#i should sleep but... write... fic... need... to publish... asap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blackmissfrizzle · 5 years ago

Text

Truth Hurts

Title: Truth Hurts

Characters: Dean x black!reader, Sam, Chuck, and Castiel

Summary: Dean finds out that the reader knows he cheated on her with Anna.

A/N: a companion fic for A Match Made in Hell. I’ll be doing more of these to detail Dean’s and the reader’s relationship at different times. Also, no tags this time. I’ll probably update later.

Based off episode 4x18

“I’m full-frontal in here, dude.” Dean complained as he read the newly discovered books about your lives.

This was supposed to be a regular case. The three of you went to a comic book store, investigating for a case, when the clerk asked if you were LARPing and then proceeded to tell you about the ‘Supernatural’ books.

Now you were sprawled in the bed with Dean, reading about your confession of love to Dean before he went to Hell. Whoever this Carver Edlund guy was, he sure did have a way with words.

Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop delving into the ‘fandom’ of Supernatural. Dean took the laptop and to his pleasure he found out there were some Dean girls, but he lost it when he found out there was some Dean/Sam girls. Hey, to each their own.

Most of the feedback on you was positive. They loved that you were a total badass, but some were rightfully pissed that you lied about your family lineage to the boys. There were some racist trolls, because God forbid a black girl gains the attention of one of the world’s perfect specimen. Oh, if they only knew the truth about their precious Dean Winchester.

“Do people really think you and Sam make a better couple? This is blasphemy!” Dean slammed Sam’s laptop in annoyance.

You had to give it to Dean, he put on a good performance. He almost convinced you he was the perfect boyfriend, but you remembered that you caught him with Anna unbeknownst to him.

“Hmmm, I think me and Sam would make a cute couple.” Sam smirked at his older brother and Dean had to hold himself back from smacking it off his face.

Dean pulled you out of your seat and into his lap. He gave you a kiss, which you didn’t return with as much enthusiasm and it was becoming more frequent. After, you guys find Carver Edlund, Dean decided he would talk to you to figure out what’s going on.

Thanks to proving you were ‘super fans’ of Supernatural and a bit of oversharing from the publisher you were able to find Carver Edlund aka Chuck Shurley.

Sam, Dean, and you find yourselves knocking on the door of a cute little house. When Chuck first answered the door he thought you three were playing a joke when Dean introduced y’all. He still thought it was a joke when you showed him the arsenal in Baby’s trunk. It wasn’t until Dean said his last name and you switched your eyes to black did he believe you.

You found yourself with Sam and Dean, in Chuck’s quaint home that was littered with empty beer bottles.

“Oh, you’re still there!” Chuck jumped when he turned around to you three.

“Yup.”

“You’re not a hallucination?”

“Nope.” Dean popped the p while standing there irritated.

Soon, Chuck went on a rant that he was a cruel and capricious God. He kept detailing almost every awful thing that happened to the boys and then asked them if they truly lived through certain events.

“And you,” Chuck steered his gaze towards you. “All those nightmares about hell and then to find Dean cheating on you with an angel no less!”

You couldn’t stop Chuck from revealing your secrets, but the murderous look on your face told him that he made a big mistake.

“I’m sorry, I…I…I forgot he didn’t know yet.” Chuck immediately apologized. He knew your powers could get out of control if you were extremely emotional and he didn’t want to be a target.

Too bad for Chuck, you were embarrassed and pissed. The boys were looking at you with pity and you needed to get out of there fast. You stormed out the house, ignoring Dean’s pleas and when you slammed the door you sent objects flying off the shelves with your powers.

Dean gripped Chuck by the collar, upset with him for revealing his big mistake but more upset that he knew he just broke whatever he had with you.

Sam pulled him back, even though all he wanted to do was punch Dean himself. “C’mon dude, let him go.”

After everything settled down, Chuck explained what he was writing next. He told the brothers that he wrote himself into the book confronted by his characters.

You were pacing down the sidewalk, trying to rid yourself of the anger when the boys came out. Sam threw you an apologetic look before he got into the Impala.

Dean reached for your hand, but you moved to escape his reach and he knew right then he lost you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now. I just wanna figure out how Chuck is doing what he does and do a bit of laundry, ok?” You kept your gaze hard, you didn’t want Dean to know he had this much of an affect on you. He shooked his head yes and dropped the topic. Dean knew better than to push your buttons when you’re already pissed.

At the laundromat, Dean was reading the transcript that Chuck gave him. He was exactly describing the scene before you. It captured your irritated bitch face and Sam’s brooding shoulders.

Needing some space from Dean you exited the laundromat, but not too long after Dean followed you.

“What did Shurley mean by nightmares?” Dean asked barely above a whisper. He knew it was better to ease into his infidelity instead of jumping in.

Not making eye contact with your boyfriend, you fumbled with the bracelet he gave you. “When you came back, I started having nightmares. They started once we slept in the bed together. At first, I didn’t know what they were, but soon I figured out it was your time in hell. I saw everything, Dean!” Tears were streaming down your face.

“I saw how Alistair cut into you and tortured you. How he would use my face, Sam’s, and Bobby’s, to mess with you. I saw and felt everything! I felt your joy when you took Alastair’s deal and jumped off the rack to put bodies on and torture.”

Dean’s adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to contain his own tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You wiped away a tear and gave Dean a dry laugh. “Because I was trying to do the healthy thing and let you tell me on your own time. I didn’t want to make you talk until you were ready. But it turns out you just didn’t want to talk to me. I should’ve known better. Eventually, you couldn’t wait on me any longer and you would go back to your usual type.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Y/N I did not sleep with Anna because we haven’t had sex yet or because she’s supposedly my type.”

“Then why?”

Dean hung his head in guilt and licked his lips before he answered. “Because she got it. She told me she knew about what happened in hell and I shouldn’t blame myself. Y/N, I thought if I told you I would lose you forever and I can’t bear the thought without you in my life.”

This time you made no attempt to wipe away your tears. You looked at Dean through blurry eyes and replied with venom in your voice. “Well, great job Winchester, you just lost me.”

Each of you stared at the other, mourning the loss of your relationship. Sam came out the laundromat and looked guilty for interrupting the intimate moment. “Ummm, Chuck called he said there’s an emergency.”

Grateful for the interruption, you ran to grab your laundry and went to Baby. When you met up with Chuck, he told you that Lilith was coming and she and Sam were going to have sex in ”…throes of fiery demonic passion.” Ugh, disgusting!

It turned out that Lilith is not possessing a child anymore and was now a dental hygienist. Well, at least according to Chuck she was hot.

Sam laughed at the idea of him and Lilith together, but Dean didn’t find it funny. I’m fact, he took Chuck’s transcript as a ‘what not to do’. There’s was no research for Sam, no bacon cheeseburger for Dean , no fighting between the brothers, and no refereeing for you. But all that went to hell. The waitress accidentally gave Dean the wrong burger, the boys managed to argue in a calm manner, and you still ended up getting in the middle while scrolling through your phone.

All three of you had your own mission to avoid Chuck’s vision. Sam had to stay locked up in the motel room, Dean had to park his car to avoid driving around in it all day, and you had to stay away from your father, which should be easy.

After Dean left you and Sam in the motel room, Sam tried to get you to talk about your feelings and he even gave you the puppy-dog eyes, but you couldn’t do it. So, you left the room and somehow ended up at a park bench.

Suddenly you felt an unwanted presence next to you. You were about to pull out your gun, but someone gripped your wrist before you could. That someone was your demon father.

“How did you find me?”

“I was monitoring your power usage, since someone doesn’t call.” He nudged your shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you scooted further away from him. “Maybe someone would call you if you didn’t murder their mother and try to make them lead a demon army.”

“You got a point. But I’m here to talk.” He gave you a fatherly pat on your knee. “Before Alistair untimely death due to your boyfriend and his brother.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame he died before his time,” you dramatically rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, before he died he told me that a certain Winchester slept with that fallen angel. And as a father, I’m trying my hardest not to rip his throat out.” Your father’s eyes flashed to black for a millisecond.

It must’ve been keeping your emotions bottled up, because you ended up sobbing in your father’s lap. Despite being a demon, your father was soothing and held you.

For a moment, you believed you two were a regular father and daughter until a ping from your phone brought you back to reality. Dean texted you, saying that you needed to come back to the motel room ASAP.

“Winchester calls and you just drop everything and go running, huh?” Your father was angry at how fast you moved for Dean.

“You has to ruin the moment. Just don’t bother contacting me anymore.” You were walking away when your dad left you with one parting statement.

“It’s inevitable, Y/N. We’ll break all the seals and you’ll be fighting on our side one way or another. Stop tricking yourself into thinking you’re a hunter or a conduit of good. Hell, Dean even slept with a literal angel before you. Maybe he knows deep down that someday you’ll reach your true demonic potential.”

Anxiety, fear, and tears suffocated your throat. Your dad said all the things you feared ever since you met the Winchesters. Not trusting your voice, you flipped the bird at your dad.

By the time you got back, Sam and Dean were arguing. Supposedly, Chuck was a prophet and everything he writes comes true. Oh, you guys were screwed. Dean was bent on leaving town before Lilith got there, but Sam wanted to take the opportunity and fight.

The fight was getting bad, Dean brought up how Sam’s been using his psychic powers to kill Alistair and you took that as your cue to leave the room. Sometimes it was best not to get in the middle of their fights.

Leaning against Baby and drinking some water, you were contemplating your life with the Winchesters when Dean came storming out the room.

“Sam’s stuck on staying?”

Dean wiped down his face in frustration. “Yeah. He’s just ugh.” Dean finally took in your demeanor and noticed the puffiness of your eyes. He reached to grab your hand and this time you didn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna take a guess here, according to Chuck, you should’ve met with your demonic daddy. How that go?”

“Surprisingly good. He threatened to rip your throat out and I might just take him up on that. Then, he had to rant on about my silly demonic potential. You know the usual stuff.” You waved your hand in dismissal.

Dean opened up hid mouth to apologize, but you stopped him. “I don’t need your apology. After this I’m gonna go to Bobby’s and help him find out how to stop the breaking of the seals.”

