#i feel like my writing got worse i apologize i am very rusty ksfdfj

[diningpageantry]

How (Not) To Get a Boyfriend

Chapter 3 of 6 (Archive of Our Own Link)

Read Chapters 1 and Chapter 2

Rating: Teen

Chapter Description: Simon slips up, and hopes it doesn't cost him what little he has built with Baz so far.

Note: haha wow..... ik i haven't updated this fic in two years haha (sweats), but it's back up and running now! i'm working on another project, but while that one's in progress, i'm coming around to finishing this one up! i hope everyone likes it, despite it being a short chapter in itself :)

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BAZ

I hadn’t, in any number of years that I’ve been sitting on these platforms, ever thought people would see me smile properly within the realm of my curated image.

Give it to Simon bloody Snow to cock that one up, apparently.

I’d caught it, at first, while watching the upload, tucked into my pitiful childhood bed back at the estate, days after my return to Hampshire. It dropped on a Friday (his usual upload time, too. It’s depressing that I know that).

The smallest shred of me had thought that I could keep my composure while inebriated. I had thought, at least, in the moment that I had maintained my image. Sure, I had figured I made a few, albeit uncalculated, quirks of the mouth, but as the night went on and Snow refilled my glass a few more times, I must’ve slipped.

And, apparently, not only did the camera catch it, but Snow did too.

And fucking amplified it.

My stomach dropped when I saw it. The little zoom in, barely a second of it, of me smiling down at Snow unceremoniously punching a dramatic hole into his sheet of metal, and ripping it a bit more than he intended. And I smiled. I actually cracked a fucking smile.

And he showed it.

In a zoom in.

So here I am, sitting at the kitchen table as my step siblings run about, arguing about something (school age twins will do little else, I suppose), and trying not to drown myself face-first into my mug of coffee while reading the seemingly endless stream of Twitter notifications.

OMG BAZ CRAFTS REAL?????!!!?!??!???!!11!? @baz.pitch @simoncrafts

@baz.pitch can actually smile this is a code red everybody

was someone going to tell me that baz pitch is actually in simon and penny’s house at 3 in the morning or was i supposed to see a gif of him smiling to find out

Dear Lord, some people have already started posting fanfictions.

Maybe I should drown myself. It’ll be so much easier.

I exit out, then pull up Instagram, ignoring the little notification tab as I tap into my direct messages and type out Snow’s username.

There are very few actual messages between us.

There is a few drop down comments from stories that I will absolutely never let anybody on this forsaken earth know that I screenshot and save into a folder, then just a few back and forth from after my trip to London last week. I read through them, trying my best not to seethe.

(simoncrafts): thx for staying to record btw

(simoncrafts): srry abt the hangover too, if you get one

(simoncrafts): think the mix got strong lol

baz.pitch: I am not, but the concern is noted

(simoncrafts): im gonna take that as a “wow thanks for checking in on me simon!”

(simoncrafts): and im going to say wow ur welcome baz!!

(simoncrafts): :)

Bastard.

It was days ago. Back when I was hopeful for something akin to company, or at least human normalcy between us, I suppose. Damn me for being thoughtful.

I type out a message, then delete it before I send, and type out a different one, swallowing sharply before I hit send and settle my phone down face-first.

baz.pitch: I’m not sure who you’re trying to humour, Snow, but I do not appreciate, nor take lightly, my character being shown in a light that I had not approved of.

I sink down further into my seat, staring down at the milky-brown liquid I’ve got in front of me. It’s probably more lukewarm to the touch now. I’ve let it sit for far too long, over the hate-scrolling I’ve set myself onto for all the absolute worst reasons.

Maybe I should be cursing my naïtivity first. For what, even? For even accepting Snow’s offer? For convincing myself that It would be a rightful move on both of our parts?

Fuck all, either way. He’s the one who kept the edit…

SIMON

I should’ve known I fucked up.

Right, well, I thought it was a bit funny. The moment seemed funny–I’d zoomed in on my fuck up, then his face, then my own drunken laugh, so I’d thought maybe it was fine to post.

Fuck me, right?

I’d thought maybe it was just a little fuck up at first, though. Just a little. I mean, probably not lawsuit worthy amount of fucking up, but just enough for possibly something bad happening…

Okay yes. Fuck it. I fucked it up quite a bit, and I know I did, even if I hadn’t thought about it in the moment as something people’d get all caught up in, but the social media sphere has been reminding me all morning that Baz and I’s relationship has gone completely tits-up because of a barely two-second clip.

And it isn’t like the clip has something damning, either. It isn’t his credit card front and back, and it isn’t him plotting the death of a royal figure, either.

It’s him smiling.

And now it’s trending on Twitter.

I can’t stand to look at it all. Gifs, pictures, everything me and Baz are tagged in. Fanfiction links, hastily thrown together fan art. Questions. Loads of questions, many of which too dizzying for me to even put a finger on now (I do not want to answer questions about whether or not I’d snog Baz. For many reasons). I was even thinking, before this, about just shutting my mobile off and tossing it out our seven-stories-up-window.

That was, until Baz’s DM pinged up, and made me want to liquify it then emulsify the bloody thing with my own nervous sweat.

I think I’ll puke into it for good measure.

simoncrafts: look mate, i can explain

(baz.pitch): It better be more than a sound answer, or else I’m putting you on a blacklist

simonncrafts: governmental, or otherwise?

simoncrafts: im kidding please dont block me

simoncrafts: look ok i didnt think theyd go absolutely mad over a little clip of u smiling

simoncrafts: id figured people would find it funny

simoncrafts: you know

simoncrafts: because you dont laugh

simoncrafts: wait no id meant like on camera

simoncrafts: you dont laugh on camera

(baz.pitch): Did it not occur to you that it was for a reason?

