snow, but this is far worse.

“Hey.” Bunce stops and turns around. Her mouth is thin line and her voice has an edge. I cross my arms, awaiting a verbal lashing. “It feels weird to say this, but...thanks, for getting him here.”

Well, didn’t expect that. I hope Bunce can’t see the small smile on my lips. I do have a reputation. “You’re welcome. I must say, I’m surprised to hear that from you.”

“Yeah, so am I,” she chuckles in morose sort of way, rubbing up and down her arm. “I know you didn’t do it for any altruistic reasons, but still, it’s good you did it anyway. Though this doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.” She nods, then turns around and walks away. I stand still for a long moment, trying to recollect myself. I know exactly what you still think of me, Bunce. What Snow will still think of me when he wakes up. If he wakes up...

I press the heels of my hands hard into my eyes. Pitches don’t cry, dammit. I take a deep breath and recollect myself. It will be okay. It has to be. Otherwise, well, I don’t know what I’ll do.

———————————————

It’s been fourteen whole days, and Snow still hasn’t woken up. I’ve tried to ignore the anxiety that fears to it’s way through my stomach, but it gets worse with every passing second. During the day I hide it well, going about my business as usual. But at night, I spend hours laying awake, just staring at his empty bed. Having Snow there was torture, but him not being there is absolute fucking hell.

“Do you think the Chosen One is really out of commission for good?” Niall asks through his sandwich.

“Who knows,” Dev replies. “Either way, the Mage’s side is shitting their pants in fear now that their favourite weapon is gone. The Families are elated.”

Crack. Niall and Dev both jolt. Fuck. My knife nearly made it through the plate and onto the table. I could’ve goen further. Damn vampire strength. I put my utensils down calmly and pick up my teacup. “Yes,” I say evenly, “they definitely are. My father and aunt sent word that they are quite pleased.”

Luckily, both of them act like nothing happened. Good men. Niall nods as he eats his salad. “They’re finally off our backs, and we didn’t even have to do anything.”

“Very true.” I push at a piece of chicken a bit too hard, nearly sending it off my slightly cracked plate. But I quickly regain my control. “So who do you think is going to win the FA cup this year, gentlemen? My money is on Manchester.”

Dev scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You always say that. I’m betting on Liverpool.”

“And you always say that!” Niall points at him like it’s a devastating accusation, though we all know Dev’s incessant loyalty to Liverpool. My personal theory is that it’s just because he loves the Beatles.

He and Niall start arguing about the ability of football clubs, and I just sit back. I don’t have the energy for a rousing football debate. Or anything else really. It feels like every ounce of myself is going into worrying about Snow. There’s nothing left for the rest of my life.

We finish lunch, and I pretend I’m going to the library. But the second Dev and Niall are out of sight, I walk towards to the infirmary. I’ve been trying to get there since that first day, but Bunce is by his side almost every bloody hour. She would yell my ear off if I showed up. One thank you does not a friendship make. But I want to see Snow, dammit. And I know for a fact Bunce has a major test this period, while mine is totally free.

Just as I’m turning the corner, I run head on into someone. We both yell as we fall on the floor. Once my vision comes back into focus, I look up, and meet a pair of wide brown eyes.

“Oh, hello Baz,” Agatha says nervously. “What...what are you doing here?”

I gulp down the small lump in my throat and recollect myself. “I could ask the same of you, Wellbelove.”

She starts collecting her books, staring intently at the ground. “It’s my free period, and I’m going to see Simon.”

“I thought you two broke up.” Agatha freezes up. I wince slightly at my own sharp words. I didn’t mean to be that harsh. But part of me is still angry at her for hurting him. They’re disgustingly cute relationship was agony for me, but Snow was happy. That’s what matters.

Wellbelove sighs, standing with her back straight. I do the same, clutching my bookbag strap tight. “Yes, we did break up a few weeks ago. But I still care for him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Snow believes that.”