The fluttering of angel wings broke the uneasy silence between you and Dean after your declaration. Dean begged his angelic friend to find some way to interfere, but Cas claimed it was fate. However, in so many words Castiel suggested we get Chuck near Lilith and an archangel would come.

With the threat of getting shot, Chuck complied with the plan and you guys succeeded. Lilith smoked out of her meat suit and Sam was saved.

Immediately you grabbed your duffle bag and your car keys. You felt a tug on your bag before you could throw it in the trunk.

“I’m not gonna apologize again because I know you don’t want to hear it now and I’m not gonna beg you to stay with me, because you deserve better. Just please let me know when you get to Bobby’s.” Although, Dean didn’t say those words, his green eyes did. You could feel his apology but you didn’t want to accept it, you were still angry at him and yourself.

Swallowing back some tears, you gave Dean a head nod and continued to pack up. Once you got settled into your driver’s seat is when you finally replied to your boyfriend/ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. I’ll let you know when I make it. And umm,” you were fiddling with your keys to rid yourself of your nervous energy. “I’m gonna use this time to figure out want I wanna do with our relationship, k.”

Dean slowly smiled at his chance to earn you back. “That all I can ask for sweetheart.”

You pull out of the parking lot and kept your eyes in the rear view mirror to look at Dean until he disappeared from your view.

#black!reader #dean winchester x black!reader #dean x black!reader #spnfamily #spn fanfic #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #chuck supernatural #chuck shurley

170 notes · View notes

bazypitchandsimonsnow · 7 years ago

Text

Love, Snow

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 14050

Summary: Baz receives a secret admirer note, and starts the strangest correspondence with someone he doesn't know. How does he deal with this on top of his long standing crush on the football quarterback?

Read on AO3

AN: Confession: I misread one of my requests as "first kiss" and got too excited by this idea to re-check the request before I wrote 14k+ words. Oops. I'm very stupid. But hey I ended up writing a really fun AU and I still wanna share it so I'll publish it on it's own. I promise I'm still working on requests and will publish them asap. I hope this fic is a good enough explanation/apology for making those people wait. Very, very sorry. I hope you enjoy this for now :)

So this is like low tech "Love, Simon" and it's stupid but I love it. Also everyone is American because I really wanted the stereotype of "crushing on the high school football quarterback" for Baz. It's so stupid and cheesy I couldn't resist. Also big thank you to @carryonmylovelies for her unending support and the title.

———————————————-

Baz

“And that’s another touchdown, putting the score over with just 3 seconds to spare!” The student announcer shouts into a goddamn microphone. “Way to go #61, Simon Salisbury!”

Everyone jumps up and cheers. It’s way too loud. I wince, curling in on myself more. I do clap politely though. It was a good play. Even though this is just an exhibition game to kick off the year.

Salisbury rips off his helmet, throwing it up in the air with a triumphant shout. His bronze curls are sweaty and plastered to his forehead. He’s smiling in that way. Open mouthed, laughing, blue eyes sparkling. I savour it while I can, because soon all the other jocks crash into him in a big testosterone pile. They’re hollering like madman and congratulating Salisbury with pounds to the back. Christ, I hate how much I wish I was down there.

“Wow, Salisbury did a good job, again,” Niall chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter.

Dev glares at me. “Why do you come to these games if you’re always being such a downer, Baz?”

Because this is the only time I can stare at Simon Salisbury’s tight pants covered behind without anyone noticing, even if it is at a distance. I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m bored.”

“Oh, have you finally run out of books?”

I snort, pushing my glasses further up my nose. “I’m never out of books.”

“Yet here you are.”

I don’t answer that, because I don’t want to explain. I figured out I was gay three years ago, and I only finally accepted it six months ago. What’s even worse is that I’ve liked Simon for that long. Three years of pining after the most popular boy in school. Have I mentioned that my life is absolute hell?

The game slowly wraps up. The teams shake hands, the crowd slowly disperses, and I’m still sitting on the bench, just watching him. Of course he has to high five every single teammate before they go, and then he meets up with his friend. Despite Simon Salisbury being more popular than a lollipop in a daycare centre, his best friend is not another muscle bound jock. In fact, Penelope Bunce is actually my only legitimate academic rival. She has frizzy purple hair and glasses like a sassy librarian. Simon hugs her so hard she’s lifted off the ground. They laugh and smile together, and I’m so fucking jealous.

“Baz? You ready to go?”

I’m snapped out my daze by Niall. He looks at me with crossed arms and a raised brow.

“Yeah,” I reply, zipping up my coat, “let’s go.”

We walk down the bleachers. I can’t help but sneak one last look at Simon, with his arm around Bunce and a big dumb smile on his face. Fuck my life, I’m so screwed.

———————————————-

Watford High is like any other high school. Loud, smelly, and somewhere I desperately wish to escape everyday. I only like the academic aspect, and even that is occasionally lacking. I walk through it briskly, dodging other students on my way to my locker. I’m getting my algebra textbook when he decides to walk by.

“Hey, Baz!” Simon says with a grin as he walks by with Bunce. Why does he always do this? Taunt me with his perfectly messy hair and sunshine smile and big blue eyes? Of course he’s also wearing his letterman jacket that perfectly fits his broad shoulders.

“Hello, Salisbury,” I reply, keeping my voice very neutral, thank God.

“See you in English, yeah?”

“Yes, see you.”

He keeps walking. I (hopefully) subtly watch him keep doing. He’s saying something close to Bunce’s ear. It must be something stupid, because she immediately smacks him over the head. He pouts at her adorably. I rip my gaze away before I start blushing.

I’m pathetic. Here I am, mooning over a guy who I could never have. He’s popular, and a football jock, and straight. He was dating the bloody head cheerleader until the end of last year. He’d never be interested in me.

I walk as fast as I can to English and sit next to Niall as usual. Salisbury is sitting a few desks back with Bunce to his left. They’re murmuring over something. I do wonder what they’re talking about, but I focus on the front of the class. I won’t let my stupid crush affect my studies.

Soon enough, Ms. Possibelf starts her lecture. We’re studying Hamlet, something I’m already extensively familiar with thanks to my English Professor mother. I first read Hamlet when I was 12. I could do this in my sleep.

“And here we can interpret romantic undertones of Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship,” Ms. Possibelf says, pointing the quote on the slide.

“Ms?” One girls says, raising her hand and speaking before she’s actually called on. “I think it’s kind of silly to say Hamlet and Horatio were together. They were obviously just friends because gay people weren’t around back then.”

I raise my hand immediately. Ms. Possibelf gives me a look that’s both “yes, yes I know” and “don’t kill her, Basilton.” She does pick me though. “Yes, Baz?”

“Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship can be interpreted many ways, and romantic is certainly one of them. Considering that many scholars have theorised as such it’s a viable conclusion and something that should be presented to the class. Also, Shakespeare was very likely bisexual himself as he wrote sonnets that many believe were meant for male lovers. Which makes a romantic attraction even more possible. And finally, just because homosexuality was frowned upon in the era does not mean gay people were non-existent. To think so shows an ignorance of history.”

The girl gapes at me for a second, but it quickly becomes a glare. Others murmur and roll their eyes. Niall sighs but with a mildly impressed smile. I keep my back straight and head high. I’m at the top of the class, and I’m not afraid to show why. Mind you, that’s probably why my only friends are my cousin and the other boy I grew up with.

“Thank you, Baz,” Ms. Possibelf sighs, “you make excellent points. Now, let’s move on to the role of Horatio as the bard.”

She continues with the lecture. I ignore the constant death glare I’m getting from my history ignorant homophobe classmate. But I feel other eyes on me as well. A few desks back, from my left. Cautiously, I look slightly in that direction. Salisbury immediately looks up towards the ceiling, but he wasn’t fast enough. I know he was looking at me. Probably just to gape at the weirdo nerd like everyone else. My heart aches. Fuck, I despise my emotions being dependant on someone else, on Salisbury. I turn back to the board. If I can’t stop my own stupid feelings, I can at least ignore them.

———————————————-

I don’t see Salisbury for the rest of the day. English is the only class we share and he has football practice almost every lunch. It gives me fewer opportunities to look at him. I’m not sure that if that’s a negative or a positive, unfortunately. Before I know it, the day is over, and I’m free of this prison. I head towards my locker as fast as possible

“Hey man,” Dev says as he catches up with me, “still coming to my house, yeah?”

“Of course, it’s Friday. Got the good vodka?” I smirk at him. He rolls his eyes and nudges my shoulder.

“It’s never good and you know it, asshole.”

I open my locker, absentmindedly placing my textbooks inside. “Well, there better be salt and vinegars chips, or I’m-”

“Hey what’s this?” Dev picks up a piece of poorly folded lined paper, the only messy thing in my otherwise pristine locker. My name is written on the front in chicken scratch handwriting. He hands the strange thing to me. “Think this is for you, cuz.”

I pluck it from his hands, then unfold it with careful fingers. But I almost immediately drop the paper. The words on it warrant such a response.

Hey Baz I think your really cute :) - Snow

“Oh shit, man,” Dev chuckles, “you’ve got a secret admirer!”

Fuck. My. Life.

———————————————-

“I think you’re overreacting,” Niall sighs before taking another swig of the near empty vodka bottle. We’re going to need a new one next week.

“I am not,” I snap, “and stop hogging that thing, you vodka hogger.” He rolls his eyes and reluctantly passes the bottle. I take a good drink, head draped back over Dev’s spinning desk chair.

“It’s just a little note. Someone thinks you’re cute. That’s a good thing!”

“No it isn’t! It’s obviously some sort of prank, some idiot who think it’s funny to tease the class weirdo.”

Dev groans through a mouthful of chips. “If I hadn’t grown up with you, I’d wondered when you became so self deprecating. But I’m pretty sure you were born like this.”

I throw the bottle cap at his head. “Shut up, dickhead.”

He, in turn, throws a bag of Doritos at me. Jokes on him though, I’m hungry. I eat an unnecessarily large handful of his chips with unflinching eye contact. He glares at me from his bed.

“Look,” Dev sighs, “you’re overreacting, man. It’s probably just some freshman who’s too nervous to talk to you.”