(baz.pitch): I’m playing a personality, not a moldable image like you toss about

(baz.pitch): I did not consent to having such footage of me presented, and I expect respect when presenting my face within your videos

(baz.pitch): Remove the snippet from your video immediately

simoncrafts: i am i am im sorry

simoncrafts: im doing it now

simoncrafts: look im sorry mate, i really didnt mean for this sort of reaction

simoncrafts: wasnt thinking, thats all

baz.pitch: When are you thinking, Snow?

simoncrafts: im sorry

simoncrafts: i thought it was sweet

simoncrafts: i didnt mean to baz, im sorry

simoncrafts: please just say something back

BAZ

I’ve left him on Read for three days now.

If I’m being fully honest, the first day felt justified. I had all but turned off my phone and left it where I couldn’t hurt myself further by overlooking pages where I shouldn’t be. There is only so much public humiliation I can physically endure before I throw myself into a lake.

The second day was more so through pettiness. Then Bunce messaged, just so see if I was alive (which, yes, I am. I’m significantly less upset at her, as she definitely had no input onto it, but my bitterness for everyone at the moment is at a solid 2 on my scale, so I gave myself just a few minutes before I’d given her a response). So, surely, Snow is aware that I am still kicking, and that hopefully dove the blade in a little deeper. A tad of salt into the wound of being marked aside, I’d hope.

Or maybe, it’s me who’s overthinking that.

It isn’t like we’re properly pals, or anything. I’m not one of the mates I’d assume he has, given he’s clearly a social butterfly by nature. If anything, I’m a professional acquaintance, and one that he’s justifiably upset at this very moment.

However, do I think he’s thinking about me?

Not particularly.

At least, by the third morning, I had assumed so, given he’s taken the silence so far as a particularly justified means to stop being a nuisance.

I should have filmed something yesterday, but I was in a bit of a stupor and did not want to push myself to even attempt something of quality. I don’t have anything planned, either way.

That’s a lie. I always have something planned. I have a list of topics and information I’d gladly cover, if something in particular isn’t striking my fancy at the given moment, however, I think if I tried to merely start a work, I would most likely just turn my camera off after a minute or two and mope even more than before.

So… I haven’t. Putting me behind schedule.

Fantastic.

The absolute smallest part of me wishes I could throw that into Snow’s face. A full “Look at what you’ve done to me–potentially damaging my entire career.”

But I was petty yesterday, and today I suppose I am just bitter. Or grieving. Whatever that grief may be of (myself? Dramatic).

(When am I not?)

It shocks me, though, when his notification slides down onto my screen. Like he could hear me pity myself from so far away.

(simoncrafts): youve got every right to still be mad and like… i dont know. probably ignore this text and keep going on about your life, but im hoping u dont

(simoncrafts): im really sorry for not asking before posting

(simoncrafts): i shouldve sent u a copy so u could okay it and it was unprofessional of me not to

(simoncrafts): i dont ever really collab so thats really on me not thinking abt it when i should have

I swipe down onto the screen, then let the chat pull up, staring at it with knit brows as I watch his chat bubble dance on screen, then stop when he sees I’ve read his messages. The messages between us are still for a good minute. I wait, then read his messages again, then the three dots reappear.

(simoncrafts): i actually liked working with u ur not as big of an arse in person as i thought u would be

(simoncrafts): i know i cocked this up and u really can ignore me again if u want i get it

(simoncrafts): but i dont want u to think i dont care bc i do and i feel really bad and dont want it to be awkwrd if u ever wanted to come see penny again so im putting this out there

(simoncrafts): i am really sorry, mate

I tap my index quietly against my phone, staring at the screen for an extended pause.

I’m not quite sure how to respond, frankly.

I didn’t want to be hopeful. Maybe to–what–squash my feelings for him? To treat this as something I can force myself to overlook, continue shagging men that fill a void that I’d created in my mind as something unobtainable?

That, when that image of a person I’d created so foolishly as an idea in my mind was something so different, so human up close, and only for him to disappoint me, then I thought I could finally get on with my life?

(If you ask anybody around me, they wouldn’t say these past few days have been me “getting on with my life”. Anything but. Daphne asked if I wanted to go on her morning jog with her today, which I’d known was code for “You look like you haven’t been outside in a concerningly long time, and it won’t be remedied unless you’re dragged out kicking and screaming to all heavens”).

I’m helpless. Beyond repair, apparently. Because even something that I’d most likely stomp out quickly and block over has become me getting weak over. Especially if some measly, pathetic texts can almost immediately tie me back into his good graces…

Who am I kidding? I had felt weak to him apologising the first time around. I am weak.

I pull up my keyboard, then watch the bar blink for a moment before delicately crafting out a response.

baz.pitch: I acknowledge your apology as well as your honesty and respect for my personal choices going forward. While I am still not pleased with your actions, I do not want it unsaid that I appreciate your timeliness in the removal of the snippet that I had addressed in concern.

It reads like a fucking business email. When did I become my father?

I cringe, rereading it then exhaling before I hit send. Better than nothing, I suppose.

He reads it immediately. He must’ve been waiting on the other end…

(simoncrafts): does that mean we’re good then?

(simoncrafts): or like

(simoncrafts): something not with u coming to rip my head off or something?

baz.pitch: Yes, Snow. We’re civil.