She nods in a strange, solemn way. “No, I don’t think he does. But I do. I just couldn’t be what he wanted. Simon wants me to be his happy ending, the person waiting for him when all this insanity is over. I want to be someone’s right now.”

My annoyance dissipates, and I feel like a right prick. I clear my throat and look down at the floor. “I see. That’s...understandable.”

“I’m glad you get it. Simon didn’t.” I raise my eyes slightly. Agatha is gazing at the door in a forlorn sort of way. Like a gothic heroine gazing out from her balcony. “I know I did the right thing, but it was hard.”

“Most right things are.” And so are the wrong things, as I’ve learned from experience. They just tear you apart inside in a whole different way.

“Too true.” She smiles slightly. “But I’m glad I did. It was worth the risk. I’m happier now. I only wish Simon was awake so we could at least try to make up. I don’t want to lose him even more.” Her bottom lip trembles, and even though we aren’t even close to friends, it still breaks my heart. “I just want him to be okay.”

My chest feels tight at her words. Before I can stop myself, I’m nodding, and I can feel my face fall slightly, my sorrow bleeding through. I quickly school my expression and straighten up. But Agatha is looking at me, first with shock, and it slowly fades to pity. It stabs me in the gut so sharply I immediately look away. Yes, I’m pathetic, but no one needs to know.

I clear my throat and look away. “I should go. Studying, and all that.”

“Right.” She smiles softly. I can’t tell if she’s being kind because I’m so pitiful, or just because she’s nice. I don’t want to find out. So I turn my back and walk away. Snow is still stuck in that room. It’s stupidly poetic and over dramatic, but if I have a heart, it’s stuck there along with him.

———————————————

I’ve been frozen for hours. I just keep staring across the room, staring at his bed.

It’s still a complete mess. At first I didn’t want to touch his things because I prefer not getting my ear yelled off when Snow comes back. Now I can’t bear to do it, to erase the most obvious sign of his presence. Looking at the crumpled sheets reminds me he used to be here. He was here, where I could make sure he was alive and okay.

He’s still alive, you dolt, my rational brain reminds me. But not in any way that really counts. I want him to be laughing, snarling, yelling, living his damn life. He should be here. It’s not fair. Simon Snow doesn’t deserve to be in a coma.

What I wouldn’t give for him to wake up.

What I wouldn’t give to have him in my arms.

I didn’t get to see him yesterday. And I feel like if I don’t right now, I’m going to catch fire and burn to a crisp.

I throw my quilt off and swing my legs over the side. I don’t even bother putting on shoes. After slowly descending the stairs of Mummer’s house, I tiptoe through the halls. Luckily, I’m very good at being totally silent while sneaking through Watford. It finally pays off to be like a ghost.

Eventually, I reach the nurse’s office. I press my sensitive ear to the door. There are no footsteps, no muttering, no sound except that incessant beeping I remember. With a shaky hand, I turn the brass knob, and step inside.

The moonlight pours in through the window, a silver stream perfectly illuminating the bed. I cautiously walk forward. Every step feels like I’m walking on knives. Snow is still there, obviously, a perfect sleeping statue. But he looks so different. That’s probably because he’s lost quite a bit of weight. A feeding tube can only do so much, I suppose. His cheekbones are more prominent, pushing through his pretty face. His skin looks paler too. It’s lost a lot of its golden luster, more of a pale yellow now. He looks so...empty. My undead heart shatters.

There’s a chair next to the bed. I suppose that’s where Bunce has been spending every minute she can. I sit down slowly, like it’ll bite me I want to touch him. I want to feel his skin, just in case I may never be able to again. But I hold back.

“Hello, Snow,” I say, unsure if I’m really talking to him or myself. “You’ve been here for quite awhile, huh? The window isn’t open. You’re probably overheating, you human furnace.”

I’m not an idiot, I know he’s going to wake up just because I’m talking. But how I wish his stupid blue eyes would open right now. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I reach out and lightly brush the back of his hand. Crowley, his skin is colder than his namesake. A choked sound is wrenched from my throat.