“Like I want to talk to some freshman,” I grumble.

“Then just ignore it! Whoever it is will leave you alone. It’s just one note.”

My lips twist. I don’t like the idea of that. First of all, leaving it alone could give this Snow the wrong idea. What if she thinks I’m interested at all? That I think anything about this is cute? (Okay, it’s a bit cute. Even though Snow misspelled “you’re”) Secondly, I like to have the last word. Leaving it unanswered is like accepting defeat. And I never, ever accept defeat.

I turn in the desk chair to face Dev’s disgusting little Ikea desk. (Seriously, it’s white laminate and covered in food and pencil lead stains.) I take a piece of printer paper and a pencil. Time to start writing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Niall slurs from behind me.

“Crafting a response,” I reply.

“To a secret admirer note?!”

“Yes.”

From my peripheral, I can see Niall looking at me like a mad man. I ignore him. He flings his hands in surrender, walking towards Dev.

“Nope,” he says loudly. “I’m too drunk for this. Dev, you deal with him.”

“Why do I have to deal with him? I’m just as drunk as you are,” Dev groans. I ignore him as well and keep thinkin of what to write.

“He’s your cousin.”

“So just because we share blood, he’s my problem?”

“Yes.”

I growl and whip around in my chair. They’re sprawled on Dev’s bed with the vodka bottle between them. “Can you two stop talking like I’m not here?!”

Dev and Niall look at each, then back to me. They each take a long swig of the vodka and flop back down. They’re still speaking but quiet enough so I can’t hear. So I take that as, “no we won’t, but we’ll at least won’t be loud enough so you can hear.” I snort. They’re assholes, but they’re at least slightly considerate.

I go back to my letter. I’m not sure how long it should be. Long enough to convey my message I suppose. But what to say? Fuck it. I just start writing.

Dear Snow, Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not interested in a relationship. (Well, with anyone but a certain football player, unfortunately, but I can’t write that.) I hope you find someone who can return your affections. Have a nice day. - Baz

There, perfect. Concise, simple, and exactly what I need to say. I’ll have the final word. And whoever this person is will back off. My life is already a living hell, what with Salisbury and school and everything else, so I don’t need more stress. I fold it carefully and write “Snow” on the front.

“Done,” I say. “I’ll leave it in my locker grill tomorrow and hopefully Snow will find it and this will be finished.”

“I don’t understand you,” Dev grumbles.

“Just hand me the salt and vinegar chips, ass.”

I flop down on the bed with them, and we start discussing which teachers we want to stuff down a toilet. And I try not to think about the boy I’m crushing on or the girl who seems to be crushing on me. My life is getting really unnecessarily complicated.

———————————————-

I leave Snow’s note just slightly sticking out of my locker grate. Far enough out for the “Snow” part to be visible, but not too visible tath any old passerby will notice. I can only hope that the real Snow picks it up instead of some random asshole. I’m probably overestimating the inherent goodness of Watford students. I stare at the paper for a long moment, wondering if this is actually the right thing to do. But I know I haven’t gotten this far by questioning my intelligent decisions.

I walk away from the locker physically, but my mind is still slightly stuck there for the rest of the morning. Between every class, I let myself sort of wonder what’s going to happen. Will Snow be angry? Sad? Yell at me for breaking her heart? I don’t care. Well, I care a little. I’m not a monster. I’d feel bad for her. I know far too well what it’s like to want someone who doesn’t want you back.

Even in English, while I’m subtly looking at Salisbury, I wonder if someone is doing the exact same to me. I miss parts of the lecture because of it. This is not good. I hate being unfocused by something I can’t control.

And I’m certainly not walking past my locker on purpose, even though it’s nowhere near the cafeteria. There’s going to be no change there. No change at-

Except that the note is gone. And there’s a new one written on pink paper sticking out of the grate.

I don’t rush towards it of course, I have dignity. Slowly, and perfectly casually I take out the note. Part of it has been scribbled out hastily, and something else has been written in its place.

I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I just think you’re really cool and cute. I won’t leave anymore notes. I’m sorry I hurt you :( - Snow

Fuck. She thinks I’m cool? Me?! And who uses emojis in a written message? It’s sickeningly adorable. Whoever this Snow is, I sort of wish I could meet her. And maybe that she was a he. At least he would be more a possibility than Simon ever could be.

“What’cha got there, Baz?”

I jolt hard enough that I nearly bang my head against my steel locker. I stuff the note in my pocket.

“Nothing, Dev,” I reply. “What are you doing here? This is nowhere near the cafeteria.”

“Lost a pencil somewhere here.”

“Yeah, right. Come to see if my secret admirer left another note?”

He shrugs up to his ears. “Maybe. Wondering if you're stupid idea worked, too.”

“It's not stupid.”

“It's a little stupid.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Shut up.”

We walk together towards the cafeteria. I distract Dev by talking about our least favourite relative, so by the time we're there he's not even thinking about Snow or the note. He and Niall eat shitty grilled cheese together while I stew. Which is good, I don’t need their unhelpful input right now.

I look over Snow’s note again and again. It’s so...gracious. No anger or even self pity. She only cares how that she made me feel bad. So, Snow is a very nice person. That’s even more infuriating. And it feels wrong to just leave her hanging, letting her think she’s done some sort of irreparable harm to me. It was just a sweet note. It’s not her fault I’m gay and hopelessly in love with someone else.

I rip out a sheet from my notebook. The message comes easily enough.

Snow, Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me. I’m perfectly fine, and I did like your note. I simply have my own problems that are not your fault. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. The truth is that I’m..

I pause, pencil frozen over the paper. I’ve never announced anyone about my sexuality. Not even Dev and Niall. This feels weird. But...Snow should understand why it’s not her fault. She’s only been nice to me so far. I don’t want her to feel like it’s on her.

The truth is that I’m gay. So there was no chance to start with. I hope you can find someone that at least can be interested. - Baz

I fold it again. There, simple. I’ve just written down my second biggest secret for a stranger to read. A nice, gracious stranger, who seems to care about my feelings before her own. Who’s entire view of me hopefully won’t change with the knowledge I like men because she doesn’t really know me. And even if it does change, who cares? She’s not my friend, or my cousin, or my mother.

Yes, this is smart. Very smart...

———————————————-

Now that I know Snow responds to my notes, waiting is even worse. The afternoon goes by in a relative haze. I heard the lessons, but I don’t really absorb them. Everything post lunch seem irrelevant in comparison to the note. It’s not until the end of last period that something breaks me out of the fog. Or rather, someone.

“Hey, Pitch.”

I look up to Penelope Bunce. I’m a bit surprised. This is the first time she’s spoken to me in something that’s not during an intellectual argument in class. Though her tone is still calmly aggressive.

“Hello, Bunce,” I reply.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m...fine, how are you?”

“Fine.” Then she just glares at me. Well, half studying, half glaring. She’s looking at me up and down like I’m a specimen. What on Earth is her problem?

“Penny!” Salisbury rushes towards us, taking Bunce by the shoulders. He’s smiling brightly and apologetically. Wait, why is he here? This isn’t his class. I guess he’s here to escort Bunce. Or the universe is torturing me. Either is possible.

“Hey, Pen, we should go,” he says. He looks at me with his big smile and my heart melts into my shoes. “Hi, Baz! How’s it hanging?”

“I’m well, Salisbury,” I say, digging my nails into my palms under the desk to keep calm. “Bunce and I were apparently having a conversation.”

“Yeah, conversation.” The way Bunce says conversation makes me nervous. Her tone is colder than the Antarctic. What is her problem?!

“Oh awesome,” he chuckles awkwardly (it’s really cute), “but we have to go. Homework and stuff, right Penny?”

Bunce glares up at him. He raises his eyebrows and jerks his head towards the door. Either he really does need to go or he really wants to get away from me. Probably both.

“Fine,” she mutters, “let’s go. Bye, Basilton.”

“Bye Baz!” Simon says, running after her. I give one quick wave. What the fuck just happened? I’d say that was the weirdest that’s happened to me this week, but bizzare love note correspondence is still slightly above bizzarely tense conversation with your crush’s best friend.

I shrug it off, taking my books and going to my locker just like normal. But to my great surprise and reluctant delight, there’s a piece of pink paper sticking out of my locker. Slowly, carefully, I unfold it.

So you are gay? That’s cool, it’s really not a problem. Actually it’s great! I’m a guy. So if that’s the problem and you still want me to leave notes, I still think you’re cute <3 - Snow

Oh...this complicates things. But...

Fuck it.

Before I can overthink too much, I take out one of my post-it notes and scrawl my message across it. I don’t need full sheet of paper for this.

I wouldn’t mind more notes, I suppose. - Baz

I stick it in the grill and walk away, not even putting away my books. Fuck fuck fuck, what the hell am I doing? And why is my heart beating so fast?

———————————————-

It’s official: I have the weirdest pen pal in the world.

For the past week, Snow and I have followed the exact same pattern we created on that first day. I write something and leave it in my locker grate. He replies by the beginning of lunch, and I reply by the end. Then I pick up his final note at the end of last period. It’s a strange, silently agreed upon system. And it’s quickly become the highlight of my day.

I’m ignoring my sandwich in favour of reading the latest one.

Mr. Halvik really does sound like a nightmare! Who has you wander around with spot plates filled hydrochloric acid?! You could call him a PERIODIC failure :D (I don’t know science, forgive me.) I’ll punch his stupid face for you if you want. Omg I’m so glad I’ve got Ms. Reynolds. She gives us broken cookies at the end of class cause her husband is a baker who brings home the bad batches. I’m definitely not complaining. And hey, just wondering, what’s your fave food? Feels like something I should know :) - Snow

“Dev, he’s still smiling, I’m frightened,” Niall says with annoyingly exaggerated fear.

“Be not afraid child,” Dev replies. I flip them both off.

Niall tries to peer over at the paper, but I pull it away. “Are we not allowed to see your secret love notes?”

“Nope,” I say flatly. “Hence the ‘secret’ prefix. And they’re not love notes.”

“Yet you are smiling. You only do that when you’re reading something you love. So...”

“So, shut up.” I glare at him over my glasses. He doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t speak either. Good man. He knows when to leave something alone.

I flip open my notebook, and begin to pen my response.

Thank you for the sympathy, Snow, but I don’t think physical violence will be necessary. I’m waiting for the day someone burns their skin off with the acid. Then maybe Halvik will listen to my concerns. Broken cookies sound far, far better than potential chemical burns. If I had room in my schedule I’d certainly transfer to that class. To answer your question, truth be told, I have a massive sweet tooth. I love overly sugary coffee and mint aero bars. I wish I had one to go with my sandwich. And I’m wondering the same thing, what is your favourite food? - Baz

I sigh, reading it over for good measure. Each of our messages have gotten progressively longer. Mostly stupid jokes and complaining about teachers. This is the first time he’s asked something about my interests. I smile a bit more.

He hasn’t said anything about who he is, so I assume he doesn’t want to be known. Therefore, I’ve quashed my usually inquisitive spirit and haven’t asked. I don’t want to scare him away. Weird...I think I actually like him. But, what about Simon?

“Hey! Back off, dude!”

We all turn our heads towards the shouting. From where the three of us are sitting, we can see a man in a profile staring down the resident asshole who’s name I don’t bother to remember. Someone with bronze curls, a determined expression, and donning a letterman jacket. Number 61. Speak of the Devil, I suppose.

“Chill, Salisbury, we were just having fun,” asshole replies.

“Fun isn’t pushing some freshman around. Leave him alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or, I’ll do to you what you’re doing to him.”

There’s a long pause. The cafeteria is completely silent, everyone watching with bated breath. I grip my pencil incredibly hard. I know Simon can take care of himself, of course. (He’s the goddamn quarterback. He could flatten most people.) But my chest still aches, because I don’t want to see him get hurt or in trouble. I wish I could help him. Or at least have someone to hold my hand while I fret. Someone like Snow.

“Pfft,” the other guys scoffs, “whatever. You’re such a spoilsport, Salisbury.”

The idiot walks away with hands in his pockets. Simon glares at him as he walks away, then kneels down to help the freshman to his feet.

“Hey, you okay?” he says in his soft, perfect voice.

The boy nods. Simon flashes that sunshine grin, and my heart skips at least two beats. He’s such a hero. Always putting himself on the line for others. If we lived in a fantasy book, he’d be the protagonist, the mighty golden saviour. (I’d probably be the weird loner, or the dashing villain. I have the face for it.)

The freshman says his thanks and scurries off. Simon visibly sighs and puts his hands in his jacket. I can’t help but stare. He looks happy, relaxed, and- Oh shit he’s looking at me. His big blue eyes are staring right back at me, blinking in probable confusion. I immediately look back at my note for Snow, praying the heat in my cheek isn’t the blush I bet it is.

Maybe that’s why I like Snow. I can just read his words and edit my own towards him. No chance for awkward moments when all you have is paper. It’s easier, I suppose. Because I don’t even look back at Simon, but I keep looking at the paper. I really am a coward deep down.

———————————————-

I pick up Snow’s note at the end of the day, but I don’t read it until I’m alone on the bus. (Dev and Niall get off before me. And our usual Friday night get together has been cancelled on account of Dev’s procrastinated history essay.) It’s not that long. His final notes tend to be on the shorter side, leaving a new conversation for us to start tomorrow.

Oh man I love mint aero bars too. They’re fucking amazing. I hide them under my pillow because my mum thinks I eat too much candy too lol. But my favourite food is easy, sour cherry scones! Especially with lots of butter. My mum makes them. They’re my fave thing in the entire world. We eat them for dessert every Friday. Sorry if it’s too intrusive, but I’ve got another question, what’s your fave movie? I just wanna know all I can about you :D - Snow

Christ, as if my heart needs more strain after Salisbury’s near brawl today. It feels both scary and wonderful to have someone this interested in me. Even if it’s someone I’ve never met in person. And he’s offering information about his homelife, opening himself up. How is he so confident like that? I’ve never opened up to anyone, other than my family or Dev and Niall. But...if Snow can do it, so can I.

I start writing immediately.

I’ve never had a sour cherry scone, nor have I heard of them before, but they sound delicious. I’ll have to try one some time. I’m glad we can agree on mint aero bars. My friends think they’re disgusting but they’re obviously idiots. The questions are not intrusive by the way. I actually like them. On my favourite movie, I’m sorry to say it’s quite boring by normal standards. It’s not technically even a movie, but an hour long TV broadcast. It’s the BBC’s 1986 production of “Oedipus the King”. My mother is a professor of both English and Greek literature. She had me watch it far, far too young, so I used to be scared of it. But now I love it. We rewatch it constantly. I know, very boring. What’s your’s? - Baz

I fold it up, tucking the paper inside my bag, where it will remain until Monday. A hurricane of butterflies occupy my stomach. And it will remain there until Monday as well.

When the start of the school week actually rolls around, my brain is buzzing for all of class. I barely catch anything the teachers say. I only remember to look at Salisbury a couple of times in English. He’s furiously writing and rewriting something in his notes, mouth adorably twisted in determination. When he looks up at me, he smiles warmly, and I hastily go back to looking at my own notes. I know he’s just being polite, but still, I’m already occupied with thoughts of Snow. I don’t need more distraction.

As I’m walking to lunch, I see a large piece of paper sticking out of my locker. It takes all my self control not to run towards it. Cautiously, I open it. And as I read the first few sentences, I chuckle in disbelief and a fair amount of happiness.

That doesn’t sound boring at all! That sounds lit. I mean, I’ve never seen Oedipus, but kings are always great and I love Percy Jackson. If other people call you boring they’re fucking stupid. I’m def gonna watch it soon :D My favourite movie? Man, get ready for a long ass note.

He proceeds to write a mostly page long rant/analysis of “The Incredibles”, including lots of the emojis and some more personal information. And I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

Fuck, I think I have another crush.

———————————————-

How have you never read Harry Potter?! Holy shit you have had a deprived childhood! My mom first read me Harry Potter when I was 11. Tbh, it was her way of trying to make up for the fact that my dad wasn’t around. Not like she needed to. It wasn’t her fault the asshole left. But it doesn’t matter, Harry Potter is fucking awesome. I have every book. You should really get them. Btw, Oedipus is really cool but really fucking dark. Like damn, he married his own mother? He loses both his eyes!? Jeez the greeks were twisted motherfuckers. Still cool to watch though. Thanks for telling me about it :D Question: If you could go to space, where would you go? - Snow

Growing list of things I know about Snow: 1. He’s in Ms. Reynold’s science class. 2. His prefered joke is stupid pun. 2. He loves sour cherry scones because his mom makes them. 3. His favourite movie is The Incredibles because it’s “fucking brilliant”, and it was the first thing that made his mom smile after his dad left. 4. His father left when he was 11 to travel abroad and has never come back. Apparently he only sends birthday cards. Usually on the wrong date. 5. He’s plagued with almost as much insecurity as me, both from his father’s absence and general teenage anxiety over being good enough. 7. His favourite singer is Troye Sivan. 8. And now, he loves Harry Potter.

So eight things. Considering we only started exchanging weird letters two and half weeks ago, that’s pretty good. It’s more than I know about Simon, since all I know is that he plays football, he’s unbelievably attractive, and he stands up to bullies. Nothing about his favourite food or absentee father. Somehow, Snow feels more real even when I’ve never seen him in person.

I start my own response, hunched over my desk.

I’m sorry for my lack of young adult fantasy knowledge. I suppose since you’ve watched Oedipus, I’ll give Harry Potter a chance. I just read mostly philosophy and textbooks. Reading narratives has never been my thing. But I’ll try. I’m glad you liked Oedipus though. It is quite dark, but I think my mother is correct in that it’s one of the most important stories in western literature. She-

“Basil? It’s almost time for dinner, little puff.”

My head snaps up at my mother’s voice. Like always, she knocks twice before opening the door anyway. I stand up and hide the paper behind my back. She sticks her head through the door. Her curly black hair is piled on her head. The smile on her face is slight but still warm.

“Mother,” I sigh, “you’re supposed to ask to come in.”

“Sorry, sorry, I keep forgetting,” she says, still smiling. “Dinner is in a few minutes so finish whatever you’re hiding behind your back.”

I inhale sharply. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gives me an unimpressed look with her own grey eyes, another way in which we’re far too similar. “Basil, you’re not as subtle as you think you are. Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s truly worthy of that impressive blush you’ve been spotting for two weeks. Including right now.” I press a hand to my overheated cheek. Godammit. She grins smugly. “Dinner is soon. Please wrap it up.”

She closes the door with slam just hard enough to make me jump. Shit, well, I guess I’m not that sneaky. I huff and go back to my desk.

She’s very knowledgeable in those fields. Though she’s not as knowledgeable about me, I suppose. I’ve already told you I haven’t come out to her, but now I’m wondering if I should change that. We have a wonderful relationship and I just don’t want her to think of me differently. I don’t know what your sexuality and parental situation is like, but do you have any advice? I suppose that’s my question of this letter. Sorry if it’s asking too much. Also, I’d go to Mars, to study it and live there. I'd enjoy the quiet. - Baz

I fold up the letter before I can overthink it too much, as usual. Maybe it’s asking too much of Snow. Maybe he hasn’t come out either. But I suppose it’s worth asking. He’s the only one who knows about me and who could give advice. I don’t like needing it though.

“Baz! Dinner, now!”

I sigh, jumping up from my seat. “Coming, mother!”

———————————————-

“Homecoming? Blech.” Niall sticks his tongue out as we walk past the banner a student is hanging in the main hallway.

“Not into school spirit, Niall?” I ask with a smirk.

“Not in this case. Homecoming is just fake prom in September. And it’s not even celebrating the football game because the game has to be held later. Why is it being held later anyway?”

“Field cleaning issues,” Dev chimes in.

“That’s dumb.” He and Dev stop by their computer club room. They want to see if it’s actually worth their time, while I don’t care. “See ya after school, Baz. Your turn to buy the vodka!”

I nod once firmly. “See you.”