“You moron,” I hiss, “how could you go off like that unprepared? Just bring your stupid sword to fight an entire pack of ogres? Bunce was there, I know, but you two were still not enough. You should’ve thought it through more. You should have...” I take a deep breath, holding back tears. “You should have asked for my help. I could have protected you.”

My mind goes back to Wellbelove’s words. How she was scared, yet took the risk anyway to be happier. I wish I could be that brave. And...maybe I could, at least while he sleeps.

I swipe my thumb over the back of his hand, feeling every single bone in it. “You never would’ve asked me though, because you still think I hate you. But the truth is, I don’t, Snow. Not in the way you think.” I hold him tighter, tighter than I ever have before. Wet drops slide down my cheeks. Fuck, I really am pathetic. I’m a stupid blubbering mess, all over this ridiculous, brave boy. “I despise what you do to me, but I can’t despise you, Simon. You’re too strong, too clever, too incredible to hate. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, so much better than my horrible undead arse. You don’t deserve to be stuck here.” I press my fingers harder into his chilly palm. It’s all I can do to keep from falling apart.

“I know you’ve never listened to me once in our years living together, but I hope you make an exception this time. Please, wake up. The World of Mages needs you. I need you. I can’t bear to imagine a world without you in it. I don’t care if you still hate me forever. You should get to live and have your happy ending.” I reach forward and brush away a tangled mess of curls from his forehead. Because I’m a constant disappointment to myself.

“I hope you wake up, because you’re the best thing in existence. And because...” I take a deep, powerful breath, pushing the words out of that deep dark place I’ve hidden them for years. “Because I’m absolutely, hopelessly in love with you, Simon Snow. And losing you would be worse than dying again.” I lightly brush his cheek, barely touching him, but it’s enough. “So wake up, you bloody numpty. You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.” My voice cracks. I fall forward, pressing my tear filled eyes on my hand. “You can’t leave me yet.”

My breaths come out shaky, like a rattling old air conditioner. I haven’t let myself cry these entire two weeks, holding in every ounce of horrible, tangled despir. But they fly freely now, streaking down my cheeks. I can’t live without Snow. He’s my hopeless love, my stupid reason to live, my sun. If I’m not crashing into him, what am I doing? I’ve considered dying by his hand, but never him going before me. I can’t lose him. I don’t how to lose him and not lose what little is left of my soul as well.

A weight falls on top of my head. It’s cold, bony, and splays out over my head. A hand. I bolt upright, and I’m immediately met with plain blue eyes and a soft smile, like it takes Atlas level amounts of effort to just to pull his mouth up.

“Hi,” Snow says, voice raspy from disuse, yet somehow still the most beautiful sound.

I stare at him slack jawed for a stupid amount of time. I swear, my brain has turn to thick gruel. Simon Snow is awake, looking at me, smiling. He’s okay. And I’m holding his hand.

Immediately, I shoot back, sitting up ramrod straight, hand very far away from his. I probably look like a panicked deer. “Hello, Snow. You’re up. I’ll...go get Bunce. She’ll be very thrilled.”

I start to stand up, but the slightest brush from chilly fingers, and I freeze. I look over my shoulder. Snow is frowning in this pouty puppy dog way. He looks so unbelievably vulnerable and scared.

“Baz,” he wheezes, “don’t leave me alone, please.”

Crowley, did he really have to say that? It sends a sharp pain directly through my chest. I immediately fall back into the chair. “Okay, I won’t.”

He smiles again, making me almost sigh with relief. “How are you feeling?” I ask. I hope he doesn’t notice I’m shaking like a leaf.

“Like shit,” he chuckles. It brings a laugh out of me too, small and breathy.

“Laying in bed for two weeks will do that, Snow.”

“Yeah, true enough.” He takes a rattling breath. “I thought Penny would be the one here when I woke up. She’s been here a lot.”

My eyes widen slightly. “You know that?”

He nods slowly and winces. It obviously hurts him to move. “Yeah. After a few days, I could hear everything, I just couldn’t, y’know, open my eyes or move.”

Oh fuck. I can feel whatever little blood I have rush to my face. I hope it’s not too noticeable. There’s only so much embarrassment I can take before I explode. “Oh...everything?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” Snow sighs, “everything.”

He turns his head towards me. I see his wince again. I start to reach forward, like I want to what, comfort him. No, I’m not allowed to do that. I’ve never been allowed. Why the fuck do I think I can? Snow looks at my hand strangely, between confused and awestruck I think. I quickly pull my hand back into my lap.

“Sorry,” I whisper, looking very pointedly down.

“Baz, I-I told you, I heard you.” His eyes narrow slightly, as much as he can right now. “But this isn’t some plot, right?”

My blood starts to boil and a scowl nearly split my face in two. Of course in his own mind, it’s reasonable for him to ask. But I just poured out what’s left of my pathetic heart to him, even though I thought he couldn’t hear. It was the most truthful I’ve ever been in my life. And he thought I was lying.

I push my chair away. “Well, I won’t bother you with anymore of my plots. I’ll go get Bunce or Nurse Keswick now.”

“No, Baz, wait!” Snow sits up, and immediately starts coughing. His entire body convulses with the force of them. I’m immediately standing at his side

“Don’t get up, Snow.” I gently hold his upper arms and help lower him back onto the sheets. My thumbs press right into his humerus. Crowley, he really is all skin and bones right now. It hurts me in such a horrific way.

He gestures to the cup of water on the bedside table. I immediately pick it up and bring the straw to his cracked lips. Snow drinks deeply, shoulders relaxing. He ends up drinking the entire thing, then falls back on the bed. I put the cup down and sit, all thoughts of leaving obviously out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just, I had to ask. I heard it all, but part of me just...can’t believe it.” Our eyes meet, and a shiver runs down my spine. “I never knew you felt like that.”

I stare at my lap, fiddling with my shaky fingers. The world is closing in, shrinking to just me, the lonely lovesick vampire who has never dealt with his feelings. Except Snow is here too. And a part of me wants him here, and another part desperately can’t handle him right now. Snow overwhelms me, always has. He rids my brain of any logical thought. It’s horrible, and I love it. Just like him.

“I made sure you didn’t,” I whisper. “I made sure no one did.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed that.” He smiles softly again. No matter how weak he is, it’s still such a pretty smile. “For how long?”

I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. I hope I don’t look too ridiculous “A long time, Snow. Almost since we met.”

I look up slightly. Snow’s eyes are bigger than saucer plates and his lips are slightly parted. Part of my brain supplies an intense image of my tongue between those lips, tracing the inside of his mouth, feeling every crevice. He just woke up from a coma, Basil, get a hold of yourself.

“That’s...a long time...”

I snort in a very undignified way. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“You don’t need to be an arse,” he mumbles.

“I do when you state the absolutely obvious.”

He pouts in that ridiculously adorable way again. Snow really is a giant, sword wielding, explosive puppy dog. “Why do you always go for the lowest blow? Especially if you...care about me like that.”

I gulp. Did the coma make him more articulate somehow? Maybe it rattled some of his brains loose. “Because I’m not supposed to. You know that, Snow. We’re enemies.”

“But what if I like this better?” He blurts out. His cheeks immediately go rosy pink, body a bit too iron deficient for bright scarlet.

My eyebrows furrow together. “What is this?”

“This. What we’re doing right now. Talking, being nice, not being arseholes. And,” he smiles sheepishly like a cheeky schoolboy, “I liked what you had to say, before I woke up.”

My first reaction is to blush. And my second is to scoff and stare at the wall, which is boring, but at least not his beautiful face. “Like having your ego stroked, Snow?”

The room is completely silent for a few long, drawn out seconds. I keep my eyes on the stone wall, analysing every line of mortar. Anything to not look at him. But then I feel something tepid brush over my hand, making my whole body jolt. Snow’s fingers are laying atop mine. It’s something I’ve wanted for so many years. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“I thought about you.”