Then we’re split up, and I’m perfectly ble to speed walk to my locker. I’m still scared over what Snow is going to say. Maybe he won’t say anything at all. Maybe I’ve scared him off with my deep seated fears and insecurities. He just thought I was cute. He never asked for my bullshit.

I stop in front of my locker, and let out a long sigh of relief when I see a corner of paper sticking out of the grate. Good. Haven’t scared him off just yet. I grab the note and stick it in my binder. I’m alone this lunch, so I’ll be able to read it in peace at the library. I’m glad to not have Dev and Niall pestering me.

I turn the corner quickly, and immediately smack into something hard.

“Shit!” I shout, falling right on my ass.

“Ouch,” the other person grumbles. Crap, I know that voice, and I know that mess of bronze curls.

Simon looks up at me with those big blue doe eyes and my breath hitches. He gives me a big smile and I nearly asphyxiate. “Oh, hi Baz.”

“Hello, Salisbury,” I reply. “Practicing your football tackles in the hallway now?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, just not looking where I was going. Really sorry about that. Here let me help.”

He starts gathering up my books. When he reaches for my binder with Snow’s note, I make sure to snatch it quickly. It’s probably best for one of my crushes to not read my secret note to my other. Christ, what is my life?

We stand up at the same time. Salisbury hands me my books, which I kindly take. He just looks at me for moment, eyes roaming up and down. I can’t tell whether he’s actually looking at me kindly or I just want him to.

“So,” he says, “where are you off to, Baz?”

“Library,” I reply cooly.

“Oh cool! I’m headed that way too!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Were you not just heading the other way? Hence walking into me?”

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his feet. Almost as if he’s nervous. But Simon, perfect popular kid, can’t be nervous, especially around me. “Yeah, but I’m turned around. I’m told I have a terrible sense of direction.”

I tilt my head to the side, silently wishing to every God that Simon Salisbury wasn’t so damn adorable. “Alright, understandable.”

He looks back at up at me with his goofy grin. I start walking, and he follows. It’s better to walk side by side. That way I won’t be tempted to keep staring at his face.

“So how are you doing in English?” He asks with genuine interest.

“Fine,” I reply. “And you?”

“Eh, not great. I’m not that good at English. Or any subject, really.”

“Your infographic on chosen one heroes of fantasy last week was quite brilliant.” Shit, why did I say that? I’m so obvious. It was a good project though.

He chuckles, shrugging up to his ears. “Thanks. Penny helped a lot with it though. I’d flunk out of all my classes if it wasn’t for her. Then I wouldn’t be able to play football and that would be awful.”

I snort slightly. “Truly a fate worse than death, I see.”

“Yeah!” He replies without a hint of irony. “I love football. The game is fun and stuff but I also like the outlet y’know? Bashing and hitting stuff.”

“That’s how you feel better? Smashing into things?”

He shrugs again. “Yeah. I mean, people who tell you that slamming and bashing into things won't make you feel better haven't slammed or bashed enough.”

I snort again, and it turns into a laugh. He laughs as well. It sounds like happiness. “I’ll take your word on that. I’ve never played football.”

“Yeah, I guess you haven’t,” he chuckles. “Speaking of which, are you coming to the homecoming game?”

Shit. I freeze up, muscles in my shoulders tightening. A few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes without hesitation, because I could stare at Simon more. But now I have Snow in my head as well. It feels like going to that game would be, betraying Snow almost. Or at least forgetting him favour of someone else.

“I’m not sure,” I reply genuinely. “Possibly.”

“Oh...” Surprisingly, Simon sounds disappointed. Why? Why is my presence important?

“It’s just that I may have school work to do. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Not going to the dance either?”

I would, if someone in particular asked me. “Probably not,” I say truthfully.

“Oh, cool. I might go, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have to go? Being the quarterback and all.”

He shrugs again , Christ, he does that a lot. “Technically yes. But I don’t know if I’ll want to. Not sure I want to Penny and her boyfriend’s third wheel. Have to go to the game though, obviously.”

“Of course. They’d lose without you.” Oh fuck, oh fuck, I said that before thinking. Shit, I hope the slight blush I can feel isn’t too obvious. I keep my head down in a futile attempt to hide it.

“Thanks,” he says. “Uh, here’s the library.”

I look up. He’s right. There’s the library sign. “Oh, so it is. Suppose I should go...study.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shuffles his feet again, and it’s still painfully cute. He runs a hand through his hair too. I can’t help but think about how much I want to do that myself.

“Well, goodbye, Salisbury.” I turn on my heels and start walking briskly. The sooner I’m away from Simon, the sooner my heart slows down and I can think properly.

“Hey, Baz,” he calls out. I look back at him without thinking. He’s chewing on his lip. And when he speaks, it’s stalling with a slight stutter. “Um, y’know I...I’m, um. I...” He sighs, shoving his head in his letterman jacket. “I just, it’s been nice talking to you. I-I hope you do come to the game. It’ll be fun.” He looks down. “Uh, I’ve gotta go. Have fun studying, bye Baz.”

He speed walks off, leaving me standing there very confused. That was one of the strangest conversations of my life. Was Simon actually nervous? No, he’s always so confident. Must be a fluke, a bad day. And...he hopes I come to the game? Why? I’ve been to most of his games. Does he think I’m some good luck charm? Or...does he really want me there?

I go into the library. It’s mostly empty. I take a seat on one of the couches, knees pulled up to my chest. I take out Snow’s note, slowly unfolding it.

Don’t beat yourself up too much, Baz. Coming out is hard. It took me ages to tell my mum and she’s probably the most accepting woman on the planet. It’s about putting yourself out there, and that’s always scary. Why do you think I’m leaving you notes with an anonymous name instead of just saying hi? It’s terrifying to put yourself on the line. But I think you can do it. Maybe you don’t come out to your mum first though. Maybe start small. Tell your friends? That might be easier. I don’t know, it’s up to you. But just know that I believe in you. I know your braver than me. You can do it. You’re brave. - Snow

I fold it up again carefully, taking a deep breath. Could I do it? Be brave? Maybe, if Snow believes in me. One person. Is that all it takes? It feels like it. As if this strange day could get any stranger. I start writing my response.

I’ll think about that. It may be easier. Hell I think I could do it today. But just for the record, I think you’re brave. You’ve opened up to me in these letters and that takes guts. Just because I don’t know your name doesn’t mean I don’t know you. Sure, you could be playing me, but this seems like a very long con for a high school student. You’ve already put yourself on the line a lot. I hope you personally feel more brave soon. Because I already think you are. - Baz

I tuck the note away in my binder, then lean back in my seat with my eyes closed. Today is too much to process. First Salisbury and his oddness, now Snow and his kind words. How can I be so happy and so conflicted all at the same time?

———————————————-

“C’mon hurry up, Baz!” Niall shouts. “I wanna get buzzed!” A teacher glares at him, and Niall smiles apologetically.

“I’m coming,” I yell back. “Hold your horses, Jesus.” I pluck out Snow’s final note of the week. It’s the shortest one he’s left me since the first one. And it only says a few words.

Good luck :) <3 Snow

And I smile.

———————————————-

“Fuck Ronaldo, marry Messi, kill Rooney,” Dev says, counting off the soccer players on his fingers.

“What?!” Niall snaps. “Why kill Rooney?! He’s an amazing player!”

“He’s also an asshole.”

“No he isn’t!”

“Yes, he is,” I interject, trying to push my glasses up before they inevitably slide again. We’re all laying down with our heads hanging slightly off the edge of my bed. The vodka bottle is partially empty and abandoned on the floor. “He insults everyone on the field and got arrested for drunk driving.”

“Lots of people have done both,” Niall grumbles.

“Yes, and lots of people are jerks. Keep up, Niall.”

My friend grumbles and stuffs more Doritos in his mouth. Dev snorts, earning orange chips getting thrown at his face. I pick at my nails. I keep repeating Snow’s words in my head. You can do it, you can do it, you’re brave.

“Hey, guys,” I say shakily, sitting up so they can only see my back. I need to hide my face right now. “I, uh, have to tell you something.”

“Is it that you stole my teddy when we were five and blamed it on Niall? Cause I already know.” I flick Dev’s foot and he snickers.

“Shut up.” I do a deep inhale and exhale, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to will my hands to stop shaking.

“I’m gay.”

Everything is silent. I’m holding my breath, and Dev and Niall haven’t said anything. They haven’t run off or yelled at me, so I suppose that’s good. I’m really not sure how this is supposed to go.

“Okay,” Niall says slowly, “cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” Dev unhelpfully adds.

I whip around to face them. They look completely neutral. Anxiety bubbles in my stomach. “That’s it? ‘Cool’? Do you have anything else to say?”

Dev furrows his brow. “What else should we say?”

“I don’t know! Are you mad? Hurt? Disgusted?”

Niall sits up, and his look of concern twists at my heart. “Do you...want us to be or something?”

I sigh, hanging my head and rubbing my eyes behind my glasses. “No, I suppose not. I guess it’s just what I expected. Happens when you’ve been stewing in internalised homophobia for three years.”

“You’ve been sitting on this for three years?” Dev says, also genuinely concerned. “Shit man, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just fucked up.”

“Hey, don’t worry, we’re all fucked up in our own ways. We can just be fucked up together.”

I look at both of them. They’re smiling, filled with equal mischief and kindness. Behind all the teasing and prodding, they truly are good friends. I’m glad to have them.

“I suppose being fucked up together is more fun than fucked up alone,” I say smoothly

Dev slaps my back hard enough to make me cough. “Exactly!”

Niall reaches down off my head and brings up the vodka bottle. He holds it up high. “To being fucked up!” He takes a swig and passes it to Dev.

“To Baz being gay!” He says before his swig.

I roll my eyes and snatch the bottle. “To friends.”

The two of them chuckle as I drink. We fall back down on the bed, staring up at my ceiling. I truly feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. They know, and they’re okay. I’m okay. The whole world has not imploded because I’m queer. What a novel concept.

“Hang on,” Nial says, “that person you’ve been exchanging weird letters with, is that a guy? Do you like him?!”

Okay, now my world is imploding.

I groan and cover my face. Niall laughs loudly. “You do like him!” he shouts.

“Maybe,” I grumble. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he looks like!”

“Well, do you want to know?”

I shift uncomfortably, arms crossed over my chest. “Maybe. I like writing to him. What if meeting face to face ruins everything?”

Niall shrugs. “You’ll never know if you don’t see him. Is he worth the risk?”

I sigh and close my eyes. I know the answer, but I hate that it’s so obvious. “Yes, I think he is.”

“Then you should see him. I support you! Go gays!”

“Please don’t say that ever again.”

“How about ‘pro homo’?” Dev chimes in with a shit eating grin.

“Nope, that’s even worse.”

“How about-” I slap a hand over Niall’s mouth.

“I’m just going to stop you right now.”

Both of them start snickering. I roll my eyes and get up to go to my desk, leaving the two laughing straight boys to their potato chips. There’s something I need to write down.

Well, I just told my friends, and it went well. They’re okay with it and are already teasing me mercilessly like usual. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without you. You make me feel brave, Snow. You’re quite amazing. Thank you, very much. I do hope to meet you someday. Sincerely, Baz

I refuse to use a heart, and ‘love’ feels like too much right now. But I am very sincere. I fold up the note and stuff it in my school bag for Monday. Dev and Niall haven’t moved an inch, still stuffing their faces with junk food.

“How are you both still hungry after dinner?” I ask.

“I’m a bottomless pit,” Niall says through a mouthful of cheese puffs. “And y’know, come to think of it, it actually makes sense that you’re gay.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Oh really? Do I look gay or something?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You’ve just never looked twice at a girl. I always thought you were just snobbish and picky.”

“Well, I am. Just not about women. Mostly about books.”

“Duh. I already know that.”

“Maybe you’re book-sexual,” Dev interjects with a giggle.

“I don’t want to screw books.”

“Now that would be a nasty papercut!”

We all burst out laughing. And it feels like that no matter what happens with my mother or Snow or Salisbury, I’ll be alright.

———————————————-

Leaving this note in my locker is very nerve wracking. I’m so distracted all morning. Ms. Possibelf’s words go right over my head. It takes me ages to notice Salisbury staring at me. When I flick my eyes over to him, he immediately looks away. What’s up with him? Keeping an eye on his football good luck charm? I wish he’d leave me to stew in anxiety in peace.

Second period is even worse. I’m jittery as fuck, leg bouncing underneath my desk. Dev kicks me in an attempt to stop it, but that doesn’t help at all. And my mind is still swirling when the bell rings. I’m off down the hallway at a very, very brisk pace. As I’m walking, I vaguely notice Salisbury running very fast down the hall. Huh, must be late for football practice.

I stop in front of my locker and...there’s no note. What the fuck?

“Huh, mystery man hasn’t left a note?”

I jump slightly at Niall’s sudden appearance. “When the fuck did you get here?”

“I saw you and literally walked just behind you. You’re so oblivious right now, dude.”

“Shut up.” I glare at the locker, like this is all it’s fault. “Do you think I freaked him out or something?

“Well, if he did get scared off, then he’s a fucking idiot and doesn’t deserve you.”

I turn to face, a half smile pulling up my mouth. “You really think that?”

He rolls his eyes. “Duh, of course. You’re my best friend.”

“Hey! What about me?” Dev strolls up next to us, looking mock offended.

“I can have two best friends, can’t I?”

Dev shrugs and bumps their shoulders together. “I suppose so. Now, can we go eat? I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” I sigh, “I’m hungry too.”

We walk off down the hall together. I look at my empty locker once more, and a storm of worry swirling in my gut.

Lunch passes the time quite well, It’s easy to fall into easy conversation with Dev and Niall. We talk about teachers, homework, soccer players, as usual. They do a good job of making me forget about Snow. But out of the corner of my eye, I can’t help but notice Penelope Bunce glaring at me. Even when I turn to look at her she keeps staring. What’s her problem now? I know we’re both vying for top of our class but I’m not sure that deserves such an intense death glare. It’s not my fault I’m brilliant.

Afterwards, the three of us walk down the hall, deep in a heated discussion about Ronaldo’s next season.

“I swear,” I say, “he’s going to break his record this year.”

“Uh, Baz-” Dev says from just behind me.

“Don’t fight me on this, Dev, I know I’m right.”

“Baz-”

“He’s doing far too well for anything else to happen!”

”Baz!”

I spin on my heels to face him. “What?! I’m trying to make a point here, let me finish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I assumed you’d want to stop for that. ” He points to his left. I look, and I nearly drop my books.

Right on my locker, for everyone to see, someone has taped a single rose. And there’s an envelope sticking from the grate underneath.

I walk towards it slowly, like approaching a ferocious animal. I take the rose off first. It looks fresh, obviously bought just today. The petals are still as red as blood. Still slowly, I take the envelope. It hasn’t even been sealed. But I recognised the chicken scratch handwriting across the front that says “Baz.” With shaky fingers, I take out the paper. It’s folded in thirds. When I open the top, the words are short and direct.

I want you to meet me too, and I’ll do you one better than someday. Go to homecoming with me? :) Love, Snow

The last third of the paper falls open, and a homecoming ticket is taped to the bottom.

“Holy shit,” Dev whispers.

“Oh my god,” Niall oh so helpfully adds in.

“Looks like you’re going to homecoming, dude.”

I don’t reply, because my brain has completely short circuited.

———————————————-

Three days. It’s been three days since Snow left his invitation. Homecoming is tomorrow. And yet, I still haven’t responded.

I’m sitting on my bed, staring at Snow’s rose, turning it over in my hand. What the hell am I supposed to do? There’s no social protocol for how to respond to your anonymous secret admirer asking you to a school dance. And there’s certainly no instruction manual on how to deal with being conflicted over your anonymous sort of crush and your three year long one. I just wanted to meet him, not go on a date with him. At least, not yet. Niall and Dev think I should say yes, but they don’t know about Salisbury.

This is all so annoyingly complicated. I’ve liked Salisbury for years, ever since I first realised I liked boys period. But now here’s Snow. Someone I’ve never met, yet I know so much about him and he knows so much about me. I suppose I finally have to choose one. But is there even a choice? When one of them is impossible and the other is literally offering to take me out? It seems obvious. Yet...here I am.

“Basil? Are you still up here, sweetheart?” My mom says through the door.

“Yes, Mom,” I reply.

“You missed dinner.”

“Sorry. I’m still not feeling well.”

There’s a short pause. I can just barely hear her sigh. “May I come in?”

Shit. I put the rose under my sheets. “Y-Yeah, sure.”

She opens the door and walks in gracefully, as usual. Her hair is tied up, and there are food stains on her shirt from where my baby brother probably tossed food on her. She sits on the edge of my bed, hands folded in her lap.

“Feeling any better?”

I shift uncomfortably in place. I don’t like lying to her. “A bit. Just...worrying about things.”

She moves closer, putting a hand on on my blanket covered knee. “You know you can talk to about anything, right sweetie?”

I chew on my lip. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, if I may be so bold, does this ‘worrying’ have anything to do with those notes you’ve been writing?”

Oh fuck. I inhale sharply. When I look at her, she’s just smiling. It’s simple and kind but doesn’t stop my rapidly beating heart. “How did you know?”

“I accidentally found one.” She takes a crumpled piece of paper out of her sweatpants. “I was cleaning up, and it must’ve fell out of your bag. I only read the first sentence, I swear. Once I realised it was something for you I stopped.”

I take the paper. Yes, it’s one of Snow’s notes. But an innocuous one, thank God. It’s just him gushing about how much he loves Troye Sivan. Luckily, my mother is not up to date on pop culture and won’t know what someone liking Troye Sivan tends to mean.

“Oh...” is all I manage to get out.

“Have you been passing notes in class?” She says slyly. “I hope you haven’t been ignoring your teachers, Basil.”

I chuckle. My mother, always the academic. “No, not in class.” I look at my lap, fingers fidgeting. “It’s, actually been in my locker. We leave them there for each other. Sorta giving letters back and forth.”

“Ah, I see. Very...unusual.”

“Yeah, I know. It started as a secret admirer note and sort of weirdly spiralled from there.”

“Secret admirer?” She moves closer, grinning wide. “So someone likes you?”

Fuck. I can feel my stomach churning. My fingers fidget frantically. I keep looking down, because looking right at her would be too overwhelming. I know what I’m going to say, but it takes a few moments for me to find the courage. But I’m brave. At least, someone told me I am, and I want to believe him.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, “he does. And...I like him too.”

There’s a long silence. This feels a lot worse than Dev and Niall, and a lot scarier. I’m still as statue, just waiting for my own mother to either reject or accept me.

“Oh,” she replies, voice also low, “it’s a he?”

“M-hm.”

“And...you like ‘hes’?”

It’s strange to hear my usually eloquent and quick tongued mother speak so cautiously. “Yeah, I do.”

“I see. Do you...only like ‘hes’?”

I curl my lips in, and nod slowly. Christ, I feel I’m going to throw up. I’m even picking at my nails, something I haven’t done since I was eleven. But I’m so damn nervous I can’t help it. Suddenly, I see a pair of slender hands wrap around my own, stopping my assault on my skin. She holds them firmly, and it certainly feels reassuring.

“It’s okay,” she says. I can almost hear her smile. “Baz, it’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry, I’m not upset, I never would be. I love you, no matter what.” She tilts my chin up. Yeah, there’s her smile, and I’m very relieved. “You’re still my little puff, who loves playing the violin and debating Greek philosophy with me until you’re blue in the face.”

I chuckle and squeeze her hand. She squeezes back, then tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. She’s been doing that since I was small. I sigh in comfort and relief.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just, I didn’t know how. And I wasn’t sure-”

She immediately wraps her arms around me. I hug her back tightly. “Sh sh, it’s alright, Baz. It’s okay, little puff. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you. Of course I’m not mad. I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me now.”

I embarrassingly sniffle. I’m fucking crying, because I’m more pathetic than I realise. I don’t know why. Relief? Happiness? Repressed pain? Who fucking knows. Mom pulls back and holds my face. She wipes away my stupid tears with her thumbs. Because she’s always such a mother. And a good one at that.