My eyebrows shoot all the way up to my hairline. “What?”

He keeps smiling, like that’s an answer. “While I was stuck here, I thought about what you were doing.

“You mean what I was plotting?”

“Yeah. And I missed you.”

I scoff, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. “Sure, Snow.”

I keep looking at the wall, though I can’t bear to remove my hand from under his. But suddenly, I feel something slowly curl around my long fingers. I whip my head around. Snow is actually holding my hand, even after I insulted him. And when I look up, he still has that smile, despite how much strain it obviously causes him.

“You called me Simon before,” he says.

Surprisingly, it makes me laugh. Because he’s just so ridiculous, and adorable. “That’s what you care about?”

“Uh-huh. I like when you call me Simon. I like you being here, just the two of us. I like all of this better than us fighting.”

Merlin and Morgana, this is too good to be true. Simon Snow is awake, and he knows how I feel, and he likes this better than fighting. I don’t know what to do. My brain is overloaded with information and emotion, and I don’t deal well with the latter. I need to recollect myself before I do something irreversibly stupid.

Snow yawns loudly, mouth wide like a boa constrictor swallowing its prey. The analogy seems apt, honestly. I feel like Snow has swallowed me whole.

“You should rest, Snow,” I say. “You’re probably loopy from...something. Bunce will want to talk your ear off in the morning. Certainly have to have your strength for that.”

His fingers tighten on my hand. He’s so weak it’s barely a squeeze, but it makes me stay anyway. “You’re running away.”

How Snow says that so pathetically yet resolutely all at once is astounding. And it breaks my heart a bit more. “I just need to rest. And so do you.”

He frowns deeper. “Are you going to pretend that none of this happened? Make me feel crazy?”

Well, I had thought about it. But...I don’t think I can now. Not with the way Snow is looking at me with those big plain blue eyes. He destroys all my walls. He makes me feel so weak. I hate it, but I want to love it.

“How about,” I say slowly, “we talk later, when you’re not just emerging from a coma? Okay?”

Relief obviously washes over Snow. His weak body melts into the mattress. It’s good to see him relax. “Promise?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “What are you, five?”

“Please, Baz?” he asks, already drifting off to proper sleep.

Crowley, I am so weak. But maybe I really could learn to love it. I grip his hand tight, but not tight enough to hurt. His skin is warming up. He’s starting to feel like himself again. “I promise, Snow.”

He smiles as his eyes slide shut. He’s immediately asleep. Snow always looks beautiful, but smiling in his sleep, he looks positively angelic. Usually he’s curled up in a knot, whimpering and crying. But not tonight it seems.

I put his hand over his stomach, and exit the little nurse’s room. I walk back to my room in a daze. My brain is still playing catch up. Simon is awake. He’s coherent. He heard every stupid thing I had to say and he liked it. A grin spreads across my face, dopey in the best, most ridiculous way.

He’s okay. And maybe for the first time ever, so am I.

———————————————

It’s been another week and a half of Snow-less agony for me. He has to recover from quite a bit, I assume. An ogre fight, a massive going off, and a two week long coma is bound to do some damage. That’s all I know though. It’s not like Bunce is giving me daily updates on his condition. I want to go see him, desperately, but I also think he needs time to think. He needs to get his head on straight. I know he was worried I would pretend none of that night happened, but I’m more worried he will. Snow will get all his mental faculties back and pretend I never confessed my stupid undying love. Objectively, that would be best, I suppose. There’s no chance at all for us. Still, it would hurt.

“Baz? Baz? Baz are you listening?”

My head snaps up to see a very confused Dev and Niall. Shit, right, we’re supposed to be studying. There’s a test next week. A world still exists outside of Simon bloody Snow.

“Um, yes,” I say, looking back down at my extremely wordy textbook. “History of the first magical war, right. Who was the instigator?” I raise my head again, trying to look as bored and passive as my father. But both my friends still look monumentally concerned. I frown at them. “What?”