“Thanks for understanding,” I say weakly.

She laughs softly and smiles wider. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. Now,” she claps my shoulders, “tell me about this secret admirer.”

I groan, head tilting back. Of course. She’s a mother, which makes her naturally nosy. “Mom, please.”

“C’mon! You said that you’ve been exchanging notes with him? Is he nice? Should I get dinner ready for him?”

“Well, don’t get cooking yet, Mom. I don’t know who he is, really. Hence the ‘secret’ thing.”

She sighs, tucking my hair again. It does feel quite comforting. “Well, if he makes you happy and you like him, then maybe he shouldn’t be secret.”

I twist my mouth. Unfortunately, she’s right. Snow does make me happy, he’s more of a possibility than Simon, and I want to meet him, more than anything. Plus, y’know, I do love to wear suits.

“I guess,” I chuckle, “I’ve got to write something.”

“Okay. Want me to heat something up for you?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

She grins and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re welcome, honey. I hope this all works out for you.”

With one last hand squeeze, she leaves my room. I let out a long sigh of relief. Man, that went way better than I thought it would. I want to tell Snow about it. And I suppose I can, tomorrow at homecoming. I pull a sticky note from my bedside, and I write three words.

Yes Love, Baz

———————————————-

I pace back and forth in front of the school. I keep checking Snow’s note from lunch over and over again to make sure I got it right.

Meet me at the south entrance at 7:30

Well, my phone says it’s 7:34, so Snow is late. I try to suppress my worry, fiddling with my sleeves and tie instead. It’s my favourite suit, because I'm the kind of person who has a favourite suit. Greenish black with a bit of silver with a blood pink tie. I hope Snow likes it.

Ugh, my feet hurt. I sit down on the bench, staring at my jittering shoe. Maybe he won’t come and I’ll just sit here forever. Maybe I’ll just die here. Honestly, that would be perfectly okay with me right now. Saves the embarrassment of waiting for a boy to never show up.

“Hey,” a breathless voice says from above me.

Wait, I know that voice. I’ve had it’s tone memorised since I was 15.

I look up to find a pair of plain blue eyes, with soft bronze curls hanging in front. Despite being breathless and a bit sweaty, he looks good. Actually, he looks positively stunning in that grey suit.

“Good evening, Salisbury,” I say smoothly.

“Hi, Baz.”

That’s all he says, then he just stares at me. What is his problem? “Um, I’m sorry I can’t talk right now. I’m waiting for someone.”

He bites his bottom lip. I wish I didn’t find that cute. “Yeah,” he sighs, “I know.”

My eyes narrow in confusion. What? Why would Simon know I’m waiting? Only way he would is if...

Oh.

Oh my god.

If I wasn’t already sitting down, I would be falling over right now. The world is sort of spinning. I’m just staring blankly at Simon, mouth open wide enough to catch flies.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, “you...you’re Snow.”

He smiles sheepishly, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah. Surprise.”

I keep gaping at him. It’s all I can manage to do. Simon Salisbury is Snow. My secret admirer and long standing crush are one and the same. I just simply can’t believe it. My worlds are colliding in the weirdest, most amazing ways possible. I’m so stunned that I barely notice Simon sits down next to me.

“Hello? Earth to Baz. You okay there?” He chuckles.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the shocked fog my brain is clouded in. “Yeah, I’m just...I’m a bit astonished. Just, you like me?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought the ‘I think you’re cute’ note and all the ones after made that clear.” His wide, smug grin is so annoyingly attractive.

“But why?!” I blurt the words out before I realise it. I’m still too stunned and confused, as well as filled with the usual self loathing times a hundred.

He goes wide eyed and scoffs in disbelief. “‘Why?’ I mean, God Baz, why not? You’re fucking incredible! You’re like, the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. But don’t tell Penny I said that.” We both chuckle, then he sighs, running a hand through his wild hair. “You’ve always amazed me with that big brain and sharp tongue of yours. And when you tore down that homophobic girl in class? I was so blown away that I wanted to run up and talk to you after class but I was so damn nervous. I-I’m not great at talking, and it just gets worse around you. And I still wasn’t sure you liked guys, and it would be a disaster if you didn’t. So...”

“So, you left the note?”

He sighs, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It started as a joke from Penny, but then the idea got into my head and, well, I’m very impulsive. I didn’t expect you to...y’know, respond. Then I guess it became easier talking to you on paper when you didn’t know who I was than in person. I just, I get so flustered around you because you’re so cool.”

Both my brows shoot up to my hairline. “You actually think I’m cool? You...weren't kidding in the second note?”

“Uh, yeah!” He looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re so cool and brilliant and, like, fucking beautiful.” His cheeks go very red. “Or, handsome, I guess. Gorgeous? Just...I mean that I like to look at you. Too much actually. Penny finds it annoying in English class.”

I think about every time I looked away from Simon, to look at the board or talk to Niall. And now I imagine him staring at me every one of those times. As well all the times I thought he was gaping at the weirdo. He was never gawking, he was gazing at me, just like how I gaze at him. The thought makes my stomach do wonderful, terrifying backflips.

I realise I’ve been gaping at him for an inordinate amount of time, and Simon now looks incredibly nervous. His whole face is completely scarlet and he’s staring at his wringing hands.

“Look,” he says with a nervous timbre, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I tried once before, when I dropped you off at the library, but I chickened out. The stupid notes were just going so well and I was terrified I’d ruin it if you knew it was me. I’ve liked you since last year, hence why me and Agatha broke up, and I didn’t want it to end. I know you think I’m just some dumb jock. If you don’t want it to be me, I understand. I’ve been hiding from you all this time and that’s shitty. Just, you said you wanted to meet someday, and I decided to take a stupidly big chance because I was so excited. But if you’re not interested or you’re mad I get it, and I’ll go.”

He’s jittery, eyes darting from me to the ground, foot bouncing up and down. Holy shit. He’s actually nervous. For years, Simon has been this unattainable perfect golden boy. But here he is, anxious and scared as all fuck, and I realise he’s just another awkward teenage boy. Just like Snow told me. Which means, all this time, Simon Salisbury has been just like me.

With all of this absurdity, I can’t help but laugh. A short breathy chuckle, that turns into a loud howl. I double over holding my forehead. When I look up, Simon is looking at me strangely. Some mixture between confusion and sadness.

“Did, did I say something funny?” He asks like he’s actually not sure, but is expecting a bad answer.

I sigh. Christ, this boy is adorable. I take both his hands in mine. He inhales sharply but doesn’t pull away. “Simon, I’m absolutely, positively fine with it being you. As a matter of fact...” I gulp down the nervous lump in my throat. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was 15.”

His beautiful eyes bulge out, and his grip tightens. I watch his jaw fall open so wide he’ll catch flies. “You’ve had a crush on me? S-Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“On me? Simon -me?”

“M-hm.”

“Not just Snow?”

“Nope. I was actually agonizing for days over whether or not to accept your invitation and give up on, well, also you. Guess all that angst was for nothing.”

We both giggle. I want to make it my mission to hear him giggle everyday. Simon lets one of my hands go, but laces our fingers together with the other. His fit perfectly between mine. It feels unimaginably incredible.

“What big messes we both are,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, “I suppose we match.”

“I really think we do.” He sighs again, rubbing his neck and messing with his curls. “Wow, just...well, you asked me so it’s only fair I can to.” He looks me right in the eye unflinchingly. “Why the hell do you like me? Simon, not just Snow.”

I smile as kindly as I can. “Because I don’t think you’re just a dumb jock. You’re kind, brave, smart, and gorgeous to boot.” He looks very cutely bashful at that. “The notes just let me get to know you better and make me like you more, even if I didn’t know it. I found that Snow was very nice, interesting person through them. But I’ve also been pining after you, Simon, for years. I just didn’t think I ever had a chance. I didn’t even realise you were gay.”

He shrugs with a sheepish look. “Well, I don’t think I’m gay. Not totally. But I know I like you a lot. So I guess I like guys, but honestly it’s mostly just you.”

“Wow, I’m so honoured,” I say, only half kidding.

Simon grins, wide and filled with teeth. Suddenly, he stands, pulling me up along with him. “So, wanna get in there? Rhys is DJing and I asked him to play some Troye.”

I run my fingers over the back of his freckled hand, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “You sure? Everyone will know, that you’re- well, that you’re at least somewhat gay.”

“There go my job prospects.” I give him a deadpan look, and he sighs and tilts his head to the side. “Don’t worry, okay Baz? I’ve wanted you for quite awhile, so as long as I’m doing gay stuff with you, I really don’t care what anyone else thinks. Are you good?”

I smirk, then tug his hand to pull him closer. “I’ve wanted you for even longer. So yes, with you, I’m good.” I reach for his face, and when he doesn’t pull away, I cup his cheek, swiping over one of his beautiful moles. “You make me brave, Snow.”

He flushes down to his neck, and I’d tease him if I wasn’t pretty sure I was in the same state. We both smile, then walk towards the entrance.

The gym is decked out in green and purple, the school colours. I think it’s quite ugly, honestly. Even though the shitty dance music is deafeningly loud and the bustle should be distracting, everyone turns to look at us. I can feel all their wide eyes on our joined hands. I’m overcome with urge to run away, to avoid their prying gaze. But then Simon squeezes my hand, just once, and I feel okay.

“Want some punch?” Simon shouts over the music.

“Yeah,” I reply, “that would be great.”

We walk over to the table covered in drinks and food. Simon scoops some of the red liquid into two cups. He clinks our plastic together like we’re fancy or something. I chuckle. Yeah, this is nice. I like this a lot.

“Holy shit!” Two people next to us say.

Simon looks very confused. I’d be angry if I didn’t know those voices. “Hello, Niall. Hello, Dev,” I sigh.

The two look between us in utter disbelief. Their jaws practically on the floor. It’s quite funny.

“Mystery guy is Simon Salisbury?!” Dev says.

“Yeah,” Simon replies with his sunshine smile. “Hi, Niall and Dev. Nice to actually meet you.”

“Wow,” Niall chuckles. “You accidentally nabbed the quarterback, man. Nice.”