“You okay, mate?” Dev asks. “You’ve been off these past couple weeks.”

Niall nods. “Yeah, totally. Ever since the Chosen One went into a coma...”

Crowley, I hope I don’t have enough blood to blush. It keeps happening, and I hate my thoughts being out in the open. “Coincidence, my dear Niall. Finals stress has been a bastard.”

It’s an easy lie, a believable one, but a lie all the same. And unfortunately these boys have known me since I was in diapers. They look at each other briefly, then back at me, both with an expression of deadpan disbelief.

“Is it cause you actually put him in the coma?” Dev asks.

I immediately snap my pencil in half. Just one hard press of my thumb and the little stick is dismembered. Both Dev and Niall jolt. I can’t blame them, I would be shocked too. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and put the pencil down.

“Where,” I say slowly, carefully, “did you hear that?

“Um...around,” Niall replies. “People heard you were there when he went off. Some people are saying you egged him on until he blew up...”

I press my lips together and take another long, deep breath. I need to calm down before I explode. It makes sense, considering what I’ve let people think about me. But the fact that people think I’m responsible for hurting Snow, when I actually tried to save him, is so much more painful than I thought it would be. I don’t want people to think I hurt Simon. I no longer want to be known as his enemy. Crowley, I’m tired of being his enemy at all.

“Baz? You okay?”

I look up at them again. I’m not sure who said that, but both my friends look incredibly concerned. They’re good men, really, underneath all that sarcasm. I nod once.

“I’m alright,” I say, “and that’s not what happened. Snow went off on his own.”

“Okay,” Dev says. “Are you sure you’re alright though? You seem weird.”

“Yeah. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

Niall leans forward on his forearms, brows all scrunched together. “Y’know you can can tell us shit, right?”

I lightly drum my fingers on the table, creating a low rattling sound. I know he means well, but that’s not true. How could I tell them about Snow? How I’ve been in love with him for years? How I accidentally confessed and now he may want what I want? I can’t. Right?

“I know,” I say. “And I’ll tell you if there’s anything to tell.”

“Okay, good.”

Dev smiles, closed mouth and reserved, but there’s a genuine kindness in his face. “We’re always here for you, mate.”

Niall nods and smiles along with him. My eyes narrow slightly. Who are these people and what happened to Dev and Niall? They’re being too nice. We’re always arseholes to each other. They keep smiling. Maybe they’ve been hexed or something.

Or maybe...they know something.

No. No way. They haven’t possibly have figured it out. If they have, they would be yelling at me, they would hate me. That’s what I’ve always expected. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance it’ll be okay. Maybe I don’t need to be so terrified.

“Thanks,” I say slowly, then flip up my book, focusing intently on the little black words. They make my chaotic world melt away for a moment. My panic dips ever so slightly. Simon is awake, he’s okay. And for the first time ever, maybe I will be too.

———————————————

I’m laying on my bed, having my fifteenth existential crisis of the past three and a half weeks, when the door starts to open. I immediately bolt up like I’ve been electrocuted. It opens further, and every creak of old hinges sound like a thousand decibels to my ears. Soon, a tawny face peeks through, which makes my slow heartbeat skip. And when he smiles, it stops completely.

“Hey,” Snow says.

“Uh, hi. You’re back,” I say, like a useless idiot. Way to go, Basil.

“Yeah. They finally freed me.” He steps in, and I see the cane in his left hand. It’s dark red wood with a curved brass handle. It’s probably the most posh thing I’ve ever seen him with. He leans on it heavily as he walks in. His legs still look very shaky, like thin branches in the wind. He stumbles on the dip in the wood floor. Immediately I’m on my feet, rushing to his side. I catch his arms, and suddenly realise what the fuck I just did. My eyes meet Snow’s plain blue ones, wide and wondering. I have to actively stop myself from getting lost in them. We stare at each other as the seconds stretch out. I finally come back to my senses, then clear my throat and look away.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Y-Yeah,” Snow says.

“Good.” I take a step away, putting a respectable distance between us.

Snow steps forward, still leaning more than slightly on his cane. He sits heavily on his bed with a sigh. I sit on my own, legs pressed together, hands in my lap. I probably look like my father, far too respectable and reserved to look normal. I feel like I’m one bad moment away from falling apart or jumping out the bloody window.

“How are you feeling?” I stare at the dark wood floor. I don’t think I can look at him right now.

“Better,” Simon says. “Penny’s been helping me with moving. My muscles got all funny after two weeks stuck in a bed. But I can walk now, at least with a cane. And I can eat solid foods, thankfully.”

I chuckle quietly. “Back to scones?”

“Soon, hopefully.” I flick my eyes up for a moment, and unfortunately see his big dopey grin. My dead body melts into a white hot puddle. Damn Snow for being so painfully adorable. I have to look down again before I really do defenestrate myself.

“That’s good for you, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

There’s another stretch of silence. Long, tension filled, agonizing silence. It makes want to eat my own skin. The image is horrifying but accurate. My tongue feels heavy and any ideas for a sentence is utterly idiotic. I’m not used to being at a complete loss for words. Is this how Snow feels all the time? It’s terrible. It gives me a new brand of sympathy for him.

“So,” both Snow and I say at the exact same time.

I look up, and he’s looking back. We stare for a moment, until Snow makes a very dignified snort. It’s like a high pitch hog. My eyes go very wide.

“Sorry,” he giggles. “Sorry.”

“Uh, it’s fine,” I say.

He keeps giggling and snorting. And it’s so stupidly ridiculous, that I laugh as well. I’m quieter and more controlled, as usual, but I’m still laughing. Snow makes a few more snorts, and it turns into a full blown howl. Head thrown back, hand pressed to his stomach. It’s so beautiful and free, so different from when he was in that bed. Before I know it, I’m howling too. It’s the loudest I’ve laughed in my entire undead life. Our sounds fill the tiny room so perfectly, and it’s absolutely glorious. Bloody hell, why haven’t I felt like this before? Why can’t I feel like this all the time?

Slowly, we start to calm down. The room returns to its usual tranquility, only the sound of birds outside the window accompanying us. Snow and I look at each other once more. He softly smiles, and I smile back.

“I still like this,” he says quickly, like he’s trying to get the words out before he stumbles.

I fiddle with my shaking fingers. “Do we even know what this is, Snow?” He shrugs, making me roll my eyes. “Have you ever noticed half your sentences are shrugs?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I mean, I don’t know what this is yet. But I meant what I said before. Whatever this is, I really do like it better than fighting. Don’t you?”

I press my lips together, holding my tongue back before I say something stupid. Simon is still smiling, still looks hopeful. I know I shouldn’t want him, but every fibre of my being is crying out for Simon Snow. He offers out his hand, palm up, shaking ever so slightly. It’s so unbelievably kind, just like him.

“How can you even trust me? After everything?” I whisper harshly, because if I’m anything, I’m self destructive as fuck. Happiness and I aren’t allowed to mix, right?

“I’m not sure I fully do, but...” he shrugs and holds his hand out even farther, wiggling his fingers as much as he can. My pulse is faster than the speed of light.

Crowley, I hope I’m not doing something irrepreably idiotic.

Ignoring every sensible part of myself, I reach out and grab his hand.

Snow grins, brighter than the sun he resembles. He slowly laces our fingers together, probably waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. For once I don’t run away. I let myself take a risk, on the smallest off chance I can find happiness. With Simon Snow.

“I want this too,” I say before I get scared. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Impossibly, Simon grins even harder. I’m going to go blind from his light. “I know.”

I raise a curious eyebrow. “How long have you wanted this?”

He shrugs, and I sigh in exasperation. “Yeah, sorry,” Snow giggles, “not the answer you’re hoping for, I guess.. I dunno when, Baz. I don’t really think about things I can’t do anything about. I just know that I want this now. That’s what matters, right?”