Simon laughs good naturedly. I scoff and knock his shoulder. Dev gives me a nice but slightly painful slap to my back. They’re such an assholes. Supportive and wonderful, yes, but assholes all the same.

The song changes to something slow. I recognize it as one of my aunt’s favourites, Nick Cave’s “Into My Arms.” Dev and Niall rush off to find their dates. I put down my glass, and look up to see Simon down his in one gulp. He tugs me towards the dance floor, and I follow, trying to not explode because I’m about to dance with Simon fucking Salisbury. Shit, I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.

It becomes quickly apparent that Simon doesn’t know how to dance. He lifts his arms towards me, then quickly drops them. I sigh with a mock exasperation. I take one of his hands in mine and wrap the other arm around his waist. He inhales sharply, and his eyes go adorably wide.

“Put it on my shoulder,” I whisper.

Simon nods and complies. His hand feels unnaturally heavy to me, as my brain is still fully processing the unbelievable reality that Simon wants to touch me. That he wants to be this close to me in something other than my imagination. The song is so soft that we barely have to move. I don’t mind. Not when the literal boy of my dreams in only a few inches away.

My eyes catch something over Simon’s shoulder. Well, someone. A short purple haired girl with sassy librarian glasses and a deep scowl definitely directed at me.

“Your friend is glaring at me,” I say close to Simon’s ear.

Simon looks not so subtly behind him and sighs heavily. “Yeah, sorry about that. Penny is still trying to accept that I like you. She thinks you’re an asshole.”

“Well, she’s right, I am.”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I know. But you’re also really smart and pretty.”

“Oh thank you.” I try to sound sarcastic, but my voice still cracks with embarrassment. Simon notices if hia smug smile is any clue. “Was her dislike of me the reason for that strange conversation in last period weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” he sighs with affectionate exasperation. “She’s overprotective. I think she was trying to intimidate or glare you to death for brushing me off. Didn’t work obviously, since you didn’t know I was Snow.”

“Hm, I suppose. Wouldn’t have worked even if I did know.”

“Well, neither of us knew that at the time, now did we?”

We quietly giggle for a moment. Simon sighs, and lets his head fall on my shoulder. I try not to tense up from shock and elation. I let myself relax, just sinking into the sensation of Simon’s head resting on me and the soft melody of the song. But one thing is still bothering me.

“Hey, Simon?” I whisper.

“Hm?” He doesn’t move off my shoulder.

“Why did you go by ‘Snow’? Seems strange.”

“Oh.” He pulls back, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “It’s, uh, actually my middle name.”

I can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Your full name is Simon Snow Salisbury? Seriously?”

He chuckles, cheeks going red. “Yeah, blame my Mom. She thinks everyone in our family needs a weird middle name.”

“Obviously.” He looks embarrassed, and of course my heart twists. I sigh and push a curl off his forehead. “I’m not one to talk though, what with the name Tyrannus.”

Simon snorts this time. “Yeah you’re really not.”

We go quiet again. Simon’s blue eyes roam over my face, and my pulse picks up when I notice them focus on my mouth. Fuck, I’ve spent three years thinking about that, but that’s a very far cry from it actually happening. I gulp own the lump in my throat.

“Is it my turn to ask you something now?” he says quietly.

“I suppose,” I reply, trying to control my voice.

He looks me right in the eye. “Can I kiss you?”

I take a deep breath, squeezing his hand a bit tighter than probably necessary. “Simon, I-I certainly want to, but just so you know...I’ve never, done that, before.”

His face morphs into an adorable lopsided smile. He slowly moves his fingers across my shoulder over and over. I can’t suppress the shudder that runs down my spine. “That’s okay. It’s actually pretty cute.”

I scoff. “I’m not cute, I’m hot.”

“Oh, very.”

That only increase my terrible blush. He’s still looking at me with his sweet, understanding face. And it sort of obliterates all my defences. “Truthfully, Simon,” I say quietly, “I’ve just been waiting. I’ve...only ever wanted to kiss you. Pathetic, I know.”

“Hm, not pathetic. Still very cute.” He curls his fingers around the back of my neck, taking a miniscule step closer. Christ, he smells incredible, like something brown and sweet. “So, can I kiss you?”

I take a small breath, trying to steady my nerves. I let my eyes slide shut and lean a bit closer. My voice is barely a whisper between us. “Yes.”

My heart is pounding in my ears. I stay there, waiting. The seconds stretching out impossibly long. I almost pull back, embarrassed at my stupid eagerness and teenage fantasies.

But then he kisses me.

Is this a good kiss? I don’t know, I don’t have a comparison. But it certainly feels amazing. Simon’s mouth is soft as it’s firmly pressed against mine. All my senses are overwhelmed with him. His warmth, his sugary scent, his fingers pushing against my nape. I can tell that he’s done this before. He’s doing this thing with his chin that makes my brain melt. I try to copy the way his lips move at first, but I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. So I let Simon take the lead. The rest of the world disappears. And I’m fine with that, because I’m kissing Simon Snow Salisbury. Nothing else matters.

He does pull away eventually though, obviously. Our foreheads stay pressed together as we both let out quiet sighs. Simon lets go of my hand and wraps both arms around my neck. We’re pressed together, and part of me never wants to let go.

“Hm,” I chuckle, “I just noticed something.”

“What?” He mumbles into my jacket.

“You’re shorter than me.”

He half giggles, half scoffs. “Yeah. You’ve never noticed?”

“No. I guess I always thought you were above me, the perfect popular guy and all. Turns out you’re actually beneath me.”

Simon more scoffs this time. I feel him lightly kick my foot. “Asshole.”

“Mm, you like me.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He somehow pulls me closer, even though we’re already pressed together. “I never would, though. Regret this. Regret you. I choose you.”

I sigh, leaning my cheek on top of his wild, sweet smelling hair. “Me too, Snow. Me too.”

———————————————-

I’m jittery as fuck. I’ve never really paid attention to a football game before, and it’s surprisingly tense. Watching everyone go back and forth, trying to gain that little bit of ground to get closer to the end. And if I thought watching Simon getting bashed around was hard when he was just my crush, it’s agony when he’s my boyfriend.

“Stop chewing your nails,” Bunce mutters. “He’ll be fine.”

I glare at her. We’re sitting together on the bottom bench on the seats Simon reserved for us. Dev and Niall are somewhere higher up. “Excuse me for being concerned.”

She sighs, patting my shoulder. “He’s got a thick skull. Hence why he’s so good at at this. Just calm down.”

I chuckle, then look back out at the field. Watford’s team is setting up again. Simon is at the back, squaring his shoulders. He catches my eye and smiles. I smile back, unconsciously tugging his letterman jacket closer around me. It’s a bit small but very warm. I’m not sure I’m going to give it back.

Simon shouts some words I don’t understand, then they’re off again. A huge of mess of boys in massive padding rushing into each other. I keep my eyes on Simon. He bobs and weaves past others, then jumps up and down like a mad man. Someone tosses him the ball, which he obviously catches. He runs off like a shot with everyone chasing after him. Fuck, there’s 8 seconds left on the clock.

“C’mon, Snow,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

4...3...2...1-

“Touchdown!” The announcer proclaims. “Salisbury brings in another victory for Watford!”

I’m running before I realise it. My overly romantic lizard brain is just shouting, get to him, get to him now! He rips off his helmet and tosses it to the side like always. But this time he’s running towards me as well. We meet in the middle, crashing into each other with far more force than probably necessary. I hold him up by his waist and he hangs on to my neck. We’re laughing like idiots as we spin around.

“You were amazing,” I say against his ear. “You’re so amazing, Snow.”

He grins beautifully, and suddenly pulls me down into a hard kiss. He’s sweaty and gross and certainly needs a shower, but I seriously do not care right now . I kiss him with all the desire and admiration I feel for him. Because I’m so damn happy.

“Woohoo! Get it, Salisbury!” One of his teammates shouts.

Simon pulls away to sigh and roll his eyes. “Sorry. Jocks, y’know?”

I chuckle, weaving our fingers together. “Yes, I certainly know now.”

The teammates come up to ruffle Simon’s sticky hair, congratulating him in that typical gruff, masculine sports way. Bunce, Dev, and Niall come onto the field too eventually. Bunce gives Simon a big squeezing hug.

“Y’know, you scared the hell out of Basilton,” she says with a grin. I glare at her for the second time tonight.

“Apologies for worrying about my boyfriend’s brains getting bashed in,” I add in.

“Aw,” Simon coos, “you’re worried about me.”

“Duh. If you die, who am I going to make out with?”

Niall and Dev laugh while Buce gags. Simon kisses my cheek though, so I don’t really notice or care. The three of them start chatting their shared/much hated humanities class. Snow sighs and puts his head on my shoulder.

“I’ve gotta shower,” he mutters.

“Agreed. Is the team getting celebration ice cream?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He looks up at me with his big blue eyes and my knees go weak. “Wanna come with Penny and me? I’m allowed to bring two people.”

I squeeze his hand. “I would like that very much. Meet you in the parking lot?”

“Awesome.” He leans up and presses another peck to my cheek. “See you in a bit, babe.”

In an overly sappy act I’d never do with anyone else, I rub my nose against his. It feels so stupid and so right. “See you, babe.”

We kiss deeply one more time, because we’re young and stupid and horny. And, at least on my end, probably in love. We’ve only been actually dating for two weeks though, so it’s too soon for me to say that, obviously. But...I do hope to say it soon. And for him to say it too.

Simon runs off and I watch him go, putting my hands in his coat. I don’t feel cynical, or anxious. I just feel...happy. And considering how long it took to get here, I deserve it. Simon and I both do.

We’re living such charmed lives.

———————————————-

AN: Aw, young, dumb, and in love. Good for them <3 Hope you enjoyed this teen romcom fluffy bs. I certainly had fun writing it. I'm really sorry for misreading the request though. That's my bad. I promise the request will be fluffy and cute af and def worth the wait. And if anyone wants to request, go here and drop a number in my inbox :)

#carry on #snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow #penelope bunce #niall #dev #fluff #light angst #love simon elements #mysnowbazfic

132 notes · View notes