I sigh again, but tighten my grip on his hand. “Yeah, I suppose it is. I don’t know what we’re going to do though. There’s a lot in our way.”

“That’s been true about our whole lives, innit?”

I have to nod. “True enough.”

Simon stands up, legs buckling slightly. I grab his other arm and help him turn. He sits himself next to me, so close our legs press together. His warmth shoots up through my body, spreading like a wildfire. I’d gladly burn because of him.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says with complete confidence. “I’m the Mage’s Heir, you’re a Pitch. Between the two of us we can come up with something.”

Bloody hell. He’s so willing to just barrel forward with no plan. It’s ridiculous, yet oddly inspiring. Snow doesn’t need a plan. He just wants us to be happy. The frantic part of my mind can’t handle, overthinking and over-analyzing everything that could go wrong, which is a lot.

Simon keeps grinning. I feel warmer than I have in my entire life.

Fuck everything. I just want him.

“Okay,” I sigh.

Simon’s eyes widen. “Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in. You’re an idiot, but you can have...this, if you want.”

Now his perfect, pretty lips fall open, Crowley, is he trying to kill me? “Really?

I roll my eyes out of pure habit. “Do you have cotton in your ears? Yes, really, you nump-”

And then he kisses me.

The whole world comes to a screeching halt. I’m thrown into near catatonic shock, frozen as Simon bloody Snow pushes his scorching lips against mine. His right hand cups my cheek, calluses scratching my smooth skin in the best way. I’ve never known this kind of feeling. Literally. This is my first kiss. It’s warm, soft, and made a thousand times better because it’s him, Simon Snow. Simon Snow is my first kiss. He’s still kissing me.

I’m living a charmed life.

I stay frozen for longer than I should. Crowley, could I make it more bloody obvious I’m a kiss virgin? Eventually, I let my eyes flutter shut and raise a shaky hand to cup his cheek. It’s just as soft as his lips. I tilt my head ever so slightly, and so does Simon, slotting us together even more. He does this wonderful thing with his chin that makes my thoughts melt into putty. This can’t be happening.

Snow reaches back, brushing the nape of my neck, moving up to weave his fingers in my hair. Then he clenches his fist tight and jams our faces even closer together. I inhale sharply in shock.

Bloody hell, this is real.

I pull away a bit too suddenly. Snow blinks open his blurry, pupil blown eyes. His lips are red and swollen. Could he look anymore like an image from my dreams?

“Sorry,” he says. He’s out of breath. It’s amazing.

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just, well, you recently came out of a coma, and you’re still recovering. Maybe you shouldn’t be engaging in any...strenuous activities.”

Simon smiling and starts giggling. It’s utterly adorable. “Aw, you do care,” he says between snorts.

“Obviously.” I lean forward, tapping our foreheads together. It’s a stupidly romantic teen thing. I love it. “I care for you far too much, Simon.”

Snow slowly runs his thumb over my nape and brushes our noses together. “I care about you too. Definitely more than I thought I did.” He grabs my hand, putting it between us. “We’ll make this work, Baz. We’ve both gone through Hell. This will be a piece of cake.”

“And you do love cake.”

We chuckle together, holding each other’s faces, holding each other’s hands. There might be slightly less in our way than I thought, but there’s still a lot. But this is all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m going to fight like hell for it. I think Snow will too.

“We can do this,” he sighs, hot breath caressing my cool skin.

I hold Simon tight. I almost lost him once. Never again. “We can.”

Snow and I sit there for a long while. And for the first time in my miserable unlife, I feel at peace.

———————————————

AN: Hope y'all enjoyed that :) Tbh I feel like this isn't my best work but I'm still proud of it. The fact that I was able to write at all was an achievement. Also I love angsty overthinking Baz lol, and the ending was super sweet imo. I hope to get back to more regular posting soon. Thanks for being patient. See you peeps again soon :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #nct fluff #angst #canon divergence #mysnowbazfic

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